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All Up In the Kitchen In My Heels...: Scott Shepherd Hit My Friend

allupinthekitcheninmyheels:

Scott Shepherd hit my friend.

A successful actress with a career to protect, she’s been counseled not to speak about it publicly and I respect her decision. I have no such concerns.

Scott Shepherd hit my friend - his long time, on again, off again girlfriend. He is a black belt in Tae…

Tuesday May 21st // Filed under: trigger warning, domestic violence,
If adventures will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad.
— Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey (via flikka)

(Source: chroniclesofafrenchdj, via flikka)

Tuesday May 21st // Filed under: jane austen, northanger abbey, i love this quote,
I wrote a poem about it, and then threw it away, because that’s the last thing I need right now: More words dedicated to people who will never dedicate a single thing to me.
— Thought Catalog (via unrestrained-inkslinger)

(Source: koizoraa, via unrestrained-inkslinger)

Sunday May 19th // Filed under: thought catalog,
Friday May 17th // Filed under: sophia bush, smart girl,

Be merciful until you can’t be.

Until you feel your heart begin to harden
into a bullet.

Then use that bullet.

— Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)
Tuesday May 14th // Filed under: clementine von radics, quote,

What Do Women Want?

nakedempress:

by Kim Addonizio

I want a red dress.
I want it flimsy and cheap,
I want it too tight, I want to wear it
until someone tears it off me.
I want it sleeveless and backless,
this dress, so no one has to guess
what’s underneath. I want to walk down
the street past Thrifty’s and the hardware store
with all those keys glittering in the window,
past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old
donuts in their café, past the Guerra brothers
slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly,
hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders.
I want to walk like I’m the only
woman on earth and I can have my pick.
I want that red dress bad.
I want it to confirm
your worst fears about me,
to show you how little I care about you
or anything except what
I want. When I find it, I’ll pull that garment
from its hanger like I’m choosing a body
to carry me into this world, through
the birth-cries and the love-cries too,
and I’ll wear it like bones, like skin,
it’ll be the goddamned
dress they bury me in.

Sunday May 12th // Filed under: kim addonizio, what do women want?, poetry,

even in friendly conversation
I get the bell hooks-ian urge
to kill mother-fuckers who say stupid shit to me
all day
bitter branches of things I cannot say out loud
sprout deviant from my neck

fuck you-you-fucking-racist-sexist-turd
fuck you for wanting to talk about homophobia
while you exploit the desperation of undocumented immigrants
to clean your hallways
bathe your children and cook your dinner
for less than you and I spend on our tax deductible lunch!

I want to scream
all oppression is connected you dick!

— Staceyann Chin  (via thefistofartemis)

(via fuckyeahslampoems)

Thursday May 9th // Filed under: staceyann chin, slam poetry, oppression, racism, sexism,

The Worst Thing I Ever Taught a Girl

In the spring of the last year
we were together,
I walked your niece to the playground
down the block from your brother’s house.
There was sun and moss.
I pushed her on the swings,
sprang from bent knees on the teeter-totter,
climbed with her over the monkey bars.

We sat together then
on a long stretch of a railroad tie
at the base of the playground, near the creek.
We were careful of the splinters.
She asked me if I loved you and I said yes.
She asked if we were going to get married and I laughed.
Not a gleeful laugh, nor one of spite, just a giggle
as wickedly innocent as each of her seven years.

I don’t know, I said,
that’s up to your uncle.

Jeanann Verlee (from Racing Hummingbirds, 2010)

Sunday May 5th // Filed under: jeanann verlee, the worst thing i ever taught a girl, poetry, racing hummingbirds,

commovente:

What are you doing liking my poetry when these people exist here? My thoughts aren’t as beautiful in comparison. And I’m forgetting many — I know — but here is a small, slight compilation of the blogs of poets/writers who post predominantly their own words —

Friday May 3rd // Filed under: commonvente, shinji moon, poetry,