Thoughts of an Expat


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Thoughts of an Expat

Winters here are dire indeed

But creative thoughts they do not impede

From wildest I came I felt dumb

Forever cast in the feeling of numb

I Wandered through the world I’d seen

Looking and wondering what could they have “being”

Sometimes my senses become em-blazed

To the crazed, senseless, mindless, maze.

So where might I be if you were to ask

For to tell you I would need no more than take off my mask

For when I spoke nothing was heard

I might as well have been a hummingbird

Not to gloss over what was in the burgeoning brew

I told them all it’s time to get out of the stew.

The cook is pink, the Maitre D’ no more than a con

So took I to the air to get out and do some re-con

The world I see know is perfectly clear

To all the past crap it was no more than a smear.

The world you defend is small indeed

For all it can do is just lie and impede

Come join those who are out and about

Quit sitting at home, “get” out of the pout.

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