Damn. This poem got so real.
"How to Cure a Feminist" By Kait Rokowski
Ever find a pretty little lady at a bar, the type of look that screams of arm candy, the type of skin that longs to be unzipped, only to find out that she’s an empowered woman? Well, no longer, man friend! Just follow these simple steps to cure your feminist.
Step 1: win her over. Do this by pretending you care about women. Example: replace the word tits with the word equality and resume normal conversation. “I love equality. I wish that women didn’t have to hide their equality. I really wanna snort cocaine off of some drunk girl’s equality.”
Step 2: open her eyes. Girls are basically designed to be brainwashed, it’s how they became feminists in the first place, too many strong willed women in their past or something. Reverse this nasty little habit with subliminal messaging. Example: place a tube of lipstick in your medicine cabinet. She will soon feel inadequate to the woman you are presumably cheating on her with. This will convince her, nay force her, into acting like a more civilized, submissive girl.
Step 3: treat her right. Now, let’s not get crazy here, you don’t actually have to treat her right but if you buy her things while you quietly undermine her Ford Explorer and combat boots, she will start to think of this as positive reinforcement, like a dog. Soon, when you insult her, she will ask you to pick up the check.
Step 4: put her on a diet of cigarettes and hairspray until her waist is an apple core. Tell her she has never looked more ravishing.
Step 5: buy a trophy case. You will need a place to store her pelvic bone and the pre notch bed post.
Step 6: show her what you are capable of. Come home covered in another man’s blood, dragging a chunk of his muscle in your mouth, make her clean up the mess.
Step 7: build her a bomb shelter. Tell her the world is not wondering where she is, fashion a dog collar out of broken glass, lock her up like the good licker.
Step 8: give her a new name. First whisper it in the crook of her neck until her muscles have committed it to memory. Then shout it in the belly of her bedroom until the echo haunts her sleep. Finally scratch into her back while you fuck her, like branding your favorite ball gag. It is proof that nothing is sacred, that no backbone is too straight to be snapped into submission, that every layer of skin can be clawed of, nothing before this mattered. She never even existed without you.
THESE VIDEOS THO
the voices kill me
Best cat video ever. LOL
This cover is so on point.
But if you dont like the song, just skip to the break down/bridge around 2:09
I JUST DONE PEED ON MYSELF
Kai Davis and Miriam Harris Poetry- Masturbation Chronicles (by Babel TU)
This is so good. “FUCK KELIS! She don’t know my life!”
why didn’t anyone tell me the civil wars were so fucking good?
Fifth Harmony - Stay (Rihanna cover) (by OfficialFifthHarmony)
Once again, another Rihanna song, improved a million times over sung by someone else.
Rudy Francisco - “My Honest Poem”
Rudy Francisco is what’s up.
BNV Finals: Denver Round Three (by YOUTHSPEAKS)
IF ANYONE KNOWS OF (or wants to take the time out to write) A TRANSCRIPTION OF THIS POEM PLEASE POST IT/SEND IT TO ME
I THINK I LOVE IT BUT I CAN ONLY MAKE OUT 40-50% OF WHAT THEY’RE SAYING
Catalina Ferro - “Emergency Exit Row”
“Excuse me, Ms. Flight Attendant, ma’am, I do not believe that I am capacitated to sit in the emergency exit row of this aircraft. I was told to speak up.”
She looks at me like I’m crazy, like she’s never heard this before, she surveys me looking for missing limbs and says,
“And why are you not capacitated?”
I say, “Because I don’t particularly want the responsibility. I believe that in the unlikely event that I or anyone else survives the graceless plummet to earth of this metal tinderbox, of this winged, riveted coffin, in the event that there is an emergency evacuation, I will be unavailable to assist you in saving the lives of the three hundred other immaculate souls that will need to be siphoned through the ridiculously small hole in this here window. Chances are, to tell you the truth, that if I manage to gather enough of my shit together to even open the special pressure hatch, I’m gonna be adios muchachos faster than you can say ‘700 tons of highly flammable jet fuel’. Don’t look for me. I will be negotiating the terms of my survival with the coyotes or the sharks, which ever apply. Which means that I’m gonna be making damn sure that they eat you first: And if they don’t, I will.”
Jeanann Verlee - "Unsolicited Advice to Adolescent Girls with Crooked Teeth and Pink Hair"