"arrowed" poems
Deceived me not with your whims,
Act not as if you are a rainbow
to save me from my grim.
But yes, may be you are,
Because like the rainbow,
where are you when my heart
is heavily arrowed by rains?
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 2:53 PM UTC
In her dream, a cataract torrent
Crashes to effervescence,
Force and verve, vivacious apparent,
Shoots arrowed iridescence.
In reality, a rivulet meanders,
Blind to mountain, fountain and fell,
Downhill she flows, barely seen,
Pebbles 'n stones part of her scene.
Here she circumvents boulder and rock,
There gives way to shout and shock,
Hiding her head between her knees
She longs to lose herself in the seas.
I knelt down close to hear her cries,
Allowed her tears wash over my eyes,
Caressed her soft water with my hand,
Sprinkled her sweetness o'er the land.
'Sweet stream', I whisper'd, 'The waterfall you dream,
Lives through its awful roar ‘n terror,
But life lives not in its awesome scream,
Life lives not in its horror.'
'Without you, doe could not parch their thirst,
Frogs would not breed or dippers immerse.
Heavenly daughter, jeweled traverse,
One silent ripple is an angel's universe.’
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 8:12 AM UTC
It's well even in the land of well..
It's well even in the kingdom of well ..
It's all garbage in garbage out all from garbage . Just like the name, the thoughts of many are, like in most.. it's garbage to those in the same vibration but below exceptions makes it seem godly and magnificent.
I wish.
I understood.
things, words, language the fingers scribes some times...
Trying to make sense but making nonsense, ha, I get it, sense takes one third of nonsense,
twisted for the disabled.
It's just too twisted for the disabled but not for the ables.
Twisted.......
Books..
Twisted..
Poems...
Twisted....
Believes.
Twisted...
Unending....
Twisted scientists making clones..
Twister...
Imagination...
Twisted..
Flexibility...
Twisted..
So they say...
Anxious..
So they feel..
Unbearable.
So they remain...
Twisted it is and twisted it will be..
Cause, it's believed that twisted is for the unbeing..
It's the outwordly.
It's the unreal..
Few escapes, the fews that grasp twisted and make it a friend and a guardian..
A partner and a mentor...
Hence they sleep with twisted..
Pray with twisted..
Worship twisted..
Eat with twisted..
Eats twisted..
Marry twisted..
Bond twisted
And starts delivering twisted babies.. everything rolls down with the understanding of twisted..
Never could end this infinite theorem.. cause the source is twisted and twisted is goodness and goodness is in all but all isn't in goodness...
Even fates are twisted..
Cause our fates are being changed in per second not discovered yet but now or soon..
By the
Steps taken...
Choices made...
Thoughts expressed.
Thoughts conceived..
Conceived, oh, I remember a line in one of the forgeten books of agony..
Agony in processes.
Agony in delivery..
Once again twisted it is.
Sense is one third of nonsense..
Wakeup...
Days are very slim here and nights are very colossal..
So awaken and prepare, for the rainy days might seem no end.
Drought might be handy.
Sorrow might be arrowed through the heart.
Preparedness toughens and Patience exonerate..
Patience can be twisted with weakness, it's okay, Patience is weakness to the extent that weakness compels strength....
That's the TWIST..
Many fight to distance weakness yet run after strength but never realize that strength is the shadow to weakness.
Shoma morita's..
Embrace with..
Accept it..
Adopt it..
But never tolerate it from the weak..
Else excuses will be made from it.
Procrastination will be fashioned.
And discouragement will be manifested..
Manifestation..
The resulting culmination of things..
Things precipitated by TWISTED...
Now Wakeup.
It's well even in the land of well..
It's well even in the kingdom of well ..
It's all garbage in garbage out all from garbage . Just like the name, the thoughts of many are, like in most.. it's garbage to those in the same vibration but below exceptions makes it seem godly and magnificent.
I wish.
I understood the things, words, language the fingers scribes some times...
Trying to make sense but making nonsense, ha, I get it, sense takes one third of nonsense,
twisted for the disabled.
It's just too twisted for the disabled but not for the ables.
Twisted.......
Books..
Twisted..
Poems...
Twisted....
Believes.
Twisted...
Unending....
Twisted scientists making clones..
Twister...
Imagination...
Twisted..
Flexibility...
Twisted..
So they say...
Anxious..
So they feel..
Unbearable.
So they remain...
Twisted it is and twisted it will be..
Cause, it's believed that twisted is for the unbeing..
Is the outwordly.
Is the unreal..
Escapes.
Few escapes, the fews that grasp twisted and make it a friend and a guardian..
A partner and a mentor...
Hence they sleep with twisted..
Pray with twisted..
Worship twisted..
Eat with twisted..
Eats twisted..
Marry twisted..
Bond twisted
And starts delivering twisted babies.. everything rolls down with the understanding of twisted..
Never could end this infinite theorem.. cause the source is twisted and twisted is goodness and goodness is in all but all isn't in goodness...
Even fates are twisted..
Cause our fates are being changed in per second not discovered yet but now or soon..
By
Steps taken...
Choices made...
Thoughts expressed.
Thoughts conceived..
Conceived, oh, I remember a line in one of the forgeten books of agony..
Agony in processes.
Agony in delivery..
Once again twisted it is.
Sense is one third of nonsense..
Wakeup...
Days are very slim here and nights are very colossal..
So awaken and prepare, for the rainy days might seem no end.
Drought might be handy.
Sorrow might be arrowed through the heart.
Preparedness toughens and Patience exonerate..
Patience can be twisted with weakness, it's okay, Patience is weakness to the extent that weakness compels strength....
That's the TWIST..
Many fight to distance weakness yet run after strength but never realize that strength is the shadow to weakness.
Shoma morita's..
Embrace with..
Accept it..
Adopt it..
But never tolerate it from the weak..
Else, excuses will be made from it.
Procrastination will be fashioned.
And discouragement will be manifested..
Manifestation..
The resulting culmination of things..
Things precipitated by TWISTED...
Now Wakeup.
Jul 10, 2023
Jul 10, 2023 at 5:43 PM UTC
When words fail and the song dies in your soul
The soft cushion weighs heavy, threadbare, when
Dust invites the attic attack to the last memory stroll
A fretful protest march accompanying the wood grained heart
You noticed the space in short supply, with tight breath, the
Expert bargaining skills have begun, bypassing
The weak hearts, those that are still journeying
Their healing held up in tight palms of moistoned skin
And the slide into another day begins, dreadfully
With arched pain barriers drumming their morning
Beat. Occupational hazard was on the rampage
Cracking skull caps from their skinned residence
I shone a light into the acute grey tone of those
Hearts, those whose shapes lost conviction as the light
Shot arrowed tongues from the deaf interiors of wise men
Out on the town of feeble failings, they held nothing as their companion
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 7:15 AM UTC
Roar Bean Got
Chosen
Sipping on taste
never forgotten
So miraculous power
rising.
Been told so
Boldly,
her uniqueness
Only it's mode of
attachment
Sips up on you like a
Goddess
in fragments
Her spell of the blend,
Coffee lips he was sold
kissed her hand
Mystical bow
Thought's love-arrowed
Through "Hearts" Wowed
All her poem's
Quick thinking
The (Quickie) hour?
Coffee lips ******* the
tower money showered
Home-body
Coffee__steamy
he raided my book
Crystal ball showed me,
"Everyone"
Oh! my he dated
(Holy-Coffee)
My Ego got inflated
Digging gold dreamily
Flower Lily mated and
seeded
Please "Lips" dream on
Opening up the invitation
Coffee? Me or You
Masquerade flower's brocade
Spellbound red poppy I fooled you
Coffee says cheesecake
Mystical play awake
Chosen One Bean
Clean Godly-scent
Cat nine rumor years.
coffee live's pretend
Million in one tear's
gallivant super stirred
Small World Cafe
Big University Princeton NJ.
Mister Mystical laptop taking
a sip New Jersey
The kaleidoscope Blueberry
Go Girl Godiva-raspberry
Coffee lip me
Not over my lip's
He takes another sip
Carmello, He's the
good fellow
Italian mob cappuccino
Leave the Cannoli
Take the gun movie set
"Tarantino"
Here's his handle I'm his
Secret Gun-it lips
I told you
my secret Streaming
play scout
The smell of his aura cup
In his eye's only James
No games just coffee?
Bonds
What about me?
Her chosen bean
Luna blue blueberry
His sugar flight
"Shimmering Chandeliers"
Hello musketeer's fight
Mystical Coffee well suited
BMW car's
Wedding Bellringer
We are destined to star is born
Judy my Mom the singer.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 9:44 AM UTC
Get
Priorities
Right
Like an arrow aiming for a dart board -------------------------->>>>>>
Like a summer changing to autumn >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>------>
Like a sparrow soaring to an empty nest ------------------------>>>>>
Get
Priorities
Right
As you do when you stare at a beautiful woman --------------->>>>>
As the coffee beans diffuses in boiling eager waters------------>>>>>
As a secret garden that houses the priced earth----------------->>>>>
Get
Priorities
Right
As the chills smiles when the cloud are blue and vague-------->>>>>
As often as the million miles that separate diverse souls------->>>>>
As Mary Jane treats her man on a fine Sunday afternoon------>>>>>
Get
Priorities------------- * Don't mess it up!
Right
Like when George got acquainted with the masseur---------->>>>>
Like when you were trampled for showing empathy --------->>>>>
*Like when you sunk in the ***** swamps for letting go*------>>>>>
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 11:11 AM UTC
Catch the motes of dust in light
To feel the threads of time suspend,
In serenade of life’s allure
Where precious moments never end.
Silver tears run down the cheek
In swift departures curled embrace,
Poingnancy for moments few
Of entwined limbs and whiskered face.
Separations loneliness
In gnawing of the very soul,
The wish for time to dissipate
To make the separate halves a whole.
Anticipation’s rawness now
Throws arrowed light to early shroud,
The eagerness to touch and kiss
Brings clear blue sky to morning cloud.
Rationalize the wonderment
Of slender fingers through your hair,
In fantasy of sheer delight
Her silhouette reflected there.
Hold the tantalizing heat
Of tender fires of passion bound
In throngs of longing, deeply felt,
Within the belly’s tufted mound
Exhaustion in the tangled sheet
As bands of sunlight kiss your hair,
Gently now, in drifted sleep
And gales of pleasure fill the air.
Catch the motes of dust in light
To feel the threads of time suspend
In serenade of life’s allure
Where precious moments never end.
Marshalg
Victoria Park tunnel
Auckland
24 July 2010
Jul 23, 2010
Jul 23, 2010 at 12:27 PM UTC
Lincoln green robin
hoodwinking the
greedy rich
Feeding the poor
robin red breast
flaunting credentials
robbing the lady
marion
the little birds of their
flimsy
filmy honor
Little boy little
man-child john
little mowgli
conquering the jungle
conquering the tiger
riding imperious
the stark grey brown elephant
And backscratching bear
sleeping in the greensward
dancing with milady
tucking into supper of
fast arrowed stag
Hung out and dried
between devil trees
and huts afire
Across the brittle
yellow beach into
the deep blue sea
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 9:05 AM UTC
Under the kissing tree
Is where we meet
My love
Forever written
Lettered in gold
Arrowed be our heart
One kiss
Sweetheart's
Under the kissing tree
Our place to hide
Amongst weeping bows
Long kiss good night's
So young in our days
We sit
We lay
Watching shiny stars
Under the kissing tree
Where I spoke for tomorrow
Said words like
I love you
Fell on bended knee
My love
Come
Marry me
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 12:23 AM UTC
like some jealous future self,
my writer's clock balks at this moment with you,
i can't explain, so i give up listening. (i have an app for that)
the writing only stops as degustation ends ~
thank you, though ~ i'd like you to hear
regardless of the meanings lent ~
the gymnolexical fear
appearing ornamental far and near.
google files us away, omniscient
acumen of o's and ones ~
words sing to me their luring promise of a lasting hold,
but less and less
as plastic griming fingers sync
with what it seems to be,
a new world search-
-engine culling info freely
do i still believe in order?
striving for the fitted words,
a love imprinted input thus on crystal pixel page,
your effect on me distilled--
refracted throng associational
fantastic server metacomfort
for an audience
swimming past into this,
now always
ever-new you appear, bursting
at the seams my vision churning
...effluent sourcing, blurry self of others ~
heart-charming river-nymphs!
bolt-hurling sky-satyrs! reeling nations are subtended by your words
that walk, trod, swim across what poetry,
dance with this ever-blooming techne-earth
as i mark your plasmic eyes
we flow and let flow,
we dance our farmer's mud
into the beryl-winding paths
of othernets and cyberplay,
the restful ends reborn bright white
lacing lattice-scopic fibrous
scatters of another wi-fi interlife ~
we stream and let stream,
river-tress girl, your eyes summon
a great coalescence in me,
we dance into the channeled
delta of spring beauty here across the keyboard;
it cascades a slow attentive phosphene
striking pointed notes of color,
ring beneath and through the
green, sylvan silicon throw of mossy html
so that even rocks and sprawling
tree-trunks sing within the disembodied
vortexes of arrowed imagery to browse
my virtual belongings to you,
alone in your sorrow-joy fighting
free love in an all-world-breath
before the screen
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 11:40 PM UTC
White roses
She arrowed through
His unsuspecting heart
Bloomed gardens.
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 3:55 PM UTC
I am a Woman:
My skin melted in moonlight into grim of the darkness of night,
My hair sewed a meadow’s wildflowers,
That's how a woman created in me'
with blood divine,
I am a woman' strong and at the same time soft,
I am more like a pure wine of heaven,
Through dew, the spark of life arrowed in,
Giving birth to the wildwood adored skin,
Delphinium vivid petals of spring late,
With flagrant red roses; coloring my lips,
My eyes carry the dreams of poetry,
hopes of songs,
and music of joy,
An existence where I would live with pure me,
Where I would dance with my **** truths,
Play the drama of mystery,
And audience and stage all are for me,
Gathered to listen to me,
To see me play all drama and dance in between of drama,
I wrought the hair of my drenched in the psalm,
Enchanting with dark godly melodies of mine,
Braiding light with sorrows that, there, were.
The breeze from the voided air,
To embroider something, while reciting a prayer,
And dizzily, I fabricated a soul for the mud,
I inhaled, in awe and feel the life,
I am the words in a poem, ready to rhyme,
Yes, I am a woman,
Enough to feel the entire universe within the word of Woman,
My light reflected on my broken pieces,
The rays shaped a tree of wicked caprices,
Where my fantasies grow,
However, I am my own little beautiful creation,
And this reality is my hunger’s innovation.
The reality we all share,
Yet what deep is, makes my reality whole.
Mar 18, 2022
Mar 18, 2022 at 3:33 PM UTC
She rises at dawn, chilled
by the lost embrace
of her sleeping pills, brushes
summer's blown ashes
with the shuffle of footsteps
on old stone floors.
She thaws her hands
around a coffee cup,
sits at her desk,
******** Ariel arrowed from
yesterday's tide hoof-printing
ocean waves jetting barnacles
telephone wires a man's black boot
routing them through
cold English mornings,
a gold Sheaffer pen.
Words seep
across the page,
trail toxins of grief.
Light edges
between churchyard yews,
fingertips the curtains.
A thumb's worth
of breast-milk
stains her nightgown.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 1:15 PM UTC
The countless nights of being taken ever so uncomfortably,
fogging up the windows drawing cheesy arrows
stuck through hearts with our initials
in the condensation of our ****** tension.
Unfulfilling menaje tois cuts right through any arrowed hearts.
Sat dripping blood and juice,
"Don't get it on the fabrics...I'll come back with a towel."
You said.
I sat there
in too deep.
Staring at the bag of thrift shop,
sports flags,
my blood dripping from my fingers
to my thighs,
in your backseat.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 10:52 AM UTC
this very fall reckoned
everything loses its meaning under the
strain of redundancy.
I know this to be a perfect truth
but I still revel
in the images I keep sacred behind my eyes,
with all my autumns boiled down (a bare bone),
to a single one for me
that was warm crisp and altogether virginal-
my last one, as long as I live
for it is replayed as each monarch rests in my sight
and with each bird arrowed south-
and I tongue things spiced to remember
so I can go down with memory’s ship
willingly with collapsed and stunted lungs
tenderly warping it into something it never was
bleeding it dry of auburn reds and gold,
my attempts at keeping myself loved-
young.
but now what do those moments mean?
there have been many falls since that one,
nothing but I love yous on walls-
played back so many many times,
like warped vhs, warbling and clipping
the inherent meaning gone or completely scrambled.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 1:00 PM UTC
1431
poems in ye old inbox,
genteel knocking,
whispering thru stolid front door
love me a little lot,
little lot, love me?
this is not mere work product,
collegial-laid upon me for gentle shared, for pre-review,
Nottingham Forest arrowed, bow shaped
pithy comments,
these are the holy-of-the-holies
attention-me-crystal-cries,
prayers, wry observations, nature collations,
me and thee adorations, heart rendering
screams of need,
these are the moments in your life
raw-roughened gifted or threaded smooth cursed,
but tendered unto my caring.
(an aside:
perhaps you understand better now
why woman-in-the-moon imagery,
red bowed, grapefruit tasting hearts,
all the lovelies, word shape shifts a/k/a
Imagery
language delights!
but time-using, confusingly confuses,
and has been erased from my own poetry frame)
gnawing doubt me routs,
god gave me humans,
and gave them speech,
to bring me
closer to him
thru them.
somewhere in those 1431 essays of labor,
dashed off, handcrafted, pithy or poor,
just might be the one
justification for my opening my eyes
this poetry someday Sunday sun-day.
put the cofe on
(saving letters, saving time,
deleting unnecessary e's
from my life till when I am dying on
all-on-that desperate
e-n-ee-dy day).
loaded my shotgun heart with
loves and likes,
yellow thunderbolt bullets firing,
and considered yourself
notified
I'm a-coming over,
shoes on the cofe table,
breaking taboo's
gonna read 1431
and when dining done,
gonna pay attention to my muse,
my woman, cause she is the
original e,
that provides the raw materials,
in ye old nat-box,
that lets me love ever one of them,
she is the e
in me
and me will be in you,
starting now.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 6:57 AM UTC
Everything
Trips to a slow melody
The glass’d out kids
Magician away their keys
I’m lying on the floor
In a backwards dream
Fragmented, distant
Reaching 4 me
The beauty
Of love & disappointment
Couch cushions sprawled all Over the empty room of empty kids and lost hero’s singing through a tube
Somewhere along the way we stopped being young
& all this fun turns to stupid self annihilation
& my burnt out friends pass like clouds & evaporate
Jan 2, 2010
Jan 2, 2010 at 7:55 PM UTC
" different from the first one. "
her fingers are glossy.
glossssssseeee
glossing. n
classy. i stand gazing.
like uh, a primitive, eye
she tells me their sensitive
and i believe her. because I
am quite the gullible guy
for sweet.. pretty..
cute.
.innocent. looking
things
ZAM.
she magnetically slapssss
and caresses the back of my dome.
tap tap... tap
' hmm a heavy stone, '
tap tap... tap
'it has a lot of content'... tap
tap tap .'oh'. tap tap tap
.
.
...
She begins her
journey
from the top of my head
slowly…
tippy toeing
down….
My
body
moving
her fragile nails
Like a
rehearsed fantasy..
she's been wanting
to do.
she closes in
and rests her
index finger
across my neck like a
scythe shape sun....
she approaches breathes.
in...and... whispers..
..
“What are you thinking?”
And within that.
my eyes smile.
[i don’t really know, some sort of brain activity..... ]
“I think”
[your pretty, inside, outside,worldwide, ]
[and ]
“I think”
[_<(^.^)> <(^.^<) (>^.^<) (>^.^)>]
“nothing”
She still keeps going [ it’s a long walk…………]
down,
slowly
maneuvering
in
elegant
moves.
before
closing in
....again.
this time in a more arrowed position across the more pronominal areas.
‘Why are you hesitant ?'
on being religiously
silly ?."
"Like if
you dislike
the idea of
being bright?’
[because
people are ......... ]
“Wait What???"
That’s not true.
only sometimes...
lol!@#!$!.
but still
“that's so wrong
And misleading. "
but please go on”.
Sep 6, 2020
Sep 6, 2020 at 9:32 PM UTC
You linger in my minds forest like the smell of night Jasmine,
The smoking embers of our passion are there entombed,
Lumpy Charcoal feelings choking like a smokers last breath,
Winding up my wild cerebrum as if a trebuchet.
I wish my aim to be true,
To exhale Cupid as all my stupid, arrowed words unglue,
They fade to watermarks on cue.
Passing through the tapestry of our dyed dying friendship,
Before the emotionproof ark of my heart comes to rescue?
This trip is in vein, my pulse the reins of a galloping aorta
They abdicate their royal virtues my eyes
I lay marooned by your smiles and sighs and thighs
My pride preserved,
Pimentoed by the luminous unfoiling of your hips.
The bite of your ripened lips, recoil my courage like bungie cord
And your words are like spring
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 6:30 AM UTC
A golden shaft of morning sun
Threw lines of life to cirrus cloud
A flight of teal on wings of steel
Arrowed from nights flying shroud.
The gems of dew on emerald grass
Blazed crystal violet, hills of glass.
A day is born, a time to live and laugh
Feel young and happy, free as chaff
Caste in the zephyr breeze.
A tear of joy springs to my eye,
A grin, as big as life,
I fly across a meadow, leap a stream.
I’m happy for you Sue and Pete,
I celebrate with night’s retreat
The dawning of your daughter’s day
With all my soul I wish her well
Sweet happiness in life’s foray.
Bon voyage sweet Kathryn
Uncle Dadda
Hamilton
New Zealand 1969
Jan 8, 2010
Jan 8, 2010 at 8:45 AM UTC
Aligned on arrowed spine, the stance of the warrior does not stir in his thin and scaly armor. Emitting essence, breath, and a deadliness soaking his spiraled lanceolates, ridden with toxic seed, he deceives the thrushes pursuing arils. They are soon surprised by death in the guise of life. Catuvolvus, as well, cast himself away by consuming fatal seed, taken by war-pride, released by yew. The raw assassin is prepared to vanquish beast and bird, to still-battle strangers amongst his ages. And yet, he wields an ancient light. In peace, he guides departed shadows home.
Mar 13, 2011
Mar 13, 2011 at 8:23 PM UTC
Hold me, hold me captive
Keep me, keep me right
Take me to your dungeon
Torture me all night
Bleeding Casanova
Broken arrowed sight
Holding on to lovers
Damning their romance
Kick me, kick me harder
Slit it, slit my wrists
End your empty sorrows
Drinking of my blood
Let me be your whiskey
Watch this lovely flood
Hurt me until you miss me
Tie the knots too tight
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC
give me-the bowie knife of repartee,
nothing more satisfying than the
quick stabbing, a good blood letting,
in your genteel face, no hellish
moderated pace, the energetic plunge
of a quick lunge into the woebegone,
long after you count the meter tempo’d
use fingers and toes, but needing to hold
your nose, to include that extra
grace note, that belies denies the harmony
the tules and rules of calling order
to control the roost, sine-one
is a victim of a
down and virtuous ***** verbal slashing!
count my syllables, never,
let my stanzas run free,
like an African tiger,
with the goat of format
mounted in between his teeth,
bloodied and dripping dead,
the squealing of hyper innocente,
silent after cries of, kind sir,
me thinks thou protest too much!
we can squish and twist our holy words,
into formal tuxedos of cantankerous
arrowed arrogance,
but know this,
roses are read, them
violets, blue, have
turned millions of children to avert their
eyes from anything thereafter that was classified, notarized, canonized, sanctified
as the write rules of poetry
peals of pearls are born with parentage
of a lousy
grain of sand,
the words etched in the
lines upon my hand,
are lifelines of sidewalk cracks,
discarded candy wrappers,
the twisted ends cigarette butts,
used as proof that ash and dust are the
genetic source material of uncommon
great composition, given to those who
love the common touch of leaves of grass,
thstbeneath the heat of the sun that
exposes the nothingness of bitterness
know no one can run from the golden
visibility, of a sun, talent in pursuit of
egoism is a long road to a short history
yeah.
(faster than a speeding bullet)
Feb 18, 2025
Feb 18, 2025 at 3:28 AM UTC