"chandeliers" poems
taken for granted are the hearts made of paper and string,
which hang from ceilings and chandeliers for all to see.
You're never going to believe this, but for the last few weeks
all I could think about was the thought of you and me.
Alas, you were thinking of everything but me, and
maybe that's a sign we were never meant to be,
but I'll spare you the 'I love you but you don't love me' speech
and conclude with a 'fuck you very much'
an impromptu thank you for ruining me...
and hanging my heart up for all to see...
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
The trellis of oak trees winked,
captured my soul in a spinney,
chalked whispers of free promises
breathy like a silken shawl trailing
Those wise men of old, withered
skin of bark, tall and strong, waving
their introduction. They bowed to me
in free form, in humble escapism.
Sun had stroked their warm palms,
fed them sweet sap. To my left a
stray leaf, rested amid invisibility,
caught the air train, and spiralled free.
Twizzled to the green painted rug
basking under my cotton covered feet.
Reaching out, it blew away,
I chased the freedom fields.
The brook teased it and set
sail under the woody bridge,
green from seasonal tears.
Lost sight as it spun the space
between us. The grass sprung
its beginnings in full Spring, tall in parts,
summer not yet wrapped and
ready to visit us, much less
invited to the summer ball
where shadows are ten a penny,
and sunshine bought on every
street corner. I am among spring
devoured in daffodil eiderdowns,
elbowing out the crocus, snowdrop
chandeliers. I seagull my way,
swaying in step with willow, blossoming
surprising myself, how I let go of
school day shivers, tinkering my brain
into gear for terms talking tightness,
cramming commas, fat full stops.
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 7:47 AM UTC
a future promise
a hard on like bundled gym socks
in stuffed blue jeans
a future threat
a shriveled phallus wrinkled obsolete
she remembered fondly
being beaten drum chatter
and seized like slow roasted
fall off the bone pulled pork
****** raggedy Ann
catapulted beyond Euboean heavens
ravaging scrotums Gordian ******
with her wild fiendish mouth
drinking a river of
haloed golden showers
spit and ****
in a runaway hot house of glistening pink
buttery spires
engorging her macerated orifices
half eaten radish
chocking on hordes
of big do do *****
a ****** face; cross eyed
Babylon abalone
bashed Ashly mashed
begging for
a face full of swinging *****
like caped chandeliers
trotting faint giggles
in a constellation
of ruptured arteries
and thick sparked ****
on her knees
milk glitter faced
scared with happiness
she counted one smiling bruise at a time
her badge of calamities
black and blue silhouettes
grinning invitations like party favors
without a crease of shame
her skin rapturous
spackled patchworks
bled like torrential fountains summer tide
while every body had fizzy red ice phlebotomies
and steamed through her drooling tumble pie
lust ***** totem
house of winding labyrinths
honey pumped transfusion
flush on blush
opera of tangled limbs
red pulse wedding flowers
slick ***** palace
blood tongued orchard
caressing knotted mooned
**** spill
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 2:22 PM UTC
Leaves crumble under unwashed trainers; silence
He walks along the avenue with hands in pockets,
As street lamps pave the way along the lonely avenue
A Hen Party is sighted; their noisy presence noticed
Out of nowhere a taxi rolls up, a casualty is claimed
He gazes at the midnight stars and smiles
Like a fantasy; a big bubble that hasn’t yet burst
Conversing and gentle laughter picks up at the street corner,
Whilst crowds of hipsters and young people dance and discuss
As Friday nights go; rules are meant to be broken
As this quaint little place provides an escape from it all
With its neon signs and hippy vibes,
Its bonsai trees and chandeliers
Bikes hang from the walls and flower pots roam free
He is greeted by an Ola! and a welcoming smile
A piano sounds from within, a cold breeze chills his neck
He rolls up his collar and enters; silence
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 9:33 AM UTC
I lay in the church pew
Stare at the dimly lit chandeliers
Underneath that tree
And feel a quiet calm
I am not overwhelmed
Nor am I bored
Church choir screams "Alleluia"
While babes cry for the death of our Lord
The Lord they don't know
The Lord we don't know
A wooden stick new, takes time to burn
May I be worn and used so the flame ignites quick
And burns me into ashes
For the flame does not hurt
But eases all pain
Into this quiet peace
Of this un-ending pew
And we all sing
Amen
Apr 18, 2012
Apr 18, 2012 at 10:36 PM UTC
○
Rain still falls
upon my shoulders,
green leaves slow dance
with crystal droplets
to the enchanting melody of
saturated skies singing,
spider webs wear liquid diamonds,
shimmering chandeliers swaying
like silent wind chimes on the breeze
and puddles act as mirrors
where I see my smile
as I head down a muddy path,
leaving lonely footprints behind,
walking towards the sunny day
that is you
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 9:18 AM UTC
Friday- the most promising day of all.
The beginning of the weekend, but the one day that will spark appall.
Down on Mainstreet all the girls
In their fringed dresses, pouting their foxy lips and their hair waving in short messes.
The hags frown as the winged ladies pass by- displaying their carriages a little sly.
Oh, but Jane's favourite speakeasy was 'The Back Room' down on Norfolk Street: the place where the lost creatures meet.
Tin ceilings, velvet wallpaper, plush thrones and back in that dark corner, there is the sound of low moans.
'A whiskey, neat, please' as a shadow in a tuxedo walked towards her and he whispered 'Hi,' in a sensual purr.
'Who are you?' he stirred,
'Oh, I'm Miss Doe' and he lept into the stool with a swift flow.
And the jazz trumpets married the spontaneous harmonies and the saxophone created sublime melodies.
So they sat as idle as ghouls in the dim spotlights, until Jane asked Mr Buck:
'D'you fight in the war?' And he whined 'Cambrai, Amiens and Lys' - his lips seemed a little sore.
'I'm sorry - do I know you?' His face looked as familiar as Jay to Nick. A brief pause in time at that smile.
That was the final chord to the "lick".
He drove her down to Roslyn- to his replica of Versailles and Jane looked intensely shy.
'Oh, do come in,' the desperado soughed. And she walked into the gilded palace which Cupid's presence bowed.
'I have a favour to ask of you, Miss Doe. Would you be as kind to wash away my woe?'
And as they congressed under diamond chandeliers, his comrades gathered around the bed in amorphous silhouettes; watching disgustedly.
As for Mr Buck he was an alien, skin-to-skin with a haunted beauty and Miss Doe- a labourer on duty.
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 6:32 AM UTC
Set the cheetahs on the loose
There's a thief out on the move
Underneath our legion's view
They have taken Cleopatra
Run run run, come back for my glory
Bring her back to me
Run run run, the crown of our pharaoh
The throne of our queen is empty
We'll run to the future
Shining like diamonds in a rocky world
A rocky, rocky world
Our skin like bronze and our hair like cashmere
As we march to rhythm
On the palace floor
Chandeliers inside the pyramid
Tremble from the force
Cymbals crash inside the pyramid
Voices fill up the halls
The jewel of Africa
What good is a jewel that ain't still precious?
How could you run off on me?
How could you run off on us?
You feel like God inside that gold
I found you laying down with Samson
And his full head of hair
Found my black queen Cleopatra
Bad dreams, Cleopatra
Remove her
Send the cheetahs to the tomb
Our war is over, our queen has met her doom
No more she lives no more serpent in her room
No more it has killed Cleopatra
Big sun coming strong through the motel blinds
Wake up to your girl for now, let's call her Cleopatra
I watch you fix your hair
Then put your ******* on in the mirror, Cleopatra
Then your lipstick, Cleopatra
Then your six-inch heels
Catch her
She's headed to the pyramid
She's working at the pyramid tonight
Working at the pyramid
Working at the pyramid tonight
Working at the pyramid
Working at the pyramid tonight
Working at the pyramid
Working at the pyramid tonight
Working at the pyramid
Working at the pyramid tonight
Pimping in my convos
Bubbles in my champagne
Let it be some jazz playing
Top floor motel suite twisting my cigars
Floor model TV with the VCR
Got rubies in my **** chain
Whip ain't got no gas tank
But it still got woodgrain
Got your girl working for me
Hit the strip and my bills paid
That keep my bills paid
Hit the strip and my bills paid
Keep a ***** bills paid
She's working at the pyramid tonight
You showed up after work I'm bathing your body
Touch you in places only I know
You're wet & you're warm just like our bathwater
Can we make love before you go
The way you say my name makes me feel like
I'm that *****
But I'm still unemployed
You say it's big but you take it
Ride cowgirl
But your love ain't free no more
But your love ain't free no more
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 12:23 PM UTC
✿⊰✲⊱✿
The hallway has teal arches with
high grecian columns, each with
gilded gold grapes and vines
entwined, kissed by the light of the
several crystal chandeliers.
With enormous paintings on the
pale blue walls - several key
moments captured and framed,
and age in no way diminished it's
strokes and vibrancy.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
I remember many times where
I had visited Paul and I
walked around his home,
telling me of his ancestors
achievements with a smile or a
frown on his face. "We can all
learn things from the past," he said
sadly. "And there's always things
done that we are not proud of. I
only want Luciuscemi to thrive."
"With you as King, I have no doubt
it will." I said with a smile and Paul
felt a little better.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
My feet continue to follow the
red carpet to the ball room as me
and my ladies pass many Luciuscemian
guards, all standing tall, lined up yet
all so courteous and friendly; dressed
in yellow military outfits, with red
shoulder capes. When I come upon the
end hall to the entrance of the ballroom,
I cannot help but gasp. Alive with so many
people in so many colours.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
I could see the dining hall in the far back;
lines of tables covered in coloured silks
and with many dishes: sweet, sour and
savoury, meats and vegetables, grilled fish,
glazed ham, veggie rolls and many
fine imported wines, fresh teas and
many more. Large ice sculptures of lions
and suns stand vigilant as the servants serve,
people laugh, eat and talk. Some walked out
to the balcony, some watch others dance;
long and short, this ballroom is an orchestra
for my soul.
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 6:11 PM UTC
The smell of shadow clung to our clothes like white to chandeliers,
but we walked…
we walked hand in hand, skin to skin, bone to bone.
We walked a world where our indifferent sides
were painted a shade darker than our dark sides,
a world where we spent time
as time mutually spent us,
a world
where every touch of toe upon earth
felt like the devil rearranging hell
just to accommodate our arrival.
But how could death swim in our chests
when we held forests in our hands?
So we washed our shadows in our tears
& hang them up on clothing lines,
Then with all the end in our lungs…
We run into the embrace of the sun,
Ferociously… we run.
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 3:12 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, memory loss is impossible to the sense of smell:)
ancient perfume box
left somewhere in a classic loft
opened moments in a meet
to an old of an old sweet
memory in a tape on a leash in fear
like a flashback of brief to four years
disclose the good not the sad
never the bad
already made sure to wear
on the days of happy in mere
and now the odor
smells a swift of colors
once in each while
go back a little in miles
a tickle to the nose
something out of Beethoven's ears
souvenirs the precious chandeliers
things the mind randomly chose
several pasts when my pen couldn't write
and the piano served a beam of light
in an ocean
sinking deep with no motion
escapes
from each New Year's mistake
for the lifetime spaces
of the turn from the tackling faces
pink floral promises
of better opposites
fragranced to keep a stay
afraid a glass would slip away
------ravenfeels
Aug 14, 2021
Aug 14, 2021 at 6:46 PM UTC
This cosmos, indisputably, a sheer wonder
We cannot but bow before its grandeur
To what strange terrains opens its doors
And what secrets, hidden beneath the stars
From the merciless emptiness sans light,
From the deep silence of the horrendous night,
Was heard the bang of hammers
On the anvils of eons like thundering fire crackers
Abruptly through a gas cloud burst of inexorable force
Life emerged from stardust, our energy source
This is what the exponents of Big Bang assert
Life, from cosmic egg was hatched, some others purport
No doubt, this universe is an infinite stretch of lattice
Woven in the loom through billions of years by gratis
Where myriad wonders exist in the intergalactic space
And man has been on relentless effort to trace their course
As the wheels turned and as the fires burned
Through cosmic vapor the first atom was churned
How, over the eons, life here has flourished
With man’s wisdom and efforts nourished!
Galaxies are scattered in infinite space
And our planet Earth is well balanced in place
After the day’s vigil, when the mighty sun sets
The stars invariably take over on their night shifts
Multitudinous stars glitter and twinkle, a wondrous sight
As branching chandeliers, shedding luminous light
They are gems donning the night sky with their splendor
Where meteors dash and star light dances in nebulous glare
Some extra terrestrial hand has set the Earth in tune
And everything needed to hold life is benevolently strewn
Through countless dawns and sunset
Endless generations did come and beget
Just as this universe was born, it would one day die
With all the planets, stars and starlets of the sky
Who can predict how it is going to end
With a bang or whimper, or is the end impend?
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 3:44 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
-lying on a bed with satin sheets and stacks of cash
-pastel pink lingerie and a matching pistol to go with it
-black chokers with pearl earrings
-crystal chandeliers to break
-making your girl ******
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 3:07 PM UTC
Like salt from a shaker,
she flowed into the room.
Sprinkling just a bit too much of herself.
Ruining the assumption of true flavor.
My taste for the bland is non existent
However; I need the seasoning to be just right
to taste such a delicate dish.
Nothing too over the top, but just right.
Lying on the surface, ready, waiting to be devoured.
Her mood changed when she saw that I had dropped the napkin,
Saw that I bent the fork,
dumping it next to the ice and wine.
And the waiter; that tight nosed ******
Shrugged and harrumphed his way to the kitchen,
Saying there would be no desert. No tasting this night.
She thought she had seasoned me well, and left me to bake in the chandeliers and crystal goblets of this place.
Alas, she fell short of the recipe,
Foreplay burned in an overheated oven.
Burnt to a crisp in her little black number,
and over salted in the assumption of her come hither look,
and my desire or the lack thereof.
Jan 3, 2011
Jan 3, 2011 at 8:27 AM UTC
Aesthetically tuned with the goddess
My curtains blow beauty in the small corners
The vines climb the tallest towers and I swing on chandeliers dancing, swishing, jumping high!
I reach and touch the lantern sky!
But underneath the glove lies an iron fist
With this my glittering charms turn to dusk
The attentive mind ruptures with jewels of intellect,
Standing in the light holding the glass container of justice!
My eyes come alive - I will stand against the balcony lifting the scales
The flower field of lavender petals stand next to my thoughts
The horse in the wind I seem to some, but until the end I will never stop to stand up
Watch my kingdom come
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
When you sit swinging at every blink of my eyes.
The dark circles under sing the setting moon lullabies.
Free shadows of spring sunlight, and whispers in the corridors.
” I wish to never be alone”, says the Gardener in his mother tongue.
He pulls up hope in a tin can pouring over new buds, his whistles add sweetness to my ears.
that Mynah that sits under the banyan tree, sits on it today.
And sparrows picking at raw berries, flutter as I near them.
Wet grass pins at my feet, random flowers that mysteriously grew; falling from the paradise.
Here’s to my very own forest of life & death.
For I have failed many friends, those which never came back.
Though I waited, and I wait.
The woman in my house, with rags for clothes, dead faith that lives in the cracks of her lips.
And when she walks, her bunch of keys rattle her bottle of liquor she considers hidden. Her hands that pet rotis and light stoves, escape destiny and destroy hope.
Olive shaded walls of my home, frequently fall short of peace.
The ringing of bells from the latest exhibit, the tv making up for all those who were once before.
I raise the volume from 45 to 80,
All sorts of sacred prayers surround my very being.
I devour my pancakes and drain down coffee like religion itself.
shattered chandeliers bring me patterns of floating aspirations.
Sofa’s hold me any way I Can sit, while I forge some sleep, and fool my mind.
Rested i am not.
Empty i am.
My walls are so high, i only feel free at the top.
And sometimes think I’d like to fall.
when the waters from the shore mumble to me, “don’t fall for the charades.”
I stay put and cherish all the beauty.
At least, that’s what I think it is.
A passing wind slips from my hands, parting from every inch of my spine.
I plead, “take my heart with you.”
And so,
my heart beats in my rib cage,
But never at peace or in one place.
Sep 3, 2020
Sep 3, 2020 at 2:33 AM UTC
(Should someone get inspired after reading this poem to compose one with a similar Title, at least she should have the decency to acknowledge the same!)
THE BELLY DANCER
BY RAJ NANDY
The sparkling dazzle of those chandeliers,
Transformed the night into an endless day!
And underneath its ignited glow,
The belly dancer's hips gyrated to-and-fro !
With her semi-veiled face and mesmerizing eyes ,
And the rhythmic quiver of those half-clad ******* ;
Her belly button a vortex of tantalizing desire ,
Hypnotized all those assembled guests !
In the smoke filled hall as the drinks went round ,
With eyes all glued to the central stage ;
The music echoing the Arabian Nights , -
Swept them beyond all clime and age !
The Oriental music raced their blood ,
And ignited the night with the heat of desire !
Who knows, before the night comes to an end,
They all may be consumed in that eternal fire ?!
-Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
Notes: I had painted in oil a belly dancing night scene
inside an Egyptian Cafe few years back. This poem was
composed by looking at that painting hanging on
my Study Room wall. If you like it, kindly recommend
this to your friends also. Thanks! -Raj
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 3:04 AM UTC
And like a bride when all the guests had flown –
Unto her Quarter Master, veil upraised
And corsage strewn atop her lily gown,
The ****** MOON stood humble and unphased
A boon of SUN's light nestled in her tresses,
And HEAVEN's gift, bright star-born chandeliers –
COUTURIER, The Wind, bestowed caresses –
CENTAURUS brought an honour guard of spears
The MOON, her dimples pale, her mood unblemished,
Fell silent as a petal on a flower –
Her slender frame looked ever the more diminished
And wanton as she lay upon her bower
She watched the constellations rearranging
To mark this passing day across the skies,
And full aware that things were ever changing
The MOON laid down her guard and closed her eyes.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 2:18 AM UTC
I'm
drowning
in light,
In blinding light:
Lights on cars; and buildings;
and lit up trees lining lit up streets;
Houses with sills all lined in gold
And diamond; silver glitter glued onto mould;
Street lamps; and laser pointers; and
Towers; neon lights dotted with flowers
Of plastic sun; hoardings and billboards,
With bright teeth and skin and red words
Everywhere you turn,
Telling you what you want
And never knew you wanted;
Shop windows; chandeliers;
Presents for that time of year;
Cell phone pylons with twinkling,
Bright lights on top, like Christmas trees;
Christmas trees, with stars and angels
Speckled, Frosted,
Dusted on the tops;
Disgusting glare on sunglasses,
And a smiting gaze along the arms;
Bridges and fountains with gold poured on;
Platinum bands in every size, laying all forlorn;
Bedside lamps; and taxis; and taxi stands;
Every window, but the ones
Being jumped off of;
TVs and refrigerators, opened
Thoughtlessly at night;
Screens shooting onto impassive glass
That used to be faces;
Cameras, going off in quick succession,
Quicker than you can keep up;
I'm drowning.
We are taught desire, in light,
We learn to read in light
and scarlet letters of fluorescence
We are blind,
Now that the road is paved for us,
To the light that was before.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 10:20 AM UTC
With closed eyes I see
Chandeliers swinging free
A dream
my belongings number three
Plate, spoon and aged setee.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC
Cinderella-
She left her shoe behind as she ran,
Barefoot, unthinking,
she hurried on dewy grass
towards greener lands
and castles grand,
and chandeliers radiant,
and jasmines fragrant,
Cinderella-
did you realise that the
bloom which beckons from afar,
in reality, will only hurt and jar,
the sun, the glitter, and the stars
are faces of a deceitful mirage?
Cinderella, return!
You left your shoe behind,
You left your heart behind,
You left your prince behind,
You left yourself behind,
Save them all before they go ****
It's only minutes until midnight.
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 3:53 PM UTC
Dressed in finest with diamonds and pearls,
Draped in cascading waterfall of silk and lace,
Velvety scent hovering delicate skin,
Senses heightened, a muse enters the ball.
Lights, glitters, somehow the chandeliers reflect,
The festive and jovial non caring mob on the floor,
Flirty and inviting giggles and smiles of women,
Received by the charming and engaging flock of men.
I hear a toast of welcomes and greetings.
Glasses were raised of sweet bubbly champagne.
Wishes of well-being and welcome filled the room.
Faces passed into an recognizing blur of smolder.
But the reception was a well-played sham,
The festive, a rehearsed staged scene from your screenplay,
Artists are your familiars that act on your command.
With the exclusion of the maiden muse you invited.
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 6:12 PM UTC
Falling stars make chandeliers and I wish upon each piece
To hope among a million dreams that my chances may increase
Within the creases and cracks of time as future becomes present becomes past
That you won't count me out even if you count me last
My hand, it reaches out for you like many a lover before
Closing my fragile, feeble eyes and opening my hearts door
In all and all in with the wager for a hint of you
No promise to be found in the stars or in the cosmic hue
Love is written on the blackboard of the universe
While passion's written on bed's backboard, gifting touch like verse
And as I lay in roofless rooms I look towards starlit skies
I wish for you and only you to stay eternally
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 9:08 AM UTC
Around a big glass table reflecting chandeliers
suits, oxford knotted ties, long tongues gathered
to move an anti-aircraft division across the western border
straddling two different opinions.
at dusk under the silk of darkness
the satellites zoomed in on the convoy
of green dressed camouflaged trucks,
Slinking down the back roads
under infra-red eyes six hundred kms
across the mountains
to take up new positions.
At dawn the satellites spoke to each other
and defied opinions made at the round table.
The longest tongue now hanging out
in sheer delight at operation well done, like steak!
Without discussion the satellites ordered the trucks
back to where they came from!
When the war began the anti-aircraft guns
were ready and waiting for the enemy
in the wrong location.
A flock of geese migrating from Canada to Kazakhstan
were met with missiles attracted by the metal tags
researchers had strapped around their ankles.
As the feathers settled into the waiting valley
two satellites in outer space
laughed at each others games
And switched off.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 12:49 AM UTC