House wife, Cat, simple, woods, love, home life, violence, terrorism, and pets.
Becca R.
pretty when he was young
but that’s not what I crave
give me
him, older by 20 years
fat, ugly, domestic
having written
works of unparalleled genius
ella emma em
domestic abuse, trying to domesticate the hearts and minds of women and children. But the action is savage and out of control. Internal affairs that are not discussed outside.
SM
We are in a domestic time, an era that is as close to perfection as possible. A generation that allows the rich the privilege of burdening the poor with all their worries. This is the culture in which it’s okay to be yourself, no matter how wrong it is, and it’s okay to be wrong, no matter how much of yourself you’re not. What a time to be alive, with no morals or virtue, just self entitlement.
The thought of domestic violence just makes my heart sink. The idea of the one you love, the one you trust, your other half, hurting you is just the most dreadful thing.
ERIN
Ahh. Domestic house panther, that’s the life for me. Free food, all the water I can drink, and someone to scoop my litterbox regularly, feed me treats, and get that itchy spot juuuust behind the ear. All of these things I like. I even tolerate when they don’t quite get the itchy spot or when they get it just enough that it gets even more itchy. But what’s up with the tummy rubs. Eugh. That’s just not nice.
domestic woman slaving on the stove sticks her head in the oven and sits there and sits there and waits to become marilyn monroe and she does oh thank god
Georgia McClain
“Domestic” is the adjective I was running from when I left Jett’s dad. Or maybe I just didn’t want that kind of domestic. I didn’t just want things. It wasn’t fulfilling. I wanted to be me, moderately wild and passionate. I wanted to be that kind of mother. I’m my kind of domestic now, and I love it. So glad I made it.
I am a woman. This is supposed to be my life. But it is not. I don’t enjoy housework. I don’t enjoy any of that. I love my husband, but I can’t be the perfect 50’s housewife – and I know I will never be. God, sometimes I wish I could be. Feeling like a bit of a failure.
Annie
Domestic is the crane’s kiss
Necks bend to allow the exchange
Chest to chest it slips across the threshold of lips
A promise to nestle in and evoke at the hearth this burning bliss
Thade glance over his shoulder, the rhythmic tapping of the knife didn’t stop as he did so. He watched as Faolan stepped into the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his button up while scowling at the flat owner. A grin parted Thade’s lips, a childish thing. The other man grumbled wordlessly, a low tune pressing from his throat to express his annoyance. The Thayline general ignored him, continuing to chop potatoes. Quietly, the two of them worked on dinner. Faolan quieted down eventually, and to fill the silence and small tune trickled from his lips. Soon Thade was humming along and the two of them worked out a beat. Whisks laps in time with their rhythm, pans were set down to accentuate a note at the end of a line. Their movements set to music of their own creation added the percussion and baseline to their melody.
Thade’s golden eyes glanced sideways as he found himself next to Faolan at the stove. The white haired man didn’t meet the gaze so carefully flicking in his direction. Their tune slowed as dinner was almost ready. Despite himself, the barest hint of a smile ghosted across the dragon’s lips.
“I hate this domestic melody,” He protested quietly. Thade, having seen the twitch in the corners of his friend’s mouth, laughed.
“You love this domestic shit, Faolan. Just like you love me,” Turning on his heel, the dragon hunter padded off towards the dining room to clear the table.
This mind is
Domain of
Darkness
And undomesticated
Thoughts
BTS
I have been forced into the role as a domestic, just by my gender assignment. Birth right? I don’t think so. But how do you unplug? How do you say, nicely, “get your own dinner, clean up the toilet you use and by the way, how about you putting dinner on the table for me tonight?”. Yeah, right…
Sister Golden Hair
There is something about domestic life that I simultaneously crave and feel disgusted by. There is a peace to caring for one’s own life in the simple tasks of cooking and cleaning, but I don’t want to settle for that peacefulness when the chaos of other achievements is possible.
In a domestic home, there are no bears.
In a non-domestic home – bears.
In a domestic home, there are no bees.
In a non-domestic home – bees like you wouldn’t believe.
In a domestic home – fights about the dishwasher.
In a non-domestic home you fight the bears for honey.
doomed to a life in the home
restrained and contained with no way to roam
the lands so rich in culture and life
so yes, please
why don’t you marry me and make me your wife.
molly
the cat was very domestic just like her owner named the winnie the pooh
LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL HEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAH
im a real person
really have many things to do, domestic work, i mean. Hell. Wish things like that got done by themselves, id have so much more free time. thats about all i can think about.
Kalinda
She kicked her shoes off in the entry way, craning her neck around the wall to see what was happening in the kitchen.She could see his back, standing over the stove, stirring something, steam rising around his face. She smiled. It was an image of comfort.
The word domestic conjures up images of women who have been “trained” to be obedient. Women who are experts are housekeeping and cooking. They know how to iron and fold the sheets expertly. I have never been accused of being a domestic woman. I do keep a clean enough home. But I don’t think it’d suffice for a president or first lady. They’d probably prefer to stay at a hotel.
domestic = A family that runs a household or something like that. please in the entries please tell me what domestic means to you.
cad
The family was a very domestic one. As they ran the household like a family and has been running like that for hundreds of years.
cad
The king was very domestic. The king’s family had been in royalty for hundreds of years and were domestic.
cad
Some people think being domestic is a good thing. I, however, think the exact opposite. Nothing scares me more than the thought of my life becoming boring. Without meaning. That’s what I associate with domestic life. Driving the kids to school, going to work, coming home, kissing your partner on the cheek instead of the lips because you’ve grown apart in your domestic lives that you don’t find passion with each other anymore. It’s heartbreaking, and something I am not willing to do. Ever.
The domestic cat is a very strange animal. It thinks that it owns the house, but it really doesn’t have to take care of it, just lie around all day and expect that other beings will do its bidding. It then clamors for food and ignores its staff the rest of the time.
I witnessed a domestic abuse problem with my neighbors. The police were called and they closed off my street. I never really found out what happened there but the police were there for like half the night.
Domestic. It makes me feel about how domesticated people are in modern society, and how unnatural everything seems. Like Paul Simon wrote in sounds of silence, people talk without speaking, hear without listening. Everyone and everything feels fake. Though, it makes the few moments of true natural humanity in between all the sweeter.
Alex
I wasn’t working late. I got home and noticed all the lights on. The kettle had boiled and the dishes were empty. An image of domestic violence flashed through my thoughts. I thought of my father and how I don’t want to repeat him. I am no mirror.
Clyde Arnott
I didn’t know where to start. The whole place was a mess. She hadn’t cleaned in..forever? She saw it as beneath her. The “domestic help” would sort that out. They sorted her out. By walking out and letting her fend for herself. And now she was under all the rubbish. Dead.
when people ask me what i think about animal rights, I immediately think about how some naturally wild animals are domesticated. Such as cats, dogs, fish, and gerbils.
Somebody lives right here in the states. She cleans the house and does the laundry. Foreign lady. Jamaican. woman. Biracial. Gorgeous. Bad talking foul mouth
“So, this is a farm?” Said the weary space traveller, sipping on a fresh glass of lemonade.
“A farm? No, this is earth.” Said the farmer, scratching his head.
“7 billion of you? That doesn’t happen on its own. Who’s your farmer?”
is she right for me
a question etched into modernity
fraught with indecision
heartbreak
precision
domestic domesticity
might not be enough for me
when looking for a partner
apart is all i see
matt m.
It has a domestic view, kind of a… i don’t know, is just confortable- they said as they bought the mirror that would bring hell into their lives
There was a domestic beer left on the polished wooden table. It stood alone, with a peeled label and lip marks pressed to it stout. I envied lips left their mark and someone used their finger nail to undress the bottle. How lonely it is to be lonely.
Auntie Allison had never minded the idea of being a domestic housewife. In fact, the concept of cooking, cleaning, and taking care of her children felt like a dream to her. Sure, many of her more feminist friends bugged her about the subject once she got married. The maid of honor at her wedding, Sheila, swore to remain single forever. She worked as a doctor at the local hospital.
“Women should be empowered to do anything they want,” Auntie Allison said to me when I was visiting her, “and I wanted to be a mother.”
House wife, Cat, simple, woods, love, home life, violence, terrorism, and pets.
pretty when he was young
but that’s not what I crave
give me
him, older by 20 years
fat, ugly, domestic
having written
works of unparalleled genius
domestic abuse, trying to domesticate the hearts and minds of women and children. But the action is savage and out of control. Internal affairs that are not discussed outside.
We are in a domestic time, an era that is as close to perfection as possible. A generation that allows the rich the privilege of burdening the poor with all their worries. This is the culture in which it’s okay to be yourself, no matter how wrong it is, and it’s okay to be wrong, no matter how much of yourself you’re not. What a time to be alive, with no morals or virtue, just self entitlement.
The thought of domestic violence just makes my heart sink. The idea of the one you love, the one you trust, your other half, hurting you is just the most dreadful thing.
Ahh. Domestic house panther, that’s the life for me. Free food, all the water I can drink, and someone to scoop my litterbox regularly, feed me treats, and get that itchy spot juuuust behind the ear. All of these things I like. I even tolerate when they don’t quite get the itchy spot or when they get it just enough that it gets even more itchy. But what’s up with the tummy rubs. Eugh. That’s just not nice.
domestic woman slaving on the stove sticks her head in the oven and sits there and sits there and waits to become marilyn monroe and she does oh thank god
“Domestic” is the adjective I was running from when I left Jett’s dad. Or maybe I just didn’t want that kind of domestic. I didn’t just want things. It wasn’t fulfilling. I wanted to be me, moderately wild and passionate. I wanted to be that kind of mother. I’m my kind of domestic now, and I love it. So glad I made it.
I am a woman. This is supposed to be my life. But it is not. I don’t enjoy housework. I don’t enjoy any of that. I love my husband, but I can’t be the perfect 50’s housewife – and I know I will never be. God, sometimes I wish I could be. Feeling like a bit of a failure.
Domestic is the crane’s kiss
Necks bend to allow the exchange
Chest to chest it slips across the threshold of lips
A promise to nestle in and evoke at the hearth this burning bliss
Thade glance over his shoulder, the rhythmic tapping of the knife didn’t stop as he did so. He watched as Faolan stepped into the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his button up while scowling at the flat owner. A grin parted Thade’s lips, a childish thing. The other man grumbled wordlessly, a low tune pressing from his throat to express his annoyance. The Thayline general ignored him, continuing to chop potatoes. Quietly, the two of them worked on dinner. Faolan quieted down eventually, and to fill the silence and small tune trickled from his lips. Soon Thade was humming along and the two of them worked out a beat. Whisks laps in time with their rhythm, pans were set down to accentuate a note at the end of a line. Their movements set to music of their own creation added the percussion and baseline to their melody.
Thade’s golden eyes glanced sideways as he found himself next to Faolan at the stove. The white haired man didn’t meet the gaze so carefully flicking in his direction. Their tune slowed as dinner was almost ready. Despite himself, the barest hint of a smile ghosted across the dragon’s lips.
“I hate this domestic melody,” He protested quietly. Thade, having seen the twitch in the corners of his friend’s mouth, laughed.
“You love this domestic shit, Faolan. Just like you love me,” Turning on his heel, the dragon hunter padded off towards the dining room to clear the table.
This mind is
Domain of
Darkness
And undomesticated
Thoughts
I have been forced into the role as a domestic, just by my gender assignment. Birth right? I don’t think so. But how do you unplug? How do you say, nicely, “get your own dinner, clean up the toilet you use and by the way, how about you putting dinner on the table for me tonight?”. Yeah, right…
There is something about domestic life that I simultaneously crave and feel disgusted by. There is a peace to caring for one’s own life in the simple tasks of cooking and cleaning, but I don’t want to settle for that peacefulness when the chaos of other achievements is possible.
In a domestic home, there are no bears.
In a non-domestic home – bears.
In a domestic home, there are no bees.
In a non-domestic home – bees like you wouldn’t believe.
In a domestic home – fights about the dishwasher.
In a non-domestic home you fight the bears for honey.
my housekeepers Anne and Georgia work as domestics.They get paid 100 dollars a week.
domestic i have no idea what this means but i may have an idea :D…………nvm
doomed to a life in the home
restrained and contained with no way to roam
the lands so rich in culture and life
so yes, please
why don’t you marry me and make me your wife.
the cat was very domestic just like her owner named the winnie the pooh
LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL HEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAH
really have many things to do, domestic work, i mean. Hell. Wish things like that got done by themselves, id have so much more free time. thats about all i can think about.
She kicked her shoes off in the entry way, craning her neck around the wall to see what was happening in the kitchen.She could see his back, standing over the stove, stirring something, steam rising around his face. She smiled. It was an image of comfort.
home, family natural familiar native
The word domestic conjures up images of women who have been “trained” to be obedient. Women who are experts are housekeeping and cooking. They know how to iron and fold the sheets expertly. I have never been accused of being a domestic woman. I do keep a clean enough home. But I don’t think it’d suffice for a president or first lady. They’d probably prefer to stay at a hotel.
domestic = A family that runs a household or something like that. please in the entries please tell me what domestic means to you.
The family was a very domestic one. As they ran the household like a family and has been running like that for hundreds of years.
The king was very domestic. The king’s family had been in royalty for hundreds of years and were domestic.
Some people think being domestic is a good thing. I, however, think the exact opposite. Nothing scares me more than the thought of my life becoming boring. Without meaning. That’s what I associate with domestic life. Driving the kids to school, going to work, coming home, kissing your partner on the cheek instead of the lips because you’ve grown apart in your domestic lives that you don’t find passion with each other anymore. It’s heartbreaking, and something I am not willing to do. Ever.
The domestic cat is a very strange animal. It thinks that it owns the house, but it really doesn’t have to take care of it, just lie around all day and expect that other beings will do its bidding. It then clamors for food and ignores its staff the rest of the time.
I witnessed a domestic abuse problem with my neighbors. The police were called and they closed off my street. I never really found out what happened there but the police were there for like half the night.
Domestic. It makes me feel about how domesticated people are in modern society, and how unnatural everything seems. Like Paul Simon wrote in sounds of silence, people talk without speaking, hear without listening. Everyone and everything feels fake. Though, it makes the few moments of true natural humanity in between all the sweeter.
I wasn’t working late. I got home and noticed all the lights on. The kettle had boiled and the dishes were empty. An image of domestic violence flashed through my thoughts. I thought of my father and how I don’t want to repeat him. I am no mirror.
I didn’t know where to start. The whole place was a mess. She hadn’t cleaned in..forever? She saw it as beneath her. The “domestic help” would sort that out. They sorted her out. By walking out and letting her fend for herself. And now she was under all the rubbish. Dead.
when people ask me what i think about animal rights, I immediately think about how some naturally wild animals are domesticated. Such as cats, dogs, fish, and gerbils.
Somebody lives right here in the states. She cleans the house and does the laundry. Foreign lady. Jamaican. woman. Biracial. Gorgeous. Bad talking foul mouth
“So, this is a farm?” Said the weary space traveller, sipping on a fresh glass of lemonade.
“A farm? No, this is earth.” Said the farmer, scratching his head.
“7 billion of you? That doesn’t happen on its own. Who’s your farmer?”
is she right for me
a question etched into modernity
fraught with indecision
heartbreak
precision
domestic domesticity
might not be enough for me
when looking for a partner
apart is all i see
It has a domestic view, kind of a… i don’t know, is just confortable- they said as they bought the mirror that would bring hell into their lives
There was a domestic beer left on the polished wooden table. It stood alone, with a peeled label and lip marks pressed to it stout. I envied lips left their mark and someone used their finger nail to undress the bottle. How lonely it is to be lonely.
We used to plan to live in a Berm home or however you spell it. Would have been DOMEstic.
Auntie Allison had never minded the idea of being a domestic housewife. In fact, the concept of cooking, cleaning, and taking care of her children felt like a dream to her. Sure, many of her more feminist friends bugged her about the subject once she got married. The maid of honor at her wedding, Sheila, swore to remain single forever. She worked as a doctor at the local hospital.
“Women should be empowered to do anything they want,” Auntie Allison said to me when I was visiting her, “and I wanted to be a mother.”