"chanel" poems
the girls had been chattering and laughing in the dining room when suddenly nan, zoey, and madison charged in the room. making everyone stop and look at them. "Alright ******* Madison stood with her arms crossed and an enraged look in her dark brown eyes. "who the **** stole my money???" she questioned. the girls just sat there and looked at her quietly. "okay, none of you broke *** hos want to fess up? you're ballsy enough to take my **** but you're not ballsy enough to stand up to me? i see" Madison shouted. sadness and hostility in her eyes and voice.
"who took Madisons money? i wanna know right now!" Cassie stood up in anger. quickly rushing to Madisons aid. Madison nudged her alittle and rolled her eyes. Cassie folded her arms, mimicking exactly what Madison had been doing. "BROKE *** HOESSSS!" Cassie screamed, pointing at all the girls. Pyper rolled her big blue eyes and flipped her long crimson red hair laughing, "nobody stole your money you idiot, you probably just misplaced it." she laughed, fearlessly looking madison straight in the eyes. which made nan look at pyper very suspiciously as she read her mind. "hold my earrings please." Madison began to put her hair up in a bun. "what is going on in here?" Cordelia stormed in the room with her arms folded. "put your shoes on Madison." Cordelia looked at Madison in confusion. "nothing, Madisons spazing out because she thinks that someone took her money. and now she's getting all 'ghetto' and bent out of shape about it. taking her payless heels off like she's actually going to do something." pyper rolled her eyes and joked, making the rest of the girls laugh aswell. "payless? i only wear chanel." Madison flipped her hair. Nan looked Pyper in the eyes suspiciously, shaking her head from side to side. "i'm going to say this once and once only." cordelia shouted. "i will not have any fighting or steeling in this house. and if anyone is caught fighting or steeling, you will be expelled. it's a big bad world out there girls, up until now you've all lived very sheltered lives and i'd hate to send you out in it to fend for yourselves." Cordelia sighed. pyper got a very sad look in her eyes. "sheltered" she snickered, "right."
Nan looked at pyper sadly, still reading her mind.
"what are you looking at?" Pyper shouted at nan viciously.
"i'm not sure yet." Nan replied curiously.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
*The time had come for two hearts to go their own way.
It wasn’t sad; it wasn’t angry; just profoundly honest;*
In the whirlwind of young life
Their love sudden
He blew her away
She caught his breath
The lust explosive
Captivated by each others touch
Living the dream
Fancy London apartment
Chanel and Bottega Veneta
Cap D Antibes
Woke to keys of an MG
Squealed with delighted
***** and Wine
Yet in the depth of this life
Fighting to be free
To own their souls
Losing sight of love
The power of another life
Kept them chained
In the birth of her breath
It came to an end
*The legacy off their passion
A sparkling spirit
In the shadow of that spirit
Never to know
The geniuses of
Her soul
No captured memories
His dying voice
Silent to her life*
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
Chanel No.5 fills the air.
My bleary eyes make out the outlines of a stage.
I catch sight of athletic contours of her body, gold dust covered skin shimmering under a flood of exclusivity.
Chic, Elegant with a touch of class.
All senses awakened by her salacious seductive moves.
Tassels and feathers add to sensual illusion and my eagle eyes are transfixed on her snake like movements.
Sugar **** takes centre stage!
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
she wasn't cute,
she was alluring.
she wore that chanel no five
and said that she only wore perfume to bed
but if you saw her nights,
you'd see her in her older brother's boxers
and a tank top with a few holes.
and her little harmless lies
were ****
weaving their separate ways through
all sense that you ever had.
she was beautiful, in all the ways that
a person cannot be.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
There is a snack size container of peanut butter sitting in the pantry
And I'm sitting across the room but I can feel it's weight as acutely as my own
I checked the package three times, hoping the numbers would change when i returned
282
282
282 calories
I'm having a panic attack over a snack because the one thing I crave more than anything else in the world is the sticky, nutty taste of JIF brand peanut butter of which I am undeserving
My grandmother loved peanut butter
So much that they had to hide it from her if they wanted any hope of a satisfactory sandwich
My mom hid food too
Stole it like kiss after kiss
Sneaking cookies from the houses where she babysat
Getting crumbs on her swelling chest in the dark embrace of her teenage bedroom
A buffet for one
And now I'm in my grandmothers house
Hoping that there's peanut butter in heaven
Because here there's just photographs and the lingering scent of her Chanel number 5 perfume
Like mother, like daughter, like granddaughter they say
You can trace my family line as easily as the stretch marks that litter our bodies
But I am breaking the cycle by falling into my own
I have learned that hunger pangs are better than the climbing figures on the scale
So I lift a glass of water to my lips
And I leave the peanut butter in the pantry so no one will ever have to hide food from me
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 11:29 AM UTC
I'm trapped and enclosed.
Buried under paranoia.
I fear he will leave.
Replaced by Chanel perfume and deception, cat like eyes and caramelized extensions.
Drowning under mental images I've created. Mentions being spoken.
Inevitable feelings I try to avoid, but I can not.
Her existence makes me melt, even though we have never met.
My thoughts are too much to bare.
I despise this naked evil.
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 1:25 AM UTC
A few years back,
I used to look like a hag,
Dark circles,
Plain cheeks,
Messy long hair,
No sleek,
Shaggy clothes,
All creased,
Now, penciled eyes,
Powdered face ( not literally ),
Short hair,
Neat ponytail ( I'm almost there ),
Branded clothes,
Gucci, Dior, Chanel and many more,
Red lips,
Ready to glaze,
Trendy clothes in my closet,
Still yearning for more,
Shoes of all kinds,
Heels, sneakers and boots,
How time passes,
Transforming into puberty.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 5:43 AM UTC
sugared fingers, the smell of Chanel
and I am flushed on red berry wine
and the charms of someone, dear,
who I would like to call "Valentine"
la vie en la rose
this red stains lips pink and
I see in pink, everything around me
as I dip my nose to my wrists, inhaling
*Sicilian oranges, Calabrian bergamo
Indonesian patchouli, Haitian vetiver
Bourbon vanilla andd white musk*
I giggle coquettishly and I am blushing,
For these sweet nothings
mean very much to me
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 1:50 PM UTC
Little Box talks back
With a new set of teeth
And pink gums
A fake nose and a wax mustache
She disguises her voice
To sound like Groucho
•
Little Box opens up
And cries to her psychiatrist
I don’t know why they hate me
I’m such a sweetheart
I volunteer at the zoo
And teach Mandarin
To their bratty children
•
Little Box is not happy to see you
So she closes herself up for months
Years, decades, and two millennia!
She tacks up a sign that says
Nirvana
•
Little Box is undead
She sleeps all day in a coffin
Hands over chest
At night she cruises the mall
For juicy victims
She prefers type A
But AB if she has to
What can you say
Vampires can’t be choosy
She likes your stupid brother
•
Little Box is on the psychiatry couch
Everybody hates me
Nobody loves me
Little Box lies on her side
And spills her guts
•
What’s in Little Box
A perfect orchid
A chocolate-covered strawberry
A new iPhone
With a glittery sleeve
Amber earrings from Pushkin
Keys to a new Porsche
A retro Chanel brooch
A Getty scion’s left ear
A Czar’s *****
Gifts so rare
Please don’t stare
•
What’s in Little Box
Rancid chow mein
A sliver of cold pizza
Last week’s hummus
You’re a starving orphan
From East Brooklyn
And you’ll eat it
•
So you want to **** Little Box
You want to know her secret
She won’t open up
She won’t give it up
And you are genuinely repelled
By her filthy ribbon
•
You want to DO the Little Box
You are a sorry story
You big creep
Why don’t you get off the couch and find
A real girlfriend!
•
Boss Box
White, square, and without a soul!
•
Please don’t analyze Little Box
She’s just cardboard clogging the landfill
Her mother Precious Jade Purse
Has been regifted
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 1:58 AM UTC
I want to be the Ginger Rogers
to your Fred Astaire
the rocks of ice
in your Jameson glass,
I want to be the girl
you sing about
or the lit cigarette
your lipstick marks
Chanel rouge noir,
I want each embrace
you encounter
to touch me too
through the spaces,
I'd even be the words
in the book
you lift to read at night,
I just simply want to be
every single
missing piece
you've ever felt
or ever needed,
I want to be Cupid
stealing your heart
selfishly for
my own pleasure,
oh what toil and trouble
a girl unhinged
her unbalanced mind
bursting bubbles of blood
through her boiling passion
deep within the skin.
© Sia Jane
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 7:25 AM UTC
They bribed me with promises of Audis and poverty reduction.
A six-figure salary, insurance, and free weekends.
They lured me with Prada bags, Chanel Shades and scarves by Hermes.
Vacations in Nice, transits in Paris, and business trips to Beijing.
They said I could meet the Dalai Lama, Bill Gates and the Queen of England,
have wine with Sarkozy, break bread with Al Gore, and kiss Prince William.
They dangled real men, real love and post-marital affairs in front of me
and gave me dreams of seven husbands and no divorces.
They convinced me to grow up and walk across the stage,
and their promises made me smile as I crossed over to the other side.
Today, I lay in my hammock wishing they’d promised me a job as well.
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 11:22 AM UTC
Because one is beauty and one is decay
Because they’re both French
And French things are beautiful
Like those wispy girls, who are skin and bones,
Dragging their paper thin legs in their louboutins
Leaving the red sole behind them
And the word “coquette”
Because it sounds beautiful and ***** at the same time
Like all vain women
As I breathe in the smoke
I feel weightless
Skinny
Until my mouth is fire
Like a phoenix
But I will soon become ash
Floating loftily above the ground
With my cigarettes in my chanel purse
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 3:07 PM UTC
Please
Don't spray
Your cheap **** all around
Like it's air freshener
I actually wear perfume
Classics: Yves Saint Laurent, Coco Chanel, Oscar de la Renta
I pay good money to stand out
So don't make me smell like you
And your cheap *** perfume
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
Black and blue eyes
From rolling with the punches,
Another lonely night
From relying on the hunches,
Flicking through the channels
And hoping for a sign
That tonight will the night
He won't walk another line,
Shielding his face from the red and blue,
Slurring his words
Because he hasn't got a clue,
Where he is
Or why he's behind bars,
A night in a cell
Because he's written off his car.
He wonders why women walk away,
Why they give him the finger
Or why he never gets their name,
But then again he enjoys the rush,
Of taking them to bed
With another heart to crush,
Of sleeping in sheets
That still smell of Chanel,
From the woman before
Who said "go to hell".
He puts on his shoes
And walks through the door,
Hoping tonight
He'll once again score.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 3:02 PM UTC
Coco Chanel told us women to apply perfume
Where we could like to be kissed.
But I cannot apply perfume to my open wounds and heart
Without it burning immensely.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
you have successfully invaded
every aspect of my life
you have polluted my heart
with love for you that will not fade
no matter how much i may wish it to
you have polluted my mind
with every possible destructive thought imaginable
you have polluted my workplace
waltzing in with your
sugar daddy
wearing your new three hundred dollar coat and caked on eyeliner
drenched in chanel no.5 offering nothing but a silent shout as if to say
*i am nothing but a *****
you have polluted my life by asking me
to lie for you
giving me a perfect lesson
on the loss of self-respect
i am stripped bare now with nothing to give
but a false slew of giggles and hugs
responding to your
i love you with
an i love you
and always meaning it
but never, ever
saying it first.
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 12:52 AM UTC
Peter Pan
We are not all Peter Pan;
We must grow up one day.
We must do all we can, while we can,
Before it all goes away.
TV has more than the Disney channel;
There is so much out there to find.
One day you will not be able to afford Chanel,
So be rich and poor at the same time;
Make the most of your life.
Our guardians protect us and raise us.
Hold their words close to your chest,
But one day you must leave the nest
And walk alone; relax and take a deep breath.
In fact you must go, because it is good for the soul.
You must learn to fly high into the sky,
Before they plant you in the ground.
Technology does not save us all,
So cry aloud your nature call.
(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 6:31 AM UTC
på en varm juni nat i
vor tids paris
dansede jeg rundt på brostenene
i dine arme til lyden af 20'ernes jazz
fra en pladespiller i et åbent kældervindue
og livet smagte af champagne og luften
var fyldt med kærlighed, latter, og den
aftagende duft at læbestift og chanel
og jeg følte mig lidt som daisy
gjorde det i gatsbys arme og
vi gentog fortiden på ny
men det grønne lys
forsvandt også fra os og det værste
er at det har jeg altid vidst inderst inde
men jeg danser stadig hen af brostenene
når fortiden indhenter mig endnu
engang
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC
“You live but once; you might as well be amusing.”
― Coco Chanel
Sabi sa kanta ni Freddie Aguilar “Habang May Buhay May Pag-Asang Matatanaw” subalit ang pag-asa ay hindi lang dapat na tinatanaw mas mainam kung ito’y ating kukunin at ilalagay sa ‘ting mga kamay. Ang pag-asa ay laging kumakaway kahit tayo ay nasa dilim. Tumawid man tayo sa magkabilang bangin o kahit na hampasin pa tayo ng malakas na hangin, hindi dapat mawala sa ating paningin ang pag-asa na nagniningning. Ganito natin dapat harapin ang buhay kahit ang hirap ay sapin-sapin. Minsan lang tayo mabubuhay at ang buhay ay parang isang tulay na pagkahaba-haba man ay may hangganan din. Subalit mahaba man ito o maiiksi marami tayong haharapin, mga bagay-bagay at mga pangyayari na hindi natin maiiwasan. Mga damdamin na kahit iwasan, pilit ka nitong hahatakin pabalik sa kung saan ang mga ala-ala ay masasakit. Wala kang kawala kailangan na harapin mo ang mga ito. May mga nagbabagang karanasan na hindi mo gugustuhin na balikan pero kailangan mo munang harapin bago mo ito malampasan. Hindi parehas ang buhay, oo, tama yan, gago lang ang naniniwala na Life is Fair. Subalit wala kang choice kailangan mo harapin ang kawalang katarungan nang buhay. Walang dapat na masayang na sandali sapagkat isang araw ang mundong ito’y ating lilisanin. Gawi’ng kaakit-akit at marikit ang buhay kahit masakit.
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 7:44 PM UTC
The Skyscrapers are so high, they seem to touch the passing sky.Freely the puffy white clouds fly, with the birds, mile-high. A high-flying pigeon peeks down from it's perch on a high-rise. The temperature, high eighties, a clock blinks three thirty-five. Tupac bumping from the speakers stock, Pandora blaring from a jukebox. Mercedes windows rattle, when the speakers knock, like forte knots. The sound carries for blocks, but its blocked. By the hustle and bustle of the pavement blocks. Cold streets, paroled by even colder cops. The city never sleeps, so the crime never stops. Hustler’s hustle from the sun up until it drops. Making Wall street money off of these inner city blocks. The ghetto is a project that needs to stop. A homeless man, donation cup in hand, “The American Dream, needs a real back up plan.” Read the sign, by his cardboard stand. His blind dog, named Stan, rusty dog tags hang. He shares and wears the same struggles on his coat, as does the man. Chanel shoes, and big ***** on the cover of a Magazine stand, getting more attention than this wise dog, and this old man.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC
he got the
Gucci flops
Supreme top
Balenciaga bag
Hermes chain
Chanel sunglasses
Louis Vuitton jacket
Rolex on his wrist
he looks A-list
but does he have a heart?
Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 4:00 PM UTC
It's a bad day when you can't get Celene Dion out of your head
Titanic was good
It was not that good
I found a dried flower
Buried in Leviticus of my sort of grandma's bible
She must have liked that part
The only quote about Leviticus I've read on the internet is about stoning gay people
I hope she didn't like it that much
I saw a bagel get made
No one has the job of eating the middles out
I'm 23, this was a let down
I still like bagels a lot
I tacked the dry flower on my wall
Above the reminder that it's $3 a day to swim at the public pool in the mornings
I hope it's not a homophobic flower
I hid the bible behind Lauren Conrad's book
Lauren Conrad's book embarrasses me less
My sort of grandma
Is only sort of alive
I often feel that way
I feel most alive while dreaming of the impossible
Realistic dreams lead to disappointment
Outlandish dreams leave little 'remember when’s’'
No one hates themselves for not becoming an astronaut
A lot of people hate themselves for not losing 20lbs
Friendships are often measured in favors
That is all
That was not all
Favors are measured in sacrifices
Favors are not measured in reward
Today is a reflection of not dying yesterday
There is a one in seven chance that today is Friday
And it is imperative that we get down on Friday
Because the anticipation for this weekend is very high
If today is Monday all of that is no longer relevant to our conversation
I am losing weight
As I lose weight more and more fat girls hit on me
I do not like this as much as what I was imagining would happen
I have learned that being funny **** cool
Like I am becoming
Does not mean hot girls will hit on me
It means they will actually think about it before saying no
To supplement my soon to be chiseled physic
I am learning a Jack Johnson song on guitar
This worked for an acquaintance in 2006
Maybe I should learn Colbie Callait instead
The world would be better if schools had better teachers
The world would also be better if high school seniors paid attention to the teachers they already have
I don't know which one is easier to fix
My past seems rosier than my future
Except in the case of February 16th 2007
And now February 16th 2012
Corner buildings and modern light fixtures are my favorite aesthetics
My favorite building has neither of those features
Those features are not that awesome
Dead flowers smell like dead things
To combat this I spray cologne on my grandma's flower
I have never been to a funeral
I wonder if they febreeze the dead people
Or maybe they use Chanel No. 5
This is something I would like to learn more about
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 3:38 AM UTC
sinderella was a nickname
because i was the sinner
and unlike cinderella
i was not a charmer
i was the known kid of sin
doing bad to make a livin'
never the girl scrubbing floors
i was the girl looking for new drugs
keen to experiment with death
and the guy i fell in love with
i wasn't a princess in disguise
or a servant dressed in rags
i was the troublemaker
in her fishnets & leather
wearing less than a dress
even during winter nights
drinking whiskey to fill me
to keep me warm as i
walk in the big city
stiletto heels and dark make-up
with a cool NYC diamond jacket
swarovski crystal encrusted
with chanel nails
a mcqueen bag
with my drugs
& all that ****
a wallet for
my few dollar bills
even though i
get drinks for free
because i'm young
attractive, little
darlin' me
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 3:27 PM UTC
I pried the Words off the Wall
Rearranged and used them All
Stacked upon each other in
A sentence Said with Style
Coco Chanel And Ert'e Flaunt
Lesbian Fashion In chic Paris Haunts,
In the 1920s, While Albert Camus
Late Night Parties Extistentialist Claims
*Amid ****** and Champage*
Django Rienhardt Played Jazz Guitar
To the West Bank Artists in Bars,
Toulouse Lautrec had Drank
With Prostitutes, in Art Deco
Frank Loyd Wright Praised
In Architect Circles
How He has Designed
The Unfolding of the Future
The Camera Has Brought
Sharp Images to see
While emergence of Psychology
Has driven Art into the Abstract
Paris in the 20's scent of
Hedonist Creativity
Cultural Gravity
To the Inclined
De rien, entre amis
Prende un jour a la fois
All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 3:39 AM UTC
*With you I couldn't offer much
I couldn't give you the life
you're so accustomed to
or the valuables
those material gifts
that so suit your lifestyle
the Haute Couture
that clasps to your body
the perfect fit to your
beautiful frame
oh the body of a goddess
one of mythical dreams
I'm far from any Monroe or Taylor
or any of the glamorous stars you so
mirror with such etiquette
I'm the girl sat in a cashmere cardigan
with chipped red nails, bitten to the skin
no make up and bed head hair
and I know that you are true
to all these things too
you're a person about personality
not mere possessions
you beauty is internal it glows
like the diamonds you sing of
stars in a sky of love
grandma Dolly's leather backed bible
hand written notes that carry your true worth
family values knowing without them
you'd be no where
and here am I, as poor as a church mouse
no worldly possessions
just me, myself and I
a heart
my loyalty
my love
a love for you more vast than all
land and oceans combined
each dollar in your pocket couldn't account
for the price of this love
a chance for love is all I crave
to love only you in every way I know how
a tight hug, a light embrace
a smile, a sparkle, a tickle of your thigh
oh what a distant obsession you have become
like a mist of Chanel Eau de Parfum
so intense
then fading into the background
my sheets, soul and skin
are still soaked in your scent
but you've gone, and taken part of me with you
leaving me broken, split in two
but as one,
not one with you.*
© Sia Jane
---
“Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.”
Sylvia Plath
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 6:22 PM UTC