"bygones" poems
Casualty: my interest fading
Once waxing moon now seen waning
And I did concede your irksome warning
And watched as the rest played out
So let bygones be gone, fallen out by the side
Of this road, worn down, still restless, keeping straight
Eyes glinting off token little bits of hospitality
Mother nature being so inclined at times
The stress so unnerving, I hardly doubt it
But tension is eased once it comes to acceptance
And I accept in full, finding time to unwind
Winding stretch of lonely road, dotted here and there by
An occasional landmark
Or a lonely tractor pulling behind it
Iron bars, old and rusted
Found in their hold
Bales of hay or
A small little pond
With a bench beside it
Holding initials carved against the grain
With a heart surrounding
As mine beats slower
At last, the sun begins going down
And the moon grows brighter
Even in its state
And my feet move faster
Though my body is withering
I feel this separation growing
As my mind takes flight and leaves me
Behind, in the twisting twilight
And alone, I walk along
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 6:31 AM UTC
Jackal in his church pants,
Bad kid with punk jams,
Cramming nonsense in his conscience,
Skateboarding prophets,
Dividing light into chambers,
Bag of **** for his neighbors,
Turned into a living demon bleeding thru the paper,
Applesauce in the inside,
A coconut shell for the front,
Pineapple knives for the slaughtering,
Right into a strawberry's gut,
He was not a normal scorned, occulting youth,
But the lore of a regretful teen plaguing the afternoons,
Till that strawberry gut cracked his coconut noggin,
And shall he rest in bygones and Hanna-Babara monsters,
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
May these cold waves be bygones,
May the crops be ripened & harvested,
May your family be full of health.
Happy Lohri to North Indians,
Happy Pongal to South Indians,
Happy Makar Sankranti to all.
Come let us all sit encircling the bonfire,
Come let us all pray by offering peanuts,
Come let us all be blessed with sunlight.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
Ah deceit, you wicked *******
creeping up uninvited, as always
no one sees you coming
none will know when you’re gone
your delicious lies stay but for an instant
and here still, you find a cue
to salt the exposed wounds.
You were never missed
your many forms, vibrant faces
the infamy and calumny
stories unchecked and forgotten
buried under the moniker of bygones.
Yet the scars remain,
deep cuts betrayal, but never fills.
The entrusted deceiver
your snake in the grass
silence is deadlier than a sharp tongue
this venom cannot drown a writhing heart
hope, kindling another tragedy
the reasons are always above par
emotions run amuck behind bars.
The tongue blackens every time
you sever the threads which bind loyalty
leaving the void to **** away the remains
into a crushing dark abyss
the face carries a smile that never fades
the heart has long since withered to naught
now, it cheats itself to bitter death.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
The trees juice swallowing
Dread-locks opening the
key to my heart
Pulling Amber Agate to the end
wishing the wagon
was my good luck hand
So helpful than my
hallucination struggling
wilderness mission
Apple abandoned Mcintosh
her computer
The thirst compelled her
So Gingerly lemon tea
4 -2 beer pockets
Four letters not to like
H-E-L-P____$$$
if you only knew abandoned hike
Imagining stew of rabbits
Four people Fast Wendy
4 meals for 4
Sahara desert burger
The Amber ghost of
two wrinkled catalyst
Did time desert me
4:44? Paralyzed list
No Star wars may the
force be with Amberlized
Quicksand lowered
water was drying
Her abandoned party
type Diva evaporated lava
Amber the corner of her lip
all pruned couldn't sing
Slenderman slumber nails and dirt
Amber people are the strange
wagon getting hurt
1- Hot it is (..)
2- Is it wrong to feel abandoned
3-Wrong being sold out to Uncle Sam
What was?
4- Was she blinded all alone S-O-S
5- SOS surrender distressed wood belong?
6- Belong to be dumped
near a wagon deadbeat song
7- Song didn't move lonely emptiness
, please help
8- Help wanted not just any sign
9- Sign was stolen and Amber rose
10- Rose so ember plain and desert storm
he gulped
11- Gulped left with one (.)
12- One far two stars bygones
13- Bygone the last line 13 I= phones
Help______
deleted numbers
Now don't disappear on me
I was abandoned too many times
The dirt and the sand stayed still
No cell phone picture to install
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 7:03 AM UTC
The levels of loneliness of a poet of longevity
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The levels of loneliness of a poet of longevity.
Have I been there today ? But it’s easy to be.
Ever heard the expression “ idle hands n devil”
Loneliness fills the empty void if you are idle
Expanding loneliness to fill that barren space
Virtual reality I know that’s not the answer
Ever watched the kids these days at play ?
Levels of loneliness expand within availability
See when spare time gathers you start to feel
Occasionally being reminded of those bygones
Friends and family you’ll not see again is real.
Let that not bring you down, try meditation.
Only then can you believe you are in control
Not giving yourself time to be at all maudlin
Each day loneliness can be kept at bay.
Loneliness is a dull sloth that can be tamed
In not letting things get to you in any way.
Not giving up to the inevitability of old age.
Even if bits keep falling off your body ev’y day
Stoop n build ‘em up again with worn fingers
So many times in life you seem to hit the rocks
Oh yes I know ,you say , “ tell me how you feel”
Feelings ? Well I’m pretty sure you’ll fill y’socks
Anyway , they all can see that you’re still real
Poets are a very special breed of person.
On a scale of one to ten I guess a nine.
Experience fills their minds to overflowing
To the point where they’ll burst or put it right
On that occasion best sit an’ write a poem
Friends can then receive it straight overnight
Love each friend you have “Without condition”
Only then can see that friendship is alright
Nothing ventured,nothing gained , a fine ideal.
God granted us the sacred power to choose
Ethereal guides stand there in our background
Vicissitudinous opportunity presents itself.
I as a poet and friend I know this to be true.
True as the nose upon a happy poets face.
Yours is the life , yours the opportunity anew.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip
November 18th 2018.
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 7:43 PM UTC
If God is the book then life would be the pages in him,
for us to study and turn to each new page of her.
There is so much paper here, but no place to start a fire.
A fire of words and dreams to chase.
Will you run with me, with feet wide awake?
Please do, and I won't be scared to bleed for you
when the time comes.
These words I have don't dream lifeless
or die in corral conversation or in a helpless blind study.
I will help you see it is in fact that God's home is make-believe
with no welcome mat to greet you. Maybe God never
learned to let bygones just be gone.
Maybe this is why you have never seen the glorious
Matriarch or heard her voice, but I bet it sounds
a lot like the space between a gunshot and a black
male's body hit by the bullet right before the screams.
Did you know this is what black feels like?
These pages feel like an eighth-grade suicide poem
written because it is solely triggered by life, and
since life is so freaking triggering and our only
real competition, then I will write words that are
weapons. I will write real-life pages of myself,
that is more jazz than blues, more biggie than Pac
more Prince than Michael. I will write myself out
this padded room call earth, because after all heroes
can dream too, and our thirst can become hunger and quickly
I learned to eat my own words and breathe in endless
possibility in a world where breathing is no longer a privilege
Just a means to be necessary.
Jesus! I got a life with no religion and still, I manage to turn
doubt into rhinestones right along with these pages
of myself. I will turn page after page as if I were Jesus turning the other cheek, and like Jesus, I can take all my
dislikes and burdens and turn the into sunsets. I will teach
my pain to laugh. Ignorance is not bliss, it is kind. It teaches
us to look deep inside of ourselves to see the word of God,
and I have seen it, I have seen I am half human and half star
and my DNA is all angelic. God wrote his first poem in blood right here on Earth. Her pen never felt writer's block. He never suffered inside the ink. Do you know the difference between God and everyone else? She never starts emotional fires to burn pages of himself and herself as we do.
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 10:31 AM UTC
The trouble with writing a
relationship through technology
is that the bygones are never gone.
Why do I pour a drink in your absence
and settle to re-read our old fights, heartbreaks
like *********** lips parted, heart racing?
I shudder through those weeks where you petted me, darling
but could scarcely afford to feed me the same heart
being doggedly masticated in the maw of another
I trace over my retinas the lines where you didn't,
wouldn't, couldn't love me, they scan me
for my identity.
My mug shot, beside
hers.
After how little it meant, how can you possibly love me now?
I could edit these now, you know, you're able to do that.
Everything I wish I had been and said.
The pages left blank, I should've painted red.
In the spaces, hiatuses, I recall your ill-suited suitors
I can't tell whether I feel grief, jealousy, or ecstasy.
At the time, you know, it was like falling upon
The Secret Garden
unbefouled by poison nor passion
to inhale the heady scent of white rose
and discover the brim of someone else's hat beneath the foliage.
The place wasn't secret. Oh, it wasn't mine. Never ever was mine.
I'm ahead of myself. Oh, for want of technology.
We courted on Facebook and Gmail,
it was a convenient torture, given the circumstances.
Now my mate belongs where I do.
Loving, tenderly, wisely true.
I cannot start loading the page for the future
so much as delete our archive,
a prelude to love
written in diminished chords,
sung by the jilted and ghosts.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 1:00 AM UTC
*Don't make me laugh
Your not in love with me
Let me tell you why
It's just your fantasy
Cause this is not love
You surely are mistaken
You've never felt love
or anything close to it
Cause you never had
love to under stand
You were too busy with pleasing
Standing up to expectations
Trying to fit a larger than life figure
Chasing dreams that were impossible
You drove yourself harder
Hoping that somehow you'd make up for the affection you did not receive.
Your running on empty
And empty is all you can give.
Love is not keeping yourself bottled
And taking flight for the smallest threat.
To your grandiosity.
Love is not sending cryptic clues
Trying to gauge responses
Love is not in hiding
But in making itself felt
Love's presence is silent
Yet the warmth radiates.
So I have nothing to expect from you.
Your tethering is not astonishing
I can understand the see-saw you feel inside.
An emotional wave you fear to ride.
So it's best we let bygones be what they are meant to be.
Don't start the process all over.
Try not to kindle the spark
Cause the fires have blown over.
I've healed myself, of the emptiness you've left behind.
I am not turning back this time.
My resolve is deep, my mind made up.
I have promises made to myself.
To live a full life and always be content.
So, heads up I walk into my future
Closing the door of my past.
Letting go of the riddle of a relationship
And leaving the hurt behind.
You are now a closed chapter.
The book I could not complete.*
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 9:21 AM UTC
I want to cry in a scarlet robe
A vestment of my own demise
I want to trickle into tears
My soul drip out right through my eyes
To empty out into the streets
This body that was never grand
And flow away with ***** rain
And stain the mother earth and land
An uneventful, empty death
A toast to all my useless life
The sting of nothingness quite felt
For nothing wields a lonely knife
Goodbyes bygones from other days
I was a lie that came and went
When life and death were cards to cheat
And not dull guests at the main event
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 2:33 AM UTC
I never said I loved you, John:
Why will you tease me day by day,
And wax a weariness to think upon
With always "do" and "pray"?
You know I never loved you, John;
No fault of mine made me your toast:
Why will you haunt me with a face as wan
As shows an hour-old ghost?
I dare say Meg or Moll would take
Pity upon you, if you'd ask:
And pray don't remain single for my sake
Who can't perform that task.
I have no heart?--Perhaps I have not;
But then you're mad to take offence
That I don't give you what I have not got:
Use your own common sense.
Let bygones be bygones:
Don't call me false, who owed not to be true:
I'd rather answer "No" to fifty Johns
Than answer "Yes" to you.
Let's mar our pleasant days no more,
Song-birds of passage, days of youth:
Catch at today, forget the days before:
I'll wink at your untruth.
Let us strike hands as hearty friends;
No more, no less; and friendship's good:
Only don't keep in view ulterior ends,
And points not understood
In open treaty. Rise above
Quibbles and shuffling off and on:
Here's friendship for you if you like; but love,
No, thank you, John.
3.1k
With so many resentments built up in your soul
You cannot be released from your past
Holding them inside burns a hole in your spirit
While your spirit is burning up fast
Are you so sure that the resentment you hold
Is not just an endless excuse
To not face the music of your own mistakes
Perhaps it is time for the truth
Often it is wise to let the past be the past
And bygones be what they are
But if the fire of resentment is out of control
Look inside first, do not look afar
You will find that which you hold
Can be released by making amends
It is never to late to say I am sorry
Bringing the fire of resentment to an end
Apr 17, 2010
Apr 17, 2010 at 5:06 PM UTC
I have a vision and a goal
In my heart and mind,
Of a new and a great awakening;
And where the thirsty volcanoes
Shall cry our loud for blood;
And where the mountains
Shall lie flat on their faces;
And where the wise aunt
Shall rule over the jungle in wisdom;
And where the wild bamboo
Shall provide edible fruits for mankind;
And where the dark moon
Shall rule over the lights and day;
And where both the South and the West wind
Shall hold their peace indefinitely;
And where realities in nature
Shall live without principles;
And where the ****** sea
Shall boil in an unquenchable rage,
Seeking vengeance on the wicked enemy;
And where the sky shall turn red and
Shall war against the flaming earth,
Nevertheless, in all these
There shall be a mental re-birth,
We shall excel in progress and in pride,
We shall officiate our own destiny,
We shall discover our mental capabilities,
Which is the road to our common destiny.
II
Yes, I have a vision and a goal
Still in my heart and mind
Of a new and a better life,
In which all men, women and children
Of goodwill and a passion for excellence
Might be able to express themselves freely,
Without force, fear or favour,
And where life’s opportunities and times,
Might be open freely to all;
And where all mankind
Shall walk at liberty in solidarity;
And where equity and equality
Shall be our hallmark;
And where starvation, sorrow and suffering
That evil trio,
Shall be no more;
And where dedication, discipline and determination,
That just trio
Shall penetrate our souls and spirits;
And where a new start
With a just course,
Really might be possible to all,
Forgetting past failures and errors,
Nevertheless, in all these
We must let bygones be bygones
Where liberty and love is concerned,
Now is the hour of a fresh emancipation
With an honest and fair purpose.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:07 AM UTC
In a distance an emptiness echoes,
another lonesome dove's sigh
is carried away with the leaves
silence annulled by tempest gusts
as late autumn winds
belatedly lay bare the trees;
the sad song in the wind
repined for golden days
bowing sun ripened amber fields
dancing with the moment's sway
now windswept wild feathers
chase after the waning sunlight
bucking prevailing headwinds
just beneath heaven's glow
sail away! — sail away!
way up on high!
O' birds of a feather
sail away!
begone — bygones — begone
homeward bound
from north and south
on an algid heavenward flight
Jesse Stillwater ... winter solstice ... 2018
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
Sweet liars and their sugar coated lies…
Root from their heart and branch out in the skies…
Their innocent souls and deceptive eyes…
Their polished shoes and branded ties…
In the beginning they seek your attention…
The next desire is your affection…
By recital of their past and rejection…
Either from them or from other direction…
“Don’t sympathies sweetheart, I am a strong man… Okay”…
“My heart comes free with this ring and bouquet”…
“Say yes, my love, we’ll plan a holiday”…
“Let’s go shopping for your lingerie”…
The candles are lit and the dinner is served…
The charm and chivalry is observed…
His scent and accent leaves you unnerved…
He is definitely the prince you thought you deserved…
Ah! And you fall in the trap and love as well…
Dreaming of him and his tempting propel…
You talk of him and his stories you tell…
Of the vamps he dated and your own love spell …
He has your trust and you are happy high…
His kisses and touch you can’t deny…
“He loves me so much” you amplify…
You light his nights like a firefly…
Now when you feel the bygones are supplanted…
The road gets a little slanted…
When you are more often taken for granted…
His fluctuations show the doldrums are planted…
You inspect the change and the causes aligned…
And come across the love texts enshrined…
You feel shattered and maligned…
The way you are portrayed and opined…
You demotion as ex is celebrated with a raised toast…
With his new flame and he playing host…
You embrace your strength with care utmost…
His vows and love , haunting you like ghosts…
You want to cry till you paralyze…
Blaming thyself for this jeopardize…
The arduous task to analyze, summarize and self sterilize…
From these sweet liars and their sugar coated lies…
~Kathaa Kirti
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 4:25 AM UTC
Be wary, be intelligent
don't lose hope
and
don't forget
that though you
believe in death
marking the end of your
problems
and while it certainly is
the key
to your problems
it certainly isn't
Looks are deceptive
It seems, and virtually feels
as though it can lead you out of ALL
the ****** misery in your life
its kinda.. untrue..
because after you die..
you are to go to the Underworld..
and please, lets not talk about it
I dont have a personal experience about it
but seriously
You will face just the same problems again
is it worth it to leave your progress right now?
You are doing great,
and death has doors
which you,
aren't required to knock on
for a while
A REALLY LONG WHILE
so please, enjoy the season of christmas
meet people under mistletoe
yes, I am serious about that
and live
and see the brighter side of things
and also watch Sherlock
season 3..
I like that show,
you will too
Just live and let bygones
be bygones
If this is too cliche
well..
Sorry about it.
I am trying to convey a point
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
Routinely lark, though this day depth therein
bemused as why the warbling fluter turned
instilled and sung laments, residing within
and perched unkind; that brittler branches - spurned.
Melodic angst has never sprung so dim
and tunes of fathomed trebles; parted love?
Perchance the ballad pours a swansong hymn;
and from aloft the skies - returns a dove.
If song an' bird be taken dazed with stars
beliefs contort and bowing strings apart
nor stealth be known as fervent dwells the scars,
though bleak the lust for any other heart.
O' feathered, pennate cherub play her whim!
Remain upon the sill and bygones swim.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 1:33 PM UTC
The Cannibal’s dream and the inverse conclusion
Twist of the seam, sunken scattered illusion
Shouts of the spy fastened tight to the pylon
Sacrifice sweating; bygones can’t just be bygones
Mustard gas moans, whip lashed in the fire
Cunning glass masters burned alive at the pyre
Miscarriage minister delivers the sponge-bath
Alive at the eve of divination, the wrath
Blasphemous cries vindicate putrid powder
Sweet crystal cradling, swaddling sheets on the shrouder
Arcane sessions in the cavern deep
Turbulently righteous ideas to reap
Divine purification at an alchemy flame
A zenith of nostrums, bad medicine, blame
Strip off the layers and chant benediction
A hand, from the mind, reaching out for conviction
Sharp swords of lead, heavy, shifting to gold
Sentient beings search for truth to behold
Excavate, deviate, a stranger to demonstrate
Colloquial séance with panic to elevate
Head leads body, a path of insurrection
The soul and the mind at war for correction
The crotches of branches, slits of the eyes
A crevasse of lonesome; wedged in, we writhe
Anticipating the sting that comes with the change
Of transforming the cave into a mountain range
Jul 14, 2012
Jul 14, 2012 at 1:04 PM UTC
insomniac
tangible darkness
let me take a picture of you
paint you on the wall
scribble your name on waters
in your naked form
bend you, so no one else
knows you but me, alone
insomniac darkness — tell me
my muse, let me taste you,
bewildering, like arrows in disarray
and white birds
surreal as falling seraphs and forked tongues
moist darkness
what is sulking inside you must submerge
with manta rays hemmed in circles long ago
curled horns probing, testing bygones,
frozen dawn condensing my azure dreams ashore
Jul 4, 2021
Jul 4, 2021 at 3:08 PM UTC
"I'm walking away,
I'm starting a new.
You could of came with me
but that was on you.
I'll find a new world full of colors.
New memories, new smiles.
One foot after the other,
let bygones be bygones.
You were a beautiful soul,
gave me so much magic & knowledge.
So I'm at peace now with kissing you goodbye.
I'll take the lessons yout gave me & craft a boat that will take me to new heights.
I'll love yout forever but at a distance it's fine.
I'll take back my bruised heart & stich it up with time.
The last grain of sand in my hourglass has fell.
So I was slowly walk away with a heavy heart.
I'm pushing myself forward.
It's a start.
This must have been what you wanted all along,
to drift away & become strangers to one another..to forget the magic I felt.
Goodbye."
Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 3:53 PM UTC
When you feel taken for granted
thinkin' they just don't care
wanting to move away again,
but again, you don't know where
burned-out, tired of trying
to be all the bossman wants
to be everything to everyone,
reading in between the fonts
We who sit beside you
in the office and the stall
who sing along, the same old song,
while you stand and take the fall
in a cubicle, with mistletoe,
this lonesome caroler hums
it's all benign,
please don't resign
before the yule tide comes
Want to see you here on Christmas
don't leave us all alone
want to hear you 'woe ** ho' again
so don't slam down the phone
don't make that snap decision
when the pressure starts to build
just let the steam out somewhere else
and let your heart be filled...
with joy
At the meeting, you suggested
wrap the garland and a bow
and all the trimmings, here and there
around whose neck, we know
the one about the lighting
the star atop her head
and now the head of operations,
wants to move you to the shed.
They just don't understand you,
your work is so complex
you didn't sign his Christmas card
but the boss still signs your checks
so don't be rash, just try to hash it out
and make a deal,
and let bygones be gone
before the office Christmas meal.
Want to see you here on Christmas
please don't leave us all alone
want to hear you 'woe ** ho' again
so don't slam down the phone
and don't make that snap decision
when the pressure starts to build
just let the steam out somewhere else
and let your heart be filled...
with joy
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 8:29 PM UTC
By Arcassin B & wolf spirit
WS: little eyes, what do you see
reflections of what we're meant to be
i'm looking at you, you're looking at me
but do you really, truly see?
what lives within the heart of me?
AB: little eyes, tell me is it me,
Directions in what you choose will be
The vision is clear, glancing at my face,
Do you invest all your time in empathy?
should I give you a chance to be free?
WS: little eyes..how large is your world
do you look to me to see your dreams unfurled?
i look at you with tired eyes
open to prospect and sweet surprise
looking into your little eyes
AB: little eyes, wont you tell me your name,
Receptive to your realities of this place
Staring at a bunch of leaves,
What in the can you retrieve and believe,
Watching as the world dies
WS: little eyes, how much do you see?
do you reach within to the soul of me?
can we make bygones into goodbyes
languid, restful in these little eyes?
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 2:17 AM UTC
A lips that touch like an angel
Speaks so heavenly towards me
If a thousand of shooting stars would fall
I would then write all of it in my poetry
Hail the angel of mercy
It fly by my shoulder and set me free!
It was never my intention to fall in love in a passionate way
But he makes me feel so special what else can i say?
I am human yes i am!
i am stronger than i had never been..this is what i am..
My life once been in a constant misery
I had never felt contentment never been so happy..
If its wrong then you can cut the life in me
If its a sin then who are you to judge me?
I only did what i think for me is best
I only did what makes me happy atleast..
Been in my cave for a long time
My best of friend is this ****** bottle of wine
All i want now is to be free
To live my life not on lies but all in all honesty!
Loyalty, that is the word
I once made it my principle and now it seems absurd!
To be in love means you have to suffer?
But what if, if it makes you feel better?
I am human yes i am!
I am not afraid to love and get hurt
For EVEN love broughts you a thousand needles
I will take that needles
I rather be strong walking forward than be a wussy and being idle..
Point your finger at me, judge me!
what wrong have i done besides choosing to be merry?
Rather than be the slave of my own misery
Its my ****** life just set me free!
I rather choose to be the master of my own self
Than to be a stranger now of what i felt
yes i am human i am!
Now accept the truth and let bygones be bygone..
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
The hardest thing about closing the door is
watching the silver lining drift to the floor,
ground to dust and swept under the rug,
floors are much quicker to let bygones be.
The hardest thing about closing the door is
the screech of hinges boring through skull
like worried whispers heard before that
made the iron oxidize.
The hardest thing is clicking the lock
and seeing both keys on the table top,
then clicking your heels
but you're already home,
just seeing how empty
it is on your own.
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC