domestic violence is a serious matter. if you’re being domestically abused please seek help.
domestic animals are a comfort. i have a brittany spaniel (a domestic dog). she keeps me from being too lonely.
domestic products are good for the economy. it earns us money instead of having to buy things from China, but domestic products have kind of died out.
Domestic violence is one of those things that people just try to avoid talking about. Or if they talk about it, it’s always hush hush and quiet. I think we’ve moved past that. I think victims- no, survivors- I think survivors should have a voice now. It’s time, don’t you think?
i have add severly so this is probably not going to make any sence. when i see this word it makes me think of my dog patch
i wouldnt exactly call him demestic cuz hes quiet wild sometimes but societyillnghim domesticated so thts cool to
a woman sits at the kitchen table. the edge of the white table cloth brushes against her knees. she is alone. her head is bowed and her shoulders are hunched as if the weight of her world is upon her. it is.
I really don’t even know what to say. I’m highly irregular. It’s kinda like the recipe called for raisins, and God happened to be reading the ol’ English-Frech.
I’m a genius. I’m neither dumb, nor aesthetically displeasing. Wait, what was the question?
I would never be in extemporaneous speaking. It’s the worst speech category ever. Ever! Don’t ask me if I would want to be in foreign or domestic! Domestic sucks. So does foreign. I’d be much happier doing extemp reading. Like a good girl.
One-two punch. Slipslide down a white wall. Her friends will say “abuse” but she won’t listen. She can’t. He’ll leave her if she listens. One-two punch again. Slipslide into a bright darkness. Her friends will shake their heads and weep. She won’t weep. He’ll leave her if she weeps.
You know it could have been considered domestic abuse if we were married. You abused me so much mentally and emotionally. You lied and deceived me. I hate you.
home life, hoop skirts and pearls, fear and longing, broken desires and lost hope, forgotten life, is this really a new one? does this really matter? The American Dream.
disturbance. her heart immediately locks itself away at the sound of the word alone… to not have a choice? it won’t be the end of her. she won’t let it. she can’t.
being a housewife. glorified as “domestic goddess”. yeah, you can call it that if you consider cleaning up messes a job fit for a goddess. maybe i’m cynical, i don’t know, but i just don’t see the point in fooling ourselves about it. more like “domestic slave”.
this is a throwdown. Domestic goddess that I am – how warm and cozy a home can I create for my family of two? Will making more, warmer, healthier dinners allow us to have a baby? do I really think that these things are in any way related? anyone who gets lucky or unlucky, depending on their inclination, can get pregnant. Domesticity is really about creating a space where I feel warm, present and welcome – creating my own place of belonging.
and I’m never feeling very domestic
domesticated
as my natural instincts kick in
and all I want to do is
hunt
and sleep
and eat
and meet
and sleep
and sleep
and have more sex
violence. pets. women. weveall been domestiated and it sucks. weve all been abused at one point in our lives and it sucks but dont repeat the cycle and beat ur wives, children or pets.
A house on a cliff, overlooking the sea. The air always smells of salt and water and the crisp scent of the pine forest in the north. The horizon stretches out for forever and the sun crisps the landscape with honeydew light. Winds carress the shore and as she stands with her wooden bucket looking out over the ocean, it spreads her chesnut hair back behind her like eagle wings. She closes her eyes to the beauty and listens to the crash of waves far below, the gulls calling softly her name, and the farm animals coo’ing for her in the background. A voice, harsher than the sharp rocks below, calls her back towards the cabin and she sighs.
“Domestic Maid forever more…”
Today I made gooey bars for my Writing Lab class for our Going Away Party for our favorite teacher, Miss Culleton. Miss Culleton called me a “domestic goddess” after trying one of my famous bars; that gave me mixed feelings. I don’t want to be a plain domestic cooking wife. I want to see the world.
Domestic is not something that I feel everything needs to be. Domestic animals, wives…what does it mean to be domestic anyway? And who decides what it entails? Who said we shouldn’t be wild and free?
Domestic. What’s the first thing you think of? For me it’s the kitchen, a fight between a couple, and just women in general. But I’m not sexist, honest.
With thoughts of being a mole coursing through his thoughts, Jensen left the Falls, but not after ripping the pulsing device from the ground and pocketing it. He perceived it as a bit of domestic housecleaning for the falls, and, well, it also gave him a sheepish hope that maybe the thing would go off and take him and it into the afterlife.
Domestic bliss is much wanted but rarely attained. In the most domestic scenes I’ve been in there has rarely been bliss of any kind. Rather resentment and bitterness pumping through the veins just beneath the airbrushed surface of conubial life. Domestic unrest. But now there is bliss. true bliss in comfortable silence in the most domestic times. Me cutting up garlic for dinner. He sitting at the table, guitar in hand, feeling out melodies. We are both content in our picture of perfect domestic bliss.
She’s cooking again. She always does that right before disaster. Calm before the storm. I watch her, wok in hand, as she stirs shrimp fricassee. The pungent steam fills the small kitchen, a convenient moist mask for her cheeks. Nobody but I would know she’s crying.
Haustiere leben beim Menschen. Man könnte sie auch Gartentiere nennen. Aber meistens sind sie schon im Haus. Hunde und Katzen, Pferde und Staubmilben. Fledermäuse, Flöhe, Flaschenalgen. Vielleicht auch mal ein Goldfisch. Oder ein Hamster. Im Winter sind sie drinnen, im Sommer machen sie sich auf den Weg.
When I see this word, i think of either domestic partnership, or domestic animals. Domestic animals are animals like that trained and not wild. So is domestic partnership a good (not crazy) relationship? I’m not really sure…
Domestic abuse. In the trees of a wood not to far from here I seek refuge. It is peaceful and silent. Yet the silence is what drowns the screams still ringing in my ears. It is always the same temperature and always the same time of day. In fact, these woods have no concept of time because there is no sun. It is of these woods that the Romans found a tree to hang Jesus on. And in these woods a tree fell and made no noise. I am always alone in the woods- but never by myself. I know other people have been there because I read about it. (Everyone who’s been there has written about it.) Natalie Babbitt, Robert Frost, Edith Wharton. We go there when the world screams.
It’s funny how some animals can be more domesticated than some people. My dog cleans herself every day and finishes every single meal to the last bite. Meanwhile, I know some people who will go days without anything resembling a shower and who waste food like it’s going out of style. Also, my dog never gossips.
Domestic. Like a dog, domestic. We have one. Once we had two. The sad part is that nobody really cares. Sure we were all sad for a scsecond but just a second. Only a second. We had her since she was a puppy, since she was born… and now nobody cares.
“Will you quiet yourself? Why are you always so noisy and fidgety?” She glared at me after she had spoken the last words. I looked down at my dress once more and shifted in my seat. “This dress is itchy. And I need to pee.” Jude looked over at me and covered his laugh with his hand. “You are so not coughing! You’re laughing at me!” I pointed at him and faked an angry frown, then burst out laughing. She tore my hand out of the air, which had still been pointing at Jude. We stared at her with straight faces then laughed in unison.
violence. is an unspoken tragedy. women and families are torn apart from an epidemic of sin. Rooted in Eve and the submissiveness of Adam. Sin breaks us.
tradition, it smells good and old, like home. i want my cat. i want my old dog. i miss those days, back then when the sun shined and everything was alright. treat me right. i can’t wait to be domestic, a family. something to love and live for.
a home environment, with familiarities. A family. A Dog. Children.
Cooking in the kitchen. Warmth. Happiness.
Darker side.
Domestic Violence, helplessness.
Violence.
children
mothers
crying
“where’s Daddy”
gone
forever
where is he
hell
or he will be
for the pain
the sadness
the suffering.
Violence
suffering
that’s life.
domestic violence is a serious matter. if you’re being domestically abused please seek help.
domestic animals are a comfort. i have a brittany spaniel (a domestic dog). she keeps me from being too lonely.
domestic products are good for the economy. it earns us money instead of having to buy things from China, but domestic products have kind of died out.
The domestic dogs annoy the fuck out of me. Animals should not be held captive.
Domestic violence is one of those things that people just try to avoid talking about. Or if they talk about it, it’s always hush hush and quiet. I think we’ve moved past that. I think victims- no, survivors- I think survivors should have a voice now. It’s time, don’t you think?
i have add severly so this is probably not going to make any sence. when i see this word it makes me think of my dog patch
i wouldnt exactly call him demestic cuz hes quiet wild sometimes but societyillnghim domesticated so thts cool to
a woman sits at the kitchen table. the edge of the white table cloth brushes against her knees. she is alone. her head is bowed and her shoulders are hunched as if the weight of her world is upon her. it is.
I really don’t even know what to say. I’m highly irregular. It’s kinda like the recipe called for raisins, and God happened to be reading the ol’ English-Frech.
I’m a genius. I’m neither dumb, nor aesthetically displeasing. Wait, what was the question?
I would never be in extemporaneous speaking. It’s the worst speech category ever. Ever! Don’t ask me if I would want to be in foreign or domestic! Domestic sucks. So does foreign. I’d be much happier doing extemp reading. Like a good girl.
One-two punch. Slipslide down a white wall. Her friends will say “abuse” but she won’t listen. She can’t. He’ll leave her if she listens. One-two punch again. Slipslide into a bright darkness. Her friends will shake their heads and weep. She won’t weep. He’ll leave her if she weeps.
to hurt a person and also to take in an animal from the wild and train them.that is what domestic means to me.
to take a animal from the wild and train them.also to hit and to abuse for no certain reason.that is what domestic
You know it could have been considered domestic abuse if we were married. You abused me so much mentally and emotionally. You lied and deceived me. I hate you.
home life, hoop skirts and pearls, fear and longing, broken desires and lost hope, forgotten life, is this really a new one? does this really matter? The American Dream.
Home.
disturbance. her heart immediately locks itself away at the sound of the word alone… to not have a choice? it won’t be the end of her. she won’t let it. she can’t.
being a housewife. glorified as “domestic goddess”. yeah, you can call it that if you consider cleaning up messes a job fit for a goddess. maybe i’m cynical, i don’t know, but i just don’t see the point in fooling ourselves about it. more like “domestic slave”.
cats, dogs, and horses people idiots why am I doing this, I want a new word because this word sucks X(.
this is a throwdown. Domestic goddess that I am – how warm and cozy a home can I create for my family of two? Will making more, warmer, healthier dinners allow us to have a baby? do I really think that these things are in any way related? anyone who gets lucky or unlucky, depending on their inclination, can get pregnant. Domesticity is really about creating a space where I feel warm, present and welcome – creating my own place of belonging.
and I’m never feeling very domestic
domesticated
as my natural instincts kick in
and all I want to do is
hunt
and sleep
and eat
and meet
and sleep
and sleep
and have more sex
violence. pets. women. weveall been domestiated and it sucks. weve all been abused at one point in our lives and it sucks but dont repeat the cycle and beat ur wives, children or pets.
A house on a cliff, overlooking the sea. The air always smells of salt and water and the crisp scent of the pine forest in the north. The horizon stretches out for forever and the sun crisps the landscape with honeydew light. Winds carress the shore and as she stands with her wooden bucket looking out over the ocean, it spreads her chesnut hair back behind her like eagle wings. She closes her eyes to the beauty and listens to the crash of waves far below, the gulls calling softly her name, and the farm animals coo’ing for her in the background. A voice, harsher than the sharp rocks below, calls her back towards the cabin and she sighs.
“Domestic Maid forever more…”
Today I made gooey bars for my Writing Lab class for our Going Away Party for our favorite teacher, Miss Culleton. Miss Culleton called me a “domestic goddess” after trying one of my famous bars; that gave me mixed feelings. I don’t want to be a plain domestic cooking wife. I want to see the world.
Domestic is not something that I feel everything needs to be. Domestic animals, wives…what does it mean to be domestic anyway? And who decides what it entails? Who said we shouldn’t be wild and free?
Domestic. What’s the first thing you think of? For me it’s the kitchen, a fight between a couple, and just women in general. But I’m not sexist, honest.
With thoughts of being a mole coursing through his thoughts, Jensen left the Falls, but not after ripping the pulsing device from the ground and pocketing it. He perceived it as a bit of domestic housecleaning for the falls, and, well, it also gave him a sheepish hope that maybe the thing would go off and take him and it into the afterlife.
Domestic bliss is much wanted but rarely attained. In the most domestic scenes I’ve been in there has rarely been bliss of any kind. Rather resentment and bitterness pumping through the veins just beneath the airbrushed surface of conubial life. Domestic unrest. But now there is bliss. true bliss in comfortable silence in the most domestic times. Me cutting up garlic for dinner. He sitting at the table, guitar in hand, feeling out melodies. We are both content in our picture of perfect domestic bliss.
She’s cooking again. She always does that right before disaster. Calm before the storm. I watch her, wok in hand, as she stirs shrimp fricassee. The pungent steam fills the small kitchen, a convenient moist mask for her cheeks. Nobody but I would know she’s crying.
Haustiere leben beim Menschen. Man könnte sie auch Gartentiere nennen. Aber meistens sind sie schon im Haus. Hunde und Katzen, Pferde und Staubmilben. Fledermäuse, Flöhe, Flaschenalgen. Vielleicht auch mal ein Goldfisch. Oder ein Hamster. Im Winter sind sie drinnen, im Sommer machen sie sich auf den Weg.
When I see this word, i think of either domestic partnership, or domestic animals. Domestic animals are animals like that trained and not wild. So is domestic partnership a good (not crazy) relationship? I’m not really sure…
Domestic abuse. In the trees of a wood not to far from here I seek refuge. It is peaceful and silent. Yet the silence is what drowns the screams still ringing in my ears. It is always the same temperature and always the same time of day. In fact, these woods have no concept of time because there is no sun. It is of these woods that the Romans found a tree to hang Jesus on. And in these woods a tree fell and made no noise. I am always alone in the woods- but never by myself. I know other people have been there because I read about it. (Everyone who’s been there has written about it.) Natalie Babbitt, Robert Frost, Edith Wharton. We go there when the world screams.
It’s funny how some animals can be more domesticated than some people. My dog cleans herself every day and finishes every single meal to the last bite. Meanwhile, I know some people who will go days without anything resembling a shower and who waste food like it’s going out of style. Also, my dog never gossips.
Violence is something that we can explain, but it happens all of the time. It is a problem, but how do we fix it?
Domestic. Like a dog, domestic. We have one. Once we had two. The sad part is that nobody really cares. Sure we were all sad for a scsecond but just a second. Only a second. We had her since she was a puppy, since she was born… and now nobody cares.
“Will you quiet yourself? Why are you always so noisy and fidgety?” She glared at me after she had spoken the last words. I looked down at my dress once more and shifted in my seat. “This dress is itchy. And I need to pee.” Jude looked over at me and covered his laugh with his hand. “You are so not coughing! You’re laughing at me!” I pointed at him and faked an angry frown, then burst out laughing. She tore my hand out of the air, which had still been pointing at Jude. We stared at her with straight faces then laughed in unison.
Makes me think of a woman in a flower apron circa 1954.
violence. is an unspoken tragedy. women and families are torn apart from an epidemic of sin. Rooted in Eve and the submissiveness of Adam. Sin breaks us.
pets, marriage, home, trained, comfortable, safe, violence, couples,
tradition, it smells good and old, like home. i want my cat. i want my old dog. i miss those days, back then when the sun shined and everything was alright. treat me right. i can’t wait to be domestic, a family. something to love and live for.
a home environment, with familiarities. A family. A Dog. Children.
Cooking in the kitchen. Warmth. Happiness.
Darker side.
Domestic Violence, helplessness.
I have to be domestic soon. I have to cook and clean things and take care of myself.
Oh, my.
Violence.
children
mothers
crying
“where’s Daddy”
gone
forever
where is he
hell
or he will be
for the pain
the sadness
the suffering.
Violence
suffering
that’s life.