"kors" poems
black skirt climbing up her shining thighs…
she pulls it down and the excitement dies
from the men around her: **** she’s fine!”
looking up from her phone- she’s next in line.
“may i see your id?” asks the giant,
she shows it to him- acting compliant.
female, black hair, brown eyes, twenty-one.
everything checks out- “stay safe, have fun.”
once she steps through those guarded doors,
she puts her pvc plastic back inside her michael kors.
no ‘x’ on her hand, but an ex on her mind-
she steps onto the dance floor and begins to grind.
many men manage to embrace her swaying hips,
bite her beautiful neck, and kiss her thirsty lips.
from their mouths flows a river of lies,
while hands below swim up sweating thighs.
she’s feeling ecstatic, but he wants more,
her “friends” watch as he carries her out the door.
to say “yes,” she’s in no position,
so he advances without a proposition.
the next morning when she wakes,
in funny places her body aches.
next to her he’s fast asleep,
her phone rings: bleep, bleep!
texts from her “friends” fill her screen-
things they typed, they did not mean.
“we’re worried… where are you? text me the address!”
she gathers her things and pulls down her black dress.
tiptoeing through his apartment, she quietly closes the door.
she’s quiet in the car still, afraid of being called a *****
when they asked her to come out that night, she said: “i don’t like partying anymore.”
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 3:36 PM UTC
10:30AM in a gas station
on a Sunday
Her hair screams "walk of shame"
but her Michael Kors bag
keeps it classy
She's waiting for some greasy food
to fulfill her unmet nocturnal needs
I shouldn't judge her
Maybe she just has "hat head"
And I'm here buying toilet paper
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC
Make up your mind.
Do you want a mindset made for this Earth
or one of a different kind?
Why do you worry about clothes...
that won't even matter when you're dead.
Who's going to remember what you wore or if you had on Michael Kors?
Soon his name will be forgotten as well,
gone and left with no more products to sell.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
It started with the wide-leg Giorgio Armani pants
And it all went downhill from there.
They were so chic, and might improve her stance,
She could wear them to the market, hell, almost anywhere!
When she put them in her shopping cart
And continued to enter her credit card number,
A shot went right through her fashion-hungry heart
A jolt she still remembers!
It was the feeling of a new era
A new time in the lifespan of her wardrobe.
She would become a Prada-shopper, a vintage Chanel-wearer
No longer would she need to shuffle around her apartment in that awful bathrobe.
She'd strut down the street, sporting her Carolina Herrera.
A month later, a tingle slipped through her spine
As she donned a lapis Michael Kors
It was that sudden thought, "This dress is all mine!"
"It's mine now, so it isn't yours!"
From then on, it was her bank account that took the hardest hits
Money trickled through her Valentino-studded hands,
Down her Vera **** hips,
Came running down in thin, green strands.
Of course it all came falling apart when she saw the flawless Birkin bag,
Sitting there in the Hermes shop window
She knew it was the one thing she'd yet to snag!
However, there was just one thing she didn't know.
As she had the cashier ring it up,
Dropping another ten-grand
The cashier had her card snatched right up!
For this, Madame Fashion couldn't stand.
"Give it back!", she said, snapping her gold-dusted finger
"But dear you're overdrawn," said the snappy lady.
How she wanted to scream like soprano opera singer!
It was then that things got real shady.
In a lurch of madness, Madame jumped the counter!
The other shoppers were struck into awe and fear.
The cashier woman tried to stop her,
But Madame had just barely escaped, finally in the clear!
As she ran down fifth avenue, clutching her precious steal
A horrible revelation took over this felon,
She'd forgotten that she had wanted the purse in gorgeous teal!
Instead she had gotten melon.
Sep 23, 2011
Sep 23, 2011 at 3:55 AM UTC
1.22.
Statistics of
statistics
The precise
revision of
demographics
non-existent
The strange
fabrication of
how polluted
and
misconstrued
thoughts
Is a simple
resolution
to every souls
confusion
Can you count
every written
faith?
Books on who's
opinion?
Individually written
by hands influence
by their brand
named wallets
The waste in produce
in mass production
Selling us ideas of
self-destruction
Spending less
on life lessons
Not saving up
for
self-reflections
Who's dime
pays for time?
Is it time
deciding time?
Or do dimes define
the meaning of time?
Who's time has it become?
What is time?
Time is? Time was?
Time never really
was ours
Watch the kids play
king of high risk
Compete to
defeat in the
depths of debt
Our inherited regrets
forget to check
on emotional scores
you can't get
a credit for
Give praise to high
interest rates
instead of banking
on your faith
Safely you deposit
selfish values
That lock you in
lucrative hate
Bankrup these
divided ideas
Start to believe
in the people
Let’s invest in
each other
again
Who's next in line?
Last in the back?
Who's at the till?
How do you pay
your grocery
bill?
Do you stress?
Depressed?
Do you pay for change?
Presidents and
Prime ministers
face paper electives
bills that select
how countries develop
Look for the Queen
working in virtual
streets
Trying to be a girl
seen in a magazine
Selling the tales
of fictional fascism
Stacked on the
ranks of fast
fashion
Blessed be
the ******
with their new
Micheal Kors
Losing themselves
in concrete stores
Designers that dictates
your direction
Consuming ourselves
we go off to
slaughter
Is there a refund
in the
death of a daughter?
Who lies?
Who plots?
Who puts capitol
value on gifts
from God?
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 4:56 PM UTC
*** står foran ham finere end nogensinde
Hendes hud er bogstavlig talt silke, i en nuance af hudfarve han ikke har set før,
Glinsende silke med øjne og mund
Og frodige bryster, der pludselige ligner puder
Øjnene og munden smelten sammen lige foran ham og danner et kridhvidt kors
Hånlige grin larmer i hans ører og luften bliver udefinerbart tynd
Han ved det er hende, men en ondskab farer op i ham som om han var fanden selv
Grinet forlader hendes krop og svæver som uendelige gebisser om hans hoved
Langt væk kan han tyde hendes stemme der beder ham om at slappe af og komme til sig selv
Men, han lader sig ej snydes og er nu helt overbevist om det ikke er hende
Knytnæver markerer hendes krop og *** er ikke længere af silke
*** er blod og kød der snart ikke er til at samle
Pludselig er der et helt publikum omkring ham der studerer hans akt nøje,
de skuer til hinanden mens de ryster på hovederne
Tårerne har overbemandet ham og i kampens hede bliver der uendeligt stille
*** er ikke til at se nogen steder
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC
Don't shoot!
Can't you see my white palms
Not the black end of my black hands
Guilty until proven innocent
That's the predicament I was raised in
When I walk onto the subway, privilege holds for dear life the bag her daddy gave her, and yes by privilege I mean white.
Because based on my skin I'm automatically framed as a thief that lives too cheap to afford the Kors bag that she has.
Don't shoot!
I just found out my dog passed and decided I'd run fast and hold her tight before her last gasp.
But since I'm black and I'm running, the pigs start coming after me as if I created a catastrophe since the mask of me is black.
They corrupt the laws, use excessive force and pin me down to the ground when I was just trying to get to my hound.
Don't shoot!
Yes my windows are tinted and my skin is a shade the same but when you pull me over I'm not to blame for the drug ring that has your people suffering.
I sweat in fear for my life as I see red and blue lights wondering if I will live to see tomorrow's sunlight.
Because based on my tints and my rims and my skin I must be some criminal uncaught.
So as privilege approaches my door I must place my white palms on the wheel and plead to retrieve my license from the passengers seat.
Don't shoot!
Because if I was white I wouldn't need to fight for my right to life.
And I wouldn't have to fear the man that society told me would pull my hand if I raised it in a plea for help and welp,
That just isn't the case so based on my race I must remain on thin ice for the rest of my black life, yelling
Don't shoot!
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 6:59 PM UTC
that white floral perfume
by michael kors reminds
me of the day we scaled
the abandoned house
down Picnic Point Road
and I took pictures of
Kaitlin framed against
the red flowering currants
We found the beauty in careless
graffiti and marveled at the way
the sun sparkled on the charcoal
shingles. That summer we buried
ourselves in orange honeysuckle
and irrationally proclaimed our
friendship (that never lasted)
but i remember sitting
on the roof with you.
I remember that, amidst
the evergreens.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
i see your double dipping
from multiple straws your sipping
he's buying you mikey kors
as my texts are ignored
you know i'm a sucker
for secret victoria
34B mediums all day long
i'll get some more for ya
pulled pork sandwiches
with orange cream soda
yoga pants from lemon loulou
if it's just me and you
even though you spread the love
all over the PNW
when i gave you my extra key
it wasn't for a rendezvous
with you know who
and eat all my steaks
with your favorite fan base
it's true your double dipping
though i'm not tripping
but i think i'm done
contributing to your
retirement fund
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 7:01 PM UTC
Jeg vekker verden for tiden går: våkn opp
Vi kan være borte i morgen: stå opp
Jeg vekker verden, fordi jeg vil gi bort det jeg har,
I morgen kan vi miste den gaven
For hver dag er vi nærmere slutten
Som kan være starten av en ny begynnelse.
Så finn det stedet, din mening, din egen bølge,
Gi bort hjertet, gi bort alt,
Elsk,respekter andre, drøm,
Vær kul, vis verden at du er noen
Dag etter dag, tiden stopper ikke,
Jeg lever og vil oppleve hvert minutt.
Verdens farger i mitt blod,
Folkets **** med morgendagens luft,
Jeg skal vekke dere: Carpe Diem.
Stå opp med ordene på tunga, jeg lever
Fra nå av, ikke fra i morgen, fra nå av,
Har jeg ikke tid til å kaste tiden bort,
Skriv livets manus selv, og visk den aldri ut.
Alle har en vei å gå, alle er noen,
Og med hevet hode bærer de stolt sitt kors,
De kan lære deg å tro, vise deg vei.
Ikke vær redd for å kjempe for tilværelsen,
ikke vær redd for nederlag.
Jeg vekker verden, det er min vei,
Mitt oppdrag, min mening.
Så jeg sier nå til dere alle:
“Opplev hver dag, og bruk din gave.”
Og hvis du tror på kjærlighet,
Sørg for at den er gjensidig,
Sammen stå opp og se alltid samme vei,
Vær sammen til døden skiller dere ad.
DET er gaven.
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 8:46 AM UTC
Lumpy Lora was never known
She went through the halls unseen
Because the name brand items, she didn't own
Everyone she met was mean
Fast forward, it's junior year
Lumpy Lora is no more
All the weight she used to fear,
the dorky glasses and acne traded in for
Skinny jeans and crop tops
Micheal Kors and BB Cream
She soon began to pop
Lora became everyone's dream
The popular girls became her "family"
She drove boys crazy
Parties and alcohol became her melody
Everything began to get hazy
Boys wanted in quicker
Pushing for late night fun
When she would say no, they became hastier
They'd whisper, "It's just a good time, ***
Pills began to be the new game
Late nights in prison cells
People would gawk at her new fame
But at night, her tears would fill wells
Lora didn't want the glam
But simply wanted to know when
She could end the nightmare with a slam
And just become Lumpy Lora again
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 1:43 PM UTC
...Opens up pacsun
last time I OPENED this up...man
...
i was drooling to have every single item on the page...
...I remember as greed and envy would sweep over my face
...I remember wanting the clothes to be seen
...I hear Aunty Toopee saying live a little in the backround...
live......a little
...and hurt myself while i'm at it....
....
maybe she really meant stop the worry and go run in the sun....
....maybe this lesson is...
letting go....letting life flow
....
maybe i closed my heart and only left my mind open to fashion...
open to absorb what everyone else is saying...
what everyone else is passionate about
...i don't think there was anytime in my life where i ever expressed myself through fashion...
honestly....
...fashion to me has been very compulsive...
its trendy and it's scary...
its everyone else but myself...
...i completely ran away from the fabric....
because so much has happened because of it....
now my Moms telling me im gross because i wear the same flannel...
Mom i'm sorry but im just comftorable..
and maybe that's bad...
that i go into a store and feel uncontrolled once I break the glass...
...and maybe i was meant to taste glass everytime I walked into a store
or opened up a magazine
or walked into a building of girls all carrying a louis tote....as your mama begged to get you a Michael Kors...
...and I said no
...clothes hurt
because it is the part of you where everyone sees...
....scariest part is not really what they see
its you....
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 1:03 PM UTC
His head lies in the sunlight
grease-paint and mascara smeared in flecks,
passed-out upon room 5's windowsill
whilst all around his friends frolic and have ***
he stinks of Michael Kors'
with his designer suit and dip-dyed hair,
he thinks the girls dig a guy in a suit
but sadly they simply don't care
for class is overrated, manners belated,
he went out looking for a bit
instead he threw up on the karaoke machine
and now he just looks like a ***
disco lights schizophrenic, blinding,
covering his face burning with embarrassment
simple childish fun curdled sour
stumbling through a crowd hurling harassment
passing by drug abusers and rich fixers
taxi cabs beep, run-down and stained,
prostitutes sell in ***** horns and bunny suits -
his need's dire but his wallet's drained
for money can buy pretty much anything
but with one tiny exception -
no amount of printed-paper notes
can buy a life of true, honest, perfection.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 8:49 AM UTC
jeg finder det så utroligt ækelt
at jeg nu kan se ind i dit slaskede ærme
og finde ud af at det ikke
indeholder flere tricks end dem du
fortryllede mig med
du genbruger ord som når jeg
køber tøj i røde kors
men jeg finder det så utrolig ækelt
at du bruger de samme tricks på hende
siger de samme ting til hende
og i min vildste fantasti
rør du hende som du rørte mig
og jeg finder dig utrolig ækel
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 6:25 PM UTC
International designer Vivienne Tam is known for her culture-bridging, East-meets-West concepts in her collections. Her looks are global, often pioneering collaborations that marry fashion with technology. Her knack for blending her cultural roots with a modern design vocabulary in her looks is recognized. Often, her designs are sheer artistry.
Tam is also the author of the award winning book, “China Chic.” Pieces of her collection are a part of the permanent archives of the world’s most prestigious museums, including the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York and the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. Tam also loves the space program and cowboy themes. Inspired by her recent trip to Houston, Texas, she utilizes the NASA logo in her collection. There are also soft suede jackets with fringe and chrome metallic flares, and a ruffled blouse in a blue and white motif. Pretty dresses in beautiful prints and patterns are enhanced with embroidery, sequins and appliques. Some of her looks reflect styles seen on folks at the rodeo. Tam’s signature 3-D butterflies were apparent on her garments. A black Western belt cinched the waist. Good show!
Rhode Island School of Design’s Apparel Design Department showed a rugged, yet fashionable collection of menswear on the New York Fashion Week runway. RISD prepares students to meet the demanding requirements of the fashion industry. The program is built on the philosophy that design and technical skills are mutually enhancing. From functional to experimental clothing, the course is structured to take students through all aspects of apparel design and construction.
RISD’s technical classes proceed from basic to advanced drafting, draping and construction and incorporate the use of computers as a tool for design and product visualization. RISD has offered programs in costume, clothing and fashion since 1918, and established the Apparel Design Department in 1952. Their graduates include such top designers as Nicole Miller, Sari Gueron, Sally Lapointe, Robert Geller and Nicole Romano. Many students have found success with designers such as Michael Kors and Ralph Lauren.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 1:34 AM UTC
If you’re looking for yuletide cynicism here,
you’re shopping in the wrong place.
This is New York City’s time of year.
It’s stood the test of time and it fairly sparkles,
proving that the ordinary can be extraordinary.
With the right lighting.
Lisa’s (parent’s) apartment glitters like our promised heaven on high.
When we left at Thanksgiving, Michael (Lisa’s dad) had the concierge
service stressed, toting boxes of decorations up from their storage area.
When I waved my goodbyes, he appeared to be wrestling an octopus of
cool-white fairy lights into submission. Now everything glitters pyrite bright.
Our holiday time is limited—and this is our chance to unwind—so we’re
selective about what we decide to embrace. For instance, there was a sale
at Michael Kors where, no big deal, I got a pair of brogue, black
leather wingtips that’ll be straight fire with a little black dress.
The bargains were so good that I decided the store must be a drug front.
Not that I’m complaining. Do I ever complain? Nope, I’m stoic.
Like Eric Adams, the mayor of New York, Lisa and I’ve
been “testing the product” of Manhattan's club scene.
We’re searching diligently for the new and unfamiliar.
When it comes to picking which clubs we want to visit,
Charles, our driver and escort (a retired NYPD cop),
has gone as far as to suggest, we’re “out of our depth,”
and refused to let us even try one or two DJ’d, pop-up clubs
in Queens that were getting a lot of heat and likes.
“Roosevelt Avenue is the new 42nd Street,” he’d said.
What does that even mean??
Indignant silence
Anyway,
I hope Christmas finds you all merry and bright and that your holidays—whichever you celebrate— are carnivals of food, music, friendship and love—for those are the luxuries that count the most.
Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Merry Kwanzaa, Happy Festivus!
.
.
Songs for this:
Absolutely Everybody by Vanessa Amorosi
Rock With You by Traincha
.
.
A Christmas Playlist—because there's 4 days til Christmas
https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_28.mp3
Dec 21, 2024
Dec 21, 2024 at 8:11 AM UTC
is it okay to follow these trends,
do you want to continue to bend to the fads in society,
i'm not one of those who preach about anarchy or being enlightened,
but allow me to shed a light on this issue,
because it is a disease that is slowly killing our youth,
because YOUTH is a prime time,
we find out who we are,
what we wanna be,
completely undefined by the externalities,
you see thats the purpose of out youth,
to find us.
but the need for Michael kors and a versace purse,
has clouded the minds of the innocent recipients,
they know it's wrong but purse their lips to be as popular as that other *****
guys want cars and the latest sneakers,
girls need MAC and Victoria secrets,
it's ok to want nice things,
but when you let it define who you are,
you have nothing left
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 9:21 AM UTC
You realize that a $3000 watch
and a $30 watch tell the same
time.
A Michael Kors wallet and a
Forever 21 wallet hold the same
amount of money.
A $950,000 house and a $100,000
house host the same loneliness.
A Ford will also drive you as far
as a Bentley.
True happiness is not found in
materialistic things. It comes
from the love and laughter
found with each other.
And sometimes the smallest step
in the right direction ends up being
the biggest step of your life, so
tip toe if you must, but take the
step.
Stay humble....the holes dug for
us in the ground are all the same
size.
Jon York 2018
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 2:32 PM UTC
Stripping for her sister, Silvia has to talk pretty;
fingers playing music for free beneath the Tree
of Life; meaning, kissing the standard of the
Prophet, homeless in the area of the gods' legs;
**** teen club for those married to the six original
fallen strippers; their Dream Machine waiting for the
rich Rainbows did smell of the power of peace in her
eyes filled with soiled thong *******
Kenneth Williams that died at birth; Cold chaser
of the genius of life, of the painting of Christ & the cops'
Alchemy; In the sand wrote Mary sitting on a low Wooden
Wall
where the robot's tongue turned to wearing
Science; Einstein would have loved the winding
walls to unknown parts where injuries do not listen
to mom beating a friend with a bat; Top Air Park toes
asleep, Bobbi, the clear message that she was
pregnant; maces seized drinking enemy to live
within the sound of the gun, the angel of ***********
went up to meet, to meet; After you are watching a fool
in just his socks carrying a changing table to change
the broken glass of Bettie's ***** her friends holding her hands
at the fast food w/ a lot of debt and deceit as he sat down upon
the earth; Thomas Wolfe, on the radio he sang
the song, remember our night on this town [1 to 1]
of ours
upright in their ways to the nakedness of the
daughters of the bookmarks, go to play in one of the
corners, talking to & understanding the trees' leaves;
the meaning of the empty gun between her teeth
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 11:25 PM UTC
You see me as the girl who
Hides behind fake smiles, closed doors, and Michael Kors
Only to mask the shameful scent of failure
Because I’ve gone too far
I’ve fallen too deep
For it’s too late to sleep
My mind has kept me up
It’s half past four and all I can do is think more and more and more
The walls surround
The roof caves
I’m afraid there’s come a point where actions drown my feet only to then surround my head
My thoughts become one as they fight their way out
I stand deep in my past
Swamped in over my head with what I had forgetting
But it’s the most powerful memories that stick with us
I’m afraid it’s come to a point where pen meets paper, spray can meets wall, and lens meets subject are no match for mind meets reality
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
When I am richer, find me.
We shall see the Eiffel tower and Louvre.
We shall know for our selves how comfortable…
A Ritz bed is….
We shall dine fancy and dress up for it.
Or wear pajamas and order in and watch old series we love.
You will have that rolex and boots….
They say Christian Louboutin's are comfy
Lets try and confirm or deny that.
Breakfast in Paris and diner in Montreal.
Find me when I am richer.
There are different types of ice cream.
Lets try them all till we decide there’s better than choclate or vanilla….. or not.
Lets figure out our best wine….or cake type and flavour…
After having access ot a variety.
Prada or Micheal Kors…. Lets figure out which bag we love more.
Do you get sick on the plane?
Let us find out.
Will you love the snow or not?
You will obviously hate summer but love the less clothing.
Just find me when im richer.
Lets see China, Korea, German and New York.
And many other countries and cities.
Lets mingle hard and understand different cultures
Lets take selfies in all places or just pictures.
Lets be happy…..
I'll find you when I am richer.
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 8:08 AM UTC
I wanna say I lost,
lost them all in a white girls bag,
filled with peppermint gum wrappers
and made of Micheal Kors.
Let them go like candy
when it’s too old.
Gave no reason
but at least I tried.
They said I had too much pride, or maybe
it’s because it’s about being slutty,
I do like too many guys
and girls,
but maybe that’s why.
I’m not a mystery, nothing here to solve,
I’m nice,
I like myself
and you
but I like me
better than any of you all.
I think I got nasty,
maybe it was when I took a fall,
sticky with blood and word phrasings.
Drunk and disorderly,
but I promise, I took pictures of it all!
They might call me crazy but
I’ve already called them all.
I’ll always be late to breakfast
but never mistake me for being
flaky
like your breakfast biscuit,
topped with gravy-
fake tasting excuses,
its like you wrote the lyrics-
“drive me crazy.”
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
Forget Michael Kors,
buy me Molly.
Pills or Pandora?
pfft... pick my poison.
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 10:48 PM UTC
I’m To young to be old
To old to be young
My daughter
Constantly told me
Grandmothers
Don’t dress like that
Raising her eye brow
In disapproval
Giving my that looking
I’m conservative
But trendy
Victoria Secrets
Nike
Michael Kors bags
Only the latest designers
My Grandson
Gave me the BEST
compliment
he called me a Baller
I had to look it up !!!
For those of you who
do not know
What that means
I’m dressed to the nines
everything matches
trendy on point
My reply to my daughter
is yes they do
because I’m rocking it
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 5:44 AM UTC