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"tux" poems
"sly wordplay, it glows, feels like a shimmering address, half warning and half blessing, really alive with cadence" read Kiki Dresden poetry^ once more into the sea trench divide, I dive to devise, Your provoking comment, demands my full attention, you divert me from struggling with ginger & clay, a contra concept that molds and enflames, yet strikes overtly sweet, it does not come so easy as this playful notion But your words deserve the attention immédiate atenção imediata that births this script, tumbling forth in an instantly instantaneously me student, you mistress~master, schooling me on sublimity subliminal, capturing the capering stylistic that bursts forth from within, that my fingertips provide, while my brain connives & connivers continuously you overlay analytics that never are to me revealed, the what and wherefore of the whom hiding within of the im~perpetuity impish essence of i m p ishness by charmingly doing me, not once, but many times better here a spillage: an observational ditty, dressed in a tux, most formally, to render the greatest wordplay ever invented t, the uniqueness of a simple thank you my favorite poem a forever for ever, the song that plys and plays me in the me so often, the linguists have banned the word repeatedly from my lexicon so in its stead, this all-in-one mighty steed (verb phrase, a noun, or an adjective depending on its usage) this phatic expression, here disguised in Portuguese, muito obrigado! muito obrigado! muito obrigado!                                                                     nml 5:39am nyc 10/4, 10/4
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Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 5:44 AM UTC
Love of Wordplay for Kiki Dresden
"sly wordplay, it glows, feels like a shimmering address, half warning and half blessing, really alive with cadence" read Kiki Dresden poetry^ once more into the sea trench divide, I dive to devise, Your provoking comment, demands my full attention, you divert me from struggling with ginger & clay, a contra concept that molds and enflames, yet strikes overtly sweet, it does not come so easy as this playful notion But your words deserve the attention immédiate atenção imediata that births this script, tumbling forth in an instantly instantaneously me student, you mistress~master, schooling me on sublimity subliminal, capturing the capering stylistic that bursts forth from within, that my fingertips provide, while my brain connives & connivers continuously you overlay analytics that never are to me revealed, the what and wherefore of the whom hiding within of the im~perpetuity impish essence of i m p ishness by charmingly doing me, not once, but many times better here a spillage: an observational ditty, dressed in a tux, most formally, to render the greatest wordplay ever invented t, the uniqueness of a simple thank you my favorite poem a forever for ever, the song that plys and plays me in the me so often, the linguists have banned the word repeatedly from my lexicon so in its stead, this all-in-one mighty steed (verb phrase, a noun, or an adjective depending on its usage) this phatic expression, here disguised in Portuguese, muito obrigado! muito obrigado! muito obrigado!                                                                     nml 5:39am nyc 10/4, 10/4
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67
The Silent Stalker was part man The Silent Stalker had eight hands But only two were human hands The others, no one could understand The Silent Stalker had no face The Silent Stalker stood in place Yet moved at the speed of light And didn't make a peep a night The Silent Stalker stood and stared The Silent Stalker had no hair Just a tux, new and clean Symmetrical in Geometry The Silent Stalker has no eyes And this answer will be a surprise So if you ask, how does he see He sees the fear of you and me
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Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 11:14 AM UTC
The Silent Stalker
Smokey the bear had fought lots of fires, he was a good guy, didn't have any priors. But after so many years committed to the job, Smokey started to feel as if he would sob every time he got a message calling him back to work, to put out a fire started by some drunken **** No matter how many fires Smokey put out, it never seemed to gain him any social clout. His so called “friends” never invited him to hang though all Smokey wanted was to be one of the gang. They would hold fancy dances and dress in their best, but poor lonely Smokey was never a guest. He rented a tux and showed it to one guy, who immediately retorted with quite the rude reply! “Are you kidding,” he said, “Smokey tuxes aren’t for bears, besides, you’d have to return it all covered in hair!” “No,” the guy said, “It’s best you stay home,” “Besides, I know you don’t mind hanging out alone!” But Smokey did mind, he minded a lot, and later that night, he had a brilliant thought. “I’ll go to that party and show them, they’ll see, you can’t just leave out a fun bear like me.” However, Smokey's idea did not go as planned, his first mistake being that he arrived in a van. A van that looked like something a molester would use while trolling the streets for a child to choose. Smokey’s second mistake was his puke yellow tux, the one he had bought for only two bucks. When he finally entered people gasped in surprise, unable to believe the strange thing before their eyes. There Smokey stood, all covered in yellow, holding a cane and top hat he thought made him quite the “fancy fellow.” After a moment of silence there was a loud roar, as laughing people asked, “What look were you going for?” Embarrassed, Smokey tried to claim the whole thing was a joke, Stuttering, “C’mon you guys know I’m quite the funny bloke!” Eyes brimming with tears Smokey decided to leave, but this embarrassed bear had something up his sleeve. “I hate them,” he thought, standing outside, and decided to make sure none of them would have a ride. So he slashed all their tires while giggling with glee, Thinking, "Now they’ll feel bad for laughing at me!” But this was not enough, Smokey wanted to do more, so he grabbed a gas can and started to pour. He saturated the grass, the trees and the flowers, and then sparked a fire that would burn on for hours. This was one fire Smokey would not put out, he simply stood, and then laughed as he heard the first shout.
0
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
fatal fires
Smokey the bear had fought lots of fires, he was a good guy, didn't have any priors. But after so many years committed to the job, Smokey started to feel as if he would sob every time he got a message calling him back to work, to put out a fire started by some drunken **** No matter how many fires Smokey put out, it never seemed to gain him any social clout. His so called “friends” never invited him to hang though all Smokey wanted was to be one of the gang. They would hold fancy dances and dress in their best, but poor lonely Smokey was never a guest. He rented a tux and showed it to one guy, who immediately retorted with quite the rude reply! “Are you kidding,” he said, “Smokey tuxes aren’t for bears, besides, you’d have to return it all covered in hair!” “No,” the guy said, “It’s best you stay home,” “Besides, I know you don’t mind hanging out alone!” But Smokey did mind, he minded a lot, and later that night, he had a brilliant thought. “I’ll go to that party and show them, they’ll see, you can’t just leave out a fun bear like me.” However, Smokey's idea did not go as planned, his first mistake being that he arrived in a van. A van that looked like something a molester would use while trolling the streets for a child to choose. Smokey’s second mistake was his puke yellow tux, the one he had bought for only two bucks. When he finally entered people gasped in surprise, unable to believe the strange thing before their eyes. There Smokey stood, all covered in yellow, holding a cane and top hat he thought made him quite the “fancy fellow.” After a moment of silence there was a loud roar, as laughing people asked, “What look were you going for?” Embarrassed, Smokey tried to claim the whole thing was a joke, Stuttering, “C’mon you guys know I’m quite the funny bloke!” Eyes brimming with tears Smokey decided to leave, but this embarrassed bear had something up his sleeve. “I hate them,” he thought, standing outside, and decided to make sure none of them would have a ride. So he slashed all their tires while giggling with glee, Thinking, "Now they’ll feel bad for laughing at me!” But this was not enough, Smokey wanted to do more, so he grabbed a gas can and started to pour. He saturated the grass, the trees and the flowers, and then sparked a fire that would burn on for hours. This was one fire Smokey would not put out, he simply stood, and then laughed as he heard the first shout.
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48
Another choice, Something important! Quickly two little mes appear on my shoulder One is a pure white suit with a halo The other in a red tux with horns and a tail Angel"Do what's right!" Devil"Do what's right for you!" What to do Countless seconds lost As they wage war on my shoulders Shouting about good and evil Right or wrong Left or right I shrug my shoulders And they fade away No clue what to do Even with their "Help"
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Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 1:43 AM UTC
Angel and Devil on my Shoulder
Easily Tux Laxity Use Laxity Sue Taxis Yule Taxi Yules Tau Sexily Axe I ***** Yea Xi **** Yea Xi Lust Aye Xi **** Aye Xi Lust Ail Yes Tux Sail Ye Tux Ails Ye Tux Italy Ex Us Laity Ex Us Taxi Lye Us La Suety Xi Talus Ye Xi Lax Yeti Us Lax Suety I Lax Ye Suit Lay Exit Us Lay Suet Xi Lay Tuxes I Lay Ex Suit Sat Yule Xi Taus Lye Xi Sax Yule Ti Sax Yule It Say Lie Tux Say Lei Tux Say Lute Xi Say Exult I At Yules Xi At Yule Xis At Yule Six Tau Lyes Xi Tau Lye Xis Tau Lye Six Tax Yules I Tax Yule Is Ax Lieu Sty Ax Yules Ti Ax Yules It Ax Yule Tis Ax Yule Its Ax Yule Sit Ax Lye Suit Ya Isle Tux Ya Lies Tux Ya Leis Tux Ya Lutes Xi Ya Exults I Ya Lute Xis Ya Lute Six Ya Exult Is Ay Isle Tux Ay Lies Tux Ay Leis Tux Ay Lutes Xi Ay Exults I Ay Lute Xis Ay Lute Six Ay Exult Is A Lyes I Tux A Lye Is Tux A Ex I ***** A Ye Xi **** A Ye Xi Lust La Yes I Tux La Yet Xi Us La Ye Is Tux Las Ye I Tux Lax Yet I Us Lax Ye Ti Us Lax Ye It Us Lay Ex Ti Us Lay Ex It Us As Lye I Tux Say El I Tux At Lye Xi Us Tau Ex I Sly Tax Lye I Us Ax Lye Ti Us Ax Lye It Us Ax Ye I **** Ax Ye I Lust Ax Ye Lit Us Ya El Is Tux Ya Let Xi Us Ya Ex I **** Ya Ex I Lust Ya Ex Lit Us Ay El Is Tux Ay Let Xi Us Ay Ex I **** Ay Ex I Lust Ay Ex Lit Us
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Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
Sexuality
He left her in white. He left her in awe. He wasn't there, he didn't arrive. She smiled and waited, waited until sundown. He never came. He left her alone. He left her with nothing. She pouted and shook hands with the departing guests. He left her. He was nowhere to be found. She walked, barefoot and red, eyes blurry from the rain. He left her, he ran away. She passed strangers, who laughed, cried, gasped, ignored. He stayed away, nowhere to be found. She was home. In the dark. He was gone. In the dark. She took a bath in her wedding dress. He never took off his tux. She laid in an empty bed. He laid there. Dead.
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Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 11:33 PM UTC
wedding dress
strangers. thats all we were. destined strangers. destined to meet. destined to laugh. destined to touch. destined to love. destined to hurt. destined to love again. this was our destiny. but the funny thing is, destiny tested us from day one. the cafe you sit at everyday is the same cafe i drive by, everyday. the 20 story building you walk into everyday is where i park my car, everyday. the days you visit the bookstore, are the days i'm out for a run. the days i visit the same bookstore, are the days you walk your dog. at 1:45 pm, you come into my bakery everyday. from 1-2 in the afternoon is my lunch break, everyday. on the saturday you went to pick up a tux, i was in the dressing room, picking a dress. friday, 3rd one of june, was the day you finally walked my way and i walked yours. you dressed in a smooth straight black suit. and i dressed in lace, ribbon and chiffon. all in white. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" i turned your way and for the first time, i met your eyes. your eyes of caribbean blue. "Yes, it is." your smile so warm and charming. "i'd better get to my altar, and i guess you better get to yours", was the last thing you ever said to me. you walked away from my direction, and i walked away from yours. that day, i said "I do", and so did you. but not to each other. 45 years past. 2 children. 3 grand children. 3 dogs. 1 divorce. 0 marriages afterwards. all because of someone. a man from 45 years ago. he was my destiny and i hope he knew too. strangers are who we were. strangers are who we are. strangers are who we will always be. destined strangers; who will never see. destined strangers; you will just be you. and i will just be me. you and i will never be the destined 'we'.
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Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 1:37 AM UTC
-Destined Strangers-
strangers. thats all we were. destined strangers. destined to meet. destined to laugh. destined to touch. destined to love. destined to hurt. destined to love again. this was our destiny. but the funny thing is, destiny tested us from day one. the cafe you sit at everyday is the same cafe i drive by, everyday. the 20 story building you walk into everyday is where i park my car, everyday. the days you visit the bookstore, are the days i'm out for a run. the days i visit the same bookstore, are the days you walk your dog. at 1:45 pm, you come into my bakery everyday. from 1-2 in the afternoon is my lunch break, everyday. on the saturday you went to pick up a tux, i was in the dressing room, picking a dress. friday, 3rd one of june, was the day you finally walked my way and i walked yours. you dressed in a smooth straight black suit. and i dressed in lace, ribbon and chiffon. all in white. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" i turned your way and for the first time, i met your eyes. your eyes of caribbean blue. "Yes, it is." your smile so warm and charming. "i'd better get to my altar, and i guess you better get to yours", was the last thing you ever said to me. you walked away from my direction, and i walked away from yours. that day, i said "I do", and so did you. but not to each other. 45 years past. 2 children. 3 grand children. 3 dogs. 1 divorce. 0 marriages afterwards. all because of someone. a man from 45 years ago. he was my destiny and i hope he knew too. strangers are who we were. strangers are who we are. strangers are who we will always be. destined strangers; who will never see. destined strangers; you will just be you. and i will just be me. you and i will never be the destined 'we'.
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73
When I saw him in class he had his head bent down In the farthest corner of the room With a leather coat and a crooked smile That was all I needed to swoon He’s not a **** or the lead in the play But he’s got a Harley and he swept me away And the girls all think they can get to his heart But they don’t even know where to start (‘Cause all they know is) That he looks so fine, yeah he looks so fine But they don’t know that he’s already mine Yeah he picked me out from the misfit crowd And someday we’re gonna get outta this town He looks so fine, he looks so fine And the time we spent was sublime When he asked me to prom all the girls were surprised They watched as he looked me right in the eyes How silly that they thought they stood a chance To get him to take them to the dance He knocked on the door at 7:04 I answered in a periwinkle dress And he smiled at me in a new black tux (What a fox!) And you can guess the rest (‘Cause all you know is) That he looks so fine, yeah he looks so fine And now you know that he’s already mine Yeah he picked me out from the misfit crowd And someday we’re gonna get outta this town He looks so fine, yeah he looks so fine And the time we spent was sublime
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Dec 1, 2010
Dec 1, 2010 at 8:28 PM UTC
He Looks So Fine
Concinnity of rapid motion in balance and proportion, round the ballroom, like the synchronized frequency of vibration in a crystal quartz. Whirling contortion of bodies embraced in movement's revealing intimacy. They are partners. They are dancers. They are lovers wantonly stoking libido's hot glowing embers; promenade affirming keen awareness to the vigors of the steps, footfalls and technique of its pretenders. Gown and tux attired, passionate accessories to the cult; merengue, fox-trot, rhumba, abandonment's fertility rites to gods and goddesses, danced with such elegant result, they are immortalized in time --- divine service to the night.
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Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 7:46 PM UTC
Divine Service
Zip up the tux and put it back in the body bag it came in we danced, but it didn’t make things more real i, with my fake, dead skin – someone else’s – and you with your cute pigtails “make sure you return the body,” mom said. this is all we are skins under death someone else’s passion and style we fit the frame triangular shoulders show stability i hope: please tell me you notice death provides me with a sense of being just because it reminds others of someone i’m not I hope you notice – Now, this: This is who I am. I am capitalized, With proper grammar And order.
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Oct 15, 2010
Oct 15, 2010 at 1:14 PM UTC
Black Tux, Black Death
It started when I looked at the clock:                        9:17 The coffee maker convinced me to stay Had I planned to leave? Yes, of course, the channel I left it on She's there. Again? Wait, I heard that! Who's there? #*“Could find my way to Marianna---ahah--ah” The sine wave! That's it! I left them in the car. These fibers are congregating They want to get me, But I am just a flea!* It started when I looked at the clock:                       9:18 I sat down with Earth and ate Earl's burrito Saturn bent down and showed me tomorrow The radio crackled as the molecules throttled ^“We're all Immigrants and hypocrites, delusionals and sycophants” I saw my fingers start to disappear Then my hands, my arms Even my ears! My EARS! I loved those ears... It started when I looked at the clock:                     9:16 They're here, aren't they? Radio crackles, you heard them! They're audible!                (3333333) The gorilla near the out goes strut, strut, strut I felt the universe collapse inside my gold tux Could you watch my fish for me? Marked stuff borrowed from: # Pixies- Wave of Mutilation ^Star ******* Hipsters- Immigrants and Hypocrites I felt like it, that's why.
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Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 6:47 PM UTC
Three minutes alone with Jebediah
Did you decide to go? Maybe go out with some friends afterwards and toast to being a year closer to graduating? Did you decide to ask the freshman who is only popular because of the clothes she wears and things she does? Or are you staying home? Are you all dressed up in a tux? Possibly wondering what I'm doing and what would it be like if you had asked me? Or maybe you're just getting off work and had decided to skip on Prom this year? Are you walking onto the dance floor at this moment with a date or your friends and wondering if you should have asked me instead- while I sit here reading my book and wondering if you're thinking of me?
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May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 8:32 PM UTC
Prom Night
A man with a jet black tux And hair combed over his bald spot Stands in front of a window The white curtains blowing inwards Relinquishing all efforts To love, and be loved He clears his throat And spits Down into the gritty abyss Whistling through the thick Polluted air As it descends slowly Into the Bottom of its inevitable Faith And somehow Through the deafening silence You can hear its existence shatter As it hits the bare pavement One can only wonder What he's leaving behind; Children, memories Tea brewing on the stove *Would you dare save a man? From jumping out and into the arms Of his concrete destiny*
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Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
High dive
Dancing outside the saloon, they toss pennies at his feet. On his harmonica he plays, a tune, off key, up beat. On his head of sparse grey hair, he sports an old top hat. His tattered coat of tailored tails, frames a frayed and worn cravat. On a thin frame the tux does hang, his pants, held up with twine. You can't help, but to think, he is from another time. Come rain or shine, he is there. Tip of his hat to all the girls. He gives a nod of thanks at each sound, as round his feet, the pennies swirl.
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Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 6:09 PM UTC
Penny Serenade
this feels so new york listening to smooth jazz drinking wine and coffee in your room with the hard floors and the soft bed and hearing you say words like fantastic and i'm not tired we stay up until 2 am, me in a cocktail dress and heels, you in a tux and honey, we're running on central time. in New York, it's only midnight.
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Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 2:08 PM UTC
classy as hell
I need you to show me that I'm the only girl in the world that truly matters to you, I want you to love me with all of your heart, I will always love you and no other, please just prove to me you need me too, and I am your only one, please!! I just want to be treated like I'm your queen, because you are my king, again I just want you to see me as the only girl in the world that you truly love, because I truly love you and you are my one and only baby, I promise!!!! <999999999999 we've always had something special and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you and make you my husband because you look soooo **** in a tux, and I'm going to look great in a beautiful wedding dress ;) XOXOXOXOXOXO <3
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Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 6:23 AM UTC
I need you
I am the kind of guy who goes to bars alone with my headphones in, munching on a cigar with half my brain on iambic pentameter and the other half on the feeling of a girls thigh under my lips. I love the moon and I love the sun but both can be too bright and too dim at the same time. Red lights don't exist and my soul wants to be wild. The colors of the world scream at me in silence and I smile with closed eyes, just living in the few seconds given to me by whoever is holding the knife next to the string. This world, these people, living their lives like caricatures of trendy Hollywood films and fashion magazines leave me weary and disoriented. The laughing man next to me in ragged clothes and missing teeth calls to my curiosity more than the man in a pressed tux trying to sell me expensive cologne on expensive advertisements. I don't understand, but I want to. There is a pain I feel every morning and every evening. It flows through my bones and courses through my veins like a patient army, building their palisades around my heart. It makes my mind swirl in anger and beauty. The pain on being here. The pain of floating through the universe on a spinning fishtank. The pain in every breath. The hell in the foundations of eden. The pain of my existence.
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Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
The Pain of Existing
I have a computer companion, Who is content to sit on my lap. She studies the screen so intently, As quickly, on keys, fingers tap. I have a Velvet Tuxedo Thats by my computer each day. So small, so soft, and so comfy, Just hanging as I sit and play. I admit my Tux is a kitten. White stockings, white collar, no tail. Tiny soft paws on my keyboard With Tux here I surely can't fail. I have a computer companion Who is content to sit on my lap. My little Velvet Tuxedo Now quietly taking a nap. JMA
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Oct 6, 2011
Oct 6, 2011 at 1:54 PM UTC
Computer Companion
Hard to swallow: When they see you, stretched languidly across the page, frivolous in your expenditure of letters, This is what you are to them. Long and polysyllabic, a frustrating combination of strange, small word-parts And that Y (such an indecisive letter!): flung in there so gracelessly. You are repulsive to them; You have broken their rhythm of short, blocky words that trip off the tongue with your sudden and awkward out-of-place-ness. You are abhorrent to them; You have blurred their strict margins of male and female roles, of pants and skirts, with your little blip of existence, mucking about in the wrong side of the clothes store. You are an anomaly, a mistake, a mystery to them; You are a *** to be located A term to be defined A word to be pronounced A gender to be assigned But I like you. I like how your letters sprawl, confident and self-sure. I like how your attire causes others to gawk and reorder their worlds. I like how your legs look in that tux, your eyes in that dress. How the long swoops of your g and your y echo the way the ends of your undone tie drape from your collar: Elegantly.
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Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
Ode to Androgynous
James Corden’s close relationship with Burberry designer Christopher Bailey was celebrated at the 2016 Tony Awards. On Sunday night (12Jun16) the toast of Broadway were celebrated at the annual awards show. British star James was the evening’s host, winning the crowd over with his warm sense of humour and down to earth delivery. As well as a successful acting and presenting career, James can now also add style icon to his burgeoning resume. “We wanted to keep the wardrobe tight and focused with a definite beginning and an end,” stylist Michael Fisher told vogue.com. “We started with Burberry for the red carpet. James and Christopher Bailey have a long-standing relationship. I wanted a strong look that complemented the roses. The deep burgundy tux had matte black micro sequins on the lapel: very sophisticated and classic, with a technical update.” Like any good awards show host, 37-year-old James had numerous outfit changes. Two suits from Tom Ford featured; a black three-piece design which served as a tribute to Broadway and then a teal dot dinner jacket, which James chose to wear at the after party. A show-stopping Dolce & Gabbana look also featured, with the fashion house supplying a pair of “handmade, dark green croc shoes” to complement the green velvet and crystal jacket James wore to close the show. Another stand out moment came thanks to a red Gucci suit adorned with a bird and butterfly motif. “The Gucci suit was my favourite,” Michael smiled. “You can’t ignore the influence (Gucci designer) Alessandro Michele has on fashion right now. It reminded me of (musical) The Boy From Oz and in that way was very appropriate for the Tonys.”Read more at: www.marieaustralia.com/evening-dresses | http://www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses
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Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 1:40 AM UTC
James Corden and Christopher Bailey's Burberry bromance
James Corden’s close relationship with Burberry designer Christopher Bailey was celebrated at the 2016 Tony Awards. On Sunday night (12Jun16) the toast of Broadway were celebrated at the annual awards show. British star James was the evening’s host, winning the crowd over with his warm sense of humour and down to earth delivery. As well as a successful acting and presenting career, James can now also add style icon to his burgeoning resume. “We wanted to keep the wardrobe tight and focused with a definite beginning and an end,” stylist Michael Fisher told vogue.com. “We started with Burberry for the red carpet. James and Christopher Bailey have a long-standing relationship. I wanted a strong look that complemented the roses. The deep burgundy tux had matte black micro sequins on the lapel: very sophisticated and classic, with a technical update.” Like any good awards show host, 37-year-old James had numerous outfit changes. Two suits from Tom Ford featured; a black three-piece design which served as a tribute to Broadway and then a teal dot dinner jacket, which James chose to wear at the after party. A show-stopping Dolce & Gabbana look also featured, with the fashion house supplying a pair of “handmade, dark green croc shoes” to complement the green velvet and crystal jacket James wore to close the show. Another stand out moment came thanks to a red Gucci suit adorned with a bird and butterfly motif. “The Gucci suit was my favourite,” Michael smiled. “You can’t ignore the influence (Gucci designer) Alessandro Michele has on fashion right now. It reminded me of (musical) The Boy From Oz and in that way was very appropriate for the Tonys.”Read more at: www.marieaustralia.com/evening-dresses | http://www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses
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9
.*last time i heard... the time difference between Bach and say... a Gershwin was... 187 years... what' the difference between a... say... Joshua Redman (1969) and a Cedric Brooks (1943) - a difference of... a grand total of? 26 years! short attention span or something? too much ***** too many drugs?! why did acid jazz take over?! tell me... i'm not black enough to understand the classical music equivalent in the black community, that is jazz... beat poets?! they cursed the whole affair, yes, no, maybe? just when i thought i might escape the opera, or the tux, or the orchestral hall filled with pensioners... when jazz made the living room everything other than a family communal space... just then... these ******* stopped making decent music, and turned to rap... **** call me what you like, a racist... whatever... i'm an aesthete... which is not an athlete... ******* should have stuck to their guns... sure... you'll out-run us... but sure as **** you won't out-swim us.* white privilege?                   seriously? so...     the ****** (sorry, emphasis)    in the gospel choir at church, or the one on the dance floor busting all the: applying gymnastics    to a dance moves...   he... she... they weren't born with a black, "privilege"? no? not any... seems kinda unfair to presuppose i come from a privileged household of ethnicity; **** if you want it... you can have... the box... **** inherit my successes in abstraction... have your genesis in ancient Greece... have it!            it's yours! now show me something... ******* spectacular!
0
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 7:34 PM UTC
appertiser
.*last time i heard... the time difference between Bach and say... a Gershwin was... 187 years... what' the difference between a... say... Joshua Redman (1969) and a Cedric Brooks (1943) - a difference of... a grand total of? 26 years! short attention span or something? too much ***** too many drugs?! why did acid jazz take over?! tell me... i'm not black enough to understand the classical music equivalent in the black community, that is jazz... beat poets?! they cursed the whole affair, yes, no, maybe? just when i thought i might escape the opera, or the tux, or the orchestral hall filled with pensioners... when jazz made the living room everything other than a family communal space... just then... these ******* stopped making decent music, and turned to rap... **** call me what you like, a racist... whatever... i'm an aesthete... which is not an athlete... ******* should have stuck to their guns... sure... you'll out-run us... but sure as **** you won't out-swim us.* white privilege?                   seriously? so...     the ****** (sorry, emphasis)    in the gospel choir at church, or the one on the dance floor busting all the: applying gymnastics    to a dance moves...   he... she... they weren't born with a black, "privilege"? no? not any... seems kinda unfair to presuppose i come from a privileged household of ethnicity; **** if you want it... you can have... the box... **** inherit my successes in abstraction... have your genesis in ancient Greece... have it!            it's yours! now show me something... ******* spectacular!
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I lost my button off a thread on the day when I wed left with a half open tux Though it hung for awhile it fell, rolling down the isle and down dropped my trunks The people ‘woo’ and applaud My future wife was appalled “Do you realise it’s all about you?” I pulled up my pants bowing at the chance I smile, replying “I do”
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Feb 10, 2022
Feb 10, 2022 at 8:14 PM UTC
Hanging by a thread
Sometimes I check up on her. (I believed it to be Some masochism deep within me.) Over facebook. We're no longer facebook friends, but I gather snapshots of her life through her profile pic. I now like to think of it as a healthy breakup. A way of communicating while not communicating. But before it was horrible; before I'd get depressed just seeing her hair. He is wearing a tux and holds her around the waist. Her purple dress is ruffled at the hips and where her tiny ******* nip outward. Their eyes are closed full of something that only they could explain between each other. Lips are smushed, her very red, red giant red, lips are softened against his. He is taller than her, but not by much. And they seem happy at whatever wedding, gala, or whatever Bourgeoisie **** they were doing. And before now, I probably would've raided my stash of Wild Turkey; cried in my room for a few days; skipped meals. But now, I feel content. Happy. Not so alone and wishful. I don't miss her anymore, or love her for that matter. And I'm happy that she has found someone to begin that journey all over again with. This is how we atone for things. A ritual of constant pain ending in contentment.
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Dec 21, 2011
Dec 21, 2011 at 11:44 PM UTC
Growth
Why care about the coronglais (English Horns) music. Of course the brass I speak of is woodwind. Masters of sound are older then the Tux- Edos choking boughtie on my white neck. The pub next door never will hear opera The way a glass of hard ale fills me. All a reason to say hiphop is jazz. The old lady with scotch breath doesnt show Me how ice melts in her mouth like twelve octaves. On the concert halls roof cellos fall off the gutters Like drops of rain. The rare wood burns the hobos Metal warm fire and we finally walk with purpose.
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Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 6:44 PM UTC
Taboo towards classical music
Remember the days of skinned knees and gap-toothed grins? Your little voice calling my name running behind me in your tiny tux. Remember the days of metal mouths and awkward lanky limbs? Discovering we weren't blood, but we WERE just the same. I will remember fondly the afternoons where the beach stretched on for miles, and the rocks became our castle, and we never ran out of words to say. I will remember being wrapped in your arms enveloped in hugs that could cure a broken heart. I will remember courageous kindness, a thousand-watt smile , and a heart too big for this world. You left behind a legacy unmatched. So many hearts beat now to the contagious cadence of your laughter. You were loved. You are loved. You will always be loved. Remember now, our naive promise so many years ago? We swore we'd be friends forever. From your divine perch seated by our maker forevermore, remember: You will always be in my heart. I will never forget you. Please remember.
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Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 9:42 AM UTC
For the Little Ring Bearer