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.