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Anonymous Jul 2017
Designer frames and Advil
Overly expensive heels
Long trench coats
Still can't hide what I feel
Overly done makeup
Exspensive weaves
Telling my self if I feel
Pretty maybe
I'll believe
But yet when I'm standing in the mirror
I'm naked
Looking at my self I hate my reflection
Less thinking more heavy drinking

So I'm sending blank texts hoping they could hear my silence
I'm broken but I'm drowning in high end designer
Room full of labels
That can't fix
My problems

Signed That Black woman addicted
To retail
No therapy just me and retail
Julia Apr 9
I always have a pair of cherries hanging by a hook
a faux Moschino message that combats the Tidy look
there they hang so humbly housing tacky chapstick urns
among unopened lipgloss pouches waiting for their turns

I always have a row of golden ***** along a string
they get to feeling restless, so I take them for a swing
but usually I opt for something practical, discrete
and in between the straps I’m always hiding something sweet
Oct. 14, 2016
Seattle, WA
onlylovepoetry Mar 2018
Friday night immodesty

theater on East 4th street @ 8:00pm,
so the girlie stuff commences on schedule
90 minuets a-priori and the medley music
(adele+amy+alicia+ pink bach for some zing)
a harbinger, a pioneer Greek heralding of
Friday night immodesty

the clothes laid out upon the bed, the shoes,
pumps selected and already on,
(always a puzzler to me,)
the subdued lower east side jewelry possibilities,
on the dresser drawer,
indifferently hoping for selection, but
casually beaming quietly,
like those kids waiting for interviews in the waiting room
of the college Admissions Dean’s office,
all with serious smiles
and tiny tearing eyes

aside:
helloooooo, I am in a poetry polo with my best jeans ready to go
2 hours before the curtain calls out,
hellooooooo

she sits at the makeup mirrored desk,
clad in only her underneath garments of varying utility,
when I sweep in imperially
and with one hand twist gentle her hair upwards,
betraying
her neck nape which is again
the sujet of a poem aborning

lips,
like a Greek lyre strings, pluck, the tiny hid hairs never seen,
her instant moans at the never fully expected motion poem,
beg more mercy but no quarter given despite repeated cries
of you’ll mess my makeup,
the best defense known to a lady!

god gave men two thumbs to lift up,
simultaneously stimulating,
slide down each of the thin black brasserie strap invitations,
upon each, a writ,
upon her flesh colored shoulders,
stating
“what was she thinking!”

my lips,
now polar explorers, those power (filled) poles side by side,
(east/west for the designer was a smart
bipolar guy-person);
the lips play silent night progressive jazz,
tinkling with higher noted keys,
nape to shoulders moving down to the back’s prefrontal lobe,
the small of her back, the body’s quivering,
a con-federate flag of surrender

her last defense swept aside, we drink honey and milk,
celebrate the week’s mellifluous finish with immodest touching,
the lower east side will belong tonite
to only the hipsters, the millennials,
as our hips are milling and  otherwise
pre-theater and post, occupado

some hours later, watching TV and eating delivered Chinese,
she laterally and literally arm punches my arm
intensely to mark her discontent,
still annoyed,
for I

1) messed up her makeup,
2) best blouse to the dry cleaner and
3) the tickets wasted, and worse,
hits me again!

after I laugh and giggle upon proffering
most modestly, most assuredly,
seconds of
onlylovepoetry

9.21am Saturday
thank you all who liked this tale of
the poetry in the details
of our lives.
olp
Sammie wells Feb 2013
When I was a little girl I wanted to be a princess, parade around my castle all day in pretty clothes and tiaras on my head.

When I was a teenager I wanted to be a mummy, my very own tiny baby that would sleep all night and be kitted out in only designer gear, we'd  have everything.

When I was becoming a adult I wanted the big white wedding, the fancy ring and husband who would stand by me through anything.

Now I'm a woman the wanting has left my head, life is not a fairy tale and designer clothes ha! Only if you're rich, beware of the husbands you choose two for they can turn out to be just pigs.

Now older and wiser still I really must say, the only thing you should be wanting is happiness and peace for each and everyone.

(SW)
Thought I would try something other than glum
zumee Oct 2018
She stands at the window
a fine white stream of goodevil knowledge
trickling down her chin

Lungs heaving against the pane
Lungs heaving against the pain
She longs for a killer breeze
from the die-hard fan.

The yellow-eyed seconds slither out the clock
hi S S ing in rhythm as they crawl.

On the table lies the used core of a once
juicy red delicious
hourglass figure, cyanide hearts and all

She is aware of her own nakedness.

The moon watches on
bleeding silver
from stab wounds by dagger-branches
waiting for a crack in the window
through which to enter

The Tree of Life towers menacingly overhead.

He walks in
AdamAnt
intelligent-designer suit: businessgod attire
briefcase in hand
brief case in point

He knows.
She knows.
Time knows.

An Electrified goliath stirs in the depths

The Ego awakens
lifts its rod
beckoning to the waves of children behind it,
parts the folds of red sea
charges head on.

It rides long and hard
hooves pounding the riverbed
Ready
to pull out on the other side

But the branches find their crack.

The Enraged goliath stumbles
suffocating
Ego trips
relentless walls closing in,
It goes under in a seizure
frothing at the mouth
drowning
as its children swim.

Time holds the twosome breath in its constricting grip
Tree binds Life inside a cell
at the center of the evolving prison

The pane, reflecting
The pain, reflected
Window souls mirror soul's Window

Branches regain their higher dwellings.

An exhumed goliath stirs
on a distant shore.

She stands at the window
a fine white stream of goodevil knowledge
trickling down her shin.
Smoke Scribe Mar 2015
Part II  of "Got 0 Followers"

aim high
to keep
it low

expectations
such an
Awesome Awful
curse
others infect
you with

don't, yada yada,
ya wanna be like
Tom, **** and Jane,
even Harry, a transgendered
friend and fellow (ha) outcast,
all with a good job
prospects of a
goodly tented long life?

so ya write poems
to nobody
about nothing and
you are pleased
to be pleasing just yourself

in writing you have
nothing to prove,
so read them
like keepsakes
ya like,
keep 'em & me hid,
in the shoebox
under the closeted
pile of ***** clothes,
special designer outfits concocted
so they keep my remains,
privatized and unsanitized,
my equity,
hidden,
disguised as disgusting

but for god-sakes
don't follow me,
unless
you want to curse us
both with
Expectations of Expectations,
then comes with
illiteracy of
Affection

then the literary
pre-tension
that always follows,
leading to

Affectation,
the first derivative of the infection of affection

yeah,
then comes
caring
and it instantly it's too late,
you're *******,
right up the mental heine,
lost condemned
ruined annihilated
crushed subverted
crushed into
mental death camp suffocation of more, please ma,
can I have some more?

**crap, why did you have to go and follow me?
laura Jul 2018
three chord-ed pop song
like still afloat
i'm high and i'm free
spending all of my money
on gucci and designer
look like i'm rich to feel better
millennial cry for help
american dreams are easier
to chase if i stay asleep
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_2quiyHfJQw
Shofi Ahmed Jun 2017
Picture yours, put it out
to your kaleidoscope.
Like the day at the full-blown noon
or the night on the cheek of the moon
a flame burning on the underlying dark
a dawn switches on the first light
a sun comes out of the night.
Visualise your latent one
put it on before your mirror!

Princely give the eyeballs a designer treat.
Paint your masterpiece at the day’s peep.
Hook the browsers at their first click.
So you know who you are
It doesn't mean you have your **** together
Just because you carry an umbrella doesnt mean you know the weather
You're not the designer just because you bought the sweater
Smothering an animal doesn't automatically make it leather
Besides, there are other things that die under pressure
So whatever
Just because you read a book once doesn't make you the author
You're not a sail boat just because you can float in water
Not fitting in doesn't mean you're from mars
Just like e-cigarette smoke doesn't turn it into cigars
Having a map doesn't mean you know where you are
They said you're bright
You're not a star
You don't have your **** together
You just know who you are
You're still doing better than I am my friend
Andres Martinez Jul 2018
Let's talk about the things we normally wouldnt
And let's act upon those thoughts that we probably shouldn't
If I had it my way..well actually I couldn't
I'd rather not
I'm afraid things might not work
And  the thought of possibly ruining another good thing
I guess it might be worth it
But are the signs there or do I just misinterpret
maybe a silver toungued devil but never a serpent
feel free to run around the grass
it's been well kept
Remember that feeling because when you get back to your side it might feel dead
just want to show you the finer things nothing big
nothing fancy
no designer mink
just a simple talk
A laugh
Not even a drink
Drunk words speak sober thoughts
might spill things well that I rather not.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 27
strangely, I think that this
ought be, must be, responsibly,
be the best poem I’ve ever writ,
(though unlikely, as the best will always be the next)
that mine own eyes commissioned,
better be,
just got to be,
this holy-moly notion jeepers weepers,
conceptual rocks me deepest,
an awesome responsibility
to find away of saying
that this beyond conceptual,
coring, especially special sample

If there was to be a but one,
a singularity, a distinguishing feature
of what the human definition
innate contains,
how choice that we animals,
elevate ourselves to being human beings,
the only ones capable of wonderfully weeping

the implications are an astounding!

what a glorious burden,
what a wonderful decision,
the designer slipped in this microscopic checkmark,
somewhere in our cellular DNA perma-dynasty,
runs a common thread, these saltwater fears,
a residual global amniotic fluid hint,
from where we humans out-of-crawled

that empathy,
the signal of an elongated journey of eons,
the marker that says
show the caring,
a trait-ed statement,
us, unique

so often do I weep,
sometimes visible - in my poems listed, oft indicated -
so you could know its sharing was an absolution
that I granted myself,
that that particular  poem was a costly one,

womb bloomed, tongue taken, eye written

sometimes invisible  - even more, do they,
(nobody knows, nobody sees)
just well up, eye cornered kept, secreted,
only skin-staining the underneath-my-eyes
one more shade darker,
a reminder to all, to mirrored me,
that to forgive myself doesn’t
forgive forgetting

is this then my best?

sufficient to breech your
reserves of pseudo-cool,
that correct boundary pretense that keeps us as
mismatched separates?

you be the judge, you be the jury,
you be the prosecutor and the defender,
for it is all of us
standing in the dock,
on trial,

for in our lifetime
guilty of the inhuman crime,
of not crying enough
https://www.abc.net.au/radionational/programs/archived/bodysphere/features/4837824
Master builder of hanging audio of the hearts,
Tapping and mapping
a
kind of music through the vocabulary of arts,
in
conducting  the harmonious sound of unique violin orchestra
a crowd of fiddlesticks rima …
up… and only ups…
never downs.
Audio
Audio…
I will go…true or false.  
That’s what you ask for it. If you ask me to stay, I would never say no.
Have you ever seen me on the occasion of disobeying you?
Neither yes, nor no…
Thirsty and aridity,  
Words dance glamorously in the silence of the mud of bricks
You will construct the magic towers of the world gust (crust).
On the apex
Trapper of heights
you
Shaking hand for all ant size human shape creatures
In down.
I’am member among.
Time flies and melts in icy doom of the word “why”… burning agitatedly on the white eyes.
Don’t look at me.
Whatever had been shaped, like thunder of emotional burst digs …digs in insomnia of rapid nightmares
of mine.
O' liberty…
Don’t be dubious of what you are going to do, Master architecture of heavenly domes of long treatise of eloquence and good sounds.
Hissing….sooozzzing….biippping ….buzzzing….moooppping….murmers….
Claps and shouts.
Ant shaped creatures gather under the grand dome and waiting for miraculous mesmerize.
No more I am among.
Master builder of raw materials
in vivid shape of “new oregano (m).”
Time runs and I am not “going to catch a falling star.”
Time of demise.
Heavy lock on mouths. Death of both of us in constructing the luxurious roads never ended in dead end of not being honest and neither being wise.
Master designer of unique arches…domes…abstruse stairs…
Audio…audio. I will go…for you and ours.
Derivations:
Master Builder:  a drama by Henrik  Ibsen
Go and Catch a Falling Star: a poetry by John Donne
Novum Organum: a philosophical book by Francis Bacon (16th century)
july hearne Jun 2017
i met him in 1989 in a study hall class
and haven't forgotten him since.

a month ago,
i found out he had died in 2014.

the girls liked him
he'de tell me what was playing on his walkman
so i listened, learned, put a penny in an envelope
and mailed it off to columbia house

some weeks later i received my 12 cassette tapes.

i quit eating and got creative with eyeliner.
i memorized a lot of cure lyrics and went to study hall
prepared.

the semester ended and we weren't in the same
study hall class anymore. he ended up transferring to another school.

but i still had hope.
i had memorized so many lyrics.
i had gotten my hair cut into an inverted bob
and learned how to dye it black.

it felt like anything was possible
and it felt so good.

the next year
i transfered to the other school, but he wasn't there anymore.

the year after that
i transfered to an even worse school
he was there

finally.

soon after that,
emily became his girlfriend

one day, i ran into them at the park and ride
as i was getting off the bus

we spent the night on the sidewalk
outside of emily's dad's house.
none of us were allowed to go inside,
not even emily.

but emily managed to sneak inside
and stole a jug of homemade alcohol,
which we did not call moonshine.

emily fell asleep with her head in his lap
while we talked, smoked three packs of cigarettes (all mine), and drank the homemade alcohol that her dad had made.

emily wanted to be a fashion designer.
he really believed in emily and her drawings.

the sun came up

and i caught a bus home.

we both ended up
dropping out of highschool.
Big Virge Nov 2014
Ya know ......

When your art's your closest friend
It can tear you apart .....
If you won't just bend
To become a ... "famous star" ...
  
But ...
I guess like Common says ...
  
One day ... oh yes ... !!!
It'll all make sense ...
The struggles that we go through
To simply make ... progress ...
Or taste what's called ... "Success" ...
  
You see .....
you've got to keep your head ...
when facing those with less ...
especially when you're striving
to make your art transcend ...
even when they're driving ...
their Lexus or their Benz ...
  
Remember ... in the end
"True Talent" ... outshines them
because they're ... "Talentless"
  
The fools who move ...
with shady crews ...
who choose to use ...
people ... like tools
usually refuse ...
to face ... "The Truth" ...
  
One day it's True ...
they're bound to lose ...
and pay their dues ...
because of lies ...
they have contrived ...
to have their lives ...
in the ... "Limelight" ...
  
See they're not so nice ... !!!
whether girls or guys ...
  
guys who have ...
No ***** Size ... !!!!!
  
or girls who like to ...
spread their thighs ...
tend to use ...
their devious minds ...
to get a slice ...
of the five-star life ...
by hitching ... rides ...
and ... being sly ...
  
So don't be surprised ...
You tend to find
that ... "talentless mules" ...
"avoid" ... art school ...
  
If you love your art ...
could you ever choose ...
to follow the path ...
these people do ... ???
  
Would you choose ... to bend over
for a NEW ... Range Rover ... !?!
  
or .......
  
Spread your thighs ... ???
to get a contract signed ... ???
  
See ... many have fallen ...
by the wayside ...
and have then withdrawn ...
from the publics' eyes ...
leaving the public ...
  
wondering ...... ??? .......
  
....... " Why " ........ !?!
  
Some have paid the ultimate price
and lost their lives ...
or tried suicide ...
before it was time ...
to end their lives ... !!!
  
The price of fame ...
is getting high ...
just like ... "Price Hikes" ...
  
What would you pay ... ?
to see your face ...
all over the place ...
  
Would you sell your soul ...
to become well-known ... ???
  
Quite a few now do ...
and that's no joke ... !!!
They end up broke ...
with the devil in tow ...
  
"Louis-Cypher" ... knows ...
No Soul ... No Show ... !!!!!
just the Final Crossroads ....
If you don't believe me ....
  
Ask ... "Ralph Macchio !!!!!"
  
Life it seems ...
can be like a movie ...
what you choose to seek ...
may become ... "Your Destiny !!!" ...
  
So please beware ...
what you choose to dream ...
may result in ...  
  
... "Nightmares !!!" ...
  
Be careful what you wish for ... !!!
cos it may come true ...
The Wishmaster ... proves
that it's ... "NOT" ... all good ... !!!
  
The world's not yours ... !!!
You're just a pawn ...
so ... make smart moves ...
and leave the devil ... forlorn ... !!!
  
Stay true to your art ...
and you'll get rewards ...
You don't have to be a star ...
to receive ... awards ...
  
Awards can be received ...
in many forms ...
trust me ... believe ...
  
If your art has a cause ...
One day you'll see ...
your art-form ... SOAR ... !!!!!
  
but it may come from ...
an unlikely source ... ???
  
Someone might say ...
that you've made their day
and have changed their ways
from a path of hate
to a " Higher Place " ... !!!
where their misplaced hates ...
now been .... "Erased" ....
  
No amount of pay ...
can replicate ...
that feeling of ...
affecting change ...
in someone who ...
has never met you ... !!!!!
  
A feeling that nice ...
truly has ... No Price ...
when what you've done ...
has ... "Touched Someone" ...
  
No Fakeness, Lies or Fabrication
Creation designed through Reflection
is art that has no ... Pretensions ...
  
Heed these words ...
and you will learn ...
how to cherish your art ...
it can help you breathe ...
just like your heart ...
  
but ... can tear you "apart" ... !!!
like I said in this piece ...
at the very start ... !!!!!
  
Too many now abuse ...
the arts for loot ...
a fancy car or designer suit ... !?!
or just to prove ...
that they're better than you ... !!!
  
Well, whilst they lie ...
stick to my guide ...
and you will find ...
that you'll dent their pride
because it's ... "The Truth" ...
from which ... they hide
  
They'll try to deny ....
til' the day they die ....
but one day they'll find ...
their way to the light ...
  
The Light ... that shines ...
on those ... inclined ...
to stay true ... to the finish ...
from the very ... start ...
  
to this Beautiful Thing ....
  
that we call ................
  
...... " Art " .................
So much surrounds, artistic mouths, and artistic grounds, that earn artistry and artists ..... pounds .....
So, here are a few of my views, on, artistic moves ......
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