"underdressed" poems
First time, commercial coffee shop
overindulgence, over laden with portfolio,
books, purse, and now cup: underdressed.
Far too few layers for a
shower of cotton *****
sticking to eye-lashes and hair.
Journeying from coffee shop
to bus stop; urban miles away.
piles of melty cotton *****
grab at my inappropriate shoes.
Too much milk and water
turn me off to Christmas in a cup
so I stick out my tongue
and allow my taste buds a play date with Jack Frost instead.
A lifetime away
a new place with new playmates.
This time leaves and stinky berries
push me on to my destination.
A new coffee shop with bells on the door
boasts bashfully of the same overindulgence.
This one small, cozy like
a thrift store couch or kittens.
Community and friendship present
me with that first cup of Christmas.
Someone from that other world
whispers the memory to me.
Again, my tongue
experiences the most joy on this memory experience.
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 4:56 PM UTC
The clouds race golden
As be chariots
The sun is born
Like the deviants
As gusts of wind
****** the thoughts
Underdressed
The chest it coughs
While Major Clank
On wheels and stub
Bellows out and
Rubs the nub
Then by runes
the best made plans
Test the dikes
And angst of dams
The age of truth
The youth desired
Across the space
without the wires
The universe comes
In a box
Neatly packed
Shelved , detoxed
And all because
Annointed by rain
The blue sky morning
Clouds it's pain
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 8:29 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
she was underdressed, overtouched. and kept ironing out her napkin at the bar. with blue ink she wrote his last name in place of her own. the fan spun off-kilter. the bartender finished his third vegas bomb. one too many.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 10:27 PM UTC
Love is this...
.......
............
,,,,,
catkin feet rotating the underdressed night under a casino wheel of stars
..........or else a Tempest of Soul loud as a fishmonger
...............99p cola bottles & lonesome underdogs
.............that time you laughed on helium
... 'fuck me' neon signs in the street
...................sweet onion breath delirium
.................Millais's Ophelia all wasted & peeling from suburban billboards.
......................the time Virginia Woolf drowned & all the birds
forgot how to sing in Greek.
..............are we there yet
..............are we feeling the beat, beat, beat
..............of this raindrop
.........................do we need postage stamps.
................................why is your neighbor called Pete.
.........why did you kick a dog, Mamma.
............nothing is that which is understood
............why are you staring at this poem.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
Write some words on my blank page face
They'll trickle down into my mouth
There they'll be slurred, but still flow out--
now yours? now mine?
Shared property?
Joint custody of low opinion
Seems ungainly, seems unwise
when miles of snowfall separate
by hundreds,
tens,
and ones.
Miles of squares and cylinders
Of circles, splotches, mandelbrots
in whites and blacks swarming and buzzing
warring in the hissing static.
Hissing static, searing cold
Underdressed on Tuesday morning. Shivering
chattering teeth mouth curses, shattering
winter air with whiskey breath
and wishful thoughts.
Write words upon my blank-line lips--
"Disloyal," "faithless," "stupid," "shameless."
They're falsehoods, true, but they're tattoos
I guess I'll wear them for a while.
Such lies flow down my throat
Now nameless but for lies, I'll turn
I'll the crawl the miles home.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 5:04 PM UTC
My mum tells me to be careful as I close the front door
Every footstep the tick of a bomb about to go off
And I know that she will worry until she hears me return
That maybe this time I wasn’t careful enough
But I know Careful
Careful is a woman who walks in our skin when the door shuts behind us
Faceless and watchful
With keys jammed between each finger
And her honey voice is flowing through a perpetual conversation with the home screen of her phone
Her gait wide and her hood up,
hair down but tucked away
She never looks up
only shifts her eyes from left to right on a pendulum trajectory determined to read the cadence of the shadows
Like they are palms or tea leaves or a CCTV in operation sign on the front of a shop window
On the walk home
She is always moving
A waterfall rushing down the steepest drop to get back home with all her foundations in tact
Careful is always waiting for the other shoe to fall
She is texting texting texting details of her plans
Where she has been
where she is going
what is the license of the taxi she is in
Are the doors locked as soon as she shuts them?
How salty is too salty for a margarita or a tequila or a glass of water
Can anyone vouch for the milliseconds that her drink was out of her sight?
She has a pair of earphones attached to nothing jutting from her ears
and her key clawed hands wrapped tightly around a can of pepper spray
And her car is parked right outside the building
Careful is always a woman living in a war zone
where the enemies can be the ones that she has trusted most
Or strangers that cast long shadows
She is a landmine that is always in danger of being stepped on
She is made into a three star salad that the jury reject because she was underdressed
Overexposed like the photos that Careful should never have sent
Because even she knows that she cannot exist
A woman is always careful
But never careful enough.
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 2:27 PM UTC
Society has taught,
That I should hold my head down and be quite
That the person who did it
Isn't the one to blame...
That expressing what happened
Is worst than it happening
Society has taught,
that **** is a joke
And it only happens to the ones who deserve it
That if you look underdressed,
It's your fault
If you walk alone in the dark
Your asking for it
I have been taught,
That **** is the cost of life
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 11:11 AM UTC
With fickle Freddy Frosts first showing
and the rising of ******* and
limbs fine tactile hairs, laguna,
filaments of sensation *****
quivering and striving
stretching toward a now absent warmth,
she always did have her sunny side showing, bare legs tucked under her
buttocks, leaning back on her hands
under that big Totara tree, face tilting
skyward and sandals kicked aside,
searching out her brighter sunny day
even now, with leaves falling down
the autumnal mix of ambers
Loamy greens and wooded browns
the earth cool and damp underfoot
her naked legs, arms defiant, barely crying for freedom!
Shivered morn's and eve's descend quickly
winters first indicators bringing
a refusal to employ blankets
hope tightly clinging to summers
silk sheets from Portugal,
feather light, soft as air,
just how she likes her thread count
high and expensive, sumptous,
(her pedantic obsession with fine linens)
totally ineffectual as calefactor,
so, she shivers on stubborn as ever,
Stay summer! Stay!
Even her loyal steadfast cicadas
have fallen silent now, summers last guard fallen to shortened days
and longer lonelier cool nights,
it is now she starts to miss a warm body
companionship, a worthy bedfellow
one who will not protest her cold toes
vicious advances on their warmer flesh
The sacrifice well worth the reward
of her warmest, ardent affections
tender embraces and softly spoken
murmurings of love and passion,
her full surrender to your body
with hers, she gives good, good love,
both body and mined soul deep too.
The countdown to clocks pushed onwards
pulls a wustful sigh from blueish lips
she is underdressed, flimsy chiffon
on a day made for heavier cloths
persists with summer daydreaming
of warm strong hands restoring her joy
under cold nights cloaked bed covers,
hot stolen kisses from a winter lover.
J.C. "littlebird" 05/04/2019.
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 5:19 PM UTC
.
I was in a meeting, the boardroom was full
testosterone flowed everywhere
Dressed in a polo, but high dollar suits
were what the execs chose to wear
I sat at the end, with a chair next to me,
where no one decided to sit
Feeling quite weird, I was new to this place
and wondered if I’d be a fit
Them in their ties and me underdressed,
my khakis were old, kind of thin
Button down shirts and cuff links of gold
I guess there’s no chance I’ll fit in
A half hour gone, bored out of my mind,
when I couldn’t believe what I saw
A beautiful woman, a pant suit of silk,
came in from out there in the hall
Her hair chocolate brown with eyes just the same,
she rushed as she looked for a seat
Then sat in the chair, I was happy to share,
now this was a wonderful treat
She said, **** I’m late, I forgot to stop
and look at my schedule last night”
I said, “That’s okay, they’ve not much to say
I’m sure that it will be alright”
We sat there a while, I stared at her smile,
just hoping she wouldn’t catch me
When then she stood up, it was her time to talk
my god, she was smart, I could see
A room full of men, one amazing woman
and she put them all in their place
Yes, she knew her stuff and I was impressed
but the board, oh the look on their face
They grumbled and groaned and snorted a bit,
but knew today something they learned
I laughed deep inside, when one then stood up
and said to us “meeting adjourned”
I said, “You were great, even though you were late,
and you look so good in that suit”
She said, “Thanks so much, I’m glad you approve
and by the way I think you’re cute”
I got up the nerve and asked her if she’d
like to join me for coffee or tea
She said, “That sounds nice, but I’d much prefer
a drink, sounds much better to me”
I said , “It’s a date and please don’t be late”
She giggled and flashed me a grin
It’s then that I knew, no worries at all,
this place I would surely fit in
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 4:21 PM UTC
I am what no one writes about-
I am pink lipstick and elbows
I am neither delicate nor passionate
I am clean socks and the lack of smell that television has, when compared to books
I am what no one writes about-
I am shirts which hang rather than draping over supple skin
I am walks on the beach cut short abruptly
I am the itch at the back of your neck
I am what no one writes about.
I am what no one writes about-
I am unrebellious but unsuccessful daughters
I am unpeculiar unspectacular and uninspiring
I am underappreciated when underdressed
I am unthought of and unspoken.
I am who no one writes about.
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 11:00 PM UTC
She calls my eyes mysterious
My therapist calls them depressed
I say she’s schizophrenic
See says she’s underdressed
They ask us how we met
She left it for me to address
“From one lunatic to the other-“
“In your mind?”
-“Be my guest.”
Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 7:49 PM UTC
You have twenty one seconds
Until the cab is here
You’re on the list
Friends are here again
Going up
Going out
Underdressed
Yet again
Thank you, thank you all
It isn’t fair
He’s with us
He is missed
Map it out
Retrace it all
Back to the forest
Back to the hill
Barbed wire
Sealed from sanctuary
Popping out at you in 3D
This headache won’t leave
Slack jawed and hunched over
Mad men on speed
Drenched in sweat
Paint the crowd
A crowd of a different color
Rampaging forward
Effervescent
Cavemen in the control room
Knobs and buttons
***** in his court
Scoff at it
It’s a safety ramp
Coming down from school
He’s not going back
Too much to lose
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 1:05 PM UTC
I feel like I'm being held back
Or maybe like I'll have a panic attack
Those I care about don't feel the same for me
And I can't help but feel like I'll never be free
If I stay too long I'll disappear
I'll bid you adieu and see you next year
Oct 31, 2019
Oct 31, 2019 at 3:26 PM UTC
I slept the cold night in my black sleeping bag
Quietly I slumbered, not removed yet the price tag
My hair caught in the teeth, yet I was still time did drag
I was of the notion of underdressed in just my rags.
Eyes wide open on the bench, oblivions vision
I was exposed for all to gaze upon eyes on collision
Was I wanting to be here? that was not my decision
Feeling I was missing myself as opened up for excision.
I was silent that whole time my lips never shifted,
lonely as my belongings now strewn and sifted
I gave others my unwanted, each hopeful now gifted
Death was a silence I was gone but now I am lifted
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 3:20 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
When you show up at a party after exams
underdressed
and when you're tired
and your hair just looks a mess.
If you're driving me in autumn
and your nose is pink
or you've finished watching a game with the guys
and you're pouring the dregs of your beer down the sink.
When you tell me stories about your childhood
and I'm lucky enough to catch that glint in your eye
I might see a flash of your girlfriends past
and remind you you're a lucky guy.
On longs walks up the stairs with you
and you tell me we should take a rest
you seem a little harried then
but this is when I look my best
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 9:52 PM UTC
Sitting in a large hotel room
Thinking of the competition coming soon
One person in my left has a binder out
The kids across the hall are trying not to shout
Fixing up the gadgets at the last minute
While some play board games in the mindset to win it
It's 11:30 at night, I'm eating cold Chinese
Win or lose, fail or fly, I do as I please
We all cheer when the fourth comes back with ice
This moment is my paradise
Sitting on a mountain the temperature of snow
I eye the massive valley below
The farms and forests make a patchwork quilt
The streets and towns are embroidery of silk
The sun rises, setting the treetops on fire
My campmates wake up slow with some ire
Out here, I'm awed by mother earth's ways
As my friends and I decide how to navigate our days
I don hiking clothes under the day's new light
This moment is my paradise
Summer in full swing, the crickets cry
As twilight yeilds stars in the sky
We wander the camp, the ocean roars in the distance
Masters of our fate, we don't need assistance
Whether at the beachfront, ziplining, or boardwalks
We run like a fox pack, not caring who gawks
As we think of the adventures of the world ahead
There's nowhere I'd like to be instead
As our flip flops crack on the ground the camp comprised
This right here is my paradise
We're running around another big city
So much to see, and I have my group with me
We just got out of our musical clinic
Now it's time to explore the town, see the magic in it
We'll meet up at five, for a dinner at seven
We'll go on a boat and get back at eleven
Right here, right now, we can make our own way
Free from routine, we get to have a say
We're a bit confused, a little underdressed
We still need chaperones, and we're way underslept
Even with all of that, this will more than suffice
This right here is my paradise
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 10:39 PM UTC
i was thinking of you and me
in our pieces and places
thinking about our own selves
not thinking about each other
until time space place things
put us where we breathed air
in same situations here-there
what a strange conspiracy
would place us here to down
grade the importance of selves
ours mine yours each others
we did not prioritize so
this world put us at number
one for each others for some
time leaving us without options
we made do with companionship
some brief moments of time
where we prioritized each other
then time space place things
moved without us a tidal wave
of shifting things so we shifted
too and moved to others priorities
but you were fortunate enough
to take a plus one for these
black-tie events while i carry
the heavy space around me as if
it is an option a conscious choice
no one rsvp-ed as my plus one
thus no witnesses to call me out
when i don a new face to greet
the faces i meet prepared to leave
every second every day- i barely
remember those i met a minute
a blink a movement ago but
music forges ahead life brims
knowledge is added and crushed
into dust by the relevance of time
disallowing for anyone to put any
hold onto it with intellect or paper
my song remains empty silent fake
lights fake smiles fake laughs fake
fake tears fake companionship so
helplessly temporary i feel the
drowning air of words unsaid anxieties
untested in my bones at my lips as i
slowly nervously keep moving always
being rushed in as a late attendance
by an impatient usher too busy with
bigger details to explain the rules
of a party where i always arrive late
with none to take my coat at the door
i remain hopelessly dressed in red
dungarees worn since i was three
my version of a skintight red dress
painfully obviously underdressed
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 1:22 AM UTC
Go out.
Buy beautiful clothes.
Dress for vanity's sake.
Spend buckets of dosh,.
To make you look posh.
It's so sublime.
All rather petty.
The real being lives under the clothes.
Beneath that mop of tangled hair may dwell a diamond.
A bright blue sapphire that catches the sun and plays with it.
An emerald that sparkles in the grass.
A precious stone that's eternally yours.
What more could any man want.
(C) Livvi
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 6:34 AM UTC
I imagine your hands dwarfing someone else's and the image puts something bitter on the back of my tongue
I imagine you sweeping back hair that doesn't curl rebelliously at your fingers, insisting your hand stay with them
Words wet with dismay stick to my dry throat and if I could cough them out thered be nothing but different configurations of "stay"
I imagine your lips covering some spectre of a woman who is not me and I am amazed by the vastness of my hate
I remember the warmth of your chest as you pressed into my side, crowded me to the table, and my heart leapt into my throat
I couldn't think past awareness of you, felt you down my spine and into my shoes
That little was enough to do to leave me gasping
I'd be frigid if I insisted I could ever do without it
I remember kissing the mouthpiece of a roll and inhaling acrid smoke and you pressed the tip of your spliff to my lips before I had finished coughing and
Chased smoke like it was an ever-distant horizon vanishing into my chest
I am a ruined woman, stuck dreaming and waiting, there's humiliation that comes with this sort of infatuation
You get me tense, keep me constantly on the precipice of something, torso dangling over a railing, always threatening the possibility of free fall
I can hardly deal with my day to day humanity, the depravity you spark is beyond me and my meager means of processing
You look at me and I feel distinctly underdressed, publicly indecent, unnecessarily yearning as though I've never once known decorum
I fumble as I rarely do, trip over words like they're untied shoes, and my heart is imprinted under the press of your thumb
I've caught myself often wondering if I am merely imagining the heat of the summer and I am roasting in your company
My skin oversensitive, my heart aches with fresh burns, but when you leave I freeze and claw you back to me
The way that my mind, ever caterwauling, overthinking, shaking is so immediately quiet and still to give your voice room
That the world narrows to a point and the buzz of reality fades and I can focus on you
That the fear I cradle is smothered by the weight of your consideration
There's so much that qualifies as perfection that its unfamiliarity makes me consider running from whatever it is brewing between you and me.
Sep 6, 2020
Sep 6, 2020 at 2:37 AM UTC
olive drab down-filled vest
shaking every single hand
speaking only of great success
hair never askew or messed
discussing a long-term plan
olive drab down-filled vest
information presented is never guessed
education is the stump he stands
speaking only of great success
the life he leads is truly blessed
though, the new climate is killing his tan
olive drab down-filled vest
never a time for being underdressed
when becoming an Oregon man
speaking only of great success
bringing to our program some Louisiana zest
Oregon seems an interesting place to land
olive drab down-filled vest
speaking only of great success
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 10:58 AM UTC
Overzealous and underdressed I have no home to call my own, so where has my benevolence gone? Am I an antiquity, am I a forgotten lost treasure of a long ago age where beauty explodes feverishly in a raw
******** **** Silken sunken memoirs deep within the pastings of grimy faced lullaby’s etched away in a dust covered passion book called familiar.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
Nothing makes you feel more fancier, more romancier. Than new underwear, & fine lace covering your ******* Underdressed, I've never heard of such a thing...
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 12:03 AM UTC