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Kat Thompson Feb 2012
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
Molly May 2014
The female temple.
Hollow shell in the minds of men.
An autoclave
for a belly, a copy-and-paste mind
of blasphemies. A page
in man's contradictive bible. Just blondes and brunettes.
Just virgins and non-virgins.
Nothing more than breathing incubators.
I am a person, I have a brain, I say.
They smile at me with a condescending
wink. A nod. Good girl, well done.
They tousle my hair. Well fine, boys.
Watch me climb the ladder with one hand,
backwards, in heels. When I reach the top
I'll ram these six inch Louboutins
straight through your hearts.
sadgirl Feb 2018
o, darling
daylight has never been your most flattering
light

and how could it be?
you never sleep,
because life is but a dream

like that old
children's song
goes

dear god of boujee
women, the ones with
bloodstained louboutins

let me autotune myself to sound inhuman,
say my prayers to
you

in the dying light
of the atl
freeways

my only hymn i have to
offer is that of
migos

and instead of bread and wine
i have lean and
xanax

o, darling
our eyes will never
age

and new money, who dis?
will forever be the closest thing
we have to a mantra
Gang gang.
sadgirl Oct 2017
//

if a woman
drops her clothing
and shows what is
too precious to
be shown even on
film,

she has her miranda rights,
her indecent exposure trials
and ever dollar used to bail her
out of a cold cell were they offered
her a hospital gown

but she also has the
eyes that follow her up
the street, asking, begging
to touch
and if that woman says no,
or says nothing
than the woman still has

control of what is done
to her body,
control of every hand that tries to
pry away her god-given
right to be safe in her own skin

//

if a girl decides to
wear a short shirt,
or fishnet tights,
or bright lipstick

that costs anywhere from ninety-nine cents
to ninety dollars,
and she applies it with a heavy hand,
like her mascara and eyeshadow,
then she is still

human, she is still
a valid human being
who does not deserve
your time and voice
to call her a ****
or say something along
the lines of

don't go out looking like that
or you'll get *****
but **** is never,
ever, ever
the fault of the victim

//

if a woman
or girl
decides to cover her hair,
to abide by her
religion, the religion that
held the hands of every woman
in her family,
from sister to great-great-great-great-great

grandmother
she is not a threat
to our country
she is a member of our society,
a valuable and beautiful one, at that
who's culture can guide us
to be even kinder
in the name of god

and if a woman
or girl
decides to long sleeves
and a high-necked top
with a long skirt
alongside her hijab,

she is not matronly,
she is modest,
and modest is as beautiful
as a gucci crop-top
or a pair of sky-high louboutins

//

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

*there were men
who were there for us,
who fought for us,
and then now,
there is a man who will fight
us as we march,
so we need to be strong
and support each other,
remember the golden rule,
and know each of our gods
would want this for
our world
Inspired by Joe Biden.
The lipsticks I reference exist! Wet and Wild is ninety-nine cents. Christian Louboutin is ninety dollars.
BW May 2018
If I had to fall in love I would fall
right into those dimples
and the soft hair that ruffles slightly
When you shoot me one of those
awkward smiles, shy to meet my hazelnut
eyes with your green hues.

I smelled love. Between Chai and coffee.
Brewing like the hot chocolate with cream
that stained your upper lip.
Your shyness, trying to avoid my gaze, but
your eyes lit up.

Blonde hair, creamy skin. Me like an opened
bottle of fizz, bubbly with joy, while you
shy and laughed along
held out your arm to me
so you could keep me safe.

Slow, gentle,sweeter than life.
You were not what I expected at all.
Not my type. Not the flashy kind.
But we ordered
the same drink at the same bar.

Vanity
made me numb for a while, I
mistaken my lust and ambition for love.
The men before you were as vain
as the price tag on my
red heel Louboutins.

But
You
didn't know did you?
Blue cashmere. Jeans and a gold watch.
You made a
sinner change her ways
you made a
Casanova believe in love again.
to Per-Ove
Fay Castro Oct 2016
White princess,
Up in your diamond and ivory
Chanel and Louis tower.
Above all of us-
Simple folk

White princess,
Walking on pink rose petals
Spilled at your feet
By your family,
Who are just like us-
Simple folk

White princess,
Hands untouched by labour,
Soft as silk and water.
Skin unburnt by sunlight,
And unscarred.
Unlike us-
Simple folk

White princess,
Who will never know hardship
Pain, or suffering.
Walk all over us in your
Black and red Louboutins.
All of us-
Simple folk.
So done with this girl in my class.
A W Bullen Jun 2017
Shimmy on an Amen break
belle époque, rockstar
belly dancer.
Hitched up skirt to
crotch-ripped nets , choke
ziggurat louboutins.
A Stratocaster, glitter Sheba
on Hiroshima shadows pouring
snake-hipped ribald, scriptures
from the swelling of her breast

Kneeling, nylon bound and penitent
in a simony of rapture bought
to wet the rubber stamping of
your  cattle-battered soles
Low boneyard serotonin glows a
candle wax communion as your
henna painted carry rose
the rivers of my veins.
Your Aramaic shoe-shine boy
*** *****-slapped drug Messiah
  So Dear Mary, it is over you
that I must prophesy.
As you feed the pigs of my disgrace that
fill your head with meat and seed
I'll sup that broken bottle heat that
percolates between your open thighs....



I will be there in the morning a
renaissance scent of cannabis about
your mirrored ceiling....

Jesus wept,
Sweet Magdalen
The thought of you will
gather storms within me
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PLwJbfT05KM
Martina Ngose Mar 2017
And you were hoping
to find her -
In Louboutins and Chanel bag,
but she came looking
Like a beautiful chaos.
That wasn't what you expected...
She was just a regular girl
With a little bit of -
Salt and pepper.
Baddassy, Classy, Sassy....
Latiaaa Feb 2014
Walk a mile in these Louboutins,
But they don't wear this **** where I'm from.
I'm not hating, I'm just telling you.
I'm trying to let you know what the **** I've been through.
Three jobs, took years to save,
But I got a ticket on that plane.
People got a lot to say,
But don't know **** about where I was made.
How many floors that I had to scrub just to make it past where I am from.
You can hate it or love it,
Hustle and the struggle is the only thing I'm thrusting.
Ran through the ******* like a matador.
You don't know the half,
The **** gets real.
Pledge allegiance to the struggle,
Ain't been easy.  
Turn first at the light that's in front of me,
Because every night I'm going to do it like it's my last.
This dream is all I need.
BW May 2018
Gold. Red. Diamonds on velvet.
You showered the entire Bond Street
Onto my neck.
"You look gorgeous" Oh who doesn't
in a million dollar dress?
You truly knew the way to my heart:
You bought yourself a shortcut
Into a girl whose insecurities about money
ran larger,
larger than life.
Larger than her dark almond eyes.

But you were different. Oh you.
You had six off-shore accounts, and a
Swiss trust fund. I was so scared
of losing it all, so you gave me what a girl
could ever want.

Guess how many pairs of Louboutins I own?
As much as it could be carried in a Mulsanne.
It's how it is,I braced it now. I love you, as long
as the little black dress is not lost.
to Pete
BW Feb 2018
10:39:47
She should be married by now
I watched
The black hand on the white basel
tick on, reflecting my poker face
with the Patek Phillipe logo

10:41:35
Numb. Pain. Pain or numb?
It should be me, she was the one
I had her, she was mine
She likes tomato juice, miniatures
Black Louboutins in size 4 and a half
Tatler, oreo cheese Dairy Queen blizzard
Mint tea, kebab and omakase

10:42:23
Dance. Pole or Burlesque?
body rock hard, eyes on me
It should be me, down the aisle
Her lips always red, her eyes
curl up when she smiles
cat eye, plushies, flowers on fields
Books, panels, her wit sharp as knife

10:44:45
She should be walking out of church
Eyes stared at the door
I had no blue in Tiffany, red in Cartier
Blood on my hands, pyramid top
No time for her, I made it all for her
So she left me in the middle
Of an Hermes store

10:45:13
I saw her, white dress smiling
She didn't look at him
the way she looked at me
10 years ago, today, 10:45
First time I saw her, in a red dress
I opened the car door.
I crumpled my Loro Piana in the rain

10:46:34
I grabbed her, her mother screamed
Her best friend laughed, her dad sighed
The man reached for me,
I am not letting go
a very weird poem about a story of a guy and a girl
BW Jun 2018
You touched the dark side of my moon
And you set it on fire.
You were born into the dark side
But who doesn't crave for the light?
One fleeing glimpse. Your eyes met mine.
Our hearts tumbled and then lost.

You loved me mad, and they say I was out of
my mind.A Lady and A Peaky Blinder.
Decadent, romantic, roses meet guns
My pretty face was the glamorous facade,
Standing behind me was you with uncleaned blood

You said I was a lady. Your lady.
High society's darling sweetheart.
They have never seen the devil
Until an angel tears off her mask.
0.3 calibre, Louboutins in check, rouge
on my lips, warm crimson filling my pond.

La Reina. The Queen. They whisper
little birds travel far on the backstreets
Just you see.
In love and revenge
I am always more barbaric than men.
This is a poem inspired by the famous novel La Reina Del Sur, or "Queen of the South" in which Teresa, an ordinary Mexican chica and the beau of a drug-dealer flees for her life, only to become the biggest drug cartel leader between mexico and the USA.

— The End —