#suits
You laughed like a secret, sat close like a spell,
But clubs in your grin meant you never thought well.
Said we were soulmates, sisters in crime
But you cracked at the edges
when it wasn’t your time.
Queens don’t trust jokers, I learned this too late
Playing your part and I sealed my fate.
Spades behind backs and diamonds for shine,
You twisted the truth with one scripted line.
So here’s to the fall, to the crash, to the end.
To fake little hearts that pretend to be friends.
I’ll toast to the silence, to truth in the dark
And rebuild my throne from your fake house of cards.
May 24, 2025
May 24, 2025 at 2:12 AM UTC
Have you ever seen,
White light shine,
Through black diamonds?
Seen the reflection of moonlight,
Off of gold?
Do you walk around parties,
In black suits and dress attire.
How great it feels,
To keep time on gold watches.
Black diamonds,
Silver seas.
I'd give you riches,
If you'd love me.
Dec 23, 2024
Dec 23, 2024 at 2:47 PM UTC
Emerging economies.
What they’re emerging from I don’t know.
My guess, the depths of hell.
From the frying pan, right into the fire, or worse; a well.
A deep hole stronger than gravity, the force.
To be forever under the thumb of remorse.
A modern era of endless acts, policies and bla bla bla.
Shut up with all your platitudes.
I see what’s really going on. Aha!
You speak of sustainable development.
Nice to know that you’ve led by example.
Carried the mantle for all these years.
Centuries of ruthlessness, now veiled in sheep’s clothing.
But you won’t shut up. Because you don’t speak.
You never have. You just do.
Each day that goes by, you carry on anew.
Behind all the talk of hope, equality and more progress,
it seems the wolves are lurking.
Cooking up the next tool to subdue countless.
This time, not behind closed doors. But in plain sight.
It’s scary to imagine such spite.
Each year that goes by it becomes clearer that you never cared.
You sold guns, drugs and all kinds of war.
And each time, you kept coming back for more.
You’ve built up antibodies that ensure your survival.
But sometimes I wonder if you’re alive at all.
But what do I know?
Maybe you’re more alive than ever.
Doing what you do best but always more clever.
That not even the most stable of geniuses can evade your pressure.
A strong enough foundation that each break makes you stronger,
So strong that not even the Gremlin can take you under.
Against this dreary background, foregrounded is nothing short of magical.
Beyond hope, prayers or a thoughtless radical.
Or maybe this is all just fake outrage.
An attempt to evade the boredom of this endless monotony and baggage.
Or maybe, the term is out of date.
Like every other, that makes me increasingly more irate.
In which case, this poem is at least ten years late.
Or maybe there are too many maybes’.
And I’m perfectly suited for this time of vague uneasiness and indifference.
In which case, my imagination probably needs more sociology and less a lesson in rhymes.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 1:44 PM UTC
If I had taken chances with all those advances we would of met under different circumstances.
But in the end where the river bends
Turns out we’re all friends
I’m sorry for being so sorry
For being weak
For watching
Too much Maury
I live in a fantasy land
I get sad
Cause my reality is ******
I want so much
Just to touch
The heart of
Of he who hasn’t
Had mine for lunch
It’s my fault
It always is
You would think by now
I would be used do this
I don’t want to ruin anything
I don’t want to get in the way of what the future could bring
I need to get out before my soul begins to cling
I’m sorry.
For being lonely
For falling, low key
I’m sorry
I’m weak
The love I receive
Is much too bleak
I’m sorry
I wish I was stronger
I should just leave
Over and yonder
My only worry is
The farther i go
My heart will grow
That much fonder
I try my best not too
Look..
All this uncertainty has me
Shook
I never felt so worried
Over an ending
Of a story
Only before ours could be read
It always already fuckind dead
Before I go
I just wanted
To let you know
I’m Sorry
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 7:59 AM UTC
no rules allowed and chaos ensues
alcoholics start hitting up the *****
teens start trying on Holocaust shoes
men in black suits keep signing off on paper
no regard for woman no they just **** her
people once in power now cry in the shower
but at least they can't feel the fear on the streets today
people still fearing to be gay
people still fearing to say hey
no way
tired black suits just sign away
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 8:49 PM UTC
People people
they go around like pigs
showcasing their fancy suits
proclamating the biggest trend
Jewelry, then food, then them big fast automobiles
Those are the priorities by order
Getting greedy
Getting fat
Gettin' Gettin' GETTIN'
In a monstruous ball of meat!
With a monstruous will of plastic!
Monstruously stupid!
Monstruous,
monstruous...
I'm gettin' tired
But I'm afraid,
They are just getting started.
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 12:14 PM UTC
You call me when you need me
not because you want me
you say goodbye when you want
not when it suits me
What happened to secrets?
now my life's out in the open
What happened to love?
You gave your heart to another girl
now I am stuck in the dirt
begging at your feet
Do I need to cry myself to sleep?
I will not take this pain
there is no gain
so just let me end it hear
this is my last call
Goodb.. Silence.
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 10:39 PM UTC
Why do they call them bathing suits if you're not supposed to be bathing in them?
Interesting how we coin terms in this silly world
But i guess i shouldn't call it silly due to some of the silly things we have done and i've done.
They should just keep it one term- swimsuits
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 4:13 PM UTC
You always called me your Queen
And said you would be my King
But in the end, I was just the Joker;
I suppose that makes you the *******
So please kiss my Ace goodbye.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 7:47 PM UTC
In sooth,
A suit suits me not,
Nor does a suit soothe me a lot.
I am no snoot,
But it makes me feel like a brute.
After a pursuit, I did find out that
a suit is definitely not smooth;
Oh, shoot! It feels like a layer of soot,
Probably like a bag of jute
Without the color of Groot!
I shall no longer hoot about my suit
As I always scoot up to fruitful roots,
But y'see, this poem bears no fruit.
What is that you say? Season 6 is en route?
G'bye, I'm off to watch the Suits.
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 9:47 PM UTC
Unzip,
new skin quick
neutralised Freudian slips
A spy game
so slick
well placed mortars sinking battleships
new suit
cover skin ill-suited to do business with life
find a life that suits your business
before you cover your life with a business suit.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 1:23 AM UTC
This is a poem for the inner trying to get out
For yearnings and desperation
Surrounded by cardboard furniture we sit
With silence
And serious expressions
Business-like.
Perhaps I will set down a lyric after lyric
About the clicking pen
Scribbling over paper
About due process
Convention
Eyes avoiding eyes
The building of a wall.
Our windows all have shutters now
We begin to close them
A whispered
Bridge the gap
Is stifled
Pushed away
Drowned
In proper formality
Small talk barely satisfies.
Suits,
Mr Smith,
Suits.
Let us be quirky
Oh fellow human clone of mine!
Let us dance!
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
Breathe here, stare there
Gorgeous people everywhere
Mind chases, heart races
Breath-taking men with briefcases
Black suits and coloured ties
Witty minds with pretty eyes
Pulled up socks, polished shoes
Ink pens, all blues
Strong souls, real men
Captive in a cemented den
Pick one or pick seven
All good as heaven
Hard working, on time
Romantic talks with wine
One sings the other cooks
Charming words, ***** looks
Unexpected, unsure
My boss makes me lure
His Lamborghini, his yacht
Finest of the lot
His dimples, his hair
His tantrums I can bear
Surprise gifts from his side
Strong feelings, stronger vibe
Look here, look there
Gorgeous men everywhere
Single girls form a line
Take them all, boss is mine.
-Zainab Attari
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 8:22 AM UTC