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Bus Poet Stop May 2015
Thedermatologist demands a pre-summer scan of my visual delights fully magnified.

Peering into places where no one else has ever peered, even me, reminds me that this is a potentially "disruptive" process.

Eye don't know what his eyes have seen.  

He works in silence pin punctuated by the occasional mmmm or throat clearing rumble.

Snappy removal of neutrally colored gloves signify conclusion, he opines as follows:

"Were you aware," he inquires, "that the lines, the furrows on a your forehead correspond to the life your have lead?"

"You have three, deep deep tracks, and that's a fact."

Yes, eye know,
and each one is a tree ring notation
of my existence.

Each a different year,
each a different moment fearful,
a death and a birth,
a passing, a regaining.

No, not children or parents,
illusions.

Markers of our lives are the
birth and death of our illusionary,
our revelation minutes, that measure and scribe
what dug those furrows is now officially,
no more.

Until we start anew,
a different Pretense,
a channel commenced to commemorate.

Living the dream, they say,
aren't we all, eye think, and so inform him.

The doctor did not bill for this
visitation.
mariamme Nov 2018
semantics, it's all just
words chasing themselves
thru the alleyways and avenues
of my poor distracted brain;
if it matters so little, these
words, carefully chosen
and lined up as shoes
in the doorway,
then why do i ache
at the depth of meaning
the quirks of careful thought-
each syllable a pebble in the pool
disruptive, beautifully so.
20 noviembre
Samantha Cunha Nov 2018
Lurking in my mind
are
disruptive thoughts
I may temporarily lose
but always find
these thoughts never
disperse fully
never diminish nor
dim down dully
reappearance of a lost train of thought
I held up the double edged sword
and fought
for
truths I was not ready to handle
blew out the
candle
smoke rose slowly
My god,
you are quite holy
darker thoughts
bring forward an inner truth
never entertain the uncouth
John F McCullagh Jul 2018
By all accounts he’s had a lifelong case of OCD.
“Donald was a disruptive tyke”- his teachers all agree.
He was not much of a scholar but, as a youth, excelled in sports.
As a builder and developer he was often seen in  Courts.

When it comes to matters of the heart, he sadly is no wiser
He loves them and he leaves them. He’s a noted womanizer.
Oh, he pays them for their trouble; that much I will allow.
Still he’s never had compunction over breaking wedding vows.

Now he is our President and making noise on Trade.
If he doesn’t get his way beware his twitterverse tirade.
He's paying  farmers Billions  to forgo their tillage.


Hillary was wrong- It takes a child to raze a village.
From a clever bon mot from my Facebook amigo Maryann Kelly
Martin Dove Dec 2018
When was the last time you cried when
an ant hive was ruined to put a new building in place?
When was the last time you cried when a rich coral reef
turned into a dead waste?
When did you last changed your behavior so that
the globe would stop heating?
.
After a wound, an adaptive system stars healing.
Its antifragility leads to a stronger being.
The World’s wound is caused by the disease called “Humanity”
The wound does not resemble a skillful, sterile cut of a surgeon
It’s more like a boiling vile of acid poured over one's back
leaving bare bones with denatured flesh dripping down the spine
Yet still even after our **** nature will once again repair itself
It will heal and allow another disruptive ecological breakthrough to happen
.
When did you last notice that we are just another species?
Not that different from ants, to which we had no compassion
When was the last time you played around with the prospect of annihilation?
This is all so stupid, sorry. I didn’t want to mention
We are insignificant animals ripe for extinction
god made your head balloon with recognition
pouring these shots of friday we've been sipping on
and i, a needy god of my respectful own
have yet to make an effort to improve upon
a clever poem
or an able song
a yes-please-thank-you point of view
with no-please-thank-you dolours
relating red to wounds and rowan trees
relating sapphire to the social structures
of the all-embracing web
and camouflaging with disruptive sets of colours

the weekend's not so far away, routinely
spidering past, each season at a matching pace
and i, a needy god in my imperfect place
have yet to make an effort to avoid distress
no rationale, just
in whichever case
all you will have to do is wish
yourself upon this mountain
relating pink to acts of human aid
relating green to all the times you, grinning
johnny-cashed your green in - then
married the gold, married the endless shouting
jus 3d
my friends will one day wake up to a sunrise that will no longer bother them.

they will open their eyes to a new beginning -- not to a storm masquerading as sunrise, not to repetitive death masquerading as new life. they will wake up when the world has finally woken up,outside of its shell. to promises that exist. to less ******* like the men they once dealt with, like the people they once longed to live a future around them.

my friends will no longer cry about the despair of their disruptive past. they will laugh over it and drink, and then cry to another set of dilemmas they hold, but at least not the ones that put them on the line and held them down. they will be in battles where they are certain they will succeed. not in wars that will leave them bloodied, with weapons that past lovers have wielded against them. by their own feet and their heavy yet graceful movement, they are bound to win.

my friends deserve to bleed by fighting for themselves, covering their faces in red blood that looked like wine; let them bleed by fighting their own weaknesses and encouraging their own strengths. not by picking on their scabs that were present since they opened themselves out aggressively, hoping that you would listen. but instead you ripped out an even bigger part of them, causing all the blood to ooze from various places, losing themselves in the abyss. they ask me "how do they sleep peacefully at the nights when i chose to **** my mind?" and i am left dumbfounded. i knew them for being so strong-willed, so independent, so fearless. all it took them was a dull, naive, little boy that failed to see the entire strength my friends possessed.

my friends deserve to live. they deserve to walk as they are on this earth. yes, they deserve to be talked to. no, they don't deserve to be talked down. yes, they deserve love in any forms possible. no, they don't deserve to change their bodies into forms you desire, ones that are impossible. ones that are never normal. and still use them to captivate your inner pleasures. and dismiss them so easily after the night has gone away. if you respect and love me as a human, then show the same energy to my friends. my friends deserve me, just as much as i deserve them.

my friends will one day sleep peacefully like you. whether by themselves or with a lover's warmth.

they will make it, and i will always love them.
Yenson Aug 3
“ And so they went to war......coercive game” to wage new form of disruptive non-violent protest against the powerful, but undemocratic cliques by targeting individuals who belong to these circles, but stay under radar of democratic process. I don’t think the object of the attack matters – it’s the method of the attack what matters. Instead of exposing something they go undercover and “fix” situation as they see it fit their agenda whatever it might be. Since everything in their game is secret they are themselves the definition of word “undemocratic.”  

If I was greedy by working, paying Taxes and not a burden to the state
Why not simply call me out and expose the reason for your accusation
Why a ruthless covert war, why spread lies and disinformation and
misinformation
They could not do that
These are Thieves and Criminals
out to silence and discredit and hide their criminality
They is no guilt on my part, I called out thieves and scumbag crooks
By now
I should have had a breakdown
I should have left the Country scared out of my wits
I should have committed suicide or been incarcerated in jail
least they wanted to soften me up, turn me into a witless dummy
a confused withering fool pushed from pillar to post, begging acceptance.
NO
I am not intimidated by Thieves and their Mobsters
I am not softened up and I will keep unflinchingly to my truths
Fools, how can memories of my poor wife that you broke
blackmailed and made her leave depress me when I know the truth
Was happy she went as it was most painful watching her suffer
You know I could have gone looking to bring her back
I did not because I felt good knowing she's out of it
THEN
you tried creating unrequited Love that I saw from miles away
I didn't take the bait, yet you drone on like imbeciles that you are
anything to drain, depress, demoralize, break, torture or torment
I laugh at you gumption-less sickos cause its now obvious
no matter Criminals are really stupid, imbecilic, asinine fools
Its really true that nobody in their right minds ever wants to be
a criminal. You are semi-illiterates, worthless paranoid, fearful, twisted, psychotic cowards and Narcissists
AND
those are the well known tools you project on to your victims
thinking because they are not hardened Criminals like you
they will break and crumble
To be hounded and followed is your worst nightmare
To an innocent man, its a pack of fools wasting their time
I haven't done anything criminal, why should I care
You hide underground, you need secrecy and anonymity
I have NOTHING TO HIDE, EXPOSE ME AS MUCH AS YOU LIKE
YOU ARE SCUMS AND CRIMINALS, THIEVES, BURGLARS, THE DREGS OF SOCIETY...the shame is yours NOT mine

White thieves and Mobsters in London putting the bite on a blackman who they stole from and who stood up to them!

YOU DON'T SCARE ME CHEAP DISGRACEFUL SCUMS
YOU DO NOT SCARE ME ONE TINY BIT......
Do your worst, scumbags.......
thesa Feb 19
art
is

disruptive
destructive
irritating dismantling

it is pure chaos
within an ordered mess
it is deadly vivid
leaving me obsessed

poetry is art
art is poetry
what am i aiming for
how come i can't see
what i 'm chasing
here

breath hasten
thoughts loosen
words crafting
pen moving

this blank sheet
i fill up with my fear
nothing artistic
rather sadistic

tell me
how many poems
does my pain demand
to sometime
sound like art
Amanda Nov 2018
Gaze full of hurt
Prophecy now unclear
Terrified of breaking you
More than I appear

I may seem composed
Unbothered to the untrained eye
It's destroying me within, believe
To be the one saying goodbye

I never played the field
Not used to being the one
Who steals hearts, smashes them
As soon as they stop having fun

I see shapes through loves blindfold
The sharpness of your rotten core
I am deciding loneliness
Is better than our hearts raw and sore

I know demeanor is cold
On a leash keep emotions felt
Shallow breath gives away
That my adoration is starting to melt

When calamity ultimately manifests
Into a mess you'd rather hide
Disruptive indiscretions occur
Bruises are born inside

A different suffering spreads
Polluting narrow veins
Morphing my blood dark and slow-moving
Spiraling down my arm red drains

I wish I could resuscitate the spark
Then I wouldn't feel so guilty and bad
It doesn't matter how we got here
What matters is that we can't go back
When the past knocks, don't answer. It has nothing new to say.

— The End —