"disable" poems
Warning: Use dis list in context.
You decide on which side you fall.
disappear
disregard
disaster
displace
disqualify
disrepair
disturb
dissipate
disability
dispose
dismal
distribute
distrust
disturb
discriminate
discuss
disdain
disguise
dishearten
disinherit
disown
disparage
disagree
disgruntle
disclose
discolour
dispute
disarm
discover
disassemble
disadvantage
disallow
dispossess
discontent
discontinue
disrespect
disincline
discomfort
disrepute
dishonest
disillusion
dishonor
dismiss
disobey
disjoin
disappoint
discipline
discord
discern
discrete
disfigure
disconnect
disapprove
discharge
disbar
disease
discord
disfavor
disengage
disassociate
discipline
discount
disembody
displace
dissaray
disembowel
discombobulate
discredit
discourse
disentangle
disenfranchise
disembark
discard
disburse
disbelief
discover
disable
disagree
disintegrate
dismay
dispense
dislodge
disclaimer
disapprove
dissatisfy
disrupt
dispel
dislike
dismantle
disloyal
disbatch
disrobe
disperse
display
disaprove
disciple
disavow
disconcert
disinfect
disorder
dismal
dismember
displease
dissemble
disunity
dislocate
distort
distrust
distress
dissolute
disassociate
distill
discect (?)
distemper
distain
distasteful
distraught
dissolve
dissonant
dissuade
And dis isn't de end.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC
I long to fly
Into the sky
But broken wings
Disable me.
I long to play
But here I stay
Wheelchair bound
Still on the ground.
Look in my eyes,
These grey blue skies,
You’re soon to see
Past broken wings.
My body’s bound
But my soul roams round
The sky of my mind
Where you will find
Imagination abounds
My soul roams round
No chains for me
For here I’m free.
So, though I’m o'erlooked
And my wings are all crook’d,
There’s more to me,
I’ve a soul with wings
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 4:18 PM UTC
we keep them in cages
we want all of our friends to see
so we put them on stages
they should be out there running free
my friend on the table
won't stop scratching at the glass
I've chosen to disable
this animal's natural path
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 2:44 PM UTC
Step up to the mic and strike first with a smile of one liners, with observations or tales that beguile them.
For a smile will disable them while your lines slide in behind them, almost whispering, selecting the sharp-soft phrases that will best penetrate those guarded places. Looking with innocence into their faces, turning minds stage by stages, persuading with insights, with stories of real life, with familiar tales of familiar strife. Then when you follow through and strike with the punch line they have no defence and have no time to decline the good sense found in this food for thought, laughing to a sudden realised stop, looking again at their lives, with a furtive smile of dawning delight at the shed light on shared lives found in your soft amplified lines.
- Do it right when you step up to the mic and you just might change lives.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 4:27 AM UTC
there is a certain liminality to airplanes
even the ones now fixed to the ground,
all museum tours and rot held at bay,
for a while.
yearning for the strain of metal,
a voice calling out safety procedures
(don't tamper with or disable the smoke detector in the lavatory),
and someone who loves them to come back to brush
knowing hands, since gone to claws, over their instrument panels.
in the air there doesn't seem to be a good reason
for planes not to tilt,
tilt down inexorably,
till they kiss the earth again.
all crumpled aluminum and fire
and a small black box
to tell those we left on land
some of how it happened.
I can tell myself about physics and engineering,
about this being my second flight today,
and about how (if nothing else) I made it onto this plane.
the turbulence pays me no mind.
touching down, touching ground, it hesitates.
there's a ghost of movement still.
a waiting. a breath.
the rush of air and engines,
not gone so much as paused,
halted only for a moment.
I am a little afraid of flying
but I'm more afraid of moving on
moving past this moment,
all muscled grace and limbo,
a portion of earth held up in sky.
then we land and walk to baggage claim
while behind us the airplane-
the airplane holds.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 2:36 AM UTC
*Why if so many people go through the same thing
Are we all alone
Why if so many people feel the same pain
Do we stay at home
Why if so many people feel incapable of moving
Is there not a cure
Why does this melancholy I feel
constantly disable me to heal
I get up and out
And try a new route
Only to find myself going in circles
Same pain
No gain
The mystery remains
Why we all struggle with these emotional hurdles*
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
Sights disable me by birth
Father as witness to.
Mother to teach A to Z every time
And trying well correcting my sight.
To leave school, after full fill lessons
To change my disable sight, why?
For my sight, present friends and other people,
Of book tonic, medicine plants,
Traditional treatments
And more other onetime roots,
But nothing change my sight,
At last the order coming,
Wear specs.
To run at 1st street
Saw, wore whole shop in saffron coluor,
In glass chamber, stick saffron bindi in all doll's forehead
And saffron specs covered their eyes.
Add verse displayed - buy specs
Get rusted lance free absolutely.
To reached eyes on 2nd street
The shop 'n' carpets are green,
All dolls had beard and turban
In theplank advertising - buy specs
Get sword 'n' a bottle perfume free.
In the 3rd street endered my face
Whole room yellow, front dolls, specs,
Everywhere yellow, display text be yellow,
If buy specs, wonderful wine free.
To the 4th street, move my foot
Whole floor blue like the sea,
At shop, dolls, specs, all are blue
Gospel on display board
Seat on heaven be reserve free, buy specs.
Much crouded in 5th street
From enterence and street , to shop are red
Dolls are spectrum of victims, specs are red
slogan of display plank,
Sharpen wooden spear free,
Under puchased all specs.
And stret boys call worst,
Throw ***** of guilty verse,
And much caper plays
At back, a crying noises
That 2nd street, ask a boy brokenly
Passed away whole street,
In which specs for my sight?
And which colour for specs?
I too distruct and move my leg to 6th street,
From door to everywhere crystal,
And the floor pellucid, on the street no crowd
At the shop no doll and display plank.
When wear crystal specs,to see my own me?
To know my friend, colour of appetite,
Depth of love, greatness of hope in eyes.
I pray, with pulsated heart,
And wait for specs on the 6th street.
==============================C N Kumar.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC
I often feel like I don’t belong
Like I am not supposed to be here
This place
This time
Something is always telling me
You are fated to break these walls
And get confused
In the woodlands
Something is always blaring at me
You should be ******* those wolves
Fighting them
Rebelling them
And scorching all the walls
I do not understand
Sometimes I imagine
Is it worth the fight
What is belonging
What does it indicate
That you find your body somewhere in the ashes
And you feel alright
You feel stillness
And you are not bothered
About ****
****** up sheep
****** up wolves
****** up ****
And mess
Disorder.
Sometimes I think
I love the challenge
The glorious unethical feeling of being ******* up so bad
That you are disable
Those cramps my love
Are the reason why we’re here
Those wounds my baby
Are telling you to make it acuter
To make it dreadful
Until it’s worth it
Until the end of time
I know you love it
So you need to **** it more
Until you realize
Why we’re here
Why you belong
With all the non-forgiving cells
With all the beautiful regrets
I know you love it
But it doesn’t mean ****
You don’t belong here
And neither are your concealed pains
Your ***** hands
Your anxious thoughts
We must decease tonight
So that it counts
So that it’s worth it
You see
My love
Where you belong?
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
Civilized mankind has a unique way,
To party and celebrate a most special day.
Potassium and sulfur, mixed with some coal,
Can reduce a mountain into the hill of a mole.
Gunpowder is thought to have China as a start,
Ceremonies commence, fireworks a part.
I always thought, it amusing to find,
Warfare and festival are two of a kind.
Powerful explosions that disable and destroy,
Have the ability to give the masses such joy.
Here we go, let the bash begin,
Guaranteed to give, your face a grin.
Let's add some luminosity to this summer blast,
Firecrackers and sparklers make the jubilee last.
Pinwheels are nailed safely to a tree,
Furiously twirls colors for all to see.
An aerial assault aloft, hear them roar,
Yellows and greens, in the air they will soar.
Flash flaming fluorescence, blue and red,
Envelop your eyes, dancing in your head.
See the trail of a missile, zipping in flight,
Shiny illuminations, all through the night.
On the ground at the end of a fireworks show,
Blazing stars and stripes, a flag created, watch it glow.
The fourth of July is America's time,
A birthday blowout, drinks with lemon and lime.
This frolicking is filled with food, family and fun,
Independence day, I wish it never was done.
Please visit poemsbypaul.com
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 8:26 PM UTC
I feel like my inability to tie shoes in Kindergarten was symbolic
Because that was the year I learned to cut strings
Rather than to knot them into something elegant
And now I wish I had been taught with all of the other children
Because if I had
Maybe I would have known
Better
Than to take the red string
That kept him tied to me
And cut it
If I had
Maybe instead
I would have known
How to tie us
Into
Something
Beautiful
But I didn't
And I couldn't
And now I'm completely
Consumed
In my repulsion
For having
Done it
All
Intentionally
But at the time
It seemed so rational
Because the string was cutting off my circulation
Because I felt trapped
And claustrophobic
And tied down
Because when I was five
I was too busy playing with balloons
Rather than learning how to tie my shoes
And because
When I let go of my balloon at that festival
After I had finished crying
And once it had disappeared behind the clouds
I concluded that strings are meant to be cut
Because when you hold onto them
You disable flight
(I wanted to fly)
But I was only five
And my theory didn't account for
anything that wasn't lighter than air
And I'm heavy hearted
Jun 9, 2012
Jun 9, 2012 at 12:33 PM UTC
I became mesmorized by the water filter attached to the sink
From ***** to clean the water glides
Doing so to please each humans needs
Water the necessity, the core of living, life, existence
Filling each cup of energy
Filling each cup of life
Filter: a device to remove impurities
My mind drifted and with shaky hands I began to remember
Filter: a device to remove impurities
How similar I though how similar
Filtering , like my speech daily ,y words altered to be clean
To build into the right sentence, the sentence that fits into a specific place set and stone
Once it is filtered there is not return to *****
I remember as a child the day I was told to filter
The day I was told to engage myself within myself
To intertwine words in between my bones and hide them there untill they we're spell checked
to play hide and seek, more hiding than seeking
Make sure the words find approval
Ecspecially through man, because the word man is placed in woman
But woman not in man
As a defiant child I questioned life's reasonings
A woman found me, an adult figure I clung to like the last leaves on a tree
She spoke elgant and quiet
You cannot stand alone young girl you must think before each syllable flys like birds from the cage in your mouth
Suppress your mind disable yourself so you can exist among the superior
For generations to generations this is the curse
but such a blessing to live
We do not question humanity or the man in the w-o
You were born this way dear you cannot help whats under your skirt
I will train you to deal with the cards you have been dealt
But never speak of my teachings for out loud we are equal
I opened my ears like arms for a hug and stitched my mouth like buttons on a shirt
Ten years later I stand at my kitchen sink and I feel the words under my ribs and the sentences wrapped around my neck
I open my trap to let go of the misspelled words under my ribs
But there gone, seeking and seeking I want all my words back but they evaporated, forgotten among the earth
I take the filter and twirl it in between my fingers
Holding freedom between palms
filter: a device to remove impurities
I pour a glass of ***** water and take a sip, a gulp,
oh. the glorious tast, the glorious taste of impurity
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 12:43 PM UTC
I watch in retort
as you blunder
over causeways
of stammering lies,
hurtling weathered blows
from your
mournfully
tarnished
mouth.
The sound alone
asphyxiates me
and I would rather it hurry
than disable my
regal silence
with the screeching noise
of your
thunderously
garbled
deception.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 7:46 PM UTC
I've got the rhythm, but don't look anythang like a Nashvillian soul
Been living on the streets, so I ain't been on any **** census role
I'm not my mother's natural birth child, without any apology
But I’m god’s chosen and gifted, finger picking, guitar prodigy
Sun lights up the whole **** town, whilst it's still night-time
So, save your smoke doping act, 'til the dark of the daytime
CUCKUK, CUCKUK, cruisin' down some unnamed highways
That's what y’all be not knowin', 'bout da Tennessee ways
My Mama once said, just do your music or do something else
So, I'm legally insane and uncomfortable to be with, I guess
I don't actually see myself living anywhere forever
But, how'd ya know, that you've actually arrived, wherever
Sun lights up the whole **** town, whilst it's still night-time
So, save your smoke doping act, 'til the dark of the daytime
CUCKUK, CUCKUK, cruisin' down some unnamed highways
That's what y’all be not knowin', 'bout da Tennessee ways
If they don't ever remember the month or day, since leaving
Families gettin' together, telling lies, now police intervening
I sometimes have to forget that I wrote it, to be able to like it
As long as fans think dope of it, why bother to disable the ****
Hoed fresh corn all day, everyday, been up since the crack of dawn
Pretty plenty of backyard swamp talkin' catfish, have since been born
Sun lights up the whole **** town, whilst it's still night-time
So, save your smoke doping act, 'til the dark of the daytime
CUCKUK, CUCKUK, cruisin' down some unnamed highways
That's what y’all be not knowin', 'bout da Tennessee ways
He'd hit a rabbit a sittin' and killed it with the barrel of his gun
While the dang hammer was a peckin' a wild hog to death
Like gettin' outta control and hardly takin' a shot of breath
Or being a drunken redneck, on a 7 day weekend hillbilly whiskey run.
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 10:48 PM UTC
Get ready to ramble no time to scramble.
Fumble, stumble, or tumble and you will crumble.
Stand stable and be the probable trouble.
Get ready to ramble no time to scramble.
Cradle the brothel and blood you will satchel.
Straddle the mantle of ease and squeeze.
It will handle the pressure before you flee.
Get ready to ramble no time to scramble.
Stop the babble and label the cards on the table.
Look at yourself and separate the feeble from the able.
Prove you're trouble, disable the fable.
Double the effort, don't be too noble.
Hackle the pain, insecurity shackle it too.
Get ready to ramble no time to scramble.
Fortune or doom be weapon not wound.
Jul 30, 2011
Jul 30, 2011 at 8:17 AM UTC
The beauty of a unicorn,
Solitary riding through the night,
Blinding all around it,
With reality changing spite.
Gracefully it exits,
And all around are sad,
But it's lone rider,
Will never be glad.
To others it's existence,
Is quite questionable,
Wondering about it,
Not caring who it did disable.
Remembering the elegance,
Perfection did it hold;
Every other won't compare,
No matter how bold.
The rider had some others,
But it never works out,
For even though their his brothers,
Out the differences do shout.
Desire for its return,
But it cannot be,
For no one can match,
Or be good enough for me.
Life takes and gives,
But in the case, won't give back,
I wish it never left,
For my heart it did attack.
I am the lone rider,
And Daniel was my horse,
This is my constant reminder,
Of how it feels to remorse.
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 9:52 PM UTC
They say: we, humans, were born for reasons
then blinded for a reason was I?
or, muted for a reason was I?
intricately, not to see the beauty of the world's wonder
not to sing the melody of sweet rhythmic dulcet,
yet precious, perfect unique design
they call I am, God's special one.
I can't see I am, still
I can't say I am thus, still
I can't completely sense I am.
I move, yes, with freedom, a figment, though
yet imprisoned in an eggshell, my deadend
grave I had never.
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 7:26 AM UTC
Just when life seemed to be running smoothly
You're path chose to fool me.
I thought you would be there for me
and lead me to glory,
but unfortunately things were not so.
I'm not sure how I will be able
to let my brain disable
the switch to my emotions
of longing and yearning notions.
And yet here I still am,
fighting each day without your help,
hurting each day without your comfort,
struggling each day without your words.
And yet here I still am,
here I still am holding onto all these emotions
unable to yield my feelings to someone
for fear that my fate with anyone might end
in the same way it did with you.
Just when I thought I had found someone
that someone that I could speak to
be true to
tell everything about me, but now its done.
Its funny, how I thought that you'd be there for me
for ever and always,
and now i'm afraid it might fade away.
And yet here I still am,
fighting each day without your help,
hurting each day without your comfort,
struggling each day without your words.
And yet here I still am,
here I still am holding onto all these emotions
unable to yield my feelings to someone
for fear that my fate with anyone might end
in the same way it did with you.
And yet either way,
I still and will always love you.
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 5:55 PM UTC
I strive for any sense of sanity my body has left
and you could inject lithium into my bloodstream
all you wanted but that will never take away
the stream of conscious to which I face every **** day.
And I speak these words in a volume only sincere ears
could hone into and leech off of for their own sanity,
but things are never that easy.
Affirmation is like a drug and sanity like a ghost
you get addicted to those things in which
we are not usually accustomed to
that sincerity so comforting it's hard to let go.
Most people do drugs to forget,
but ******* with you,
I want to remember every single moment-
harness it inside my memory and save it as draft
so I can post it to my retinas later that night
when I'm loosing sleep because I cannot rid of the ghosts
I've spent both my night and day fighting off.
I want to crash and burn
I want to live a life like all the crazy poets
and authors and writers that never held dear to their sanity
they embraced their madness and embarked on a journey
throwing away any sense of normalcy they had.
But maybe, I should do as you say
or do as my father says-
ya know, just deal with my problems on my own.
It's kind of crazy because you both say the same thing
which leads me to believe that women do end up
marrying their fathers which I fear-
more than any other obstacle in my life
because my broken wings were built upon my fathers shoulders
and upon mine is more weight than I can carry,
So i'm sorry you've become a muse for my misplaced sanity
and a drawing board for my dilemmas
but baby, you have not seen dramatic.
Not from me at least and it's not safe for me
to hide this part of myself away from you..
But it's like you want me to.
And one day, oh god one day
I will crack under the pressure placed upon these shoulders
and try to fly with these broken wings
and I will crash and burn like alll those people
and it's then I will realize
that hiding away this part of myself
in spite of everything I know,
will be the best and the worst thing I've ever done.
and I'm so ******* tired,
that tired isn't even the word to describe it,
more like futile or unavailing because
I hide away parts of myself for the ones I love
and they itch to come at the surface like a growing tick
ready to explode distracted by euphoria filling it's stomach.
I am not okay, and I'm kind of tired of acting like it.
I am a ticking time bomb
ready to blow your ******* head off at any second
one you will never be able to disable-
and this, this is manic depression.
I wish it was as beautiful as Hendrix made it seem.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 11:57 AM UTC
Simplicity is found
within the most
complex of concepts.
The chaos encompassing
the subtle subconscious
is but a delusion,
which was designated
to distract
and disable
Dramatic interpretations
of simple truths
are the most misleading
of our design flaws
The unending flow
of deception
within ourselves
defeats the purpose
we were given
by the One,
who resides outside
our understanding
Take a moment
to relax
and reflect upon
your instincts,
which may be
the voice of reason
inside the screams
of broken logic
Understanding is gifted
to those who venture
outside the laws
of society’s lies
Meaning is found
through a process,
slow and painful
Lessons are learned
inevitably through repetition
of failure
and fault,
which guide us
through the gates
of enlightenment
He is here,
not to be feared,
but embraced
Hide not your face,
from the One
who awaits
your ascension
into the dimension
of kings
Become a martyr
to the cause
Find yourself climbing
above physicality of body,
and mentality of mind,
leaving behind
complexity of concept;
Finding simplicity
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 9:20 PM UTC
I shouldn't have to disable options to increase performance;
it should come as elegant as possible; succinct and functional.
Perhaps I'm too romantic about utilitarianism.
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 5:18 AM UTC
BRUSH
Brush free the carpet
of mud and fluff.
Let’s brush off the hurtful comment too,
that snide remark, those graceless words.
We’re cleaning yet collecting,
straightening up, taking out the dirt.
Repositioning dust. Always temporary,
never the same, brush, brush,
to and fro, again – again - again.
SCOOP
The ice cream tub has one
to make the portion fair
for that ever-observant,
pernickety child.
When walking the dog,
we scoop the ****
carrying the plastic bag
to the waiting wanting bin.
Yet the all-important wooden
scoop is made from a block
of a 2 by 3, with chisel, gouge
and a steady hand.
This farmer’s friend, this open spoon,
lives in darkness and under the lid
of the deep grain bin,
to feed white chickens.
POKE
Getting it out,
placing it right –
but much is trial & error.
If it won’t go in,
give it a poke . . .
and it might.
Nowadays it’s a software app
to help you cheat at on-line games
and , God forbid, an important tool
in the tattooist’s bag – the hand poke,
liner and shader with standard
8 – 32 thumb screws and
completely autoclave able.
CUT
Hogwimpering drunk
or ****** out of mind.
Seventies slang for
individual incapacitation.
A cut can hurt,
display the inner
through incision
in the outer.
Reveals, opens up,
allows a division from
one to another.
This cut of meat on the slab?
For you, madam?
I can cut it up
nice and small
for the baby to chew.
RAKE
Lying there in the long summer grass,
it needs standing up, its teeth cleaned.
When autumn comes it redeems itself,
clearing the path, letting the lawn breath.
In the hand of sculptor, ceramicist, modeller
it fashions variously, cuts, pulls away, gouges,
scrapes, a multi-purpose stick with two ends:
of wrapped wire, of ribboned steel.
LOOK
To make sure it’s right:
correct and straight,
balanced, in proportion.
The magnifier helps,
the camera too,
getting the angle,
the position , the light
gauged . . . with a little looking.
You have to look,
see?
HIT
Whatever needs placing firmly,
needs fixing permanently,
can do with a hit (or two).
A nail with a hammer,
a door with a foot,
it could be a winner,
and right on target,
strike out the opposition,
disable the enemy.
A killer noun.
I prefer the verb.
Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 5:11 AM UTC
sensual subtlety or the subtlety of sensuality
(HOW does size matter?)
<•>
*as always the title comes first,
embalming the mind so it may voyage onto unwritten waters,
over boundaries so the provocateur provoked may safely return,
avoiding evoking anti-frieze cannonade fire
some can disable with swinging fist,
a chopping arm on an exposed neck,
a swift kick to the semi-privates
but I can do same, inflicting immobilization
with a single solitary itty bitty
pinky figuring finger
no random boast, no hoax, not chest beating,
just a fact ma’am, nothing but the facts
the sensual subtlety of the delicate
is overpowering and irresistible
making grownups revert
into laughing crying out loud babies
the subtlety of sensuality pink’d exploding exploration,
the intoxicating tiny tingling subtle and without equal,
kingdoms have fallen, paintings and poems, art all kinds,
instigated and in eye sockets permanently inserted,
history redirected
know I will no be telling details,
the whose and where,
the why and surely not the
how, not here anyway
so when you tell me in raw fashion
size matters most definitely
in the matters of the heart
or the physicality
whole heartedly agree
waving my littlest pinky finger
watching you wavering
until you’ve learned the lesson
it’s the how*
not the how big
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 4:09 PM UTC
manifesting destiny comes when i'm weakest
i'm weakest now, when my shade comes haunting me
tracers of past, near and far, grasp my heart, seal my chart
forever licking me
licking my neck
biting my flesh
whispering words selling failures in the stead
of who could whisper all accomplishments
here i am, open, seeping all my wounds for you
hurt through the cracks believing that the scars i wear just may reach you
here i am, open, singing the only words i have left
your shadow
my shadow sneaks in
all too close
hovering beside me
your shadow
my shadow knows all
that it needs
to do to destroy me
and it seduces
blessings rarely come and tell me i'm okay
in absence i have learned to rely on things
deep within my emotion but lacking from my bed
forever taunting me
licking my neck
biting my flesh
whispering words selling love to my loneliness
of that i know full well would disable me
here i am, open, seeping all my wounds for you
hurt through the cracks believing that the scars i wear just may reach you
here i am, open, singing the only words i have left
what the hell does love mean, anyway?
well, open your arms, i'll let you enter the void.
what the hell does our love mean, anyway?
open your reclusive arms, i'll let you fall in.
fall in to the extreme
logic fails where the soul has been
fall in to the extreme
i'm warm,
i'm warm,
i'm warm
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 1:01 AM UTC
A man stood over a disabled man in
A super market to ask him for
A cup of coffee and the second man didn't know who he was and
Told him the **** off and the man
Said please buddy I would like to have a coffee with you and the discord man said please leave me the tuck alone and threaten to thy is his wheel chair at him
And then he said, have a coffee with me you disgruntled koonarri
And the disabled man was offended and held on to the fruit
Cupboard and leaped out and and tossed the wheel chair at the
Man and says nobody calls me a koonarri and gets away with it
And the man stood up in the wheel chair and told another customer to not be scared but the other customer wanted to
Call for shop security because this didn't look good at all
And the disabled man said ok the games up give me back my chair and the man said no, you tossed it in my direction and the disabled man said yeah because you wouldn't take no for an snswer
And the man said you drink coffee and I am willing to give you a free one and the disabled man said yeah but I don't want to have a coffee and the police came and arrested the man and gave the other man his wheel chair back and the disabled man
All this fuss over saying no to his coffee incursion
The man was cursing
But never saw the disabled man sgain
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 8:07 AM UTC