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April 10 2015



Did I ever mention I fucking love visual poetry? Because I fucking love visual poetry.




wow is this ever relevant


Took me a second.


I love this so much.



Reposted byStuff-I-LikeZuruimondkroetexxqqzzaa

February 15 2015

Sponsored post

October 15 2014


A limerick:





Doesn’t look like a limerick to you? Try this:

A dozen, a gross, and a score
Plus three times the square root of four
Divided by seven
Plus five times eleven
Is nine squared and not a bit more.


For Neptune

Reposted bythepunneryLogHiManibblerarisoMrCoffebergmalylem235FlypnsofakanteweirdscenesinsidethegoldminepralinagoaskaliceisnotcominghometimsimRainbowDashdafilthrill-killerMrWasp

October 13 2014


Tiny little gods on the tip of your fingers, you say
Tiny Almighty Figment in your top hat?
Omnipotent, OMNI? 



I’m all eyes and ears, it’s all I wish to be. 
Just a witness to this magnificence you claim all to be 
But I see you only one piece of this speck to be

Isn’t all this so lovely? 
Creator swelling up with the dark moon’s tide
Only so far free 
Fighting one’s own blood 
Because you still don’t feel free
Because you can never be free

We are bound to all of this and all of this is bound to us

I love all your tiny little “gods” as long as…


October 12 2014


Envy Is Like…

Envy is like a worm that keeps gnawing on your apple of a heart whenever you see someone else’s apple heart growing bigger.
It’s that fire alarm that keeps blaring. It’s the fire that burns your tongue when you see someone else lick an ice-cream.
It’s the chilling hailstorm in your lungs upon seeing others on a beach vacation. It’s the forest fire on your spine upon seeing others enjoying Winter Wonderland.

Envy is all the edits you’ve implied for your photo on Photoshop after a few references.
It’s a deathwish upon everyone better and luckier than you.
It’s the urge to throw a party for yourself during someone else’s celebration. It does not differentiate best friends from enemies.

It’s the flipside of Schadenfreude, it’s Gluckschmerz, It’s Neid.
It’s that persistent green unseen that keeps you awake at night.
Insisting that you focus on a negative thought while you try to distract yourself and think happy thoughts.

It’s the attention you suddenly need when someone gets attention, which is weird because you normally don’t need the attention.
It’s the venom spitting from your throat when you congratulate someone upon their achievements.
It’s that poison you keep drinking when you know it’s dangerous for you but you can’t stop because you’re addicted.

It’s too late, you’re addicted to it like it’s a drug. Like it’s life support when you obviously know it’s not. It’s more of a lethal injection disguised as life support. It’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

It runs through your arteries, it’s filling your bathtub, it’s slowly drowning you in your own house. It’s the feeling of VANISHING FROM EXISTENCE BY THE MINUTE when you DO, IN FACT, EXIST AND CONTINUE TO BE RECOGNIZED BY OTHERS FOR YOUR TALENTS AND KINDNESS WHETHER YOU’RE AWARE OR NOT.

It’s the river current you’ve fallen into
But instead of trying to cling onto a branch
You purposely drowned
And let it take your own life.

Reposted byavaritia avaritia

October 11 2014


roses are red

violets are blue



versustoday (via zimmyfeels)
Reposted byaperture aperture

October 08 2014



Because my cousin shared 3 rape experiences she had
And on all three occasions
She was wearing sweats and was brutally beaten

So there goes your excuse
That my tight dress was asking for it
It might have escaped your attention,
But I don’t wake up in the mornings,
And put on a skirt thinking,
Will this get me raped?
I don’t put on a tank top hoping,
Maybe this one will.


Because in school, they teach us that our bodies are offensive.

They pull us from classrooms
And hallways
Demanding if we have longer shorts,
Or even a sweater,
Reminding us that the boys are distracted,
That the boys go wild for a peeking shoulder,
Or the sight of a sun burned thigh,
Because their education is more important than ours.


Because white men in pressed suits,
Expensive watches hanging from their wrists,
Red faces glinting with arrogance,
Have more say over my body than I do.

Because those same men,
Quoting the Bible and fake statistics,
Have never shed blood,
As a twisted sacrifice for being a woman.

Because those same men,
Have never walked the streets,
Fearing for their lives,
Clinging to keys between their fingers like a lifeline
With pepper spray in their bags,
Ready for someone to feel entitled to their body.


Because when a man says no to us,
It is a fault in OUR character.
It is because we are not
Thin, tan, or perky enough for HIM.

Because when WE say no to a man,
Its still a fault in OUR character,
We are the cold, ruthless bitch,
Saying no to the nice guy,
Who offered to buy us a drink,
And Who complimented our hair.


Because a UCSB entitled nine-teen year old boy,
Can record a video
Of his plans to shoot down all the
“Blond bimbos who denied him his right,”
And then do so,
Only to have his actions excused by the media,
Claiming he was depressed,
Instead of admitting that male entitlement is dangerous.


Because I am done being silenced
And I am done being polite.
I am done sitting by
And watching
As a country hypocritically cries
Equality and justice
But doesn’t have equal pay
Lets men make decisions for a woman’s body
And blames the victim for the actions of a rapist.


Because our NO won’t be enough one day.


Because I wasn’t asking for it.


Because “Boys Will Be Boys,” is still an excuse


Because “Not All Men Are Like That,” is still a defense.


Because enough blood has been spilled.


Because I am sixteen years old, and I am so afraid, when I shouldn’t have to be.

W. R.

This poem was inspired by actual tweets from the #YesAllWomen trend on twitter. X
(via ileventeen)
Reposted bymanxxfeminismdarksideofthemoonStadtgespenstnefertari180siouryhirnschaumZuruimolotovcupcakeTokei-IhtoschaafSirenensangidl3xh0p3kmohrf

September 18 2014


September 12 2014

Reposted bythepunnerynaichschlachtorosgoaskalicereloveutionatrantaliveattherainbowpartyhardorgtfosereniteamagicalplacechlodnawdowasevmolotovcupcakepuszkaschaaffukurouPachadiobscuregroupnamepaketwonkofrittatensuppelunalexihurraSirenensang

September 11 2014


August 28 2014

Reposted byaperturenaichschaafadmnPsaikomegarav3bsoKryptonitelexxieschlachtorosTokei-IhtouniqueTiffanysdisappointmentambassadorofdumbtowsersstefaniaarisonightguestSoulPLArecaSaddnowtoherefornowhereserenitecampaignerMilcatopypochebeltaneBananaRamafutureiscomingfreskalittledarlingszarakoszulaBloodMoonszlugtimenikotynapanimrukmrautynaburdelsanncover-my-eyesneunundneunzigkrzywdagazdaflawlessiamopheliadziewczynkaodnalezionacucaTwinbealobsterAnoviscokrybusKurkaWyluzujechoesfromonetoanotherpesymistaapatycznabarricadezamulaszcukiereksidestorySapereAudemahsheedteijakoolmessyheadraspberry-cloudkrimsonk-achnaXibalbaacongrevedysmorfofobiasmall-town-girlsaffronmiuminatorAronpredictableannie

August 13 2014


August 10 2014


June 02 2014

2652 8ac6
Reposted byavgpnaichandrewmylesmozgmnieniebolicontroversialQdeuRainbowDashthor7o

May 18 2014


April 20 2014


March 06 2014


February 05 2014


Eye rubbing cooks, cooking turns to trust

Bosom shaped turns. Circular dynamics. Pleasurable endeavor. Pleasurise pressurised plagiarised endeavors.

Trust. Lust.

image source: http://www.sammlung-pabst.org/links/kuenstler/klien/klien11.htm

December 22 2013

A Haikuish Story just to pass the time without GMM


Once upon a time

Link was cry

But then Rhett bought him a pet Harley Morenstein

And they all lived happily evar bacon



m-r: I love the idea of R&L haikus!

November 17 2013

  • Tom Hiddleston reads “She Walks In Beauty” by Lord Byron (from iF Poems)

    She walks in beauty, like the night
    Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
    And all that’s best of dark and bright
    Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
    Thus mellow’d to that tender light
    Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

    One shade the more, one ray the less,
    Had half impaired the nameless grace
    Which waves in every raven tress,
    Or softly lightens o’er her face;
    Where thoughts serenely sweet express
    How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

    And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
    So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
    The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
    But tell of days in goodness spent,
    A mind at peace with all below,
    A heart whose love is innocent!

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