What I am.
What I am

Can you tell me why I know what I am?
How I see? How I can
Destroy the world with a single smile,
And make it all worse with a white lie.
Can you explain to me the trees and the reason we contaminate
And rape to please, I don’t understand it, I don’t understand it
Can you explain this to me?
I walk around all small and coy, eyes away from every boy.
My lover’s the best toy, oh I love him oh I love him.
Poems for every distraught cover, some for those who always mutter
But this poet in this chair doesn’t write from angst made cares.
I merely question what is right, what is wrong and everything, despite the fact
That nothing here relates to that.
Can you tell me why I know what I am?
The substance in this literature is spam.
‘Cause all I know is stupid and bland,
What I am, what I am.
The product of my environment, the movies I watch, the books that rant,
( why wont someone write about something different) All about love that can’t
Ever be enjoyed about some messed up nancy boy.
And so I bring this to an end but that question still stands:
Can you tell me why I know what I am?


Comments:
 
StarPoet   StarPoet wrote
on 12/7/2009 3:30:10 AM
Interesting questions ndeed. Someof these very same questions are what many wonder about yet have no answer to. You open up an avenue of thought that has mystified yet entranced humanity for centuries.

Oz
Poetry
Other
writing Oz
Banal- fantastical
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