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#displaced
The calm, the silence from a heated argument, Not violence but almost as we control our tempers, Still fumed as we whimper, in different areas of our place the silence is eerie, yet displaced, It started so serene, then the screaming and yelling and mixed signals are unseen Erupting like a volcano, Destruction like a tornado then everything is quiet, as the storm slowly lays low B.R. Date: 3/21/2026
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Mar 21
Mar 21, 2026 at 10:17 PM UTC
The silence after the storm
<for DE.L> "Like a poem poorly written, We are verses out of rhythm, Couplets out of rhyme, In syncopated (1) time And the dangling conversation, And the superficial sighs, Are the borders of our lives" Simon & Garfunkel, "The Dangling Conversation" ~~--------- ah, this out of rhyme and over and past the borderline of the contours of arrhythmia is it not the normative human condition, who among us is not a displaced person, even inside the container of our minds, seeking groundings, testing and retesting our edged abraded shape, with notes of vraiment, un cri du cœur lucky few who go without that the affect of disaffect, that does not contaminate the spirit, for it is the way of the world to overcome fear with hatred, to transfer the ill will, to those who are lesser, in number, but greater in accomplishment and your internal dialogue, always lands, settles, on the unanswerable: Why. that doesn’t deserve the inquisitive honorific of a ? but the exhaustion of an life long inquisition of what is beyond belief
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Dec 29, 2025
Dec 29, 2025 at 12:47 PM UTC
syncopated rhythms, displaced beats & persons
They throw stones, wave sticks, and make a racket The animal runs away Whooping they chase it through the fields along fences Across the ditch, it rests for a moment, and, startled again flees, zigzagging into the forest where it has never been before and, in the deepest can't go anywhere Panting, it lies down warm in the cold night but alone, ignored by the other animals
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Dec 22, 2025
Dec 22, 2025 at 2:09 AM UTC
Homeless
I knighted myself and left home to make the unknown my own Apprehensive of danger I travelled ever further hoping for a hand and for the reassurance: Stay, you are safe here there is a place for you here a place of your own not a niche in one of the porches where you remain a stranger to the envoys and counsellors You won't have to do much in return, and you can keep the memories of your former life
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Dec 19, 2025
Dec 19, 2025 at 3:15 AM UTC
In foreign parts
A host country: like a sober hotel, fine, but -- without my story.
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Oct 5, 2025
Oct 5, 2025 at 3:13 AM UTC
[ A host country: like ]
He is back, being a foreigner in the land -- he longed for so much.
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Mar 27, 2025
Mar 27, 2025 at 4:50 AM UTC
[ He is back, being ]
it has been a while since my little self, hidden, felt safe— beyond comprehension’s schematic structure, deep within, where all that is becomes understood. where your words are felt, where your expressions cause a melt— a sudden, radical acceptance. your self-established mantle of significance… my little self has lost its worth. in your eyes, it matters no more that human I am, experiencing life just as you do, just as it flows, as it nears the ultimate axis— as winds and tides, as gravity itself. we are alike in our search for the unfathomable, a place of serenity, a longing for love and security. yet, adamant you remain in your complacency. it would have been better to die than to endure your unraveling, your disarranging— how your eyes burn with disregard, exposing your innermost self, enticing a taste for the misunderstood. deep within, where all that is—your little self— remains hidden, untouched by obligation, playing eternity’s game, choosing to be too lazy to care.
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Mar 23, 2025
Mar 23, 2025 at 10:43 AM UTC
infidel
The fish requests for asylum, with a suitcase – I open my mouth.
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May 25, 2021
May 25, 2021 at 4:34 AM UTC
[ The fish requests for ]
Back 'home' after years. What will I come across there? Can it still exist?
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May 2, 2021
May 2, 2021 at 2:26 AM UTC
[ Back 'home' after years ]
#*Times when the heart doesn’t feel its own beat Lost, maybe some part of it forever displaced Work makes sure, time is passed Together, still doesn’t help Stuck in some redundancy Maybe, they work well, separately Time and work Maybe it’s for words to see*#
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Jun 29, 2020
Jun 29, 2020 at 2:16 PM UTC
Lost maybe
My emotions rule my mind my brain lives between my legs Blind devotion is my sight if you'll stay with me in bed My arms are winter's embrace I always have them wrapped The chills keep you in grace while my fingers keep you rapt My mouth, a serpent den sparking silver charm galore My tongue twists round itself tied in efforts to adore My worship signals ships of war through seas of violent storms A fairweather fleet, full and by with you as the port of call A simple harmonic motion with the force to drown an ocean One simple price to pay to be the captain for a day
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May 6, 2019
May 6, 2019 at 1:16 PM UTC
Uncharted
Leila, sometimes I wonder if people's hearts, are as dark as your hair. Sometimes I wonder if their hate, is deeper than your beauty, and that smile you share. Sometimes I wonder if their greed, is as enormous as the void I find in your eyes, which nothing but finding hope, of care. Leila, forgive them. Leila, is that song you look for, when fires smolder you're entity's emotions. is that song you look for, when you should of yourself be caution. is the song you look for, when you want to cleanse your soul, cleanse it of people's defiled ambition. Leila, forgive them. Leila, with your earned sorrow you passed an ocean, and carried a dead father's watch, a watch to remind a paralyzed mother, of for whom she once ran for, with devotion. She once prayed for time to pass, To see her love, And now, time turned into a compulsion, That stops her from living, And tuned into a con, Instead of a meditation. Leila, forgive them. Leila, Drunken sun - Aches from loneliness In the space where noone it,she shares Drunken sun - The vacancy of company it faces Keeps rotating there,In endless mazes Drunken sun - It shows its pain, it spreads blazes That's the only difference between you, And the drunken sun you keep to yourself all the pain In all cases, Drunken sun, Is trapped there,in the spaces just like you, in the past's vases.
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Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 6:53 AM UTC
Frozen Heart
If I had pennies For when Rage was Misplaced I'd have pounds, But they'd burn to At my fireplace. When was there fair space Just to despair Grace. I'll fall slowly and mould Along the way, I'm so cold I couldn't be Strong anyway. I lost pride I'm dust in the Place I used to reside. These are the words To empty air I confide.
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Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 6:26 PM UTC
Displace
Vast the landscape I watch that rolls out, ragged, Before my eyes, hurt words describing, haggard. Moby soothes me but a little as I watch still fractured sights Of what was and is in Chernobyl. Marshlands filled with death and mutation, Homely houses putrid with abandonment and radiation. Broken tokens of people’s former lives and loves – Where are they now? Their hairless dolls, sitting in the middle of rooms, Bathtubs, broken and oblique, empty. Soap washes memory and nothing else away. The sky has spoken; it is broken. Push the poison out to sea. To see They hadn’t time to leave a memory, But ran, already dead while living, Not allowed to gather souvenirs. There’s nothing left for them here. But did they die? Nobody told us where they went, Or why This happened. They are gone now, dispersed in Eurasia I suppose, Like ash in the wind, like their future or past ghosts. They haunt the places, the buildings and the waters, Engulfing fish, and drying fungus on the northern trees, Watching wolves still move through winter freeze, Still beautiful in the taiga sun. Tainted yet rife with energy not destroyed, Trying to paint its passion on the sides of walls, To venerate the people here and their lives, Their animals, their clothing only frozen.
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Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 11:35 AM UTC
Chernobyl
As thunder put paid to my tranquility, I ventured out of my darkened room, Into my fecund garden, Amidst blooms I'd lovingly brought forth, Unblemished, unexceptional. Fraught with anxiety, I searched, For peace, joy, equanimity. And then the Gale brought me, A shock of pink. A battered displaced bloom, Torn from home by violent gusts of wind, Left to the mercies of strangers, Disparate, unconnected, Yet vivid, ablaze. Ephemeral perhaps, But substantial.
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Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 9:46 AM UTC
Uprooted
Running away An eternal struggle Fighting against suppressed feelings Feeling displaced Located in a world of my own A world so strange... I don't belong here... I'm just a misfit Branded by society Trapped by my own peculiarity
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Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 4:26 PM UTC
Misfit
He sat all alone at home There was no where to roam Even on this holiday All his family had passed away His ex-wife and kids where in a different state There was nothing for him to celebrate Life had left him with an empty plate He was trying hard to stay away from deaths gate He sat there trying to watch on tv some shows Only commercials of happy families, that's just the way it goes He set's there reliving happier memories Then looked around at his empty house of misery A call from his kids Sent him into a skid Made him relive their younger years He was so glad they couldn't see his tears He did have a small smile as they talked But like anything the call to soon came to an end, it stopped The heart piercing whimper that acrossed his lips seep Would of made the coldest hearted person weep He just sat there with eyes red with the pain Knowing all he had lost, not seeing anything left to gain The agony of his memories played in his mind Desperately wishing he could go back in time So he could fix it all, make it all rhyme For this mountain of lonely misery, he just couldn't climb As others enjoy their families, with good food and cheer You will find him setting there with his cans of beer Trying to drown his sorrow, amplified by this holiday of thanks giving Wishing that instead of dying inside, he was living
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Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 9:02 PM UTC
A Glimpse of Another's Thanksgiving
I guess I'm not ment to be seen I'll just float through life ghostfully The sight of me is to obscene I'm almost gone, transparent Who cares where I went
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Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 2:33 PM UTC
Ghostfully
Timothy Yan, that was his name I miss him, still, 71 years later I don't know if he's alive now Nor, really did I know then in 1942 We were kids, he was 11 and now would be 82 or 83 I don't know if he'd remember me But, I remember him and will forever He was Canadian He was my best friend His family was Japanese We'd come from Ontario, Burlington Work brought dad west So, we settled in a suburb of Vancouver Tim's family had been here for a few years There weren't a lot of Japanese in Canada He was the first one I saw We didn't have any in Burlington So as I know We lived on the same street Went to the same school He was Canadian We played baseball, road hockey football, we were brothers blood brothers, we were a team We moved west in 1938 I met him that fall in school We were instant friends The day I saw that St. Louis Cardinal hat stuck in his pocket, all rolled up He'd be Stan The Man, I'd be Red Russer He was Syl Apps, I was Sam LoPresti I was Turk Broda, he was anyone he wanted to be We were both Joe Di Maggio We were brothers I remember the noise first Great big Army trucks, Olive green All up the street Not just at the Yan place The Yokishuris, Wans, and Timmy's Aunt too Soldiers, loading the trucks We weren't allowed out to see Notices had been posted though the door We could only watch and wonder They were being moved They scared the powers that be Little Japanese families Many born here Scared the powers of  King in Ottawa And they had to be moved Inland, to the Okanagan Valley To Camps, in Canada, their country, Camps Canada was at war With it's own people With 11 year old Timothy Yan Ever since Pearl Harbour Ottawa got scared Japanese fishermen in the west Japanese fighter planes from the east There had to be spies in British Columbia Tim Yan was apparently one of them They were told their property was safe All their goods in storage They were lied to A month after they left The auctioneers came in Everything was sold Everything... I hope he kept that hat Dad bought what he could So did other neighbours I still have the boxes Never opened Waiting for the Yans, I miss Joe DiMaggio I didn't understand it then And I don't now My teachers couldn't explain it My minister said it was the best That didn' t help either What best? Who decided what was best? Best for who? It wasn't best for me, or Tim Nobody asked us He was just gone I spent years looking for him He never came back after the war They were moved further east They were sent to Japan He was from Canada Why would they send him to Japan He was gonna be the first Japanese big leaguer I hope he made it I grew up and became a lawyer A citizenship lawyer This was not going to happen on my watch To anyone again Not while I was around I miss him He went to war And never fired a shot He went to war And never knew why...
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Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 11:39 AM UTC
I Miss Joe DiMaggio ...A recollection of war
Timothy Yan, that was his name I miss him, still, 71 years later I don't know if he's alive now Nor, really did I know then in 1942 We were kids, he was 11 and now would be 82 or 83 I don't know if he'd remember me But, I remember him and will forever He was Canadian He was my best friend His family was Japanese We'd come from Ontario, Burlington Work brought dad west So, we settled in a suburb of Vancouver Tim's family had been here for a few years There weren't a lot of Japanese in Canada He was the first one I saw We didn't have any in Burlington So as I know We lived on the same street Went to the same school He was Canadian We played baseball, road hockey football, we were brothers blood brothers, we were a team We moved west in 1938 I met him that fall in school We were instant friends The day I saw that St. Louis Cardinal hat stuck in his pocket, all rolled up He'd be Stan The Man, I'd be Red Russer He was Syl Apps, I was Sam LoPresti I was Turk Broda, he was anyone he wanted to be We were both Joe Di Maggio We were brothers I remember the noise first Great big Army trucks, Olive green All up the street Not just at the Yan place The Yokishuris, Wans, and Timmy's Aunt too Soldiers, loading the trucks We weren't allowed out to see Notices had been posted though the door We could only watch and wonder They were being moved They scared the powers that be Little Japanese families Many born here Scared the powers of  King in Ottawa And they had to be moved Inland, to the Okanagan Valley To Camps, in Canada, their country, Camps Canada was at war With it's own people With 11 year old Timothy Yan Ever since Pearl Harbour Ottawa got scared Japanese fishermen in the west Japanese fighter planes from the east There had to be spies in British Columbia Tim Yan was apparently one of them They were told their property was safe All their goods in storage They were lied to A month after they left The auctioneers came in Everything was sold Everything... I hope he kept that hat Dad bought what he could So did other neighbours I still have the boxes Never opened Waiting for the Yans, I miss Joe DiMaggio I didn't understand it then And I don't now My teachers couldn't explain it My minister said it was the best That didn' t help either What best? Who decided what was best? Best for who? It wasn't best for me, or Tim Nobody asked us He was just gone I spent years looking for him He never came back after the war They were moved further east They were sent to Japan He was from Canada Why would they send him to Japan He was gonna be the first Japanese big leaguer I hope he made it I grew up and became a lawyer A citizenship lawyer This was not going to happen on my watch To anyone again Not while I was around I miss him He went to war And never fired a shot He went to war And never knew why...
Continue reading...
106
A calf without milk Ripped from the womb Mother's hair like silk Lay stiff in the tomb And father's embrace To go up in flames Our house to misplace In a lion's main My siblings so dear Strung far apart Lost and in fear Rip out my heart The system tells not Of where we should go It makes me burn hot Through rain and in snow Lost were the lambs Without mother's kind face Lost were us lambs Without father's sturdy place Scattered are we My siblings and me No place to go Nothing to be
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Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
Displaced
*Do you ever get the feeling Of great malaise Right from birth Feeling displaced Of being born At an ill time and place Waiting only For our place in the dirt*
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Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 1:55 AM UTC
The wrong time and place
I know you so well. And not at all. You keep me at bay. What's the point. I've drowned off shore. Everything you've told me. Is it truth I'm left unsure. Scrambled more twisted every day. This bay you've placed me. I fear I'll stay. Collaborative closure causing contemplation of a committed connection.
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Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
Who are you to me
When you try to uproot And displace precious lives Remember, Roots grow much deeper For the soil nurtures for ages Not to let go Roots spread their arms Holding tightly to the loving ***** Growing resilience And the trunk of will Leaves of glory, and Fruits of love You may well uproot Feeling triumphant But you cannot displace the roots From then shall spring new foliage For roots are holding hands To create a cradle Where love is tended And thus, born are the bravest You may keep trying But you won’t go deeper than the roots
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Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 8:21 AM UTC
The Roots
The window panes Silence the rain But cannot dull the thunder.
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Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC
Headsick