It was the summer of love. I was eight -
south in the California state
with discipline, the War, and hate.
I wore a button down shirt
and hard black shoes that always hurt,
but in my heart, no one could deny
a tie dye in July.
Ten years later, I was released
to freedom, love, and peace.
made of real cotton, not of fleece.
A rainbow appeared, my mind was split.
I took a California sunshine hit
at Venice Beach, eight miles high,
wearing tie dye in July.
On time's pedal, someone hit the gas -
ten years gone, not all things last.
George once said, "all things must pass",
so, at a corporate conference
a cool free shirt and pretence -
something was awry
as I wore tie dye in July.
As we two, in a poem's words unite,
I'll tell you my best memories, tonight.
They were rainbow colors, ever bright;
and, whatever it all meant,
when, to Heaven, I am sent,
I hope that I will fly
wearing tie dye in July.
buttons on the right
tails tucked in tight
button down pockets
worn under a suit
can be starched and pressed
distinct male scent
PJs or formal
unisex
permanent press
shirt tail
plaid or stripes
sleeves with cuffs
buttons
collar
shirt
It's Easy To
Love Something
Fully Supportive
And Constantly
Encouraging
[ALL The TIME!]
***
It's A Virus
Implied In Our
DNA By The
Dawn Of That
Very Theoretical
Time...
[ALL TIME!]
***
Helix Strands
All Indecisive,
Cute As Button-Down
Peri-Winkles
Fluttering For Flight.
-Gray Squirrel
10-26-2025
Some clothes I don’t wear anymore.
Some weird patterns all over.
Or just a stain from a cursed coffee mug.
The clothes which bring me to life?
Are:
My favorite florals.
Colorful.
I don’t even like green, but still…
Something about this type of green looks good on me.
Well worn yet still soft.
When I wear that lovely jean jacket?
My eyebrows unfurl.
Frilly headband.
Button down, striped shirt.
Orange pants with a purple belt.
I have everything I need-
Except those yellow shoes from the store…
So maybe I’ll get those and donate something else…
Anything else.
Someday.
But for now, I am open to new clothes.
Dear Old T-Shirts:
You’re still nice sometimes.
There come those moments when men cease to be men
And turn into dogs.
Dogs that bite and dogs that whine;
Dogs that lay
Panting
On top of you
And infect you with their spilling saliva
Dulled eyes full of starving thoughts of violence.
They’re all so charming until you see the rabies in their mouths
And their lips,
Docked by their hunger
Grinning like you can’t see the intentions in their bared gums
Or the savagery in their rolling tongue.
“You know what they say about dogs,” your mother’s voice echoes
“They’ll tell you that they love you,
But they’ll eat you when you’re dead.”
Life’s Repetition of rinse and repeat:
Saga, the odyssey
lies
And deceit.
Juliet’s drowning upon daggers blade in
Response to a Romeo’s lethal swallow.
The need be not the chasing down of serpentine sleuthing out the whys they bit you..
But the how so to heal oneself from poisons onset.
Cause the effect.
Effect the cause.
Alterations of souls allegiances.
Whom wages the war upon one’s self
Loses all in either outcome.
Close the gate,
Button down the hatches
Night draws near.
Light the lamps for shadows creep.
Let illumination run deep..
Burn out yesterday’s fabled ways.
Upon pages of white begin anew.
“Lord what fools these mortals be”
This said by Shakespeare and not by me.
Instead mirror thought of phrase as “idiocracy pains the existence of man”.
Overcome..undone
Underwhelmed..overburdened.
Buried in minds sea
Drowning in muddy thoughts.
A bird in a button-down shirt and a vest
joined me for coffee, and sadly confessed,
pecking distractedly at a cinnamon roll,
his manner affectingly droll.
What he said, as I sat on my park bench,
was (and I quote), "if you pardon my French",
(he then carefully searched for a term),
and said, "how I do despise worm."
I'm just an old-fashioned, flannel lumberjack shirt.
My father was some overalls, a farmer of dirt.
I'm a worn out and holey pair of cotton socks,
An unwanted sweater, packed away in a box.
My son's a fancy ascot living in New York City.
He can't be cut from the same cloth, he's too pretty -
A button down shirt, a jacket of fine leather,
A whole different sort of men's wear, altogether.
I'm aged pair of wing-tips, no longer employed,
Split along the sides, by overwork, nearly destroyed,
Living in the shiny black dress shoe memories of
Backless gowns, diamonds, stilettos and satin gloves.
I'm a quiet and unassuming pair of jeans,
A t-shirt with a picture of natural scenes,
A pair of rubber sandals, and a worn out straw hat,
A beachcomber, escaping the race of the rat.
I'm shorts on the way to the laundry in a sack,
An old hat that's traveled around the world and back.
Though I may have a loose thread that needs a snip,
Still, this hat gives life an appreciative tip.
Within the hurricane report,
Of which I just heard snatches,
A person on the radio said,
“Button down the hatches!”
So many people get things wrong
When idioms are used
And it is understandable
For folks to be confused.
But “buttoning the hatches”
Wouldn’t help one to protect
Either property or relatives,
At least last time I checked.
the button down shirt
crisply pressed and impressive -
backwards, inside-out
Lasting Forever
David J Walker
On the first morning
After a lifetime of making a living
I can only think of leaving
the Army
And how empty
I felt left and on my own at 21
The days of OD Green or Khaki’s and
Especially Class A’s
Were all done
I remember thinking three years
would last forever
Now
The Blue Blazer- Red Tie uniform hung
By my gray pants over the shiny black Oxfords
That were worn … uniformly
With a starched white button-down shirt
For forty years
Are a source of silent memories
It appears
I am no longer authorized
To wear the disguise
Of an educated worker
I remember thinking forty years
would last forever
The society has dictated us enough.
What a man should wear and what a woman can
How to dress and how one can’t
“That is not how girls dress!”
Is the society’s favourite stand.
“Boys don’t wear nail paint!”
Well tell that to Harry Styles
The world is finally changing for the better
But we still have to cover miles.
Not all fashionable men are gay
And not every girl who wears a button-down have to be a lesbian
And even if they are, it is not the society’s place to express dismay.
I don’t know if you are aware
But this is a new wave of change
You can no longer put us into boxes and tell us what to wear
Androgynous clothing has taken the world by storm
And the youth has been liberated
Defied all your norms.
Your brother can flaunt a skirt
And your sister can daunt a power suit and a checkered shirt
The gender-based clothing was a social construct
We have finally changed the rules
And the society no longer has authority to instruct.
DWN GIT n DOWN at the DANCE -
Button down,
Boogie down.
Velvet lime green bell bottom pants, lookN mean;
Jackson 5, singing Dancing Machine;
~
Eddie Kendrick’s Boogie down man
Dancing to the beat of the rock;
Rhythm of your soul on top;
Bounding, spinning, twirling around;
~
Just you and yo group
Jest get N down;
Spiral lights music in it
Rainbow colors supericfic
~
Plat form shoes go toe to toe
Getting down all we know
Cats spinning on their backs
Couples doin the Bump do the
~
Bump, do the Bump git back I'm leadin
Yet this was a boogie fever
Dancin all night ...
can hardly believe it?
this is how we git down at the dance?
2/29/20
“Kim Rodrigues’ DWM Contest”
DANCE WITH ME Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kim Rodrigues
No Need to shout – As I have Ears
Up and down
In and out
Is the place to have a shout
So just make sure
You point your mouth
Before you let it, all spout out
But it’s no good shouting if no one hears
You’re much better off opening their ears
So just turn the volume button down
And never ever wear a frown
Go for a walk
Have a talk
But never ever do you stalk
As kind words mean more than a shout out
It shows you can let it all hang out
As ears are for hearing
What others say
So, it is a much better way
To get your point across
Even if you are very cross
Listen to the words you say
Then maybe find another way
I have ears as do you,
Maybe that is the clue
That there is no need to shout
Because I can also listen to
Or just shout out the same as you!
DAMO xx
Only the heavens know what she was crafted from
but right here right now it did not matter
She is the only thing I see
it is as if I am really seeing her for the first time in all her beauty
Her lips crooked with a drop of whiskey on her tongue
Her eyes gentle and content but that devilish grin reveals just a hint of sin
Her strong shoulders lower as she lets herself go
I can almost see the weight of the world roll down her back and onto the floor
Nothing has ever sounded sweeter than her soft breath of relief and with that
She was free
I have never seen a smile so pure and so wholesome
She stands there in the kitchen wearing nothing but my button down shirt
She tilts her head and shoulders back opening up like a flower
the sun seeps into her copper skin
filling her with its warmth and light
She is finally whole
It was as almost she was originally crafted from the sun
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