Best Versace Poems
God’s gift to the world
Casanova
Wanna-be as
With your playa-listic mentality
U make me third world country sick and ashamed that I ever crossed your path
Do me a favor
And go take a nice hot bath
Soak off some of that ego
That got you running round here
Acting a damn fool
Let some of that “she wish she had me”
Mentality down the drain and out the gutter that you derived from
U aint shid but a bum as tick infested with the gluttony of being stuck on yourself
Make of it what you wish
Check this
When you realize how many of these groupie-as broads aint nothing
But groupie-as
Gold-diggin
Want to do nothing but keep you in the ditch you been already crawling in for so
long broads
Maybe then you’ll know that your greatest ancestry father did not die pickin’ cotton
With lashes on his back
“Yes massah” on his lips
Gospel hymns in his every thought and nothing but love in his heart for you to
Play these huchie mama
Aint got the rent money
But wearing Versace
Stripping by night
Hoin’ by day caught up in the
What a man wants mind frame flippin tricks for Mary Jane
And still walk alone tainted and ashamed
Still stuck in a rut
All to let some gigolo as nigga get a nut
Don’t you understand the color of your own skin?
Why you think black aint in the rainbow?
Cause its too damn beautiful
You better recognize it and stop
Trying to analyze what puscy you get the most juice to coat your jerry curled pubic
roots
Cause I’m a let you know
Aint no puscy better than being a real man and I’m gon be cursin’ you out until
the lesson I just taught is easy for you to understand
Categories:
versace, black african american, urban,
Form:
Free verse
Your dolls grin in my summer
melted silver plastic sin
and I heard a crow caw
all for my belated needs
I never intended life
finding my self six feet deep
My pall bearer lover-needs
me and my simple sweet soul!
All for you I oiled
your soul machine
and I am cosmic
mechanic heart
I have the skills
to fix your devour-mouth
My pall bearer sees crow caw
and I'm still six feet under
Under your high heel-career
and Versace style psychotic needs
And who (you) bury my bleedings
I keep your longest kiss under
-- neath my broken bone cap knees
and nothing hurts like my mouth.
: 07-16-2014 ::
Categories:
versace, poems, poetry, poets,
Form:
Free verse
“Your mother’s love, the silent devotion ,the never heard prayers, the unseen care.” ~~ Shobhna Kanwar~~
She stood in the foyer of the church, through the window to the aisle.
Her threadbare clothes hung around her form in denial.
She watched him take her arm, as they approached the groom.
A hush was heard as the organ played in the room.
How stunning the bridesmaids, four beautiful girls,
The bride exquisite, her delicate lace gown studded with pearls.
The crowd were obviously all well to do,
Men in Versace suits, women clad in Channel and Dior too.
She listened as they said their vows and swore to be true.
She smiled as he proclaimed to his bride “I love you”.
Marriage complete, they would all soon walk out to the street.
It was time for the hagged woman to make a hasty retreat.
He glanced at her but didn’t raise an eyebrow.
She would never be recognized the way she looked now.
It was so long since she had cried, she shed just one tear.
Her dear daughter would never know that her mother was here.
Categories:
versace, wedding,
Form:
Rhyme
The basic principles flowing through my mind,
Shaped to intricate patterns of predestined design.
I now know where, I was not before,
for now I am, as I need through this door.
I might change my mind if you hand a receipt,
for all this worthless material you cherish in defeat.
Let me explain something, and I’ll make it very clear,
you’re wasting your time, each and every year.
Ego is a concept not yet defined,
expanding past personality and even your mind.
It’s the flesh that you take to appointments of all you see,
and it’s not your fault as a victim of society.
However once you know you can only blame yourself,
this spiritual design is a one way to health.
Stop confusing religion in your mind,
life is only complicated for the body your assigned.
Legality, Morality, Totality to Fatality,
going crazy trying to comprehend Reality.
Now back to the basics as I mentioned before,
it only matters what you’re left with when you are no more.
Fendi, Versace, Christian Dior,
blinded by these dark lights from the shades you wore.
Think about it.
Now become it.
Are you happy fighting all were here for?,
you won’t find Love, Compassion, or Soul in a store.
Now make up your mind and choose not to fall.
You need not to find it you’ve had it all along,
Just rid of judgment and you’ll sing your own song.
It’s the Truth.
Believe it.
Were built of regurgitated info from those of before,
Now start your own path as you know there is more!
Dream, Believe, Achieve, and you will no longer Seem to Leave to Grieve.
As you will be in the moment with all that is,
Start by forgiving thyself and cherish the gift to give.
We were all once babies, and we are truly all one.
Think deeper than your pocket, and the answer will come.
Categories:
versace, addiction, change, meaningful, society,
Form:
Ballad
That answer to that is painfully simple: I’m a disabled, thirty-something individual with compromised mobility…and I’m a lazy S.O.B...
But, oh, how I fantasize! And loath am I to torture myself by looking at all the exquisite, fabulous fashion creations by Versace, Comme Des Garcons, Missoni and Vivienne Westwood; elegant creations I will never be able to wear, let alone afford. Though I enjoy being a man and would have it no other way, I envy women and sometimes wish I was one, just so I could wear a Versace gown, even if it were just to take out the trash.
I worship fashion and models; they are my demigods. They embody all that is outwardly beautiful. I don’t mind the shallowness of it. I wish I was Coco Rocha, Naomi Campbell, Janice Dickinson, Linda Evangelista, Tyra Banks, Milla Jovovich, all rolled into one. I wish I could strut and stomp the catwalk; to pound the runway in some outrageous creation by Rei Kawakubo. To jet-set to Paris, Milan, Tokyo, London…! I would die and go to fashion heaven, and see Gianni, and I would be his Muse. Poor, Gianni; why did that bastard kill you? Genius was lost that day and fashion has since suffered in your absence.
I wish I was as skillful with sewing as I am with words; since I’ll never be a model, I’d at least like to design clothes that would echo my influences. A mesh of the sex of Versace, the elegance of Missoni, the insane artistic destruction and anti-fashion of Comme des Garcons and the hipness of Vivienne Westwood; yes, that would be my style, as my poetry echoes Poe, Shelley, Keats and Dickinson.
But, alas and alas again! For these are all but mere dreams and fantasies that shall never be fulfilled! But a gay boy can dream, can’t he?
Categories:
versace, art, beauty, desire, imagination,
Form:
Narrative
Winning the Lottery
Yes, I dream of winning the Lottery,
Hitting the jackpot on a Saturday night.
Oh, it’s so wonderful to imagine,
So, I cross my fingers and hold them tight.
Our George bemoans his bad luck,
All these years, not even a Tenner.
He told me that a couple from up Orkney,
Won Five million, Mr and Mrs Jenner.
Now I don’t want a fortune,
Just to be comfortable, would be nice.
I could buy me a shiny new sports job,
Without thinking about it twice.
A holiday to the Island of Barbados,
Under tropical skies, that sounds grand.
Or perhaps a Mediterranean cruise,
Lazing on deck, getting tanned.
I would have to update my wardrobe,
With a suit from Ralph Lauren.
A few shirts with the label of Versace,
Oh, and Designer shoes by Donna Karan.
We may have to move from the terrace,
Buy a cottage in the countryside.
Or better still a bungalow by the sea,
With a Veranda, to sit watching the tide.
I could afford to have Guitar lessons,
Learn to play blues like Jimmy Page.
Imagine that, me becoming a rock star,
With adoring groupies at front of stage.
Now, I won’t see our Emily go short,
and I’ll give a bit to John and Jilly.
I’d better return Danny’s Lawnmower,
and give that borrowed Twenty back to Billy.
I could retire and take it easy,
No more working long shifts over-night,
Slaving for that Miserly McGregor,
He’s loaded but so flaming tight.
In truth, I’d leave without notice,
And tell him just where to stick it.
My wife say’s stop daydreaming Jim
You’ve never even bought a ticket.
Categories:
versace, dream, funny, happy, holiday,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh lovely, little hedgehog, playing in the grass,
I love your prickly, stylish coat, it brings you so much sass.
I see that little nose of yours, twitching to no end,
sniffing out the next hot thing, the next must-have fashion trend.
But I am on to you little hedgehog, playing in that grass.
I will not just sit here idle by, with two thumbs up my ass.
I know you’re planning something big, something evil too,
when I look into those eyes of yours, you become a cunning shrew.
You stole my Chanel, and my Versace, I bet my Armani you did.
Don’t even try to deny it gurrl, for I am not a kid,
I’m all grown up and stronger now; look I’m taller too.
I’d think twice about crossing me again, especially if I were you.
So continue lovely, little hedgehog, playing in the grass,
I’ll be keeping an eye on you, under my big ol’ magnifying glass.
Maybe I’ll show you true style, some taste and if you’re lucky some true passion,
‘cause you, lovely, little hedgehog don’t know anything about fashion.
Categories:
versace, animal, fun, funny, garden,
Form:
Rhyme
A fertile wind lures a petting call
from the bull who will swim the Lough.
Immortality lurks within its perfume
of dynasty and a future king.
The scent of tomorrow makes love extinct
for our genes are perfumed with success.
Prada and Versace can make the lemon sweet
but the offspring will question this statue,
we call David.
Poets will bleed a loves embrace
this beauty of presence a royal write.
While nature spins the spiders web
of a lover who creates life with death.
These tears will soon be forgotten,
in the rose that greets the winter.
For love grows cold in the markets of man.
But love should not be abandoned
for creation is a spiritual thing.
As the warrior holds his head against the tree,
unspoken words transcend this earth
that only his isolation can see.
And in its meaning
love can find a nobility,
that prostitution will never be.
Love was a word that once made empires fall,
now reduced in the confetti of modernisation.
A face book soul caught in the pouting lips
of adolescence,
staring into the depths of an old man unseen.
And the obese teenager that parents adore
go blind to this locked door .
While mirrors delight in snow white dreams
and a wardrobe that secretly desires perversion.
For the window of **** gags for that.
Sex is the ticket to the premiere
that eventually all her friends will see
and the weak will be the spillage
Of a corn sack filled
by a man that only a rapist will see.
Walk into this gas chamber
And succumb to a kiss,
prostituted by a River Island fee
and a Rimmel greasy lipstick.
That makes the suitor hard
inflamed by the chemical caress of perfume
which will procreate another lost child
Into oblivion.
And love will show its face once more
In the bottle of regret
and a being too fat to work.
Spilling the grease from his chips
while watching the latest premiere
Of another adolescent dream
Categories:
versace, love,
Form:
Free verse
Camera candy nose
Pyroclastic pose
Beverly Hills publicity
Her kitty’s named felicity
Do the Bentley boogie down
In that shaved Versace gown
Vesuvius Christmas wreath
Viral presents underneath
Walk that red carpet ruse
Marrying mortgaged shoes
Spaghetti string saunter
Sauced communists want her
Champagne celebrity schmooze
Collecting her psychic's dues
Visions of pin-up hair
Her cleavage loves a dare
Diamond mirrored glasses
Nonprescription asses
Paparazzi puckered lips
Pillow tops of Botox tips
She seduces colorblind nations
Undressing orphaned obligations
Designer hip dysplasia
High heel knockoffs in Asia
Behold the drama queen
A feudal minx of screen
Begging the homeless to dream
Because Oscar makes her scream
Categories:
versace, allegory, funny, introspection, people,
Form:
Couplet
I am the flower that lingers in your garden, fighting the ugly, prickly weeds that have choked the life and color from every other bloom.
I am a thick, downy coat that envelops you, providing the perfect barrier from icy winds of jealous betrayal and false gossip.
I am sweatpants and comfortable shoes, allowing you to relax and feel safe in a world full of Versace and Louboutins.
I am the gift you long for and most love to give, treasuring above all else this rare, precious gem that cannot be bought or sold.
I am the "true" before friendship, love, and commitment, bridging the gap between empty words and heart-felt devotion.
I am loyalty.
4/22/2016
Categories:
versace, friendship, love, truth,
Form:
Free verse
I will not hold your golden trophy high above MY head
Or wear your name engraved with cheap polyester thread
I’m so sorry you can’t decide what to wear today,
Will it be the Christian Dior or the Versace green lamay?
Your Jimmy Choos click-clack across pedestals that we have built
And we polish your statues that glow without guilt.
Did you really get paid millions for just reciting Macbeth?
As a trickle down economy allows us to scramble for what’s left.
Our nations school teachers can’t feed their own,
while our firefighters are dying of cancers unknown.
As our bellies swell and our hearts deplete
your SOLD OUT and we can’t make ends meet.
But we still continue to worship, love and adore
Blinded by the shiny smiles, screaming for more
Facebook, twitter and selfies infest are minds
keeping us preoccupied, oblivious to the times.
Stocks are up but my credit card is at its max
all I got was an extra twenty dollars from my latest income tax.
Fake Louis Vuitton on a budget and inflated Nikes by the pair
As they flaunt their riches and successes in our blank stare.
We paid for their ivory towers with large gates to keep us at bay
no invitation to dinner as our struggle gets harder each day.
Un news worthy lives, overprice items with enticing marketing schemes
Owning the latest I-phone feeling you are living the American dream
REALLY, another reality show, “Oh Gee Golly I can’t wait”,
Wake up, pay attention. But I think it's too late.
Is technology and Beyoncé our new gods of choice?
As politicians rewrite their own reality, muting our voice.
We pride ourselves in others lives attempting to forget our own
Bowing down as they step across our backs, ascending their iron throne
We created this disparity as their influences make us crave for more.
But the rich are getting richer while we remain poor.
Categories:
versace, celebrity, change, conflict, culture,
Form:
Rhyme
He sure enjoys
his life of Reilly;
lavishly living it up!
A globe-trotter.
A man-about-town.
He's a big hit
with the ladies,
and he doesn't mind
all the attention.
He's a big spender.
Did I mention
he's got style, too?
An unlit Cuban cigar
is always seen dangling
from his mouth.
He's not a smoker,
it's for the look.
He's fashion-savvy,
collecting Rolex watches,
ray ban sunglasses,
fedora hats,
and Versace suits.
He loves his cars
costly and fast;
a Porsche here,
a Lamborghini there
On weekends,
he sets sail
on his fancy yacht,
flying high
on his private jet.
He kills time
on the golf course
hitting the links
with millionaire friends,
throwing parties,
and showing off
his trophy wife
His escargot dinners
are always served
on high-end china.
He swigs champagne
from crystal.
Oh, what a life!
(Free Verse)
COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE(20) any theme any form contest (Winner: 1st Place)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date written and posted: 01/06/2019
Categories:
versace, humor, perspective, tribute,
Form:
Free verse
Fat girl.
There she stood, waiting for the number 4 bus,
(She needs a size thirteen at least)
Wearing the clothes that only skinny girls can get away with
(they get away with murder)
Seams taut and strained
by puddles of flesh eager to burst forth
(She can feel the heat that eminates from reproachful eyes,
trying to melt away her fat)
Chameleon
trying to blend in with a culture that thinks a size two is healthy
(what value does a number really have anyways?)
Every ounce of female flesh a threat to masculinity,
while every bulging paunch and sagging jowl
is a tribute to their male divinity
(one more beer and steak with the guys
makes a nice offering)
While his wife kneels, next to the toilet on the bathroom floor
weeping over the remains of half a mangled bagel
(Sacrilege! Blasphemy!
Don't you know that carbs are an abomination to the goddess Versace?)
Fat girl.
Your back is so sore from stooping down to that level
(Stand up straight!)
You don't need to take that bus
when you can just keep on walking
Categories:
versace, angst, introspection, people, social,
Form:
Free verse
There was a kid so optimistic but he still copped a pistol, got caught up in a brawl by the liquor store and got dropped in a prison, sitting behind those bars did everything but lift him up, but he became lifted up by God's word now that's real wisdom bruh, 3 years later he got off by pointing out and proving flaws in the judicial system, and you better know that orange jumpsuit didn't match up to that versace suit that fit him, he had to make his life different and learn from his mistakes and try to fix em, because you yourself are your biggest critic and teacher, the same wisdom from God's word he gained turned him into a preacher, his older brother became a deacon, now that's what I call a real brother's keeper, New Hope Missionary Baptist Church down by 21st street a vision that turned his life into a complete 360....perfect ending to an optimistic dream!
Categories:
versace, age, angel, anxiety, baptism,
Form:
Free verse
Heads...
The days of yore
Were characterised with:
Pizza and pop sodas
It was enjoyment galore
All the way through
It was good mood and sweet music
Wining and dining
Hosting and feasting
Pictures and picnics
Clothes and confetti
It was scarlet roses and scarves
Blue champagne and blue skies
Bubbles and bottles
It was luxury and laughter
Versace shoes and Armani bags
Diners and dinners.
...tails
Sour faces with broken countenances
It was hungered and starved
Sudden and painful
Pawpaws and bananas
Lux and Vaseline
Coca-cola and black skies
Phone calls and job hunting
Yaba clothes and Oshodi bags
Favoured and favours
Above all these...
Fasting and prayers
I pray the LORD turns things round!
Categories:
versace, change, poverty,
Form:
Lyric