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@battlships
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This is a comment someone appended to a photo of two men apparently having sex in a very fancy room, but it’s also kind of an amazing two-line poem? “His Wife has filled his house with chintz” is a really elegant and beautiful counterbalancing of h, f, and s sounds, and “chintz” is a perfect word choice here—sonically pleasing and good at evoking nouveau riche tackiness. And then “to keep it real I fuck him on the floor” collapses that whole mood with short percussive sounds—but it’s still a perfect iambic pentameter line, robust and a lovely obscene contrast with the chintz in the first line. Well done, tumblr user jjbang8
I hate that my aesthetic sense agrees with this but everything you just said was correct
I went back to dig up this post because I was thinking about poetry.
This is one of those non-poem things that are among my favorite poems.
As the OP stated, the use of alliterative consonants is aesthetically just great, especially the placement of the strongest use at the end: “fuck him on the floor.” The use of “chintz” is indeed great word choice.
Because I’m insane, decided to scan the poem:
Not only is the second sentence, indeed, perfect iambic pentameter, the entire poem is perfectly metered, though the first sentence has four iambs rather than five.
There are further things I love about this poem, though: I like the casual connotations of “keep it real” juxtaposed with “chintz.” It causes me to interpret the “chintz” more strongly as meaning something fake, a facade. There is also of course the coarseness of “fuck,” which is a contrast with “chintz” but a different kind of contrast, gutsy and carnal where “chintz” is flimsy and inanimate.
And then there is the storytelling: there is SO MUCH storytelling in just these two lines. To break it down: The speaker is having sex with a married man, in the house he shares with his wife, which is “filled with chintz”—something that here connotes fakeness, in contrast with “keep it real.”
The illicit encounter in the poem takes place within a house filled with facade, the flimsy construction of the wife’s marriage and domestic sphere, but the encounter itself is a taste of something “real.” That’s a story, and it’s just two lines.
This is EIGHTEEN SYLLABLES, y’all. The amount of meaning condensed into these eighteen syllables is stunning, and it is so elegantly done.
From a technical standpoint (and ive taken 300- and 400-level poetry classes so I can say this) this is damn near flawless as a poem.
Kept thinking about this ever since I saw it and had to do something
there's art now
Ah dang to go further; the floor is framed as a refuge. As if there is literally no other space in this house that hasn't been populated by his wife with flimsy inanimate fakery. There is no space for this man in this house save for the floor. There is no space for him on the sofa, oon the counter tops, and most notably, no space for him in the marital bed.
I’d also like to point out the use of the word “has.” The wife has filled the house with chintz. She isn’t filling the house with chintz. She doesn’t fill the house with chintz. She has filled the house with chintz. Use of the past-tense makes the wife a subtly removed element in the story, someone whose presence we see in the environment, but who is blissfully distant during the actors throes of passion. There is an element of physical as well as emotional separation from the wife that is catalyzed by being fucked on the floor. Use of the past tense is an end to the wife presence in the actors life, a carnal catharsis amid cold fragility and emotional distance.
This is my new favourite post in the world
everyone cheer for the one (1) time tumblr had reading comprehension
And, predictably, it's because it was about gay sex
check out the mourning doves’ new single “hooOOOO hoo hoo hoo” if you get the chance. sound of the summer.
….?
???????????
oh wait this is EXTRAORDINARILY delightful. this isn’t a case of Blorbo From My Shows this is Henrietta Pickles From My Porch
I'm actually from Baltimost, Merrierland so forgive me if I'm less than impressed
I think we have to kill you?
we're having sex and you pull out at the end to discover your cock is entirely gone, dissolved (ive digested it like a pitcher plant). bye!
You'd unfollow me for my pitcher plant pussy post? After the beautiful night we shared???
WASNT A BEAUTIFUL NIGHT. PESIS IS GONE.

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is there anything worse than accidentally putting on the non-explicit version of an album? where is my beloved wife fuck and my beautiful daughter cunt?
accidentally playing the "explicit" version of lets get it started by the black eyed peas
I need other trans people to take it seriously when nonbinary people are misgendered
Just watched Adam Conover (of Adam Ruins Everything) make such a solid point that I think we should spread far and wide. Yes, having AI write your emails is lazy, sure, but people love being lazy. We need to really emphasize that sending AI emails (or using AI responses on social media, or publishing AI flyers, or or or) is rude.
It's rude. You're making someone take their time to read something you couldn't bother to write. You're telling them they were so unimportant you couldn't be bothered to actually take the time to say something yourself. And frankly, you're lying about it while you're at it.
It's rude.
Well, you know, some bathroom graffiti offers insight.
Red marker handwriting on a bathroom wall. Text reads:
“Boss made a dollar Granddad made a dime But that was a poem From a simpler time.
Boss made a thousand Gave pa a cent But that penny paid the mortgage Or at least it paid the rent
Now Boss makes a million And gives us jack Smugly blames the workers For the labor that he lacks.”
And the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls and tenement halls.

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Day 180 since Craig moved in. he clearly thinks he’s dating one of us but we can’t figure out who. it’s possible one of us is lying about it for some reason but so far our efforts at inquisition has led nowhere. we would kick him out but he’s been doing the dishes for us. we’ve decided that for the sanity of the polycule we’ll keep up the charade. if all of us continue to be flirty with him, he’ll project his attraction onto whoever the hell he thinks is into him. this house of cards is delicate but necessary
It got funnier
This is how cats domesticated themselves
Debating silently showing this to one of the flight attendants while boarding
I SHOWED IT TO MY FLIGHT ATTENDANT WHEN HE GAVE ME MY COOKIES AND HE LAUGHED SO HARD HE TOOK MY PHONE TO SHOW IT TO THE OTHER FLIGHT ATTENDANT
I don’t know how you got a good grade in being a passenger on an airline but that’s a totally normal thing to achieve and I’m not seething with jealousy at all.
You know what sucks a lot? Rainbow Capitalism. Because it's disingenuous and driven by corporate greed. You know what sucks more and is scary? No Rainbow Capitalism. Because Rainbow Capitalism is emblematic of a society that is embracing queer folks and queer culture and corporations wanting to get in on that to make money. When corporations aren't doing that, it means they view supporting queer folks and queer culture as something unprofitable, because it's being rejected by society broadly or by the powers at be. This isn't saying Rainbow Capitalism is a good thing. It's not. But rather, it's deeply troubling that significantly fewer companies this year are willing to pretend they care about queer folks. All this to say, take care of each other, always support local queer establishments, and stay cognizant of the political climate we are all in to remain safe. Happy Pride everyone! (Especially my trans brothers, sisters, and siblings!) 🏳️🌈🏳️⚧️

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sorry to be a broken record every month but christ menstruation is a stupid concept. oooooh excuse me for not getting pregnant, why the fuck is there goo falling out of me about it? grow the fuck up and reabsorb that shit for nutrients.
Our bodies dont apologize for being a broken record every month, why should we?
This is a man loving blog btw. I know this is the man hating site and increasingly the trans man hating site but that shit stops at my borders