Fashion poestry
by
Fasean Line
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PUBLISHED BY:
Copyright © 2011 by Fasean Line
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The red carpet
In private jets they cruise, on recliners over the weather
On low and high riders, they ride low and hidden, on leather
On touch down, along bouncers, they walk under umbrellas
From motown to coast town, they bring a show no matter the weather
A fuss’ of polish and makeup, down, opens, flats and heels
A hand in another, another a hand on feels
His in squares, stripes, labels, another in jeans and white
Shis in anything, everything and mostly nothing
One flirts with the media, another poses for the paparazzi
One talks of their jitters, another of their success in the bizz
One has a ring, she talks of a fling, and shows off a bling
They say they’ve a thing, but mostly, they are a thing
One in shades, shows off his latest bit of fluff
One cannot tell if he is the gigolo or she is the bimbo
anyway, today, no one cares, who cares
She thins like a vagrant and looks like a million bucks
Another is lithe and blithe, adorning haute couture
This one is amiable, she adores the fame culture
She drawls at the boom, fans love this feature
She flaunts at the paparazzi, cameras love the picture
In LA, anywhere and nowhere, the same stars, I guess
Journals look for a killer line, its a game of chess
Without a blink cameras witness to later confess
Of malfunctions, anything, mostly of nothing more or less
Fumes and sprays for a better stink
Fumes and sprays for a better stink
roll and spray for a sweeter stink
shake before use for a wetter ink
on a date or an interview better not stink
Fumes and sprays for a better stink
hygiene, a beauty, on a fashion sink
cologne, a duty with a passion wink
with liquor, and a booty, pass on the drink
Fumes and sprays for a better stink
in shapeless bottles, each for a week
A spray and a roll to the pits
an imbue and an array of scents all week
Fumes and sprays for a better stink
her scent lingers nigh and abound like a wick
like lingerie up high and around, it sticks
like her picture on hi5, with hits all week
A fashion poem
We’ve been born fashion, we’re here to stay
We have the flow, we’re here with frays
With a flow to a show, we catwalk with sways
With a know how, some dow, n a show to run, we’re to stay
Without strings attached, they run the show with strings and thongs
With strings attached, we suit in stripes and straps
Wake up with the make up, take-away make-up by the drive-in
From pedicures to manicures to ‘womancures’ all while driving
Handbags got paint and polish, to brush and to polish
From head to toe, it’s all sparkling, for a dent there is a tow
For a friend or a foe, it’s all for a sparkling show
For a clipped toe, there is an open shoe, with a show
With bangles, earrings, necklaces, a ring and bling
With a dangle, a shake, a sway, a click and cling
With a handle, and a chain, and another, am zing
A tattoo, mascara, and a tan, am think, am zinc’d
The figure of beauty
Admire an artist when they start afresh on a canvas
faint trace lines that draw out the shape show their artistry
and from the beginning the shape captures your eyes
impatient to see the eventual piece, you fantasize
When everything was covered up it was a figure,
a figure of beauty, shaped by the overlying garments
draping gracefully, boldly outlining a monument
trendy a monument but not for a moment
The hour glass or if you prefer, the 8 or the K
has lost favor to a H, a svelte H
a shapely H qualifies you to be a comely
workout or fast happily ever after even for a homely
If its siliconed it is a P, with everything ironed out,
to tell the difference, look closely or look out
H defines you, not from the ins but out
irrespective of anorexia or a worked out
Like coffee it ages, once comely, a svelte letter
but when a hag wears it, no matter the letter,
it becomes Italic, one that withers to the letter
retiring in sorts and styles no matter the letter
As elusive
The young are wildly active to focus
the mature get restless impatiently
the old give up the fight too soon
a generation goes by, giving none
Unnatural, but driven by innate forces
it is without an definite goal; evolution
it is difficult to grasp leave alone describe
today this, tomorrow that, after tomorrow what?
Its second nature for those with a calling
an obsession when opportunities give
a necessity when mercury goes down
it melts like snow when spring gives
Its a race against the mind and soul
none being everywhere and nowhere
even on a given moment or space
without these, its non existent
Hotchpotch
Penned, immortal
motif shapely patterns
related strangers
draping beauty
Slenderly long
innately inert
illusional shadows
poured and dried
Timely hands
dams of flow
reversible not
slaves of time
Orderly random
mix n match
colored rainbow
nick nacks of life
The tavern
A tavern or the other, the weather remains golden
Same waters flowing from kegs, bottles and glasses
To oceans though small never filling
Same people, same atmosphere, same lighting
Same music, there is even no need for a weather man
Dresscodes since there are none, are not kept
But everyone uses the wardrobe, few tip
No one is dressed for a special occasion
It rains everyday and today is not different
Tipsy, drunk, then awash by the floods
When the rain seizes and taps run dry
Everything is different, the view, the people
The mood, the room, the groom, the good
One in the hand of another, none in any
Thirst for a hand, a sip, a shot lingers in all
The minds are like beer glasses, brittle and longing
Easy to read, pick, lead, frisk and kiss
Everyone needs something, eyes are so telling
Yet all night they lingered and wandered
A horse you can take to the river the rest y’all know
Weather patterns and climates may change
But one remains steadfast, thirst and fashion
The music, the dance, the hand, the river
With water that quenches not, dams differ
Half, full or empty, after a bender
&
nbsp; Made in China
We are all made in China
forget the ads and the packaging
check the tag that we come with
it reads ‘Made in China’
Faux or not, we’ve been designed
can you tell the difference?
daunting, aren’t we?
well, we have been made in china
You pay for us dearly or cheaply
you cherish our warmth, feel and look
you savor us for we are not eternal
we are loved foreigners from China
Because we do get not to choose
we are made a $ a day by coolies
the sumptuous and hobos own us
we are made in Asia, mostly in China
Our making warms and pollutes China
it keeps money machines rolling in China
our making creates jobs outside China
it will come around; it went around from China
Behold, in the eyes of the beholder
Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder
eyes, behold outer and inner beauty
an array of colors and emotions
formed, a beatific blueprint revealed
one like no other, eye rare intimacy
Eyeball, ogle, schmooze, dote and
court the blueprint, for in no time
at neckbreaking speeds it will fade
beauty, eyes, beholder, all blowsy
never again to look or be looked at
Behold, in the eyes of the beholder 2
Never again to obey laws of nature
or be defined by scientific theories
or to be depicted geometrically
a time shall pass and an a new beginning
will be, a new beginning to the end
and just like that it will become extinct
having not being appreciated,
or at least acknowledged,
like the warmth and personality
of an extinguished lamppost
Behold, in the eyes of the beholder 3
They say that..
if you ask a Minnesotan how
he feels on the day his comely
leaves him, he loses his job
or worse, his dog dies, the answer
remains unchanged; ‘fine’ he says.
Lets thus take note, and savor
times when beauty and paisley holds
a