"overdressed" poems
I don't care if you are the water or the groove of the stone. I want a place In your arms that feels succinctly like home. I want to be encircled like an old oak tree, with a breeze in the air that smells radiantly of you and me. I don't care if you are the tongue or the groove. I want a place within which all these walls I can remove. There is a river that cascades between us that keeps us far from home, but I don't care if you are the cancer or the broken bone. I don't care if you are the sweetest peach or the rattle of the snakes tail. All I want is for you to arise each time you fail.
I don't care of you bruise easily or become yellow from the inside out. I don't care if you walk away silently or you scream, stamp your feet and shout. I don't care if you are the water and I am the stone. I do not care if for your secrets I have to atone. I want to you to seek the hiding places I hold so tightly, and I want you to seek them daily and nightly. I don't care if you think this is overdressed, or I show too much flesh. I want you to see how I look for you when I calmly undress. I don't care if you are the thunder in my storm. I don't care if you call this safety or if you call me home.
I don't care if you are the salt or the falling tear. I want you to know that me not caring is not what I fear. I want you to know that true love is true acceptance In it's ultimate form. I don't care to know if you're broken or you are torn. These words I asked you, but they are routine and true. I could repeat , dry my face and carry on, but I don't care to do that for you. I don't care if you are weak and strong together. I care about you whatever the whatever. I don't care if you wish to compete and you have won. I want you to know that those secrets were already awake and done.
I don't care how many times you walk away, I care about the how many times you stay.
I don't care, because In the end nothing matters, and in here, we're all mad as hatters.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
I stood in front of the big glass doors
Of some sub urban shopping mall
Conversations buzzing by
Like flies in a bathroom stall
*What a ******* **** Break up with him!*
Slam
Honey I love you
Slam
Overdressed teenagers, women with fur coats
Slam
Broke fathers
Slam
Rich housewives
Slam
Lovers
Drunkards
Reprobates
Slam
So bland yet so intricate
So doltish, yet so innocent
And oh so bizarre
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
Downton Abbey’s going off the air.
I’m not through yet, it’s just not fair.
Nothing before that show ever had
That kind of class, that degree of flair.
Life without my weekly Downton
Is too sad and inordinately scary.
What will I do without my frequent fix
Of the elegantly snarky Lady Mary?
And will the feckless Mister Barrow
Ever develop a true human soul?
I am sure this handsome actor fellow
Will never again get such a meaty role.
And the Dowager Duchess herself,
She is not someone easily done with.
She is, after all, tradition incarnate,
And under all that, she’s Maggie Smith.
Bates and his Anna filled my heart
With alternating sorrow and great joy
Almost as much as a lady of nobility
Marrying the handsome chauffer boy.
Dresses and hair lengths shortened
And nobility began to get real jobs.
All this was before ****** flared up
And turned starving folks into a mob.
I never missed that we were seeing
The transition from ‘la belle epoque’.
That time was running out for that
In the worlds ever-changing clock.
It was a yesterday we never knew
We of the age of electric equality.
We got to look inside and see it
In all its grandly overdressed reality.
I had begun to recognize artwork, in
Lovely strolls through baronial halls
And huge family meals at table.
I am sorry that it is over for us all.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 12:17 AM UTC
Comfort Over Fashion
Making the Stuffy Suits nervous,
uncomfortable under all their outerwear,
which is ironic because we’re the ones underdressed,
because it’s still comfort over fashion and function over form,
so I guess it’s not that ironic,
that I didn’t iron anything I have on,
honestly these words speak for me,
I don’t have to say a thing as I sit in the front,
row of the show with a girl as good as gold,
I don’t have to prove anything to any of you,
never let your perception,
of their perception of you fool you,
better yet,
never let,
your perceived perception,
of their assumed perception,
fool you,
it’s not our fault that they feel uncomfortable,
we didn’t commit their sins for them,
we didn’t those two stiff shoes on their feet,
they chose their own clothes and decided to wear them,
we didn’t place them in their own insecurities,
so don’t let their insecurities make you feel insecure,
you’re not obnoxious it’s the sausage that they ate,
stuffed their face now they feel nauseous and awkward,
it’s not your date that’s making them nauseous,
it’s the sausage and the conscience that can’t be washed quick,
so stop this feeling awkward because they feel awkward nonsense,
just stop it and let us be us because to be us is an honor,
let you be your self let us be us,
and let them just be their uncomfortable selves,
all overdressed with all their uncomfortably stuffy stuff,
and we can just continue to make the Stuffy Suits nervous,
uncomfortable under all their outerwear,
which is ironic because we’re the ones underdressed,
because it’s still comfort over fashion and function over form…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
@aaronlalux EVERYWHERE
∆
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 7:31 PM UTC
Anticipation, say it s-l-o-w-l-y
Allow it to linger, feel it wholly
Place your heart upon your hand
Or the other way around
Hand over heart
Feel, hear, see your flesh pound
Rhythmic chaos contracting inside
Expectations building, rising
Higher and higher (along with anxiety levels)
Anticipation is a rude guest
Overstays his welcome, always outstandingly overdressed
Beckons silly fantasies to sit next to him on the couch
Leaves drops of contemplation on the carpet
Broken hearts, shattered expectations
Or best case scenario, a dream come true
Beautiful visualizations of contentment
The joy of fulfilled hopes
No sensation equals receiving
All the ideas you dare to believe
Can a cranium explode from the pressure of a hundred- thousand untamed thoughts?
The agony of uncertainty
Being in the pitch dark
Only speculations
No actualities
Merely the human imagination
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
fed up with victims of fashion,
and fashionistas overdressed without reason,
relieving to see you,
so good, in the ****
Feb 16, 2012
Feb 16, 2012 at 3:31 AM UTC
I put your hat on my head
It made me feel closer to you
From across that room
It was you and I
And nobody knew
But they all knew
We used silly excuses to bridge the gap
The gap that kept me safe
The empty space
Full of everyone else
Where the party was happening
So no one would know
But they all knew
And oh god, I overdressed
Not in a **** way
In a too many layers way
And I decided to take off my sweater
Attempting to disarray my face
From the disarray I felt
And because it's arrogant to think so
I told myself no one noticed
But they did
Ha
And I knew it
And we took our sweet time
We let the alcohol move us
It always moved me the same direction
Your moves mirroring mine
And that was all I needed
So we didn't stop to take notice
We just knew
Everyone did
And then we could finally touch
Nothing too fancy
It was enough to share space
Our excuses built up high around us
An appropriate illusion
Protecting us from ourselves
So we wouldn't have to talk about the truth
That everyone else could
That strangers often did
That we would casually shrug away
But we knew
And they did too
It's a shame that it came down to that night
Because there was someone else watching you
Someone you used to love
Someone who loved you still
Someone whose composure was now mine
Left under my watchful eye
Someone I'd rather not have known
Especially that night
And it really wasn't fair
The way you could ignore it
The way you left it all up to me
That you wouldn't share in this too
That you left me alone with her
It wasn't fair
And if she hadn't been there that night
Waiting for her end
Not ready for it yet
If I hadn't been there
That night
Compromised by empathy
Looking at you and understanding how bad it could hurt
How awful it would be
To be her instead of me
It would have been different
Another night and it would have been different
And they all knew that
They could all see
But you didn't
And I think you felt betrayed
That I wouldn't give you my emotion
The emotion you knew I had
The emotion we built walls for
Because you had it too
But I couldn't
And you knew
But you didn't know why
And the connection broke that night
The connection was all we had
We broke it with all the things we didn't say
And we knew it was silly
And we still didn't speak
I hope it was pain not pride
And I hope you regret it
Like I do
It could have been different
It was just that night
And everyone saw it
And they all knew
But no one saved us
From ourselves
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 3:24 AM UTC
i
will find you
overdressed
i
was up and
i looked out
the window
i
imagined
i knew no one
in
the echo
the noise
opened
its grimy,
dark quarters
then
a break,
a mere stopover
i can remember what we did on each and every one of those fifteen days and nights.
Dec 4, 2011
Dec 4, 2011 at 9:44 PM UTC
Hot dogs get chili
Burgers get mustard
Porterhouse gets steak sauce
At least the last I heard.
French fries don’t get vinegar
That’s totally absurd
French fries get ketchup
At least the last I heard.
Toilet paper rolls off the top
Toilet seats need to be up.
Tea is iced and in a glass
Coffee should be in a cup.
Tuna casserole is not for men,
We need meat and potatoes.
We only like marinara sauce
Instead of raw sliced tomatoes.
Salads are lettuce and dressing
Especially of the cheesy kind.
Eggplant is all plant and no egg
And tastes like watermelon rind.
Finger sandwiches are a waste
Especially those with watercress.
Cold borsht served in flat bowls
Is not much more than a mess.
Sushi is nothing else but
Some overdressed hunks of bait.
Pork bellies are pudgy bacon
And deserve a better fate.
Sweet breads are neither;
Sweet nor are they bread.
Steak tartar is just raw meat
And should be cooked instead.
Brunch is a truly silly word
One needs make up the mind.
Either have lunch or breakfast.
I don’t mean to be unkind.
We can be a confusing culture;
Combining things so badly.
Give me the basics, nothing more,
And I will go imbibe quite gladly.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 6:58 PM UTC
Meanwhile,
A kid works up a sweat in the sun
Telling the asphalt the
Story of a pastel
Man making music.
He sits on the street, greets
A mangey old dog with a
Song and a
Belly rub, there.
Later on he lets
That dog eat the rest of his
Overdressed salad
And while it digests a
Reporter gets down on
One knee asking
"Are you depressed?"
Oh, he just smiles, says
"Nah man, I'm blessed."
Finished, he admires, then
Hurries inside and
Quietly regrets that the sidewalk
Always forgets.
Jan 29, 2011
Jan 29, 2011 at 11:39 AM UTC
Wolves egg blood
turned over horses
blood burned butter
When the brink vanishes
the furnace swallows its
Mothers pastoral tongue
which is heard echoing
through 1000 years of
Dead mouths
Beauty flings its severed head
cavalier in fashion
over the overdressed mob
who are steel nippled
penised and toothed
maggots of war
Through my scratched window
about the black scaffold made
from my own insomnia
No ocean can rinse the blood
from that fabric
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 3:11 AM UTC
making do with what we had, we rolled dank ****
into receipts from the bar.
For once, I wasn't worried about getting
caught smoking in a bus shelter.
I fixated on the cheap shots of tequila
and this paper joint
and heckling overdressed blondes
on a Sunday night in
November.
**** "cuffing" -- latching onto a person for warmth and
intimacy as it rolls into December.
For now, I'll stand against this graffiti wall while those
closest to me take ****** iPhone pictures of me
covering my face.
For now, I'll walk up Bathurst
and discuss whether or not beards are a dealbreaker.
I'm picture-locking every look,
every turn
and sound
One day I hope one of my closest
calls and says:
"Remember that night when time stretched out?
Our three sets of footprints cemented a time when we were
in our bodies
and not in our heads."
We left our heads on Queen Street that Sunday.
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC
And the award goes to....
Puzzled... unbelievable...
My name? me? really me?
Confused I walked to the stage
Overdressed for the occasion but never mind...
Overwhelmed! I won I won!
Walking on the moon
Just two minutes to fame
Stepped on my gown
I tripped and fell..
Embarrassing moment...
Fell to the stairs but felt like ground...
Just about to recover myself...
Cool! My award winning smile...
But.. Now..Oppss...
**** you announcer
Wrongly announced the name..
Just two minutes of fame
years and years of shame...
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 11:41 PM UTC
Out-dated
Understated
Strange clothes and hair
That can make some stare
Or all snazzy
And jazzy
Dressed to stun
For love or for fun
Whoever we are
And whatever we are
Fashion freaks
Cool and chic
Couldn’t care less
Overdressed
The one thing
We can all wear
Is a smile
Because a smile -
Is always in style
Mar 11, 2025
Mar 11, 2025 at 12:23 PM UTC
Float seamlessly in dark.
Come in my arms,
like a cloud―
like a moon.
The cult will live
on for eternity to
meet the challenger.
The objector had
the flatfoot. Will walk
overdressed.
In eerie silence―
an agile titan was going
to vilify himself.
Conscientiously I
wanted to feel you once
in my verses.
No virtue, no sin
was needed to come to
the lips of an abyss.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 11:32 PM UTC
The rich man might just believe
He can buy all he ever wants
But he didn’t do it all alone
No matter how he flaunts.
The factory that bought him
His mansion and his yacht
Exists because he had plain folk
To build him what he’s got.
The litter bearers took him
Wherever he wanted to go.
The farmhands used their strength
To *** fields and make them grow.;
Mechanics and the engineers
Are who made his fine wheels turn.
So, why is this such a hard lesson
For the rich among us to learn?
Without us they are nothing,
Just overdressed blowhards
With rich antecedents and
A stacked deck of cards.
Not every poor person would
Know how to handle great wealth
But maybe could try if it weren't
For their talent and great stealth.
Something happens to rich people
When they deal with the poor.
They forget about their Bible
And what that teaching is for.
Some forget the Torah and
Yet others forget the Quran
As if those who speaks of decency
Are a political also-ran.
So I should be forgiven if I
Wish they fail at their work
And they have to toil in the field
Like those of us they call jerks.
I wish their wives had to
Patch their household clothes
Then pray the place they live in
Is not subject to be foreclosed.
We once had a government
That worked hard in our favor
To rescue us from carpetbaggers
But now they’re a much nastier flavor.
After almost a century of work
To build a nation for the common good
Programs are being thrown out by
A batch of Congressional deadwood.
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 9:24 PM UTC
A FUNERAL IN VERMONT
we went to Vermont over the weekend
not for leave peeping, but a somber occasion
a funeral; funny it did not seem, or so we thought
here to see extended family on these seemly
un-rare occasions more and more, every where
death with a couple weddings thrown in
the weather was bright, crisp in the morning
but gradually warming, for Vermont that is; something new
a heat-wave in October- climate change in effect
while never having been to a Vermont funeral before
my memories run the gamut on other stuffy affairs, overbearing
and hard to breathe even, scary and hard to take
we got to the church, the crowds milling about, smoking
everyone dressed like having got off work at 5, it was 10:30 AM
leaving shifts from the garage or the mines, we were overdressed
none the less we were welcomed, with open arms
by members of the immediate family, still we were all family
the service was filled; hymn singing, mixed with salty laced stories
afterwards everyone ate, in rows of communal tables
set up passing food back and forth, everyone brought a dish
with more salty stories and laugher, more laughter such
heart- felt laughter then i have heard in my life time which
made me stop to think, change my point of view about death
to be reminded, our journey is but a continuation of a well life lived
By Michael Perry
Oct 3, 2021
Oct 3, 2021 at 2:08 PM UTC
I wear a love-proof vest, swallowing bullets with my face—
all my scars know their taste. My hopes are all on diet to fit
today’s problems; spray-painted days, worries tagged across
the night— each thought a vandalism I can’t scrub away.
Fruitful passions, I can’t stomach passionfruit in my punch.
Life loves to punch back harder— each sip a reminder that
sweetness still bruises. Young & depressed: insecurities
overdressed, confidence underdressed, thoughts pressed
into stress.
Life asks you for a ruler, to lay it down smoother, measuring
the depth of your love. But... it doesn’t apply so well to me,
when I bunked a few lessons as a day-schooler. Always trying
to fit in by being cooler, amongst a circle of friends, but really,
we were just squares— boxed in by our insecurities; angles
sharper than the bonds we bent. And I try to pray long—
but sometimes, I digress. Sorry… what were we saying?
So much emptiness, schemes plotted against me, reality
never stretching as far as dreams. Illuding the fact, illusions
often feel more real. Interluding between horizons: am I ahead,
or beneath the dark where even stars are too shy to come out?
Hope still comes as a guest. Still wishing for superpowers:
invisible to pain, invincible to scars, shapeshifting to belong.
Force fields to block their touch. Time manipulation— just to
keep up with the times. X-ray vision to see through their false
intentions. Superspeed to outrun the pain. Healing to undo my
shame.
But in the end, I have no cape, no mask, no trick of the pen—
I'm only human. And I’ll be human to the end, recalling the
feeling of being young & depressed.
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 6:00 AM UTC
I am Impatient
and Incessant
and I'm sure I will be
absolutely overdressed
to my own death.
My God
have you ever seen a girl
look so brokenhearted
over a dumb game of chess?
A debate lost in hate
and traveling affairs
luring in to the lustful
witches lairs.
I'm rhyming and dining
the newest generation
of plastic,
photo copy,
photo-shoot-ready,
instagram celebrities.
I'm no genius,
I'm just obsessed.
Do you get what I'm saying?
Because I certainly don't.
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 10:13 PM UTC
Undercover, Spy-like
Wondering if I'm your type
Take a quick guess to
Figure out this mess;
You simply cant-
My words are overdressed.
You can never tell.
Features adorning a mask
of pure insincerity- Alas!
What I am or what I may be
The lies are always some kind of me.
You don't know me, Nobody does
For I've never known
How to blindly trust
Leaving it behind
Every ******* time
The past continues to turn to dust
A path of ashes
trailing behind me
Lingering at
my frozen feet
I am suspicious mystery-
Incognito history.
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 1:00 AM UTC
an overdressed succession
to the painted infatuations
pondering stand still in front of canvases
as the mind toils with suspension
beginning to peel back those layers
those brisk moments
subscriptions in distaste
the same faces repeatedly
beaten to templates
catch a breath
smoke a little
keep those goners sustained
keep a smile
before it slips away
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC
you have overstayed your welcome
and im overdressed for summer
but its ok to sit here at this summit
and wonder, will there be another
because you know i do too
but we both feel the strain
from reaching out over mountains
to fumble at eachother
even when the sky is clear
and the wind is at our ears
im sorry ive never seen winters
sheen or autumns eyes
because
summer has never ended
and i cant bear another season
of tears
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 5:21 AM UTC
My energy; do be spared of positive & negative charges,
as my eyes are polarized, amid lost feelings and wisdom gained.
A polaroid picture; as the sight of it, had to develop its
own film strip, of all my past memories.
Every thought plays out so carelessly, like a child
running in a candy store; the sweetest notion of a touch,
a heart smitten by the rush of an unforeseeable crush,
— crushed & pressed.
Yet; by the similar fashion of the pressure a lover gets,
when addressing their feelings; my own words feel overdressed;
as the formal appearance of a necktie and blazer.
Doing my best to suit the petition of love; it seems the attire
should have been a bulletproof vest, to protect my naked chest.
Still I’m liken to finding my actions uniform;
as an acquired fit, that mustn’t take all love the same.
But rather be consistent, and conforming to these set standards:
trust, openness, communication, boundaries & compromises.
For there is no greater selfish love, than the one, where one
party receives the fullest love; choosing not to let go of some.
It could prove wise, to avoid such matters of the heart;
for the heart is made of matter; the universal mass to be in love,
and how you treat love, does indeed affect the volume of set heart.
May 17, 2024
May 17, 2024 at 4:54 AM UTC