Why is it that men in suits and ties
Tell some of the world’s biggest lies
Nurturing their business affairs
Befriending loser billionaires
All while another innocent person dies.
Periwinkle gown, grace and style.
Embrace, electric; she suits his smile.
We wear suits,
And we dispute,
Your fatigues,
Tired and black.
We have jokes,
And we provoke
Your fatigue,
Tired and black.
We have cash,
So can be brash.
You’re fatigued,
Tired and black
You have needs,
So get on your knees,
In your fatigues,
Tired and black.
An assemblage was held among fruit
to decide the best color of suit.
Apples and strawberries said,
"The best color must be red".
A banana said, "yellow is cute".
She wears her hair this outrageous way to try and put off adults.
She has no use for adults, they lie, and they are mean.
All adults?
She thinks so
Due to her experiences.
She dyes her hair an odd red color, and she poufs it up.
Forming clouds which she sticks yellow carnations in.
No one wears their hair like this!
Except her.
And it suits her.
Young children like it.
They think she is a fairy godmother.
She enjoys them, and they adore her.
When their parents come over, she disappears.
Nothing suspicious about this, right?
Clueless, wandering suits of meat
With eyes open but remaining blind
Unknowingly searching for the truth
Harming the tragic and the joyous
Tragedy offers pious shelter
Pain is a seductive mistress
Clueless, wandering suits of meat
Happiest when lost in the shadows
Dreaming of hanging in the gallows
Clueless, wandering suits of meat
Trapped on the circuit of the deadbeat!
January welcomes a new year,
still dressed in bright suits.
Shy January brings new expectations but also fear.
We dream about a new life,
we try to find out about new routes.
Freezing mornings cut our skin with a sharp knife.
We keep driving on a fast road, we should stop and change our suits, ready to play and enjoy in the snow.
A blank diary is waiting for us to write on. Write slow, contemplate the beauty of the grey dark days when they are born.
Write the words the wind blows to your ears, don't mourn about the lost scenes you missed out, don't fall appart in tears,
January writes a new page in your diary with no doubt
Groovy giraffe Moots with his bony knees
Slips and slides and calls out “geez!”
Fashionable, yet, not dapper, not in any way.
His confidence is enormous, and here to stay.
Why do you dress in suits? We ask old Moots.
Most of the animals wear their birthday suits.
I like being persnickety and upscale, he said.
We made fun of him, and his face turned red.
Show me a suit that fits comfortably
Underneath is a body toned to a 'T'
Covering up God's imperfection determinedly
The rest of us stew in silent agony
The men in suits
Light a fire
They pretend to be enemies
Though they really are the best of friends
Every move, watching the world,
Burn to flames
Public protests for garbage, whilst
Many are killed, destroyed, silenced
Criminals live in wonderland
Innocents are framed
Candles burn but like phoenixes, rebirthing from melted wax,
This world is burning, but nothing melts
"All a man really wants, is a girl who looks good in a bikini." - Jack Freestone
----------
Though the suit has us somewhat engrossed,
I’m inclined to share this quick riposte:
though those patches and string
scarcely cover a thing,
how she looks with them off counts the most.
----------
for the Bikini Quote Poetry Contest
sponsored by Julia Ward
written on 07/31/23
This
Alien extension
Acquired tragically
Is rejected unconsciously
As minute defences
Wage war mercilessly
Vulnerable as combat rages
Transformed while I'm dead
Reborn with us United
Are you my friend?
People often says-
What makes me raise?
If it's your feelings then gone-
left me alone-
But is it true?
Can it be as much obvious as was you?
Thrill to capture the moments we had-not so bad.
I really hate you!
For reason it's anything but not true.
I'm not an emperor, nor you're my throne,
I did leave my ashes while yours gone.
But even if it's all and you're the reason of my wrath-
Not so imaginary but yours photographs still warms my heart.
Cold my feelings with yours still charming my night-
On a serious note I still live in your closed sights.
Some awfy solitary nostalgia so with customery worlds colours and brushes-
No! It's not enough.
still my sketch best suits in your ashes. ..
Life is full of plenty tricks
Called tactics
So apply secrets to your success
As salt to your soup
wear a cup of facial smile
To purge away your inner pains
See the beginning before it end
So you can end it before it begins
Survival suits her
and for those
who pay attention,
who look closely,
it’s in the way she moves.
The way she talks.
The way she carries herself.
She has a flame
burning inside her
sparking a fire in you.
One that burns
a city to ashes,
along with all
the painful memories.
A flame
so bright and blazingly,
you always run the risk
of being burnt alive.
Survival suits her
and for those
who pay attention,
who look closely,
know, it was her only option.
Her only way to heal.
Her only way to make it through.
Survival suits her
and she wears it proudly.
Along with all her other scars.
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