“What the fuck’s a dome stick?” she yelled at the screen. It was a film she’d seen a hundred times before, and a line she’d screamed at least fifty. Why didn’t it get old? The people? The costumes? The profanity? She’d always say as much, and she never told a soul that she only got off thinking about Dr. Scott’s fishnets.
Domestic violence is what comes to mind.
It seems it follows our society wherever we go.
It’s sad that people can no longer be kind.
And treat each other like so.
I hate domestic violence with a passion.
I hate it because it is wrong.
I wish we could live within a new fashion.
And live our longs long.
Without the worries of violence, hatred, and uncaring behavior.
I wish we could live.
THe domestic lives of people these days. We barely go out of our way to make a surprising way of living. Cats too. THey are domestic. THey need to get wild and crazy, like drunk hobos. Did you know that the word hobo is from the 1930s? My orchestra teacher told me that.
A fifties housewife
a dog
sheep
cattle
cats
Without thoughts
without joy
checkered aprons, steaming pies
shallow
without purpose
bland
sad
depressing
suicidal
She was domesticated, a rather strange word. A word you would use for an animal, a horse perhaps. It was just that she had just grown accustom to her life, comfortable even.
I stand. In a kitchen. Apron around my waist. My eyes are bright as I pull the pie, out from the hungry mouth of the steel beast. Steam wafts up, and my eyes are bright. I get ready to welcome my husband as he steps through the door. This must be living.
thomas krohn is skyping me and sending me links. im going to click the link when im done writing this. i wonder why im writing this. i hope its interesting, and good. and fun. and intertaining enough to tell thomas and send him a link. thomas the train. choo choo. in social studies today mrs.david told us we were gonna watch a thomas the train video, but she was lying. we actually watched a boring one with a deaf kid. poor deaf kid.
violence. weird. domestic union partnership is awesome and i love it i will one day be a part of that. hopefully in ten years. ilyc. everyone fights but its okay.
Domestic housewives. Oh God… I do’t really know why that came to mind first. But it’s making me think. Gotta train yo spouse up. (: People take work. Maybe tame is a better word. Like in The Little Prince. The way he trains the fox (think it was a fox….). Good book. Read ittt.
I thought of her as a domestic refuge; a woman in whom the fires of love burn like a welcome hearth at the end of a cold day. Yet, her embers grew faint and then extinguished all together. The cold is complete.
Violate the integrity, the absurdity, of life; that we live and face each day… and tell us we are not worth enough to talk to or look at. Feel the wrath of our rebellion.
Real life words, right here– Not a joke. You hear?
Revolutionize the alienated firsts of the world.
“Domestic.” That’s what they said. I’d be a domestic. What the heck did that mean? Like a slave? A dog? An indentured servant? Maybe I’d simply be a butler. Oh well, it beat the heck out of where I had come from.
domestic bliss
as real as central intelligence
We are all taught to feel warm and fuzzy
By words strung together
and given meaning
by people we’ve never met
and probably wouldn’t like anyway
take the words you’ve been fed
shove your finger down your throat
regurgitate them into something
you truly give a shit about
I sit at home, bored for most of the day, trying to figure out what I should do from minute to minute. The house needs cleaning, but I hate that. The laundry needs to be done but who cares. I am a mother, wife and i feel I like nothing but the domestic help.
home. house. wife, you are trapped in the domestic life. unable to live as you please. lost within your home. YOu do not know yourself. Must break free. the tree is out there waiting for you. where do you go from hear> Away find yourself. The home is a prison that waits for you to surrender yourself to the void. But is it so bad. domesticated? safety? false security that creates your prison. Domestic animals are stripped of their natural instincts incapable of living as god meant them to live. domestic women are the same. Caged animals no freedom.
Domestic. I don’t want to just be some stereotypical domestic housewife. I am breaking the mold. I’m the scientist, or the game designer, no matter my gender. Someone can like fashion and coding at the same time.
I don’t like being condescended upon.
I don’t like what I am writing right now.
Domestic abuse sucks.
We’ve been domesticated, as women. We have clipped our claws and learned to play nice with other animals, unless they are different. Then, and only then, is when our primal instincts emerge and we form packs to take down that which we perceive as threatening. We’re all just animals–only some of us are wilder than others.
Domestic violence seem to occur everyday in my home. As you can imagine i was drawn to men who liked to beat me as i grew older. Everyday i wished it would end but i couldn’t seem to stray away from the cycle of abuse that had become so familiar to me.
i wish i knew what to say
its been a long day
my dog is my best friend
i know it will work out in the end
domestic is a house
in this world, i am as quiet as a mouse
She was NOT a domestic goddess, but her husband sure expected her to be. Every day he would leave the house for work, expecting to come home to a perfectly cared for home. She would secretly bring in the cleaning lady, making sure the service was finished by 4 PM when her husband got off work.
A cat sitting in the kitchen. Watching the birds fly free outside. Stuck inside, getting larger and larger with each meal. Envy growing with each glance through the window.
Can’t stay. Must run. Must fly. Must not feel what I feel. Must not think what I think. Must find that place of escape inside of myself, in spite of myself, away from myself. These memories live inside the house I no longer call home. The house I stay away from. The house now being sold. I’m running from it all, chopping down a cherry orchard on the day of the big move. Aware of the pain of the situation without wanting to feel it. I find confusion at every corner and must breathe to let it pass when it will. Lest the next step not finish out and shew my evolved self in truth.
I am domestic, like a house cat. I find myself wondering back to the same place to do the same things over and over again. I cook, clean, do laundry. Fall asleep on the couch about 3 times a week. Thats what I consider domestic.
I will never be. It reminds me of women that cannot be ok on their own. someone that cannot depend on them self. they like to be at home with the kids.at home mom, DOMESTICATED! EWWWWW…
i had a dome over my head and it felt like the weight of a thousand suns.
so i rested at home and tried to burn the fuel.
i started to sweat blood and my eyes felt like twisters.
so i closed them and my body began to implode.
It’s hard being only a wife, I don’t like it much.
All I do is cook and clean. I can’t have kids and my husband isn’t very happy about that
If I could go back and change myself I would.
I would go to Paris.
Lots of sex.
domestic means having some kind of partnership in an area that is trusted and safe, ie a domestic partner home or workplace. one of the most common words linked with domestic would be the cases of domestic abuse or domestic bliss which are really quite opposites of each other. can you believe that? same word, different meanings thats some crazy ass shit. anyways, doemstic abuse is really fucked up and it can happen to anyone really it can. there was the case of Chris Brown and Rihanna, where he beat her up and honestly he should have gone to jail. What a monster. Any man who can put his hands on a woman needs to get hid dick privliages revoked. On the other spectrum of things we have domestic bliss
when i think of the word “domestic” i think “domestic violence” “domestic partnership” and other things. but i can’t really figure out what it means.. i can’t say that i know because i don’t. does that mean it’s called for? or no?
A hammer in the face. Shattered eye. Bleached hair. Cracked porcelain. She writhes through the gutter. Smelling like blood and cotton. Perfume. Broken vase. Ready to tranquillise a horse. To tame a buffalo. To kill a man.
Domestic life is nice while I’m a kid, but when I’m older I don’t plan on living that way. I mean, I think it would be much more fun to be sort of nomadic. What if I just moved to a new place every year or so, and experienced all sorts of amazing things? That sounds much better to me.
mother home woman why 20th amendment eradicated but not fully domestic means republican motherhood in the home but men can be domestic too
“What the fuck’s a dome stick?” she yelled at the screen. It was a film she’d seen a hundred times before, and a line she’d screamed at least fifty. Why didn’t it get old? The people? The costumes? The profanity? She’d always say as much, and she never told a soul that she only got off thinking about Dr. Scott’s fishnets.
Domestication, the beginning of innocence.
Bring back to me the domestications of society.
Bring back to me the domestication of myself.
Domestic violence is what comes to mind.
It seems it follows our society wherever we go.
It’s sad that people can no longer be kind.
And treat each other like so.
I hate domestic violence with a passion.
I hate it because it is wrong.
I wish we could live within a new fashion.
And live our longs long.
Without the worries of violence, hatred, and uncaring behavior.
I wish we could live.
THe domestic lives of people these days. We barely go out of our way to make a surprising way of living. Cats too. THey are domestic. THey need to get wild and crazy, like drunk hobos. Did you know that the word hobo is from the 1930s? My orchestra teacher told me that.
A fifties housewife
a dog
sheep
cattle
cats
Without thoughts
without joy
checkered aprons, steaming pies
shallow
without purpose
bland
sad
depressing
suicidal
She was domesticated, a rather strange word. A word you would use for an animal, a horse perhaps. It was just that she had just grown accustom to her life, comfortable even.
I stand. In a kitchen. Apron around my waist. My eyes are bright as I pull the pie, out from the hungry mouth of the steel beast. Steam wafts up, and my eyes are bright. I get ready to welcome my husband as he steps through the door. This must be living.
ghguhh this remin2ds me of a dog, traned and house broken
thomas krohn is skyping me and sending me links. im going to click the link when im done writing this. i wonder why im writing this. i hope its interesting, and good. and fun. and intertaining enough to tell thomas and send him a link. thomas the train. choo choo. in social studies today mrs.david told us we were gonna watch a thomas the train video, but she was lying. we actually watched a boring one with a deaf kid. poor deaf kid.
violence. weird. domestic union partnership is awesome and i love it i will one day be a part of that. hopefully in ten years. ilyc. everyone fights but its okay.
Domestic housewives. Oh God… I do’t really know why that came to mind first. But it’s making me think. Gotta train yo spouse up. (: People take work. Maybe tame is a better word. Like in The Little Prince. The way he trains the fox (think it was a fox….). Good book. Read ittt.
I thought of her as a domestic refuge; a woman in whom the fires of love burn like a welcome hearth at the end of a cold day. Yet, her embers grew faint and then extinguished all together. The cold is complete.
oh oh it really is like this every day.
it really is like this every single day and
I had a little feeling once going ’round
all done up in ribbons.
I am not some domestic animal. You can’t teach me how to roll over and sit at your command. I am my own person and you will never control me.
Violate the integrity, the absurdity, of life; that we live and face each day… and tell us we are not worth enough to talk to or look at. Feel the wrath of our rebellion.
Real life words, right here– Not a joke. You hear?
Revolutionize the alienated firsts of the world.
“Domestic.” That’s what they said. I’d be a domestic. What the heck did that mean? Like a slave? A dog? An indentured servant? Maybe I’d simply be a butler. Oh well, it beat the heck out of where I had come from.
animals living at the farm or maybe a things we use always in home, it could means i don’t what this?
domestic bliss
as real as central intelligence
We are all taught to feel warm and fuzzy
By words strung together
and given meaning
by people we’ve never met
and probably wouldn’t like anyway
take the words you’ve been fed
shove your finger down your throat
regurgitate them into something
you truly give a shit about
I sit at home, bored for most of the day, trying to figure out what I should do from minute to minute. The house needs cleaning, but I hate that. The laundry needs to be done but who cares. I am a mother, wife and i feel I like nothing but the domestic help.
home. house. wife, you are trapped in the domestic life. unable to live as you please. lost within your home. YOu do not know yourself. Must break free. the tree is out there waiting for you. where do you go from hear> Away find yourself. The home is a prison that waits for you to surrender yourself to the void. But is it so bad. domesticated? safety? false security that creates your prison. Domestic animals are stripped of their natural instincts incapable of living as god meant them to live. domestic women are the same. Caged animals no freedom.
Domestic. I don’t want to just be some stereotypical domestic housewife. I am breaking the mold. I’m the scientist, or the game designer, no matter my gender. Someone can like fashion and coding at the same time.
I don’t like being condescended upon.
I don’t like what I am writing right now.
Domestic abuse sucks.
We’ve been domesticated, as women. We have clipped our claws and learned to play nice with other animals, unless they are different. Then, and only then, is when our primal instincts emerge and we form packs to take down that which we perceive as threatening. We’re all just animals–only some of us are wilder than others.
Domestic violence seem to occur everyday in my home. As you can imagine i was drawn to men who liked to beat me as i grew older. Everyday i wished it would end but i couldn’t seem to stray away from the cycle of abuse that had become so familiar to me.
i wish i knew what to say
its been a long day
my dog is my best friend
i know it will work out in the end
domestic is a house
in this world, i am as quiet as a mouse
She was NOT a domestic goddess, but her husband sure expected her to be. Every day he would leave the house for work, expecting to come home to a perfectly cared for home. She would secretly bring in the cleaning lady, making sure the service was finished by 4 PM when her husband got off work.
partnership,
home life,
animals,
dogs, cats,
wilderness,
wild, alone
A cat sitting in the kitchen. Watching the birds fly free outside. Stuck inside, getting larger and larger with each meal. Envy growing with each glance through the window.
Can’t stay. Must run. Must fly. Must not feel what I feel. Must not think what I think. Must find that place of escape inside of myself, in spite of myself, away from myself. These memories live inside the house I no longer call home. The house I stay away from. The house now being sold. I’m running from it all, chopping down a cherry orchard on the day of the big move. Aware of the pain of the situation without wanting to feel it. I find confusion at every corner and must breathe to let it pass when it will. Lest the next step not finish out and shew my evolved self in truth.
domestic life. check.
domestic pets. check
domestic people. check
domestic appearance. check.
domestic wild animals. half n half.
why should we domestic wild animals anyway?
I am domestic, like a house cat. I find myself wondering back to the same place to do the same things over and over again. I cook, clean, do laundry. Fall asleep on the couch about 3 times a week. Thats what I consider domestic.
Domestic reminds me of housework. It feels original and familiar. I have heard of domestic cats and dogs before.
I will never be. It reminds me of women that cannot be ok on their own. someone that cannot depend on them self. they like to be at home with the kids.at home mom, DOMESTICATED! EWWWWW…
or beer. I like beer! Imports are better though……
i had a dome over my head and it felt like the weight of a thousand suns.
so i rested at home and tried to burn the fuel.
i started to sweat blood and my eyes felt like twisters.
so i closed them and my body began to implode.
It’s hard being only a wife, I don’t like it much.
All I do is cook and clean. I can’t have kids and my husband isn’t very happy about that
If I could go back and change myself I would.
I would go to Paris.
Lots of sex.
house love warm inside family home inner struggle hidden perfect sanctuary country
domestic means having some kind of partnership in an area that is trusted and safe, ie a domestic partner home or workplace. one of the most common words linked with domestic would be the cases of domestic abuse or domestic bliss which are really quite opposites of each other. can you believe that? same word, different meanings thats some crazy ass shit. anyways, doemstic abuse is really fucked up and it can happen to anyone really it can. there was the case of Chris Brown and Rihanna, where he beat her up and honestly he should have gone to jail. What a monster. Any man who can put his hands on a woman needs to get hid dick privliages revoked. On the other spectrum of things we have domestic bliss
when i think of the word “domestic” i think “domestic violence” “domestic partnership” and other things. but i can’t really figure out what it means.. i can’t say that i know because i don’t. does that mean it’s called for? or no?
A hammer in the face. Shattered eye. Bleached hair. Cracked porcelain. She writhes through the gutter. Smelling like blood and cotton. Perfume. Broken vase. Ready to tranquillise a horse. To tame a buffalo. To kill a man.
Domestic life is nice while I’m a kid, but when I’m older I don’t plan on living that way. I mean, I think it would be much more fun to be sort of nomadic. What if I just moved to a new place every year or so, and experienced all sorts of amazing things? That sounds much better to me.