"appealing" poems
Woodsy smell
Gentle touch
Husky voice
Sensuous words
Teasing smile
Steady, mysterious eyes
~
Appealing to my five senses
Seducing me, tenderly,
your sweet and spicy nothings.
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
Do I relate to the post-postmodern
True-life voodoo incomes are hard-earned
If I put a hyphen between words
Does that spawn a new one like lovebirds
Isn't love the same word that I saw
Don't crows live like bandits and outlaws
Don't they have the outlook of bourgeois
Carry stolen crackers in their claws
There's no change that I couldn't change
Every change that I change always stays the same
I wanna sing with a slingshot serenade
I wanna donate change to a masquerade
I wanna die while I'm in the spotlight
I want my death to inspire a rewrite
I want to blur the lines of insight
I want to make them think that I'm their height
So give me all your red green yellow blue
If you can find a pool then I'll refract with you
You're a mirage and your favorite color's see-through
You're my fata morgana from this point of view
Are there any words for my freakshow feelings
Isn't sugarcoated terminology appealing
Wouldn't it be easier to represent the meaning
Of a hard to swallow concept with an arbitrary ceiling
Cryptic cultish crease in the catalog
Paranoia backtrack to analog
I can run much faster than I can jog
Magic circle summoning Chernobog
I can break the barrier of sound and space
With these essential elemental explanations in your face
But it doesn't matter everything I say will go to waste
Because the power of the mind is putting power out of place
Hindsight reflecting, teenagers texting
Late to the punch with the big money flexing
Let's settle this with a match in the ring
Or a match to the rope of a cannon firing
I wanna die while I'm in the spotlight
I want my death to inspire a rewrite
I want to blur the lines of insight
I want to make them think that I'm their height
I wanna hypnotize and paralyze
I wanna make them think that I'm their size
I wanna break their spirits drink their blood
I wanna **** their souls I wanna **** them good
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 7:58 PM UTC
“Being a farmer is like being a priest;
you take a vow of poverty
and make a pact with the Lord
that no typhoon will come
and destroy your crops.”
In the rise of sedentary human civilization,
The nation’s agriculture
Became the key expansion.
Its history dates back thousands of years,
With its development,
Has been driven and defined –
By different climates, cultures, and technologies.
The Filipino farmers:
Are they now a dying breed?
Numbers of small farms has dwindled,
With workers opting for city life.
But this trend could exacerbate food insecurity!
Yes, in an import-dependent country –
Already struggling to meet current food demand.
In the face of growing losses,
And from volatile weather,
To new-fangled farming tech,
Limited education makes them less receptive.
What took such toll on the agricultural sector?
Maybe the farmer themselves,
The investors, the buyers – maybe.
Now, it’s due to the government policies,
Our programs are good, yet so weak.
There’s excessive reliance on agricultural imports,
And corruption on the upper level.
Compounding the problem
Is a younger generation –
Largely, leaving rural areas nationwide,
And depleting the pool of potential agricultural workers.
They say it’s too late to do something;
But the mind-set of the younger generation
Still we can change
And make farming appealing once again.
(9/8/13 @xirlleelang)
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
Many believe they know the law
Because they were arrested;
Others know how to teach
Because they too were tested.
If you have a religious question,
They attended church;
Mention you've an ache or pain,
They diagnose your hurt.
Should you bring up politics,
Republican or worse,
They'll explain Democracy
Cause they've been free since birth.
Admit your car is pinging,
Your faucets aren't behaving,
The oven isn't cooking right,
Your fridge is warm and shaking,
The air conditioner's out of whack,
Your furnace has turned blue,
They'll tell you what to do:
Change the thermo-coupler.
It's always their one answer.
Say you like this stock or bond,
An investment that's appealing,
They'll discourse that all agents
Are cunning conniving stealing.
On Monday mention the big game,
They'll re-play, play by play,
As if you slept right through it.
If you hear a rousing band,
Attend a movie or a play,
Know-its are informed critics,
Once they were stagehands.
They pose as friends and family,
Waiting for an opening,
To disrupt with diatribe,
To display how much they know.
I know what I'm on about,
So let me advise you,
I'm a Know-It-All poet,
All I write is true.
So,
*Never miss the opportunity
To keep your mouth shut too*.
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 10:54 AM UTC
I think people find cuddling so appealing because of how close you become with that person, not just physically but in the sense that when you sleep you are at your most vulnerable.When you dream that's the real you shining through and you let that person see that, to be there to hold and protect you. When you decided to share something like that you are showing that person how much you really trust them.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 10:58 AM UTC
My head isn't bare
So trouble i'm hiding
You assume
Under my scarf
Within my hair
Yeah, of course that's true
Because feelings i don't have
And to care i never do
WOW what some people
Sophisticated much
in wardrobe and appealing,
But how about
thoughts and some feelings?
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 6:06 PM UTC
To cook something beautiful
You need a few unsightly ingredients.
Like to make a cake
You need flour and baking soda
Baking powder, sugar, and a hint of salt
Water and eggs.
They aren't appealing to look at
By themselves
Or even when mixed together.
But when handled right,
And with a little time
Love and care
An oven and a spatula
You conform them into exactly the right shape
And those unsightly ingredients become
A tasty treat,
But what's a cake without frosting?
It's something bigger than what it was.
It's a combination
The frosting makes it more
Visually appealing,
It masks the overly cooked
Side.
Some air pockets from
An inexperienced
Or careless chef.
It's masks imperfections.
You can't force a cake to become perfect.
It needs time,
it needs love,
it needs care.
Dare I say it again,
It needs time,
It needs love,
It needs care.
When the cake
Gets those, and is left alone
To bake,
To think about what it's job is,
To not just be beautiful
Covered in frosting
But without it as well,
You'll have the best ****
Cake you've ever made.
It won't be over done on one side
Or the other,
It won't have air bubbles,
It'll glisten and gleam,
And be pristine.
You'll have a cake
Beautiful
On the inside and out.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC
To lie or not to lie - that is the question:
Whether 'tis better to keep the truth
Shutting the light in the dark,
Or to bring upon pain or pleasure
Why, by bringing truth, gain unwanted reaction. To lie, deceit -
No more - and by secret to say what we want to say
The will of truth and lie
That flows from lips - 'tis an infection
One craved by all. To lie, deceit -
Deceit, perhaps too much. Ay, there's the problem.
For in that deceit of truth what pathologic lieing may come.
When we have gained such filthy pleasure from this lie,
Must force us thought. That's the reality
That makes chaos of such pleasure.
For who really wants to hear or speak an ugly truth,
The lover's love gone, the child's art trash,
The woman's ugly face, the man's unattractive body,
The co-worker's stench, and the embarrassing blemish
That gives opportunity for lie,
When they themselves would appreciate
Why give them heart ache? Who would give them truth,
To give them hurt,
But the chance they would enjoy the truth,
The unknown glee from fate's unlucky victims
For the victim's mind confuses the liar
And makes the liar want to speak truth
And to see that reaction instead.
Thus turning pathologic lieing into suthe saying,
And thus the addicting infection
Is cured with the disease of truth,
And infection seems less appealing
With this regard the lies soon stop
And lose what effect they once had.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
I wonder if you've noticed,
I'm becoming less appealing,
Our conversations are getting very...
Very, boring...
And I wonder if you've noticed,
That I'm becoming less appealing.
You can tell me,
I didn't meant to approach you,
It was a decision made in a split second,
And it seems like my heart's voice was louder than my brain's then:
I'm being honest,
My chest was about to explode,
My heart was a ticking time bomb
And I could only disarm it by giving it a voice,
Converting its electric impulses into sound waves.
But now,
It's been a while since then,
And,
We're drifting apart...
I haven't told you that I nicknamed you zebra because of that cute black and white shirt you had on...
Because,
I'm scared that would just trigger the slow end of our...
Our?!
I mean,
It will make our friendship awkward.
I told my friends I don't like you,
But apparently you like me -
But, I just have a question,
After getting to know me -
Ummm... Have I lost my charms,
Or are you still googly-eyed over the stupid fifteen year old boy that nearly tripped over his own words as he uttered, "You're very pretty"?
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 2:40 PM UTC
It’s the…
Demanding
Obligation
Mature
Intimacy
Nummy
Appealing
Naughty
Choice of
Excitement
For me, love
Jul 3, 2021
Jul 3, 2021 at 2:39 AM UTC
As a bisexual, I fear
Few will want you to be proud.
They will bend your ear
Saying things to you out loud
That would be better left
Totally, embarrassingly unsaid
Instead of rattling around
Inside the cathedral of your head.
Too many try to make it
Seem like a kind of venal crime
To want to make love with
Someone of your own kind
And maybe with the same
Gender with which you were born.
To some it is very biblical
And subjects you to public scorn.
Finding someone ****
With the same plumbing as you
It not only delightful
It can be a dream come true.
It feels correctly natural
And works like the other way
Even though people scorn
And use words like *** and ‘gay’
Or ****** and even taco
Whatever that might end up meaning.
The important thing to me
Bisexuality is so powerfully appealing.
So, those who dislike me
And feel so righteously zealous
That bisexuality is wrong
Are very possibly just jealous.
Or maybe just uptight
Living by someone’s else’s rules;
Not what they’ve learned
And therefore are bigoted fools.
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 10:57 PM UTC
I.
Hear the sledges with the bells—
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they ****** ****** ******
In their icy air of night!
While the stars, that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
II.
Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten golden-notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
III.
Hear the loud alarum bells—
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror now their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now—now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the ***** of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells—
Of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!
IV.
Hear the tolling of the bells—
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people—ah, the people—
They that dwell up in the steeple.
All alone,
And who toiling, toiling, toiling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone—
They are neither man nor woman—
They are neither brute nor human—
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry ***** swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells—
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells—
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells—
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
10.5k
Ruler of beauty
Grace as a dove
Thy name Aphrodite
Goddess of love
Power to sway
Thy lustful mind
Ability to lure
Man of every kind
Appealing charm
Equal summers rose
Thou pleasant aroma
Could make all man doze
****** attraction
Alludes all thy wants
Goddess so elegant
Created thy flaunts
One defect slays
Aphrodite soul within
Profound jealousy for
Psyche thy alleged twin
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
Tall girls are beautiful, I see the poster say,
looking down to myself I feel my feelings turn grey.
Tall girls are perfect, I feel my soul pour out into my mind,
as I awake to see I am the same height as days before this one.
Tall girls are fair, loving as well as a lot more cute,
much more appealing for him, a fair or perfect height for a kiss.
But short girls can never reach their favourite snacks,
we have to pull up a chair and climb the sides of our kitchens.
Short girls have to tippy toe,
just to kiss him on the lips in the right way he wants.
Short girls can't look down on those who they love, only up,
which leads us to remind ourselves we always remain “small”.
Tall girls can stroll by and scare a small girl like me,
because we fear you might just realize, that tall girl is who we want to be.
You might hang up your coat and walk out on me...
Still I try my hardest to be proud of myself,
for short girls are beautiful inside and out.
Height should not determine emotional connection,
so please, like all those years don't judge me just as badly as I did.
For you see, Tall girls are beautiful.
But short girls, are just as beautiful too.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 9:32 PM UTC
By walking between certain trees,
Sometimes, one has an odd feeling,
An unusual tingling sensation,
Not scary, but mostly appealing.
Katalyn passed between two elms,
And entered into ancient realms.
Excitement prickled Katalyn’s skin,
Trees here were wide and tall,
Then from a sun-splashed clearing,
There came a strange animal call.
Creeping closely; peering round a tree,
Katalyn saw unicorns, roaming free.
Approaching slowly, heart beating fast,
Katalyn could not help but smile,
As the unicorns gathered round,
What grace, such poise, cool style.
Not thinking, Katalyn touched a wing,
There came a whoosh . . . so dizzying.
Without knowing, how or why,
Katalyn soared above the trees,
Holding a slender unicorn neck,
Laughter escaping on the breeze.
They dropped into a sudden glide,
With a thrilling rush: what a ride!
They winged across grassy plains,
Between mountains capped with snow,
Katalyn neither knew nor recognised,
The wild land, passing by, below.
Another world; another dimension,
Kept secret by; magical intention.
Then Katalyn was suddenly walking,
Back where the adventure began,
Passing between two old elms,
Returned to the world of man.
Now feeling as happy, as you please,
Knowing unicorns lived, beyond the trees.
© Paul M Chafer 2014
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 9:01 AM UTC
there's melancholy in the nighttime that's very appealing
as a nocturnal owl, i find great comfort in the dark
so peaceful and silent like everything is put on mute
it makes you feel infinite, unrestrained
one of the few good feelings in life
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 8:23 PM UTC
What I bring to the table is Sensitivity, Sincerity, Compassion,
Honesty and Respect
What I bring to the table is Intelligence, Good Grace and Humour,
Understanding and Confidence
What I bring to the table is Generosity in spirit and Deeds, Calmness and Reflection, Strength, Bravery and Courage
What I bring to the table is a Caring Soul, a Good Heart and Faith,
Loyalty and Truthfulness and Trust
What I bring to the table is Versatility, Competence and Originality
What I bring to the table is the Love of Romeo and Real Passion
unrivalled..........
So tell me why I am being GREEDY if I say I do not care if I eat alone!
Am I to blame if some chose not to see
Am I to blame if stunted pride and ego blinds
Am I to blame if stupidity and foolishness abound
Am I to blame if complexes and insecurities assail some
Am I to blame if dishonesty and fickleness is more appealing
Am I to blame if envy and jealousy blind eyes and minds in others
Am I to blame if they term caring and attentive as clingy
Am I to blame if they term Intelligence and Honesty as arrogance
Am I to blame if they term Strength, Bravery and Courage as Male
Chauvanism
Am I to blame if they term Intelligence Competence and originality
as Controlling
Am I to blame when they lack the Ability to look honestly and truthfully within themselves before pointing their fingers
So tell me why I am being GREEDY if I say I do not care if I eat alone
So tell me why I am being GREEDY if I say I do not care if I eat alone
at my table..........
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 3:33 PM UTC
Dear America,
How are you ?
I must ask what do you see as beauty . For I am a young black women who just want to be beautiful in your eyes and so I ask what must I become to be such in yours. Must I buy the hair of foreigners and wear it as my own since I know my natural hair and rough texture to distasteful for your eyes. I have become too ashamed of my appearance therefore please tell me what I must do to be beautiful. I know that my thick thighs and curves are not acceptable. I eat less and run more but I can't seem to quite reach the image displayed in the magazines. My buttocks are quite small and I do not have the means to pay for implantations but I want to be beautiful so I must find a way, right? Oh America my biggest blemish is my dark skin. I search for bleaching products since lighter skin women are superior and I must be part of the hierarchy of beauty. My skin contains this substance called melanin that I just can't seem to get rid of but of course I won't disappoint you I will find a way to become the right complexion. America I truly do want to be beautiful in your eyes and will do what is necessary. I want men to find me appealing, I want my fellow women to envy my beauty, and most of all I want to be what you view beautiful. ..I have foreign hair now no more of that rough natural hair, my skin is much lighter and I am a size zero now with a large buttocks. I do not recognize myself in the mirror but why does that matter because you think I'm beautiful now, right America?
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 4:10 AM UTC
Puissant piquant and predatory
And observant from afar
He looks down on your slumber
Like a door that's left ajar
Plying with his manly vice
A reckless male visage
A rogue of masculine device
Seeks entrance to your mind
He saunters with a swagger
A macho savvy moxie
To personify virility's incarnate
His dream zone's metier
He sifts your ****** entourage
In search of sprawls recumbence
To tantalize climactic fervor
With lambent photic scenes
Grasping at your revelries
He spies the wanton lust
With swanky strut appealing
Your primal urge to sate
He leaves undone resistance
With innate resilience seized
The lavish wayward implications
Of unrequited livid deeds
Like passion's lurid lecheries
An insatiable torrid sooth
You wrestle with his adamance
Your carnal ecstasies revealed
You pounce on his exsertion
You splay your agile form
wriggling like a supple nymph
You accept his blatant storm
You writhe in your abandon
In a euphoric supplication
His machismo ****** enveloping
Your wildest latent needs
With no regrets or reticence
you awaken from this dream
To find yourself alone again
Like it had never been
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
I cant seem to focus lately
My minds always somewhere else
Caught in a daydream
Because i guess ignorance is more appealing to me than dealing with the day to day struggles
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 6:19 AM UTC
Translation follows
mahal kong tequila,
iniibig kita.
ako'y pinakamaligaya
kapag kasama ka.
at sa 'yong piling
ako'y nahuhumaling
walang ibang hinihiling,
wala ring nagsisinungaling.
mahal kong tequila,
mahal ka ngang talaga.
kung ika'y naging mura,
pagkain ka ng masa.
dahil sa 'yong piling
wala nang problema
calamansi at asin
ang tanging kasama.
masarap pa siguro
kung boyfriend kita.
aba, Jose Cuervo..
ang ganda pa sa mata!
*Rough translation:
My beloved tequila
I love you.
I am happiest
In your company.
In your embrace
I find extreme closeness appealing
No more requests,
No one lies.
My beloved tequila
I've paid for so dear.
If you'd have been cheaper,
The masses would cheer.
Because in your embrace
Problems are no more
Lime and salt
Are our only companions.
It would be a treat
If you'd be my boyfriend.
Hmm, Jose Cuervo..
The name fits!*
Jul 14, 2011
Jul 14, 2011 at 8:44 AM UTC
People ask me what it’s like to find women sexually attractive
Often I’m an outcast for liking the same ***
But in the lesbian world I’m an outcast for liking men too
It’s confusing really
There is no way to explain the way women are
And why they are so appealing to me
Not only is their outside appearance alluring and beautiful
But their insides are vulnerable, broken, and insecure
I like that, seeing a women shattered because of society
I like the honesty that encloses them in a blanket of insecurity
Men on the other hand
Well, they are strong and handsome on the outside
And a bit more emotional than you’d expect on the inside
There really isn’t a reason why I’m attracted to both sexes
I just am, I was born this way I suppose
I say I suppose because I am not quite sure
how the whole human nature and sexuality thing works
Men and women are both appealing
Their minds differ so much that I crave both
Call me selfish;
Because I am
I crave to know human nature in any form it comes
Man or woman, I will not judge
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC
Small talk is much more of the former than the latter,
small, definitely,
but I've rarely, ever, talked.
My favourite?
"How Are You?"
As if the true gauge of such a complex question
can be summed up in a random stop and chat.
My response?
"not bad",
or something similar no doubt,
but sometimes,
I feel like being honest...
honestly...
i feel like boo radley in a town full of atticus,
feel like i deserve no more than the back of the bus,
feel like every single word that i say,
is another cliche, just another cliche,
feel completely silent, scream with no effect,
hope to find a true meaning, it still hasn't happened yet,
feel divided, from this joke we partake in,
where every single victory, is simply, a fake win,
why is nostalgia the only feeling that's appealing?
back when inadequacies weren't worth concealing,
that's all i cherish, that's all i want now,
and instead i'm standing here, and you're wondering how...
am i?
“...How Are You?!”
when fate's gentle whisper turns into a scream,
and crashing down come all of your dreams,
a roaring tide from what once was a stream,
tell me, is everything as lost as it seems?
"when one door closes, another one opens!",
that's nonsense,
i'm staring at a one-sided peephole, hoping,
that the people that said they would help,
and forgot,
truly feel how the hell i've felt.
...that's how i am.
Jan 21, 2011
Jan 21, 2011 at 10:14 AM UTC
“Never trust a ginger”
she sings giggling looking at the red head next to me.
Her song is a pretty good representation of our friendship.
Throw in a ***** bump and some dorky dance moves
oh yea
that’s the definition of our friendship.
Laughing and dying at things no one else gets
actions no one else see’s
and mouthed words no one else understands.
That’s just a little inside view of our “love”.
“Never kiss a ginger”
It’s a little late for that don’t ya think
blackberry tea and coffee making her laugh till she dies.
Hysterics that break her down till she’s on the floor rolling
rolling down a hill and being so dizzy she can’t get up.
Oh but she’s a monster that chases you around
trying to tackle you to the ground.
Falling off the playground rail and hitting her head
just like in our story
so she lays there laughing hysterically.
All I can do is shake my head
“Never kiss a ginger…twice”
yea that’s a little better.
he won’t be telling my slightly stunned, amazed face its cute again.
The face we later joked about
mouth dropped to the floor
eyes wide.
Like did that seriously just happen.
Our dumb and quirky reactions to everything
exaggerated, excited yeses
and happy little dances.
"Never date a ginger”
I’m not nor have I ever…
where do you get these thoughts that run through your head?
Ok I can’t say much
my mind wanders to the strangest places
and leads us to the greatest conversations.
Like cops on bikes with prisoners in baskets
leading to Mortal Instruments characters all riding one bike.
I’ve no idea where our minds get these strange ideas and imaginings.
“Never love a ginger”
I never said I love him
don’t let your mind wander
dangerous things happen when our minds wander
anywhere from dinosaurs ruling the world to death
and the things in between are sometimes worse to think about
“Never like a ginger”
OI!
with this again
I don’t I promise there’s nothing there
now please shut up.
Yes, yes I love you now please don’t attack my legs again
I really don’t feel like falling on the floor
it’s not very appealing.
Uh-oh
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 11:17 AM UTC