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Earlier this week, a brave woman made headlines when she took her vagina into her own hands and decided to see if she could make bread out of the yeast she found within. Good news: she could! Better news: she just ate it!

Pioneer woman does’t give a fuck

5 years

little saunas in my eyes/ bittersweet sighs/ softer cries/ growing goodbyes

hehehe

come up close/ it’s a different diagnosis/ i’ve got a beard/ and a heavy neurosis/ have no fear/ i still smell of roses/ but my anxiety can be a little corrosive!

“NO!”

you’re not particularly kind to me/ nor do you pay me much attention/ but i drop my hearty rhyme and reason for a drip of your affection

a simple dissection of my crinkled digestion/ show some needy needy nerves lamenting a rejection./ funny funny boyfriend who will head the interjection?/ are you, too, this far down the wormhole introspection?

a book of the exception/ i could write to a perfection/ a stiff neck i make no check/ blind eye in all direction!

i’m a cool suffering smoker/ breathe easy in my hip chaffing choker/ look at me i’m real/ on my runaway horse/ bow down and kneel!/ Fear - what force!

for šarkà

i can't tell you to relax/chop the wood down with no axe/ if i could take some weight of your back/ would you know how to relax?

you’ve seen so many depressing things, little česky girl of the soviet union/ no tampons - thanks a lot - you pesky russians/ a love that ended with an alcoholic husband/ carry his conscious bloody body downstairs with your two boys, aged 14 and 7/ alas a nervous breakdown at a fucked up superstore, north american/ (i’m scared, too, of capitalism!)

lots in common- art, good food, and beloved sir paul/ but oh what connects us forever above all/ your sweet youngest son, your light and my call/ when the sea drank him up oh my did we fall!/ with youth on my side in time i stand tall/ but how can i make you see big when your future’s so small?/ i swear they’ll be part yours, my babes that will crawl/ so please stick around for the babes that will crawl

i can't tell you to relax/chop the wood down with no axe/ i heave a sigh behind your back/ you won’t ever know how to relax

see u soon

flying taco sunset boulevard outta your hands whatta fast car! broken windshield but more broken bones outta leftfield now your goin home!

this is a story that just happened to thomas holmes my new boyfriend

"Colour Green" is the name of the beautiful only one album of Sibylle Baier - a german singer-songwriter and actress, known by acting and being friends with ...

born baby blues

i was blue the day i came out i was blue, unable to shout

mom fainted at the top of the mall escalator; tumbling down those edgy steps of a human conveyor woke up, had pissed herself, laying at the bottom. i was inside chewing my cheeks and stewing up a problem.

i'd be blue the day i'd come out so blue, unable to shout

born into this old world with a healthy dose of dread when the clumsy doctor scraped a scalpel across my little baby head, to loosen the umbilical noose tied tight around my neck came out suffocating; a violent violet

i was blue the day i came out so, unable to shout

the colours faded but the feelings never do im stuck with a peachy face and a belly of blue. it's not like it's all of the time - that'd be too cruel. it's more like most the time when i'm in my cerebral womb

i was blue the day i came out i was blue, unable to shout

1 - "Blues Run the Game" - 0:00 2 - "Don't Look Back" - 3:33 3 - "Kimbie" - 6:34 4 - "Yellow Walls" - 9:53 5 - "Here Come the Blues" - 12:54 6 - "Milk and Ho...

It’s been a rainy June and a little lonesome too,

But that’s what I wanted to cure independence stunted

This nice music is helpin

first nights

as you twitch till deep-breathe-sleep i feel like a creep cos now i’m free to be with you safely,

no awaken-you to change your mind, saying you don’t want me around

it’s still too much to look at your moss tree glass eyes fenced in by those silky spiderleg lashes

bury my head in the mattress with a smile, sweet thick heavy like molasses

en français

un cigarette, de l'eau, et mon livre; ce lundi, moi, je suis libre. je chante pour pratiquer la langue de mon père, grand-père et les autres.

l'homme virile est agile avec mon coeur - oh seigneur!

s'il me fait pas souffrir, j'y vais noyer avec plaisir.

en fait un homme, douce et féminin; c’est ça, j’en suis certaine.

Cubicle Blues #3

tweets and tree creeks replace by an unknowing thing who speaks in one continuous hum buzz with an occasional beep who are you, all-speaking droning speaker of static? what if my dome starts to leak out all the good stuff from that numbing hum stuff? "cubicle worker rushed to insanatorium for behaviour that was errratic!" FANTASTIC! my ticket out of this cube Although I would fear the drugs they inject to subdue

but as i lay in my escaped place on a bed of recycled sheets and educated peoples with plastic feets hum-buzz comes my enemy of the natural sounds waves

Cubicle Blues #2

Cold coffe cubicle confines. curteous communications correspondences customers colleagues co-workers cuticles!! (cut-them!)

Cubicle Blues #1

i have grey walls, but i hide them with my interests to distract me cos i can't go on pinterest

i have no window, save the firmware kind but i can only peer out to something good when no one's behind

i have a grey tiled sky that stay stagnate above, threatening to fall as the fluroscent lights crawl

on my ass a quarter of my day is spent, my barefoot, earthen child side trying to repent

looking forward to free weak coffee at ten can't believe hours left to go are seven...

Fire Starter

Oh! Well I do declare, come stare at me real good

And tell me, fine mare, if all is well understood;

You feel my hunger for life? Hunting joy and mirth?

Or just my hollow skin to which I equate my self-worth?

No, no -

I’ve hope in your divination knack

I’ve tried bold ink in this book

(first time perhaps)

Can’t see it can you? I’m almost sure it’s written there.

Don’t give up now - you’re such a sturdy-looking mare!

Well, for your convenience and mine,

To easily divine,

I’ll have my truth pour out of this bottle of wine:

Now cup me in your glass, warm me in your hand

I only ask that you understand.

Come on, come on - look harder, look harder

See my drive and humility.

It’s there, just look harder

My lighthearted stability;

Just try harder

Don’t you doubt me now,

Because I’m fire starter

Strong as an oxen plow.

But I admit, these wine-drenched pages are folded pretty tight,

A soggy origami.

And I don’t want your lazy hooves on them, anyway, honey.

Lament of Obsession #1

Ha! Self-published poet cos you post your jokes on Facebook? Shivasanna = I meditate my best right hook = Next breath I've mistook I want to fuck you right here = I need your badgered-boys face near to tell me "Sorry, not for me" = I need not know truth, I need to hear. Oh dear. Change-room-choke as I get that poke from one million directions. It's you with six words.

Being obsessed is absurd.

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a solid neutral