"choc" poems
the
sky
was
can dy lu
minous
edible
spry
pinks shy
lemons
greens coo 1 choc
olate
s.
un der,
a lo
co
mo
tive s pout
ing
vi
o
lets
102.9k
picky
teaser
lota
pizza
flamingo
burnin'
gerhkin
wordin'
processing
pro
gramme
lots
a
purple
tan
tanging
tongue
tear
stupid
deer
croissant
croissant
croissant
(are you here?)
rich
and
faming
silly
daydream
little
cupid
castle
cooped
chicken
kickin'
malicious
software
(are we there?)
yet
cooky
suki
mikky
mopy
skiing
slopy
tear
out
control
shout
doubt
pout
trouble
double
choc
tim
tam
ginge
sortafairy
tail
of
a
bat
rat
smack
(should we pack?)
and
CRACK
goes
ankle
blowing
soccer
flowin'
talk
tak
no
silly
silly
silly
all these
years
(should I be crying these tears?)
hello
again
a
pen?
why
thanks
some
lunch
punch
crunch
an
ankle
swollen
ready
all
flail
fall
(?)
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 3:43 AM UTC
Floating on a stream of delicate warm milk
I gather handfuls of froth udders tepid silk.
Chilled hands collect warmth on a cold night,
Fulfilled memories of past moments do ensue.
Each one descends into foamy warm truth
I pick out the choc chips going down smooth.
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 10:44 AM UTC
I stood in line
to be weighed
in the bathroom
of the nursing home
Anne crutched herself
behind me
you haven't
got a chance in hell
of winning
that chocolate bar Kid
she said
I've seen more meat
on a butcher's pencil
stuck behind his ear
might win
I said
might fly
she said
the kid in front of me
got on
the green metal scales
and the nun
moved the weight
along the top
not you Malcolm
she said
the kid got off sulkily
I got on the scales
and the nun
moved the weight
I looked at her
black and white
headdress
her pinched features
not you Benny
she said
I got off
and walked away
Anne awkwardly
got on the scales
holding herself
on her one leg
the stump
of the other
hanging there
best so far Anne
the nun said
told you Kid
you didn't
have a chance
guess not
I said
as she crutched herself
along side of me
not to worry
if I get the choco bar
I’ll give you
a quarter for being
a good friend
no other
in this **** hole
gets a look in
we went along
to our rooms
come in Kid
she said
I hesitated
come in
I want to
ask you something
I stood swaying
uncertain
what if
one of the nuns
comes along?
what if I don't give you
quarter of the choc bar?
she said
I followed her in
to the girls dorm
no one else
was there
just she and me
she closed the door
with her backside
right Kid
I want you
to do me
a favour
favour?
I said
sensing uncertainty
hit my gut
yes I want you
to sneak along
to the kitchen tonight
and liberate
some biscuits
liberate?
I said
biscuits?
yes you know
what biscuits are
don't you
those hard things
with cream in the middle
or chocolate
on one side
I know what biscuits are
I said
but what do you mean
liberate?
take some
from the big tin
they have
on the shelf
in larder
take?
I said
you mean steal?
steal
take
liberate
whatever word
you want
to use Kid
what if I get caught?
don't get caught
but what if I do?
Anne sighed
sat on the edge
of her bed
I thought you
were someone
I could rely on Kid
not some cowardly custard
yellow belly
I looked
at her leg stump
sticking out
the other leg
reached to the floor
if you're really good
I’ll let you touch
my stump
she said
no need
I said
I'll try tonight
sneak down
after lights out
good Kid
she said
she took my right hand
and lay it
on the stump
and held it there
it felt warm
and soft
she let my hand go
good huh?
wish the rest
was there
she said
off you go
and don't get caught
I nodded
and backed out
of the room
seeing her cover
the stump
with her dress
and smile
see you
I said
you bet
she said
I walked away
thinking
of the big steal
of biscuits
unthought through
by my 10 year old brain
as yet.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC
Heaven is plain my choc biscuit
deceived me again with its ********
but it’s never enough
this addiction is tough
come away with me now and we’ll risk it
Mar 27, 2010
Mar 27, 2010 at 3:24 AM UTC
Chocolate heals,
Substitute meals,
Our new faith,
The prophet sayeth,
Chocolate heals,
Break the packet's seals,
Grow cocoa beans,
Better than ****
Choc's the new religion,
For all of us pigeons,
Good for endorphins,
Fat hips a'morphing,
So what for fat hips?
Chocolate's the blip,
Substitute meals,
Yes, chocolate heals.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 12:34 AM UTC
fifteen hundred Starbucks shuttered
by a maintenance miscue.
How will I face this morning
without their bitter brew.
Their water filter system
was due for an overhaul.
Now this forced decaffeination
has me climbing up the walls.
Where's my choc o-mocha latte,
topped with whipped cream
cooled with skim?
Without those extra calories
I'll soon be down a chin.
I miss my blonde barrista, Jill.
and her great good morning smile.
Rakeesh at Dunkin Donuts'
lacks her figure and her style.
I'm reduced to getting coffee
from a roadside hot dog stand.
why he doesn't have free WI-fi
I'm at a loss to understand.
May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 7:11 AM UTC
It hurts, it hurts more than when I ended up in hospital, I slipped from the curved metal stairs and cracked all my ribs,
You sat on the frosty steel chair and fed me warm leek soup all day, I was high and *we cracked *** jokes all through the visiting hours*.
Or when I fractured my right leg and couldn’t walk for months, you wheelchaired me to all my revered museums,
And when it rained that evening and I felt trapped and pathetic in the ****** wheelchair,
*You lifted me up and twirled me around and kissed every sore spot in my body including my terrible heart,
Till I started laughing, all giddy and intoxicated with your droplets brushed lips*
Or when I burnt my fingers while making green curry and you had to take me to infirmary,
They bandaged my fingers in bubblegum pink gauze an told me the scars would never leave and I wouldn’t be able to write or hold you for a week,
You made me churros that whole week with Swiss choc dipping and kissed all my scars away, painting vibrant swallows on them.
I loved you, so much it made me insane, but it also made me breathe. Funny, how the direction of the wind has changed.
It hurts now, more than it ever did, I stand on the steps of metropolitan museum of art and the ache in my veins magnifies,
The longing ablaze like all your plaid shirts, nirvana records and all the synthetic lilies you gave me, quoting they will never dry up, Like our love will always remain, burning on my terrace
Funny how, now I don’t believe a sentence you said.
I sing all the songs we loved for the last time, to get it all out, of my system and bleeding heart.
My lips get greedy for the praised lyrics and midnight kisses.
The rocking chair in the balcony swinging in the breezy night I hope it’s you, my eyes left disappointed at the empty gloomy sight
My heart getting accustomed to Bukowski instead of much devoured Rilke.
Sometimes in life you never understand why they left, why it ended all of a sudden?
When did you stop loving me and when all my importance vanished into thin air like you did?
Sometimes all that is left to do is accept it and move on, and that may be the seemingly impossible part.
Sometimes you just have to pour water to the vivid fire for putting gasoline was proving to be poisonous and CHOKING.
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 6:07 AM UTC
After Pamela Sutton’s “Forty”
Since when are words lost, numbers dominating?
Until today, it was vernacular, not mathematics.
All changed at 18
when numbers engulfed my life like a tsunami.
1 life.
1 drive to school, traffic on the 405, 25 minutes;
10-minute parking; first class at 8.
8 dollars per hour x 3 day work week = no shopping.
Under my parents’ life insurance,
for now.
One life.
One dream of commencement, a sea of black and gold;
students as adults, graduating, growing up,
careers: the only things that matter now.
One dream of wheeling a patient into the OR
and he grasps my hand.
One saved life.
66 specialties for a nurse.
8 stories in CHOC Hospital;
279 beds.
One goal for everyone; nurses, patients, families—
disease-free, healthy.
One hospital specializing in children;
one in Orange, thousands of facilities.
One late night in Riverside the kitchen fluorescents
slowly brings the eyes of two, one father, one daughter,
to a close.
58 notecards, handwriting messy and smudged.
12 prefixes, 37 roots, 9 suffixes.
44 years: 1 student: Dad.
The point where my future was clear.
One goal, one career,
one life.
The subtle hum of the white lights lulls us to sleep
as the room slowly darkens.
September 2013
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 1:33 AM UTC
atherien [1]
Que tu étais vive et jolie
sous les flambées très ondulées
de ta chevelure rousse,
comme un incendie en brousse.
Ardente et vive tu étais,
à soigner les corps et les maux,
de tes malades, un peu tes enfants,
dont je crois que tu n’avais pas.
Dans ton cabinet de la « rue des soupirs »,
tu ravissais des vies promises
à la Mort hideuse et cruelle
qui se vengea de cette offense.
Et pourtant ta science et ta passion
resteront inoubliées de tes malades
et ta photo de la belle naïade continue à nous charmer
dans la salle d’attente comme un diamant très pur.
Oh, jeune docteur Soleilhavoup
Comment se fait il que tu la vie t’ait été ôtée si tôt
par l’infâme camarde, hélas, de la vie toujours victorieuse ?
vielle blafarde qui hait les médecins comme autant d’obstacles à la malfaisance de sa faux.
Paul Arrighi – Toulouse – le 15-11-2008
[1] Ce poème fut commencé le 24 -01-2009, sous le choc et la douleur du décès d’une jeune doctoresse si secourables. Jamais alors je n’imaginais que, ce si jeune femme ait pu partir la première. Son décès fulgurant vient l’injustice et le chaos qui régissent le règne des maladies et l’insolent scandale des jeunes vies écourtées.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
It was the eve of my birth and within that
moment of creation I was a fallen as the echo
of my cries were thrown into the industrial
******* bin behind the old take-away.
My teen years were so lewd and contrived,
I thought I had friends, but I was like the
******* I was at birth they used me a threw
me away and again I was alone.
It was upon my tenth birthday that I had
lingered in this abyss long enough, I decided
on that day that I would greet those as I was
greeted to return those favours ten fold ,
My step-dad he was my first gift to my suffering
I introduced him to that pain as I quenched his
sight or lack of with a scuffed spoon rims shaper
than a blade I said words as he screamed.
"I will scoop singular or two, depends on your taste,
Son, please listen to me, he spoke in quivering stuttered
vocals. But I thought it delightful in laughable sniggers.
See how I saw the world, feel the occasions that converted
my emotions to what I'm debilitated to this moment now.
I scooped them out like a ice cream, I thought in this
moment of Mint choc chip, and pineapple sorbet.
Mmm the taste that was seeping from lips. But that
was the blood validating itself on my skin.
All I heard was his voice crying and it made me
regurgitate what I had consumed. It was on the
floor not tasting as it went down like victory.
I just plunged the spoon into his throat...
I didn't want to taste his life, I just wanted to
watch it seep on his white chocolate shirt. It was
like strawberry sorbet with a bitter taste as I licked
a echo of it of my hand "why did I tast it at all??
I had ended so many stains on my life, took their
eyes to show them how I felt. If I had kept them
looking like pickled eggs in a jar. Thinking if they
could still see each others moments in each others sight.
I took their eyes, so each could see how it felt for what
they put me through. I had no guilt, I just consumed
everything they saw and laid it to rest. I wasn't killing
I was just releasing their guilt and consuming it all.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 6:13 PM UTC
There came a rabbit
To inhabit
A space
In my Easter basket.
He wasn't Peter,
Or Velveteen,
But chocolate
And much sweeter.
He wasn't always
Chocolatey,
But furry,
Like the others.
But he was determined
In his drive,
To make my Easter
That much sweeter.
So he wished
Upon a star
To morph into
A rabbit bar
Of nugets,
Caramel and nuts;
And then for added
Greater taste;
He asked for drenching
In choc'late.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 1:51 AM UTC
Anne stands
on crutches
in the queue
to be weighed
by a nun
in the home
for sick kids
Skinny Kid
she whispers
to the boy
just in front
if I win
the choc bar
I'll share it
just with you
if you win
who will you
share it with?
you of course
he replies
in soft voice
other kids
up the front
fail to put
on more weight
so don't win
the choc bar
it's you now
Benedict
a nun says
Skinny Kid
stands steady
on the scales
you've put on
5 ounces
she tells him
he gets off
of the scales
and Anne
crutches up
on one leg
her stump swings
underneath
her red dress
steady now
the nun says
Anne stands
as steady
as she can
you've put on
7 ounces
the nun says
so you win
the choc bar
Anne smiles
and crutches
herself off
of the scales
the nun puts
the choc bar
in Anne's
dress pocket
let's go Kid
Anne says
and they go
out the back
on the lawn
she crutching
to the far
white table
and white chairs
with the Kid
beside her
making sure
she's ok
he pulls out
a white chair
and she sits
the Kid sits
beside her
and they share
the choc bar
between them
12 ounces
gained in weight
between them.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 2:35 PM UTC
Couchers de Soleil sur la Comtale
ou un vaisseau sur la ville
Il est en Toulouse, le soir
comme un vaste vaisseau fantôme
Jetant sa proue sur le canal
et filant droit sur le cap Saint-Sernin,
c'est la Comtale en son écrin.
Comme une enchanteresse de couleurs,
mêlée d'ocre du soir et d'orange soleil
peignant les voiles de ce vaisseau.
La luminosité en terrasse
en fait un bel observatoire
de la palette des nuages,
des jeux infinis du soleil
et des sourires de la lune
qui scintillent sur Saint Sernin,
font resplendir les grands grues
de l'ancienne Toulouse, réveillée de son sommeil.
Quand le vent d'autan souffle fort,
comme un orchestre laissé seul
sans partition et sans baguette,
«La Comtale» frémit sous le choc
et ce noble vaisseau de pierres
voit ses terrasses dévastées,
par les outils de jardinage
et les plantes taillées menues.
Mais chère et haute nef, «La Comtale»,
tu n’es jamais toi-même que lorsque le soleil luit
et fait rougeoyer les briques ocres,
transforme tes terrasses en jardins étagées
à l’ombre des stores tirés
des plantes aromatiques et des cactées
qui parfument de menthe, de poivre et de miel
nos thés glacés et limonades sirotées avec joie.
Paul d’Aubin (Paul Arrighi), Toulouse
(02 avril 2014)
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
mittened hands wrapped
around hot choc mugs
light-hearted bickering
over the tones and shades
of leaves yet to fall
chilly sun-streaked mornings
of fresh earthy air
and early hibernation nights
of gathered quietude
that indulgent autumn
for which she longed
seemed not to arrive
at least not as expected
set to follow the bright
bustling summer excitement
always written to precede
the forward-looking days
of winter's introspection
ordained as it was
by the dictums of old
those of time and tide
instead her blooming
has been a wearisome
back-and-forth between
the extremes of each
untimely and unexpected
yet unfortunately necessary
before she might witness
those flowers of hers
blossoming under
the warmth and light
of that newly shining Sun
Dec 1, 2023
Dec 1, 2023 at 9:55 AM UTC
There IS a reason we're told to beware of what we...everything, really.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMLXXXVIII)
Swear off the pleasures I knew ere cuz thence
I'm too, what, eh? beleaguered to avail
Me of indulgence, yes. No choc'late, pale
As loving oft to nibble it fr'intents
Home in my father's house. And thus, what hence?
The id'ot box passe, I'd in betrayl
Now clean forgot the litrature's detail
Which shaped my thoughts and manners, yea, my sense.
Take oh, the lux'ry of an essay fer
Lo, minutes on familiar turf I knew
Weeks, months, so many years ago as twere
Likeas my other "food," and what ah, to
Effect? As if my thinking clears in poor
'Scuse for brief seconds, oh how sweet tis too!
24May19d
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 11:50 PM UTC
1.
Wish I could
Think up
Stacks of the best stuff
And a snippet of summat ....brilliant
To.....cheer you up.
2.
...oh...
Wait!
Tell you what :)
For now, I send you
A double-dark choc.
Essemessically, of course!
Enjoy.
Please?
3.
I am silly, I know.
But I want you to smile.
Smiling....
Proves your heart works!
And to chill.
Am I a fool?
Maybe.
Yet, do ye see the worry in my eye?
No.....I don't TINK so!
S T, 18 April 2013
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 5:32 AM UTC
Fairies and fancies
and flippant romances
and all things bright and gay.
Cream cakes and choc flakes
and raspberry mistakes
rise up in a spiralling fray.
Blue skies and greenflies
and warm-sugared apple pies
and the scent of freshly cut hay.
Strawberries and Ice cream’s
and mouth-watering Nectarines
succumb to the heat of the day.
Golden-crust pastries
and honey –drenched fig leaves
made in the old-fashioned way.
Piping-hot dainties
with oak-coloured bases
that refuse to come out of the tray.
A gaze up above to a snowy white dove
sees the sky go from golden to grey.
From twilight to moonlight,
from moonlight to starlight
the end of a beautiful day.
Oct 24, 2010
Oct 24, 2010 at 7:11 AM UTC
The journey of memory mealtime lane.
First stop, let’s get it over.
The painful place of supper time tension.
Watching the clock, start the race
To produce the evening prize.
Another plate – protein, vege,
A third of carbs is wise.
Table laid, stage is set,
But there’s a stomach-churning silence,
I’m staring at the wooden spoon.
His sallow face swallows and the
Fork shuffles, napkin placed on the pile.
His footsteps leave, we try to ignore
The deserted plate - talk and smile
Come on now, memory mealtime store
Fill me a tasty smell –
Grandmas’s larder – whole room devoted!
Crinkled brown paper nesting
Squares of brownies, gingerbread.
Eyes behold, like moons of light
Boubon biscuits, french sponge fingers.
Other worldliness, such a sight!
Now take me back to nice school dinners,
Waiting down the hall, up the playground steps.
Will treacle cake all have gone,
Just leaving rice and prunes?
Dreadful cold white mash potato scoops
Neatly spread apart.
My favourite - dark chocolate sponge
And jam pink marshmallow ****
Join me to sitting round
My family kitchen table,
‘Best bit is the skin,’ Dad and me agree.
He approves as I eat
My little sister’s potato jacket.
I’m good and there’s plenty
And we’re all feeling full.
Every plate eaten clean, completely empty.
I remember secretly sneaking
Opening tins and picking out pieces
Of chocolate from choc chip cookies.
By the window, our Kenwood soda stream,
It’s bottles like shop bought fizzy pop!
And Dad’s homemade wholemeal loaf
Unlike any bread from the shop.
My Sixth form packed lunch –
Two Ryvita sandwiches with a kipling cake,
A calorie counting diet
Eaten by morning break
Whilst writing the stove is forgotten
And now the smell of overcooked stew -
Burnt pan supper – a frequent memory.
I think I can save it, definitely cooked through.
Arriving at the end of mealtime lane,
A message to hang in the kitchen high above
Something I’ve learnt to remember,
That the food in our lives must be all about love.
May 23, 2021
May 23, 2021 at 5:09 PM UTC
I was sitting by a pond one day,
Through sun motes came the glitter way,
A tiny fairy appeared,
"What's the matter, my dear?
I'll grant a wish, then disappear.."
What to wish for indeed,
A silly book to read?
Or, I know,
my cheeks a'glow,
An endless choccy biscuits pack,
Even if get hideously fat,
So, I asked her, that's that.....
Now I sit by my sunlit pond today,
Munching choc biscuits for ever and a day,
A *** of tea, biscuits neverending,
By my pond, bliss unending......
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 4:08 PM UTC
Like cold steel on the tongue,
Inducing mind numbing headaches
when taken in excess.
But I am tempted by the allure of
the numerous colours and aromas.
They call to me like sirens on a
distant shoreline and I cannot resist.
Once tried, I surrender myself
To a taste sensation.
Like a lightning bolt surging through my body
And pinning me to the ground.
All my senses are aroused.
I have become one with the universe,
I see everything, I feel everything.
The contrast between the bone chilling
and the soft melt in your mouth
take me on a journey.
I am hurtling through the cosmos at light speed,
I witness the dawn of time,
The birth of planets and the death of a billion stars.
I voyaged beyond infinity and discovered the meaning of life.
But this journey has not yet reached its end.
For I know there is still more to see.
So I give myself willingly.
A slave to this icy temptress that is
Mint choc chip, or Raspberry ripple, or Vanilla,
or any of the other numerous flavours.
PS. Cone is compulsory
Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 10:27 AM UTC
Ingrid stares
at the sea
the wild waves
the seagulls
we've come down
on the coach
from London
organised
by the church
of gospel
worshippers
what are those?
she asks me
they're seagulls
do they bite?
I don't know
want ice cream?
her brown eyes
gaze at me
no money
she tells me
I’ve got some
I tell her
is there lunch?
she asks me
I think so
there's money
from the church
for us kids
from poor homes
I tell her
her brown hair
is pinned back
by steel grips
she smiles wide
her rather
mild buckteeth
beam at me
fish and chips?
she asks me
I guess so
can I be
your girl friend
for the day?
want ice cream?
O yes please
she utters
I go get
2 ice creams
from a van
parked near by
what you want?
the guy asks
2 ice creams
with choc flakes
I watch him
fill 2 cones
with ice cream
then plonk in
2 choc flakes
I walk back
to Ingrid
here you are
I tell her
she takes one
and we walk
on the beach
in the sand
8 year olds
hand in hand.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
River run swiftly
against the crooked sky
race the gulls
with all thy might.
Bring me there--
I pray thee -- run!
Bring me quickly to her door
before sun rises overhead.
With chocolates wrap'd in gold
bracelets of amethyst--
songs from memory--
let her remember.
Before the world stops spinning
let me see--
the smile of noon day
and the chime of laughter.
That steady gaze--
so constant, so sure...
her fingers brush the canvas--
Apple Red for Lotus Girl...
Mistress to the canvas--
stain out your heart.
I'll study the shameless paint
as your choc'lates sit on the table.
Jul 4, 2010
Jul 4, 2010 at 10:22 AM UTC
well, because bunnies don't come out eggs, do they now? that bunny is a thief! where did you get those eggs from? huh? he's running, a flock of angry birds flying after him; and i forgot my slingshot to smash those three piggies into smithereens (like in the folklore story: house of glass (hay), house of wood, house of stone).
i never understood the tradition
of easter,
until now,
i get all the sweets and treats
and opulence at christmas...
but the way easter is celebrated
is quiet fascinating,
chocolate eggs of a castrato,
and the easter bunny must reflect
the size of irish families
and strict laws prohibiting contraception,
listening to bbc 4 and this actress spoke
of being 7th in the lineage of 11...
eager bunnies all around
and sweet choc testicles of a castrato...
well, so i decided to celebrate it too...
fasting... and walking around
saying the word: barabbas...
barabbas... it goes really well with all
those gothic cathedrals adorned
with gargoyles.
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 3:19 PM UTC
We moved out west to Hollywood
And quickly settled down
Amongst the rich and famous in
The heart of Tinsel Town
I joined the local Lion’s Club
My wife, the PTA
The kiddos were ecstatic when
Invited out to play
They called for pick up early and
We asked them on the go
Just how it went with their new friends
In Nine 0 Two One 0
They answered back in unison
It wasn’t fun and games
These California movie stars
Give kids the strangest names
The Nanny said that we should play
With Coco on the lawn
So we made some in the kitchen
High-fived...and said, ‘Game on’
Were we to know that ‘Coco’ meant
A girl and not a drink
Oh, pardon our absurdity
And poured ours down the sink
About that time the Nanny said
That Apple was out back
So we patted on our tummies
Oh, fi-na-lly...a snack
Were we to know that ‘Apple’ was
A friend of Choc’late Moo
Of the sev’ral major food groups
We’d shared play time with two
About that time the Nanny said
That Blanket’s on the deck
We weren’t the least bit cold at all
But, wrapped up for a sec
Were we to know that ‘Blanket’ was
A boy and not a spread
The blankets back where we came from
Were folded on our bed
About that time the Nanny said
Tu Morrow’s on her way
And wanted us to stay until
Tu Morrow came--to play
We didn’t know ‘Tu Morrow’ meant
Not staying for a snooze
So we begged off playing longer
We were getting too confused!
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 3:58 PM UTC