Bad Denim
You've got a rack so stacked.
When you move,
You're like a 'caddy'.
And smooth like a 'rolls'...
Wherever you go.
Some folks wear jeans,
That scream when they're in them.
My eyes look away...
But on you,
They stay!
Bad denim.
Some other people make them look like,
Bad denim.
They shouldn't even try to fit them,
Bad denim.
When you wear 'your' blue jeans,
You lift my low self esteem.
Some other people need to quit,
Trying to squeeze them till they rip.
Bad denim.
Some other people make them look like,
Bad denim.
They shouldn't even try to fit in,
Bad denim.
When I see you from the back,
There's no sad sagging that's a fact.
You're like a smooth moving 'caddy'.
With a packed stacked rack.
Some folks wear jeans,
That scream when they're in them.
My eyes look away...
But on you,
They stay!
Bad denim.
Some other people make them look like,
Bad denim.
They shouldn't even try to fit them,
Bad denim.
My eyes look away...
But on you,
They stay!
Bad denim.
Some other people make them look like,
Bad denim.
They shouldn't even try to fit them,
Bad denim.
My eyes look away...
But on you,
They stay!
Bad denim.
Some other people make them look like,
Bad denim.
They shouldn't even try to fit them,
Bad denim.
You've got a rack so stacked.
When you move,
You're like a 'caddy'.
And smooth like a 'rolls'...
Wherever you go.
Bad denim.
Everybody can't fit in 'em.
Bad denim.
Everybody can't fit in 'em.
Bad denim.
Everybody can't fit in 'em.
Bad denim.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Just once I would like to persuade the audience not to wear any article of blue denim. If only they could see themselves in a pair of brown corduroys like mine instead of this awful, boring blue denim.
quote by Ian Anderson
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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In the Denim She Glides
I slow my car to a stop.
Get out and my jaw just drops.
In the denim she glides.
High heeled and switched thighs.
Oh my,
She's hot and fine.
But she's not mine...
To ride in my ride,
As I drive.
In the denim she glides.
I can't get her from my eyes.
When I walk by in disguise...
I realize feelings maximized.
Oh in the denim she glides.
I'd like to kiss her and fantasize...
She and I walk side by side,
And everybody says...
'They're two peas in a pot pie.'
Oh oh oh oh oh...
In the denim she glides.
High heeled and switched thighs.
Oh my,
She's hot and fine.
But she's not mine...
To ride in my ride,
As I drive.
I slow my car to a stop.
Get out and my jaw just drops.
While in the denim she glides.
High heeled and switched thighs.
Oh my,
She's hot and fine.
But she's not mine...
To ride in my ride,
As I drive.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tough Luv (feat. Denim)
(feat. Denim)
[Denim: Singing]
I swear to hold you down for as long as we both shall live
I never made a move without ya, my homie that's just how it is
Now we need each other more than ever, don't leave me by myself..
[Chris]
Young Chris... (check it)
Young Neef..
Together for ever, Neef
song performed by by Young Gunz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tough Luv (feat. Denim)
(feat. Denim)
[Denim: Singing]
I swear to hold you down for as long as we both shall live
I never made a move without ya, my homie that's just how it is
Now we need each other more than ever, don't leave me by myself..
[Chris]
Young Chris... (check it)
Young Neef..
Together for ever, Neef
song performed by by Young Gunz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some times people just don’t get me
Some people just see my face
Glossy lips mascara-coated lasses and
Pink Rosy checks but that’s just the out side
There is so much more to me more than pink hair
More than manicured nails more then a pair of denim jeans
More then what meets the eye sometimes I think people just don’t
Get me those are the times I sit alone in my room
Those are the times that seem to go on forever
Those are the times even beauty can’t fix
The times I sing out my heart the times I feel
No one loves me
Those are the time I have sweat pants on my fav hoddie
And my blonde and pink hair tied up tight
The time mascara runs down my face from the tears
And my hair is socked from the shower that’s sound of betting water
Muffled the sods so no one could hear
Then other times people get my they see the gloss the pink hair and fitted denim jeans
On top of it all the see the goofy glasses and they know I will never grow up
The times were my gloss has faded from smiling and chatting to them but my eyes are fixed on my black high top shoes and he knows I want to cry
Those are the times he holds my and makes things right
Those are the time were I don’t get him
poem by leona True
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Memory
Oh, how i have missed David's smile
Or the feel of his denim against my skin
Long ago on Graham St.
As days were long and passion swift
And the Times Headline Banner was: Love
I can still see his face in my mind's eye
Unchained melody comes to mind
Bill Medley's twin reflection
It is as clear as yesterday
When youth knew true love
Olympia now makes his home
Residing with another
Across the sprawling expanse of evergreen
Ah, but i still miss his smile
His denim
The Northern Lights
And Love-Sweet-Love
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If Jesus Christ came back today, He and I would get into our brown corduroys and go to the nearest jean store and overturn the racks of blue denim.
quote by Ian Anderson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Eyes Are Like Solar Sparking Bubbles
Your pupil like a fruity half moon
Your eyelashs like Orpheus' lyre
Around the corner
In a shoot-out
The blind reads a paperback dedicated by God under the red rain
Your neck like a pineapple slice in my teeth
Your chin like the bread of Angels
Along the border of the end of the world
You wear white denim jeans
Skinny and tiny
In the front passenger's field of view
Low
Oscillation
Aquatic
Nasc ent
poem by Nicolas Grenier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black…?
What will be the new, Black?
Will it be Blue, Green or Orange?
Or something truly obscene
In a paisley, polysynthetic; dream.
Will there be ponchos?
Or turtle necks
Or denim, dungarees
Or a Walnut fur coat Burmese.
Pseudo masochists…
Their all wearing Black!
Those guys…
Never look forward or back.
Placing their G-strings
On the wardrobe tie rack.
Ladies, these gurus of fashion,
Bear no understanding…
Of what's truly, Black…?
poem by Mark Heathcote
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T For Into The Blue
To Jean-Charles de Castelbajac, Artist.
To Sébastien Tellier, Christ.
Azure heavenly
Cerulean cyan denim
Lapis lazuli
Maya overseas persian
Royal blue sapphire and turquoise.
poem by Nicolas Grenier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All Canadian Surf Club
Well there's a rockin' little spot
Next to the Regent Theatre
And if you wanna make the scene
You'll make it sooner or later
You're really hanging with the crowd
You know the ins and the outs here
All Canadian Surf Club
Denim jackets and long hair
Well we're rocking to the beach
Watch the waves as they roll there
I meant I really dig you baby
Make me wild with your blonde hair
Yeah
song performed by by The Tragically Hip from The Tragically Hip
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inconsistent
you like me
but you are telling me
it is time to leave
you
that i must go away
yet your hand
holds the pocket
of my denim
your right hand
pushes me
telling me again
with tears
in your eyes
that i must leave now
yet your lips
are wet
needing my kisses.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cowboys & Women
Cowboys are my heroes
Women are my best pals
Cowboys look good in denim
Women look best au naturale
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry in Motion for Friend Thad
A connoisseur of derrieres.
I’ve studied ladies rears for years.
I love to watch the liquid flow
of haunches moving to and fro
When clad in well cut denim jeans,
they can enhance the dullest scenes
But better still I must confess
beneath a simple cotton dress.
I am convinced the ladies know
that many men enjoy the view
and do their very best to show
they don’t object but pretend to.
I find that Gluteus Maximi
Are very easy on the eye.
14-May-08
http: //blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shock Absorbers, Piston, Crank shaft, Universal joint and Thunderbolt!
I love the adolescent Mechanic
Like a stunt actor in a movie
Who's never been to a school
But the little wrinch-spanner in his denim pocket
With a grand smile,
He does miracles of this oblique World.
He knows my sickness
But never give me a stress.
And I read his secret tiny eyes.
'Go slowly Grandpa!
Don't run like younger days
Because no spare parts for this old crock! '
*for George Murdock in gratitude!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blue Collar Guy
Imagine a burly guy in denim jacket
capbill shadowing busted nose
hairy mitts gripping coffee mug
sitting at a table in the Union
on the campus in Hyde Park
gazing with wonder at a girl
seated opposite him
bright-eyed and fresh
in sweater and jeans
I thought then of my father
a man who had toiled
a lifetime in the mills
so that one day he might
visit one of his children
on a university campus
He was a blue collar guy
who never read poetry -
his life was an epic!
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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Saint Dunstan (If I Ever I Was Tempted)
Amazing
How soon I cave to temptation
After I said I was an absolute dog,
A St. Dunstan in denim,
But a real live boy.
Get thee behind me,
Ye women of silver tongues
And smoother fingertips.
I have my silver tongs
To give your gorgeous noses a twist.
She's wearing my name as we speak.
And I don't question your virtue,
Only my own strength.
poem by Patrick O'Reilly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Photograph of My Father in His Twenty-Second Year
October. Here in this dank, unfamiliar kitchen
I study my father's embarrassed young man's face.
Sheepish grin, he holds in one hand a string
of spiny yellow perch, in the other
a bottle of Carlsbad Beer.
In jeans and denim shirt, he leans
against the front fender of a 1934 Ford.
He would like to pose bluff and hearty for his posterity,
Wear his old hat cocked over his ear.
All his life my father wanted to be bold.
But the eyes give him away, and the hands
that limply offer the string of dead perch
and the bottle of beer. Father, I love you,
yet how can I say thank you, I who can't hold my liquor either,
and don't even know the places to fish?
poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strolling On The Memory Lane
oh, i went to memory lane
too,
i've seen much already.
i come back to what i am
and what i have become,
i hold on to my vision,
my dreams
i write about hope, and
imagine
my future, another 20 years,
another 30 years more,
i pray,
the memory lane is black and white
and then
it faded like a denim
a murky river where i lift my feet
up above the water
and as i move towards the shore,
i decided, i thought,
the memory lane serves me
no more
it was short, and it will not be
repeated
i wake up, and then i forget.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Walking home from town
The sulphur sky stretched from horizon
to horizon above me
without a cloud to be seen
or a speck of a single bird,
just the blazing white-hot sun
frying down in the breathless hot air
while we walked from town,
being without a car
and your iris coloured purple blouse
and denim blue mini skirt
more than suited you
and you looked cool as ice
while the sun was squelching me
and little streams of sweat
was running down my face,
my chest and arms.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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