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"expat" poems
Gonna move to Qatar ride in a gold Beemer playin' songs for the Emir on a ruby studded guitar. Live in a silver highrise go skiing in the desert eat caviar for desert singin' about the disenfranchised and ruby studded guitars. I'll be an expat in Doha drinkin' with the monarchy speakin' absolute malarkey playin' tunes for all my brohas on my ruby studded guitar in Qatar. r ~ 6/14/14
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Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
Guitar from Qatar
Paratroopers free fall, 'chutes coiled and caught in a grease ball afro curl reaching down perplexed ****** frames. Diligent chortling mimes trapped in handmade indecision cages, tapping a telling tune of tired games played day after day. A right brained boy with a head full of clout miscommunication with a leftist expat from the north to the south. Jostled connections send out fizzling sentences through blown speakers and an overheated circuit - Bored of the excuses whispers the nameless without a reason there isn't a purpose. Shoot an accusing glare past Father Time overlooking treasonous discouraging crimes Open those whale blubber caked eyes to the other side. It's not what this has done to you but what this has done to us. The hitchhiker gave up, traded his thumb for a seat on the bus. Never was he lost, but given more than one chance. He, no, she, no we were thrown away with his walking stick and his waterproof nap sack. Will we cross this road again? And pick up from where we began? Or never turn back? Always was he lost, but given one too many of a chance But was it worth it? Upholding the "right and proper" stance?
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Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 12:08 PM UTC
Time and Time Again We Run With Our Eyes Closed and Our Mouths Wide Open
a man without a country is what he called himself, but this was his country, make no mistake. a man without a home, is what he meant. he overheard two girls joking a few years ago, they were saying what if we just lived in the tunnel, then we wouldn’t have to worry their voices bounced off the bricks, louder in that tunnel, where he was, where they wouldn’t have to worry but he did. he sighed into tobacco-yellow fingers. a few years ago, this was. a few years of rain and relentless seasons’ change and the kindness of strangers fewer and farther between and kids that will never be that way, that pretend they don’t hear him and they don’t see him and maybe they don’t. a few years of that’ll really take it out of you. his voice is deeper now from underuse and cold air and tobacco and being just so ******* tired. the kindness of strangers stops short of his hard palms most of the time. winter’s end just doesn’t feel like much anymore. a few years of that’ll really take it out of you.
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Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 9:29 PM UTC
The Expat
Is "expating" a word? If it isn't well... now it is 'Fore English is a living language Marching forward expanding with the ages I'm from LA but work Has beckoned me half way across the world And thus I'm now an expat Enjoying expating. I haven't searched to Confirm Or Definitevly learn Whether expating exists in the realm of words And to be true I don't quite care at this moment if it is or isn't Why, you ask? Because this is me the expatnactively expating, isn't it?
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Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 6:12 PM UTC
An Expat Expating
a raft I did not build - a late entry thunderstorm - a baby waving around another baby’s sock - the poverty I own the poverty you - a man on all fours a tinier woman rider - a kite’s shadow on leave - expat nations
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May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 11:35 AM UTC
lakeside
(Pentagon E-ring office—executive officer knocks & enters—General motions him in) XO, Explain examinees... Examinee X-11, Xander Xanakis Experience? Explosives expert. Ex-Army. Executive experience Exam? Exceptional Excellent! Excessive Exessive? Explain Extreme xenophobe (expletive) Exclude Examinee X-12... Xavier Xanthopoulos... Experience? Expert— extraction, exfiltration. Ex-Navy, Executive Experience Exam? Excelled Extracuricular extras... Explain Expat, X-games, xylophone... Expat? Xalapa (chuckling) X-games, xylophone— (laughs) X-Factor! (XO nods his head, smiling) Xenophobic? (shaking head) Xenodochial. Exeptionally xenophilic! Expectations? Exceeds Expectations Excellent! XO, exclude examinee X-11... Excluding Xander Xanakis Expedite Xavier Xanthopoulos Expediting examinee X-12 XO, excused (XO exits) © 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
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Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 2:54 PM UTC
X-Ray Oscar
I met a girl named Alice Klar She was the finest girl I saw We made my day all bright and nice; About the night I can’t speak at all! Alice played with words all day She’d find some Wort and write a play To Lebenstraße she’d walked just twice Even though I’d beg and though I’d plea But I can’t recall for the life of me Why that day Alice stopped for tea Running along she’d chase the mice Until they fell into the Spree I’d always worried that her talcum hair Would bring on suitors far more fair But I never imagined that her vice Would be an expat Fräuline eating rice Amid the essence of food and the summer heat When there in the Platz the two did meet And a strong stark woman with heart of ice Swept Alice Klar up off her feet Since that day I’ve had no song in heart Except for brats and hounds that bark It’s now despite want of love and spice Her memory fades into the dark Still I have hope though you may scoff That this man I am can surely boff Another ribald maiden low in price Then that old ***** Alice I can write off!
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Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
The Tail of Alice Klar
ever an expat ~ i'm ever an expat, this culture ain't mine; a trip to my next stop, a place in my mind. this soil isn't home, my soul it's on loan; just looking for peace, in a world upside down. i'm a' travelin' light, in pursuit of a song; not seeking permission, for my heart to belong. my sole's intermission, will only prolong, finding the courage, to write all my wrong. surrounded by others, with tickets defined; you ask if my home's at the end of the line? no, i looked for a non-stop, a grand destination; my vocation mistaken, a search has awakened. i'm ever an expat, in a culture not mine; a trip to my next stop, a place in my mind. this soil isn't home, my soul it's on loan; still looking for peace, in a world all gone wrong. though ever a trav'ler, and rarely at rest, enjoying this journey, my accepted success. in losing i'm winning, my end my beginning; for my pain isn't gain, til' i lose all the excess! come fly with me, in this quest to be free; i'm prepared to let go, of all that i've seen. this my adventure, a spirited venture; perhaps solace i've sought, appears in release! i'm ever an expat, in a culture not mine; a trip to my next stop, a place in my mind. this soil isn't home, my soul it's on loan; i've finally found peace, in the words of my song. ~ post script I once wrote the following words to a dear friend in response to an article about childhood and belonging... "it is said of men and women alike, one's latter years... those years when eyes betray, as often does one's strength, are years in which a sixth sense emerges, and with it a 20/20 vision; a hindsight that sees in its rearview mirror the beauty and wonder of life, of dots connected with its enigmatic smoke screen stripped away, its majestic tapestry coming into view... a blending of time and place where purpose and intention can become focused. In physicality, I am 47 years removed from my host country, Japan, but here I am today, still feeling each point of these words, more poignantly than I'd like to admit!! In my more rational moments, I'd say I've moved on... in reality I often still feel stuck, unable to see my childhood as anything but a dream or another life... almost an outside-looking-in experience!" Ever an expat, perhaps; peace and rest are elusive at best!
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Mar 3, 2024
Mar 3, 2024 at 1:15 PM UTC
ever an expat
ever an expat ~ i'm ever an expat, this culture ain't mine; a trip to my next stop, a place in my mind. this soil isn't home, my soul it's on loan; just looking for peace, in a world upside down. i'm a' travelin' light, in pursuit of a song; not seeking permission, for my heart to belong. my sole's intermission, will only prolong, finding the courage, to write all my wrong. surrounded by others, with tickets defined; you ask if my home's at the end of the line? no, i looked for a non-stop, a grand destination; my vocation mistaken, a search has awakened. i'm ever an expat, in a culture not mine; a trip to my next stop, a place in my mind. this soil isn't home, my soul it's on loan; still looking for peace, in a world all gone wrong. though ever a trav'ler, and rarely at rest, enjoying this journey, my accepted success. in losing i'm winning, my end my beginning; for my pain isn't gain, til' i lose all the excess! come fly with me, in this quest to be free; i'm prepared to let go, of all that i've seen. this my adventure, a spirited venture; perhaps solace i've sought, appears in release! i'm ever an expat, in a culture not mine; a trip to my next stop, a place in my mind. this soil isn't home, my soul it's on loan; i've finally found peace, in the words of my song. ~ post script I once wrote the following words to a dear friend in response to an article about childhood and belonging... "it is said of men and women alike, one's latter years... those years when eyes betray, as often does one's strength, are years in which a sixth sense emerges, and with it a 20/20 vision; a hindsight that sees in its rearview mirror the beauty and wonder of life, of dots connected with its enigmatic smoke screen stripped away, its majestic tapestry coming into view... a blending of time and place where purpose and intention can become focused. In physicality, I am 47 years removed from my host country, Japan, but here I am today, still feeling each point of these words, more poignantly than I'd like to admit!! In my more rational moments, I'd say I've moved on... in reality I often still feel stuck, unable to see my childhood as anything but a dream or another life... almost an outside-looking-in experience!" Ever an expat, perhaps; peace and rest are elusive at best!
Continue reading...
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Come into the presence or company of ~ ..DAVAO LATE MADAME "DOLLY " OF GENSAN N RD PAWNSHOP HAVING A GREAT ADVICE EXPAT OF BRITAIN "WILLIAM WALLACE! NOTREDAME WRITERS! KOREAN MENTORS WITH A PHRASES " MANG-MANG" ENJOINED WITH GREATER COURSE AM, ALWAYS BE ME! FREEDOM IS SERVICE, SO~ THUS FAITH!
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Dec 20, 2023
Dec 20, 2023 at 11:47 AM UTC
WHAT I HAVE MEET ALONG THE WAY!
Nomadic life is what I know. As early as age 9, I lived the life of a nomad. Changed schools 4 times, then dorm life at the college, and flew over to the other side of the Atlantic for the grad school, which kicked off my official expat life, lasted till this day. "Home" has been a concept I questioned a lot. A lot. Home is where the heart is, they say. True maybe, but what about the logistics side of things? Which address to give to the tax office, if you don't know where you might be in the next 3 months? Or who will be your emergency contact, when continents separate you from all the familiar faces? Nomadic life is what I know. Pack light, travel far. The only thing I need in my carry over, is the faces and places that changed me, and gave me the gift of a nomadic life.
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Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 5:58 AM UTC
Leaving Places
the sleepwalker and the hangman jumping rope in the town of the sheepish tornado where the church of two birds admits the child of the expat exile into the afterlife of a stone…
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Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 10:25 AM UTC
meditations on hosanna
Been an expat all my adult life, It wouldn't be shocking to say that I never knew where my home is. There is the home of my family, my childhood memories, There is the home I built around a job, In a country far away from where I opened my eyes to this world. Yet something was missing in both, Not knowing what,  Till we met for the first time, at Dulles. That was the first time we saw each other in flesh. You hugged me so hard,  And held my hand, Never to let go. And I realized you were my home, For the name you have, Ev, meaning "home" where I come from.
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Apr 2, 2020
Apr 2, 2020 at 6:13 AM UTC
Home in a Name
Some people don't pray Some people can't I'm stayin' with Aunt Sally But ya know she's not really my aunt Food truck tonight Baton Rouge, Louisiana Been to New Orleans once Never Texarkana Not really a southerner Though I've lived years in the South At times not even American Despite such sounds from my mouth More like an expat Wandering Bangkok to Rome Human life is exile. Where, O where is home?
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Feb 11, 2021
Feb 11, 2021 at 8:46 PM UTC
Donde?