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MAMA PINTO +27)723039124 is an expert healer, love spell expert, spiritualist and psychic. I have 20 year experience in this craft having been chosen by my Ancestors and Spirit Guides to continue in their footsteps. I am blessed by my great ancestors to help in solving some of your problems strictly through the engagement of spiritual means and healing I'm regarded as the best in solving all works failed by other healers because through interactions and discussions with many other healers and clients that their work failed I managed to discover almost every reason why their works failed of which some are attributed to healer and others to clients related to spiritual guide lines hence I came up with complete solutions to mitigate all these failures; I'm the best traditional spiritual healer / Sangoma, Restore Lost Love, Powerful Sangoma, Lottery Winning, Fix your Marriage, Lottery Winning, Sort out Divorce, Black Magic Spells, Solve Financial Constraints, Life changing, Psychic Reading to mention but a few; I use the miracle black magic spells and strong herbal medicine to heal and cure all people's complications in life. I inherited this job from my ancestors in my family. For so long my family has been famous as the best traditional spiritual healer family. "I read your fate and destiny accurately by using the ancient methods of checking through water, mirror, your hands and many others enabling me to tell you all your problems, AM the current leader and Foreteller of the grand ancestral shrine of BANTU which has been in existence since the beginning of the world as a source of the most powerful unseen forces, I have solved many mysterious problems by using the invisible powers. Am regarded by many as the greatest powerful spiritual healer on the planet today" * Bring back lost lover in (3days). * Strong love spells/Marriage spells * Job and job promotion Remove bad luck * Remove tokoloshe, cleaning of homes premises. * Do you want divorce or stop it? * Make him/her love yours alone. * Business boosting and customer attraction * Stop court cases (same day) * Do you have pregnancy complications? * Get a partner of your choice (3days). * Pass all assignments: Work interviews, school exams, soccer interviews * Win all chance games (lotto, casino, soccer bet, etc) * Ultimate magic powers for Leadership, preachers (fellowships), sangomas * Do You Have Unfinished Work from Other Healers, I'm The Answer and Solution to Everything; Today Is The Day Don't Wait. For More Information contact: CALL / WHATSAPP: Mama Pinto : '+27)723039124' HELP ALL PEOPLE ACROSS THE WHOLE WORLD.” ''+27)723039124''
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Mar 30
Mar 30, 2026 at 12:17 AM UTC
Fantastic Love Spells Toronto 27-72-303-9124How to Get Back Ex Lover In 24 Hours Toronto-Canada.
MAMA PINTO +27)723039124 is an expert healer, love spell expert, spiritualist and psychic. I have 20 year experience in this craft having been chosen by my Ancestors and Spirit Guides to continue in their footsteps. I am blessed by my great ancestors to help in solving some of your problems strictly through the engagement of spiritual means and healing I'm regarded as the best in solving all works failed by other healers because through interactions and discussions with many other healers and clients that their work failed I managed to discover almost every reason why their works failed of which some are attributed to healer and others to clients related to spiritual guide lines hence I came up with complete solutions to mitigate all these failures; I'm the best traditional spiritual healer / Sangoma, Restore Lost Love, Powerful Sangoma, Lottery Winning, Fix your Marriage, Lottery Winning, Sort out Divorce, Black Magic Spells, Solve Financial Constraints, Life changing, Psychic Reading to mention but a few; I use the miracle black magic spells and strong herbal medicine to heal and cure all people's complications in life. I inherited this job from my ancestors in my family. For so long my family has been famous as the best traditional spiritual healer family. "I read your fate and destiny accurately by using the ancient methods of checking through water, mirror, your hands and many others enabling me to tell you all your problems, AM the current leader and Foreteller of the grand ancestral shrine of BANTU which has been in existence since the beginning of the world as a source of the most powerful unseen forces, I have solved many mysterious problems by using the invisible powers. Am regarded by many as the greatest powerful spiritual healer on the planet today" * Bring back lost lover in (3days). * Strong love spells/Marriage spells * Job and job promotion Remove bad luck * Remove tokoloshe, cleaning of homes premises. * Do you want divorce or stop it? * Make him/her love yours alone. * Business boosting and customer attraction * Stop court cases (same day) * Do you have pregnancy complications? * Get a partner of your choice (3days). * Pass all assignments: Work interviews, school exams, soccer interviews * Win all chance games (lotto, casino, soccer bet, etc) * Ultimate magic powers for Leadership, preachers (fellowships), sangomas * Do You Have Unfinished Work from Other Healers, I'm The Answer and Solution to Everything; Today Is The Day Don't Wait. For More Information contact: CALL / WHATSAPP: Mama Pinto : '+27)723039124' HELP ALL PEOPLE ACROSS THE WHOLE WORLD.” ''+27)723039124''
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Staring down at ice breaks Cars crawling across island town Like snails without silver tails Water blue hues, motionless docks Racing gray clouds eye heights Mud trees unbelievably round I said fear wouldn't get me To a local north living proof Glass floors, untold seen beliefs Lager's either helped me or...
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Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 12:11 PM UTC
Towers
All those years i flew alone longing for comfort but rejecting your illusion you were my best together inseparable separated and judgmental i always hated your confidence wishing you detested anything of mine i let you go on your way you must have known i couldn't keep up years and stories passed by our meetings seldom then one night far from our forgotten friendship i met the devil he offered me a body and i injected it freely he gave me confidence and i smiled thinking heaven hazing into a person I found love all while keeping the devil tucked into my pocket when time went by and stole away my love the devil changed he took away a piece of my soul leaving me blind in the dark all those years i flew alone today , months , times later i can see it all so clearly what a marvelous failure i lived faltering and falling failing behind flash, trash becomes sight set, picture taken flash, flash flash, and done but to the devil i can only say i'd do it all again whisper into my ear lie away my lust give me all your sin.
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Jan 14
Jan 14, 2026 at 3:03 AM UTC
Then one night I met the Devil
There was a Maple Leafs fan Who knew they played as good as they can The Maple Leafs cheer There's always next year Now. The players can work on their tan
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Dec 30, 2025
Dec 30, 2025 at 6:17 PM UTC
THE LEAFS
The Boys of Summer were all named "David"      that year, But "George" and "Ernie" and "Davis" and "Vladimir."   An overpriced clan of underachieving also-rans, Last place dishwater, poured into tin pans   But stories are made of such sinewy stuff, the connective tissue--the gristle--that only chews tough and never goes down. Of infield dirt on dark blue jerseys,   Of bright red on white pants, from bleeding, skinned knees and wide smiles shining under 7th inning light.   And what is The Great Game?   A story.   The Great Game is a poem. It whispers and surges and wanes and then screams. A child of fickle fate, following parental footsteps, selling beer and hot dogs to the Norns as they weave,      (team sweaters in the 8th inning roar) A city, a province a country had guessed, in swing-and-miss dreams, and blown-call cogitating, of .500 finishes and lukewarm bathwater--Of room temperature chow at the kids' table, and calling it "strides." But Goliath was sleeping after twelve peals of the bell, and the first round was over like a pinch-hit homer. The Boys of Summer were all named "David"      that year, But "Kirky," and "Davis" and "Gausy" and "Bo," "The Hound," and "Isaiah," "The Savage" and "Mad Max."   _"words that are heavy with nothing but trouble..."_   _Our_ Tinkers. _Our_ Evers. _Our Chance._ The giants played on their ground and from on high they fell,      by grand walls, by glass towers, by the frothing seas.      A City's Chosen Sons spent their summer slaying titans. What is The Great Game? It is a poem. And our teams are protagonists. What is the ballpark? It is a cathedral. We kneel at the Altar of Grass-Stained Knees, and with infield dirt whispers of oiled mitt leather do we pray:      _"Let's play two." "Say hey."_ Play ball.
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Nov 3, 2025
Nov 3, 2025 at 6:21 PM UTC
A Romance in Gravel & Grass
The Boys of Summer were all named "David"      that year, But "George" and "Ernie" and "Davis" and "Vladimir."   An overpriced clan of underachieving also-rans, Last place dishwater, poured into tin pans   But stories are made of such sinewy stuff, the connective tissue--the gristle--that only chews tough and never goes down. Of infield dirt on dark blue jerseys,   Of bright red on white pants, from bleeding, skinned knees and wide smiles shining under 7th inning light.   And what is The Great Game?   A story.   The Great Game is a poem. It whispers and surges and wanes and then screams. A child of fickle fate, following parental footsteps, selling beer and hot dogs to the Norns as they weave,      (team sweaters in the 8th inning roar) A city, a province a country had guessed, in swing-and-miss dreams, and blown-call cogitating, of .500 finishes and lukewarm bathwater--Of room temperature chow at the kids' table, and calling it "strides." But Goliath was sleeping after twelve peals of the bell, and the first round was over like a pinch-hit homer. The Boys of Summer were all named "David"      that year, But "Kirky," and "Davis" and "Gausy" and "Bo," "The Hound," and "Isaiah," "The Savage" and "Mad Max."   _"words that are heavy with nothing but trouble..."_   _Our_ Tinkers. _Our_ Evers. _Our Chance._ The giants played on their ground and from on high they fell,      by grand walls, by glass towers, by the frothing seas.      A City's Chosen Sons spent their summer slaying titans. What is The Great Game? It is a poem. And our teams are protagonists. What is the ballpark? It is a cathedral. We kneel at the Altar of Grass-Stained Knees, and with infield dirt whispers of oiled mitt leather do we pray:      _"Let's play two." "Say hey."_ Play ball.
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38
Far beyond the bush weeds and cattails, past the mossy rock and cedar grove - there is a place only a few lucky souls can see. A place where mushroom capped gnomes and butterfly winged faeries dance under the moonlight. Smoke plumes from small pebble stacked chimneys as fireflies float about lighting the grove. A magical place of whimsy, where the faeries play and the Treefolk root the woods. The life force of the wild, the heart of the forest, hidden to most, but for those who know, the busy bodies are always working.
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Sep 1, 2025
Sep 1, 2025 at 4:26 PM UTC
THE HEART OF THE FOREST
My word doesn’t matter. The problem is, I’m nobody. I just watch this **** from the sidelines. I don’t matter so neither do my words. I sit back on a beach chair with my feet in the sand. A lit cigarette, and jerrycan full of gas. Sunglasses on, watching it all go down.
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Aug 3, 2025
Aug 3, 2025 at 8:12 PM UTC
POLITICO NIHILISTICO
As you drive taking me, we- on a ride from the suburbs I grew up in to the City Down the same streets Ive always known, driven myself, the same route that leads to Toronto. Splitting, the fork- takes us, Arching flying around the circumference of the city The sun, golden orange, begins to set. Iridescence coating the skyline – as each reflective surface momentarily becomes stained glass. “Eric-I need GPS direction” … & Its after I've arrived at my destination & then home again after it all; do I re-open & Re-read this scribble in a note book- Recapitulate, & end.
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Dec 21, 2023
Dec 21, 2023 at 3:41 AM UTC
The Ride & Reprise: Oleg
If you want me when I’m gone, Simply look up at the stars, And I will twinkle back. If you want me when I’m gone, Simply close your eyes and listen, For I will be singing with the birds to you. If you want me when I’m gone, Simply feel the earth below your feet, I will be with you every step of the way. If you want me when I’m gone, Simply smell the sweet scented flower from the black locust tree. Pause and move on with your day.
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Jun 23, 2023
Jun 23, 2023 at 11:14 PM UTC
When I’m Gone
Focus on your mind Strengthen your body Heal your spirit
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Apr 14, 2023
Apr 14, 2023 at 12:20 AM UTC
The 3 agreements to bettering yourself
Looking into your eyes, I see the stars shine. Looking into your eyes, Eases my tainted mind. Looking into your eyes, I see the love you have for mine. Your eyes are looking into mine, I’m loosing track of time. These moments feel like forever, I only wish they would be. The notion that one day you won’t be gazing into my eyes, makes these moments all the more special. Life moves fast. Enjoy the small moments. Nothing in this world, is made to last. Ill be looking into your eyes, I hope that sight will be my very last.
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Apr 14, 2023
Apr 14, 2023 at 12:17 AM UTC
Your Eyes
It happens just because we need To want and be Wanted too Serendipitously here, spontaneously there, A true friend I've found in you. Now friends will come and some will last, but in the end so few; Are in actuality Ride or Dies Disappointingly it's proven true. Lucie my friend, has forced my hand To write my words of feeling For untill now there'd been no reason To attempt a written healing. ♡
0
Jul 23, 2022
Jul 23, 2022 at 8:00 AM UTC
Łųčïê
clean fit, ***** city manz gripping the waist because i’m too pretty breaking it down on Yonge street breaking it down for the young me that had to hide, inner child suicide now i surf the waves and follow the tides imagining what it would be like to be a son of skyscrapers imagining what it could be like if i left my nest i’ve built home is where the heart is but where is mine i think i found it in the rainbow
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Jun 28, 2022
Jun 28, 2022 at 11:45 AM UTC
Son of Skyscrapers
More puddle steps that everyday Fall back again with water rain More tiny drops of water blow And concrete grasses wet the stone: More morning hue that fills the trees And vapid air that sets the breeze: In spring, and yet with winters loud, The shoddy days the world bestows: Of quick sunshine in leaving days, Sour grass set in mellow rays; A cousin-friend to seasons like: The April springs of Toronto life.
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Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 8:00 PM UTC
April of Toronto
The busy breath of a city north:                                                         Toronto, by Ontario shore.
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Mar 5, 2021
Mar 5, 2021 at 4:52 PM UTC
To Toronto
Amanda Catching;  the unworthy Angels as they fall-      Is a job          Only you could do.
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Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 12:03 AM UTC
Reiterate Appreciate Deactivate Comisserate
In times of difficulty, the nation needs unity. Days have passed by, many people died, yet numbers of deaths still multiply, now we are terrified. Went by No Frills to do grocery, it was very busy, line up was crazy, not to mention, shelves were almost empty. Thinking to get plenty but I realized that the elderly, is our main priority. I know this is not our responsibility, but we are in the state of emergency, and they need our help badly. Consideration is the key, everybody has a necessity, I know you're worried about your inventory, and you have a family who needs a coffee and a tea, but what about the rest of the community?
0
Mar 21, 2020
Mar 21, 2020 at 9:33 PM UTC
Untitled
whenever this feeling of uneasiness visits my skin, i convince the goosebumps that im just overthinking, that im not in danger, that they only show because warmth is a foreigner wandering the premise of my heart, but when I consult my heart, it tells me that this warmth brings back memories of when it was stone cold, a feeling that is now unbearable to even imagine.
0
Mar 16, 2020
Mar 16, 2020 at 10:51 PM UTC
confusion
you make loving unconditionally my agenda for everyday, you make living in the moment a feeling i’ve missed on my entire life, you make sunshine seem dim in the presence of your warmth, you make the hours feel like minutes and make hours out of minutes, you make rainbows replace my thoughts, you make the butterflies in my stomach work extra hard and the blood rushing too fast, too hard, trying to catch up with the rush going through my body when i hold your hand.
0
Mar 8, 2020
Mar 8, 2020 at 1:38 PM UTC
you; i love you
Every morning while it was dark He'd wake and pack his boards With plastic men, his soldiers To do battle with no swords He'd put them in his basket Load them all into the cart He'd have a tea and bagel And then, his day would start He would walk from his apartment To the park, before the sun Two miles and a quarter Just past highway eighty one There, inside the complex In the middle of the park He'd play chess, against all comers And he'd stay 'till after dark A prodigy at ten years old He would beat men three times his age He would sit there in stunned silence As they stormed around in rage A master by his eighteenth year He hadn't lost on his home ground He would play and play and nothing else To the chess board he was bound Although he had his title He couldn't leave to play If he left the country Then, back home is where'd he stay He played some competitions Made his points to climb the list But, still he kept on thinking Of the games that he had missed I saw him in Toronto Playing for a buck a game He played against  all comers The result, always the same His accent was a harsh one His beard was slightly rough With some he'd be a softie With others, he was gruff Each day he'd make the journey Pull his boards down and set off He'd joke about while playing And at bad moves he would scoff "In Russia, they would shoot you" "If you made a move like that" Was he lying in the bushes Should you move or just stand pat? He moved on down to Yonge Street When the park land all was sold No one knew just why it happened He went there, and it was closed On a small street down by Eatons He moved his boards so he could play He didn't need to walk there now He could now go by subway There was more room here for players To learn at this man's feet They would line up with their dollars Knowing full well, they'd be beat The crowd that came from Yonge street To see this rock star of the board Were much different from the park folk But to this street they poured College players, bankers Strippers from the Zanzibar would come and drop their dollar Then lose and find a bar As time went on, his game it changed He'd take more time for his moves He would talk more as distraction And once I saw him lose His brain was getting fuzzy Age was now taking a toll Time, it owned his body But the board still owned his soul He'd flirt with the young maidens Showing cleavage in the sun One girl even flashed him Because she thought she'd won He joked about her actions Told the crowd that it was nice He joked that if she showed some more He'd let her come close twice As time went on the master Didn't come downtown each day He'd stay at home in silence Downtown was far away He dreamed of heading home again But, he knew that couldn't be Then we saw him on the news one night On the local CBC He played downtown for seven years He last played in 85 He took sick and nearly passed on Thankfully, the master did survive His name was Josef Smolij He was Polish, but we thought He was Russian from his comments Made when our bad moves were caught His absence still is felt there Gould street it was his space The area he used to play Is now called Hacksell Place He left and went to Europe Germany became his home But still down there off Yonge street The old chess ghosts still roam I remember playing Smolij I remember it was hot I lost and then he told me "Back in Russia...you'd be shot" He was 60 when I played him He'd be 99 or so I'm glad I got to meet him The Master known as Joe
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Jan 12, 2020
Jan 12, 2020 at 10:38 PM UTC
the chess master
Every morning while it was dark He'd wake and pack his boards With plastic men, his soldiers To do battle with no swords He'd put them in his basket Load them all into the cart He'd have a tea and bagel And then, his day would start He would walk from his apartment To the park, before the sun Two miles and a quarter Just past highway eighty one There, inside the complex In the middle of the park He'd play chess, against all comers And he'd stay 'till after dark A prodigy at ten years old He would beat men three times his age He would sit there in stunned silence As they stormed around in rage A master by his eighteenth year He hadn't lost on his home ground He would play and play and nothing else To the chess board he was bound Although he had his title He couldn't leave to play If he left the country Then, back home is where'd he stay He played some competitions Made his points to climb the list But, still he kept on thinking Of the games that he had missed I saw him in Toronto Playing for a buck a game He played against  all comers The result, always the same His accent was a harsh one His beard was slightly rough With some he'd be a softie With others, he was gruff Each day he'd make the journey Pull his boards down and set off He'd joke about while playing And at bad moves he would scoff "In Russia, they would shoot you" "If you made a move like that" Was he lying in the bushes Should you move or just stand pat? He moved on down to Yonge Street When the park land all was sold No one knew just why it happened He went there, and it was closed On a small street down by Eatons He moved his boards so he could play He didn't need to walk there now He could now go by subway There was more room here for players To learn at this man's feet They would line up with their dollars Knowing full well, they'd be beat The crowd that came from Yonge street To see this rock star of the board Were much different from the park folk But to this street they poured College players, bankers Strippers from the Zanzibar would come and drop their dollar Then lose and find a bar As time went on, his game it changed He'd take more time for his moves He would talk more as distraction And once I saw him lose His brain was getting fuzzy Age was now taking a toll Time, it owned his body But the board still owned his soul He'd flirt with the young maidens Showing cleavage in the sun One girl even flashed him Because she thought she'd won He joked about her actions Told the crowd that it was nice He joked that if she showed some more He'd let her come close twice As time went on the master Didn't come downtown each day He'd stay at home in silence Downtown was far away He dreamed of heading home again But, he knew that couldn't be Then we saw him on the news one night On the local CBC He played downtown for seven years He last played in 85 He took sick and nearly passed on Thankfully, the master did survive His name was Josef Smolij He was Polish, but we thought He was Russian from his comments Made when our bad moves were caught His absence still is felt there Gould street it was his space The area he used to play Is now called Hacksell Place He left and went to Europe Germany became his home But still down there off Yonge street The old chess ghosts still roam I remember playing Smolij I remember it was hot I lost and then he told me "Back in Russia...you'd be shot" He was 60 when I played him He'd be 99 or so I'm glad I got to meet him The Master known as Joe
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