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If owning a gun and knowing how to use it worked, the military would be the safest place for a woman. It’s not.
If women covering up their bodies worked, Afghanistan would have a lower rate of sexual assault than Polynesia. It doesn’t.
If not drinking alcohol worked, children would not be raped. They are.
If your advice to a woman to avoid rape is to be the most modestly dressed, soberest and first to go home, you may as well add “so the rapist will choose someone else”.
If your response to hearing a woman has been raped is “she didn’t have to go to that bar/nightclub/party” you are saying that you want bars, nightclubs and parties to have no women in them. Unless you want the women to show up, but wear kaftans and drink orange juice. Good luck selling either of those options to your friends.
Or you could just be honest and say that you don’t want less rape, you want (even) less prosecution of rapists. -
You deserve happiness. So I left.
Unknown (via aestheticintrovert) -
You know, they say that there is a part
of the human chest that if you strike it hard enough
the person’s heart explodes. This sounds like such a lie
that I have to believe it’s the truth. If I were science,
I’d never tell anyone where this place is. If I were science,
I’d have named this place after you.Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz, excerpt from “Not As Smart As I Think I Am” (via keepingthismemory)(via keepingthismemory)
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New Video. ASHES, With Chris Pureka.
New Video! With Chris Pureka. We’ll be performing together in Boulder, Colorado on Oct 6th. Tickets @ http://bouldertheater.frontgatesolutions.com/choose.php?a=1&lid=84170&eid=94697
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Moriah Pearson: I haven’t done enough studyingon the science of lust and love,of...
I haven’t done enough studying
on the science of lust and love,
of sexual/romantic chemistry
to tell you which neurons
are firing or misfiring when
whole days are predetermined
by your eyes looking into mine.
I can’t tell you the chemical
reactions that are happening
or why one of us is always
… -
And all…because you have a new girlfriend and I can’t stand it
Andrea Gibson -
Brave New Voices- Quarter Finals
Me performing my piece People Like Us at Brave New Voices :) :) :)
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I’m going to Anis Mojgani’s show at 7 hell ya
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The world’s fiercest and most impressive youth poetry competition, Brave New Voices, commences Wednesday in Chicago. http://bit.ly/15Ik4cE
Posted on August 5, 2013 via Fest300 with 1 note
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People Like Us - after Marty McConnell (revised)
people like us - after Marty McConnell
I told her, “Someday I’ll tell my parents.
Today is not someday.”
summer is hot but it soon gets cold
first kiss, on the side of my road.
hair in my face, sun on my neck.
my scaredy-cat hands lingering just above her waist.
(we had to hide from the neighbors,
two cigarettes for my young lungs
and my new pledge of alliegance.)
she taught me how to sneak out,
and sit back, breeze in my face
sunroof down
everything all the time.date at the movies, I can’t wait to see you.
we finally held hands in public.
we kissed in a crowd of elderly couples.it’s no longer a secret, when it’s written all over my face.
side of the road,
your mouth, my lungs,
sun on my everything.I started to understand why
she hated the phrase “people like us"
there is only an us in a someday.
summer is hot, it makes our blood boil,
I wanted it to be easy.
she kissed me in front of her mom.
I wanted it to be easy.
people like us adapt to driving in circles
people like us turn up the music
so we don’t have to feel anything
but freepeople like us take oxygen for granted.she was oxygen, it’s written all over my face.
soon, your basement,
still sunny, smoke everywhere
blood boils, I’ve never been so free.you love Bob Dylan even more than I do,there’s blood on the tracks, I could get lost in you.
date in your bedroom, I can’t wait to see you.
two packs of cigarettes for 4 a.m.
your mouth, my lungs, the sun, it’s everywhere.
I learned white sheets become freedom,
and breeze can be simulated with cieling fans.you were my second lover, but you will always be my first.
smoke everywhere, your hair in my face
side of my road, there is only an us in a someday.
today is not someday,I couldn’t call it ‘love’, til it was too late.I wanted it to be easy.
November is never easy,
someday never came.
sunroofs become dark rooms,
backseats become beds.
“get naked” sounds like churchbells
sour apples, kissing across the bar.
your mouth, oh god, my lungs,
the summer is so hot.I think- Marlboro menthols are my new favorite.
blood boils, fingers go numb in November.
someday becomes a burden, but
white sheets are freedom,
and everything you touch turns to
sunlight.I could’ve saved you and I should’ve saved myself.I couldn’t understand it, so I couldn’t save usPeople like us take oxygen for granted.side of my road, someday is never easy.
I wanted it to be easy, November becomes a burden.I was left missing everything-from her unpainted toes to the highlights in her hair-everything, and everything in-between.
dissatisfaction is people like us.
her hair, her lips,
and oh god, the sound of her voice.
blood boils, November comes.Marlboro menthols will always be my favorite.
white sheets are freedom,
I never told my parents.I wish you were marbleso I could carve you into the first time I saw you nakedI wish you were transparent,I envy the tar that gets to be closer to you than I.I wish you were rope,so I could tie myself to the dayyou wrote my number on the bottom of your shoein permanent marker, and promised you’d call.I wish… you were concrete.
side of my road, people like us are dissatisfied.
summer becomes someday,
someday is a burden.
I’m free, someday.blood on the tracks, she was the skyline.ten thousand symphonies,people like us are dissatisfied.left missing everything, and everything in-between.
November is such a burden. she will always be my first.I could’ve saved her, and I should’ve saved myself.blood boils, fingers go numb.I didn’t call it 'love’ til it was too late.I wish… you were concrete.So I could pave you to the ground on the day you finally left.I wish you were concreteso I could scrape my knees on your blacktop, feel your fire on my bare feet.I wish you were concrete,so I could make you stay.I wish, I could make you stay.She loves Bob Dylan even more than I do,goodbye is never easy,I’m tangled up in blue.
collective thoughts and emotional bullshit put into a blog to keep track. someday I'll write a book. someday I'll be okay.