Best Disconcert Poems
A land unto its own as old as dirt
Condemned by voguish northern state of mind
This realm you'd be hard-pressed to disconcert
Though his'try would prefer it be maligned
The secret twisted oak and winding creek
The tapestries of moss that grace the swamp
They whisper in a language few can speak
Revealing true that fair southern beauchamp
There is no match for tender Georgia peach
To Cajun gumbo nothing can compare
And off the Apalachicolan beach
Fresh oysters make the finest southern fare
Sweet Dixie with your blemishes and charms
No place I'd rather be than in your arms
Jan. 4, 2017
The American Deep South - That magical swath spanning from east Texas eastwards and upwards through to the Carolinas
For the contest by Silent One Re: Sonnet About Where I Live
When folly leads; to wisdom…
By the way of endless dreams
'Pon a backdrop psycadellic where,
There's nothing all it seems’
I have struggled with good reason
made forays to shore-less isles
Lived a lifetime in the instant
Rode the shine of unforced smiles
Finding ever more to disconcert me
Through crowds of motley folk
Senses were overshadowed
Seams burst at senseless jokes
So on without an Inkling,
To a place I can't discern
Where tomorrow or forever
All I know is..' more I'll learn..
© Joe Maverick 23-9-2013
A tornado comes and goes so quick
Sometimes revisiting on the same day
Air humid, breathing hard and thick
Best advice given…get out of its way
Sounds like freight train bearing down
Delivers this –Varoommmmmmmmmm
Next best advice--don’t live in a valley
Respite from twisters in Oklahoma town
Not possible— it’s tornado alley
Here’s the scoop
May 5, 1960…The date of the natural crime
Wilburton, Oklahoma…quiet and boring
Me…my life, smooth and in my prime
Outside, trouble brewing, rain pouring
No wind—then dark---storm clouds
Sudden change and all so loud
No way to stop---nature makes it way
Tornadoes F4 hit twice that day
Up one hill, down in the valley, another hill
A path right through main street
Wiped out fifteen blocks with shocking skill
Score tornado 16, town 0…no receipt
Sadly, sixteen dead, hundreds hurt
Think disaster, destruction, devastation
Hail equates baseballs—certain disconcert
Wind 250 miles per hour, an aberration
On a personal note
Mom, sister, and I alone
Little sister told to put football helmet on
I get only, “You better pray. Don't groan."
Three females in bathtub…no put-on
Scared, hoping this was a no drop zone
First cyclone over…it was no spoof
Uh, oh, second one took the roof---
But not us…Prayed and prayed
God was there, though fear stayed
What happens next...nothing good
Can’t drink the water…
Dysentery, typhoid, cholera—it could
Can’t go to school
Smushed-–classes postponed
Can’t go to church
Smashed---future unknown
Can’t find food
Red Cross helps pick up the tone
Friends hurt, one killed
One man up in the swirl…
Carried him about a mile—life unfulfilled
No limbs left—no head to twirl
People scared another will hit
The normal long gone—some split
Build shelters, that's the name of the game
Yet, life did go on... but nothing ever the same
As I was sitting on the pot
I felt a pair of eyes;
I took a glance out through the slot
And much to my surprise,
There was a patch of blue out there
I'd never seen before.
I couldn't make out head or hair
Or shoes upon the floor,
But I could see (about chest high)
What seemed to be a shirt.
There's someone waiting just outside
Which served to disconcert!
I guessed he must have had to go
(Of that, I could relate)
But standing just outside the door
Is not the place to wait.
I wished he'd take a few steps back;
My irritation grew.
Had he no proper sense of tact?
There's some things you don't do!
And so I flushed, with half a mind
To chide him for this gaffe.
I opened up the door to find...
Oh no! I had to laugh.
When I emerged, there was no trace
Of a man with urgent bowels;
The blue was from the plastic case
Dispensing paper towels.
Bodhisattvas turn airflow into flames,
water into Earth
as Jesus turned baptismal waters
into blood red rivers
of warm nutritious wine.
Bodhisattvas,
like Messiah prophets and saints,
long for
belong to
the baptismal political economy
of cooperative ecotherapeutic waters,
as yin flows air MidWay notnot pathological
through Yang's Great Transitional flames
ecstatically leaping,
empowerment "hungry"
for air's co-arising health-optimizing
embrace
as ReGeneration
balance evolving waves
of neuro-conscious language
logos thoughts
deeper mythos feelings
inviting ecological ethos.
When our political voices become too didactic
we listen wiser for more lyrically cooperative outputs
with denser harmonics,
singing and dancing in
bilateral resonant appositionals
polycultures
polypaths
optimally nurturing ego/eco-health perpetuation,
regenerative yang/yin dipolarity
of deep wealth EarthTribe.
While these singers and dancers
disconcert their way
maintaining (0)-investment PlaceHolder mentations,
SpaceTime Unitarian-Integral Occupation,
unbiassed polypathic attention
to neuro/eco-systemic ethics
and shared bipartisan norms
and co-invested political cooperative values
Natural communion economies of cooperation with Other
v competition for sufficient compassionate time
to heal threats to politically dense wealth outcomes
These are all held in Common Symbolic Messages
as invitations to positive individual freedom development
of positive values
with nutritionally regenerative purpose
emerging future Bodhisattva Co-ReGenerators
Composed of past,
and disposed toward future, healthy love
of neuro/eco-passionate balancing
fractal mind enlightenment
and dialectical body empowerment
Where red flame
of dawn's Earth matriarchal warning
meets red fears
of long dark-swept patriarchal past.
The unusual fragrance looms above my room,
Its owner not yet known,
Its purpose still a mystery I assume
Sweeter than any other fragrance I ever own,
Its mood is ataraxia,
Cold soothing scent, texture so smooth,
Like dying in a peaceful euthanasia,
I have it trapped in a booth,
Smells like angels on a spring break,
Dancing gloriously in the water fall,
With a rattling feeling like an earth quake,
Its particles bouncing from wall to wall,
Clogged in my mind is a fog of disconcert,
As I battle my feeling to a perfect stranger,
The feeling of unrest causes discomfort,
As the unusual fragrance puts my heart in danger,
Contemptuous of his home beyond
The village and the village pond,
A large-souled Frog who spurned each byeway,
Hopped along the imperial highway.
Nor grunting pig nor barking dog
Could disconcert so great a frog.
The morning dew was lingering yet
His sides to cool, his tongue to wet;
The night dew when the night should come
A traveled frog would send him home.
Not so, alas! the wayside grass
Sees him no more: - not so, alas!
A broad wheeled wagon unawares
Ran him down, his joys, his cares.
From dying choke one feeble croak
The Frog's perpetual silence broke:
"Ye buoyant Frogs, ye great and small,
Even I am mortal after all.
My road to Fame turns out a wry way:
I perish on this hideous highway,-
Oh for my old familiar byeway!
HYDROPHOBIA
Feeling some disconcert
As I saw some dirt upon my shirt,
I rinsed it out, but all in vain,
For one big spot did thus remain.
Alas, it had been surely smote
By grease from a gravy boat!
I now saw I needed attention.
To a hostile, phobic tension
Between water and oil,
Causing grease, to the shirt, to espoil.
I had to figure out whether
I could get them, as friends, together,
For only then, in some way,
Could water carry that spot away.
Aha!. I found one to clear the weather
And get the two together,
A cleaning merchant
By the name of Alfred D.Turgent
Was able to overcome this atrocity
Of phobic animosity
Allowing the water and grease to elope
With the blessings of my good friend soap
Leaving my shirt
Now free of all dirt!
Stan 1/10/14
On some days it will rear its ugly head
to disconcert when all around seems fine,
and offer choices different instead
from those I've made to build this life of mine.
It teases in the street, a passing glance,
a burst of laughter, glimpse of sparkling eyes,
two kissing lovers, bathing in romance,
hid in plain sight, and cleverly disguised.
Could this thing be the love I should have known,
am I in the wrong lane, on the wrong wave,
must it snap at my heels, future unknown
and torment my decisions to the grave?
You play the hand you're given, it's your call
or never get to play the game at all.
For contest 'New Sonnets only', sponsor Emile Pinet
August 19th 2018
It took me time to embellish
myself
And long to reach you!
And there I stand confronting
you and lionise,
Behaving uncontrived and
candid!
And now you waste golden
moments talking to my better
half,
Bereft me and become
nonpareil!
Your fairer half still sits staid,
Not inveighing our inexorable
closeness!
Do not evince your antediluvian
ideas,
And undulate perplexed
disconcert!
If you vitiate my selfhood
today,
It would addle and might moire
me beyond identity!
Look into my eyes I am
dogmatic,
Very positive that Love will
triumph!
Written on 22/9/13 for
' Charles heigh wood contest'
A Convict on the Loose
By Elton Camp
It was eight o’clock and we’d settled for the night
But little traffic was passing so our street was quiet
One of our favorite movies was just about to begin
When Eye Witness News abruptly came breaking in
“It’s a serious announcement that we interrupt to tell.
A convicted murderer has just broken out from his cell.
He was seen heading for the residential neighborhood,
He has sworn that to escape he’d do anything he could.”
The newsman explained he was dangerous and armed
And that, while escaping, two people he had harmed
“We don’t want too much the public to disconcert,
But everyone should remain cautious and on alert.”
My wife and then exchanged some worried glances
“I’ll check the doors. There’s no use taking chances.”
The doors were locked and all seemed secure to me
So I walked back to the family room to watch TV
The old movie had just barely gotten underway
When a noise at the door a presence did betray
The unexpected sound made me cringe with fear
After dark, nobody to our house should come near
It’s got to be the evil criminal they warned about.
Of that scary fact, I didn’t have the least doubt
To the door it would be extremely foolish to go
I felt a sense of total terror beginning to grow
I lifted the receiver and quietly dialed 911
“Send a policeman to our house on the run!
It’s just awful how dangerous this is sounding.
As on our back door a vicious man is pounding.”
Very soon, there was a siren and a flashing light
Outside our door we heard yelling and a fight
A bullhorn called, “We have caught the crook.
Now please come on outside and take a look.”
On the ground, hands cuffed behind his back,
Was our next door neighbor, young Joe Black
The man was angrily cursing and having a fit
“To warn of danger I came. This is what I get.”
The dots do I join, to rediscover
That which was forgotten, remembered through continuation
Naivety had my youth shown plenty
Lines of love, professed lies
My aspirations stemmed, by a being not noticing.
Time has it stopped not for my admiration
Its progression I cannot prevent
But my mind's reversion, has already occurred
That which had been lived, is lived again
Her entrance I appreciate once more; the essence unfound.
Events are offered no change, by memories
Questions unthought than, asked now
The height of my feelings, a hyperbole
A chance doomed by an evasive reality
Her beauty existent; I chose a figment.
Each confidant, hearing more passion than the last
If doubts were raised, my words were shown
A destiny I sought, with a name with no letters
My stare, affording no return glance
Her interactions echoing no friendship; my ignorance deflated.
A work I had begun ardently, not knowing
My return home , a return to future synonymy
Pages torn, to drown in cliches
Her rejection, could not disconcert
The dots I made, do I join to know.
Maybe I'm committing a social gaffe
but when someone falls, I have to laugh.
For just a moment I feel guilt and disconcert
before rushing over to see if they've been hurt.
Belly laughter is contagious
It tickles my fancy; it's outrageous
how quickly giggles get out of control,
but laughter is good medicine for the soul.
Everybody’s mishegoss*
Is different from our own.
One person’s crazy fears won’t match
The ones to which we’re prone.
Spending time with others
May surprisingly reveal
Ideas and actions out of sync
With how we live or feel.
For all of us succumb to
Thoughts irrational, which lack
A basis in reality,
Appearing out of whack.
Yet we cling to our perceptions,
Feeling justified and smug
While opinions that may differ
Will be greeted with a shrug.
Everybody’s mishegoss,
Perfected and unique,
May surprise or disconcert us
When we manage just a peek.
*craziness
disappoint, disavowed, disingenuous, displace
disastrous, disapprove, disallow, disadvantage, disaffect
disagree, disappear, disapprobation, disarray, disassociate
disbelieve, dishearten, disharmony, dishonest, disinterest
disguise, disenchant, disengage, disfavor, disgrace
disdain, discredit, discourteous, disconnect, discontent
discombobulate, disconcert, discontinue, discordant
discourage, disdain, disjunct, dislike, disloyal, dismal
disorder, disorient, disparage, disown, disparity, dispassion
dispirit, displeasure, dispossess, discriminate
dispute, disqualify, disquietude, disregard, disrespect
disrupt, dissension, dissociate, distort, distress
distance