"cobra" poems
1
Backwater nymph,
queen of serpentine black tresses
flaunting its coconut oil gleam;
envy of leggy girls from the Western ghat mountains,
and lissome maidens from the plains,
who can never eat as much fish, even if they wish.
Wearing hibiscus flowers,
on coiffure like hood of a king cobra,
your coral lips silently speak
of hot peppery kisses,
waiting for me at shaded corners.
Your sultry body in me arouses desires,
that could only be whispered in your ears.
2
On a coconut lagoon when we met,
for the first time and spoke,
non stop, as if we knew each other life long,
I heard music in your words.
Oh! in the tongue you spoke,
I heard the cadence of a nightingale
ecstatic, on its wings above the clouds,
love had prompted us to fly above the storms.
Your gleaming coal black eyes,
like silver hooks, tug at my heart strings,
that makes music, only I can hear,
you are a free flying lark,
above Kerala's lush coconut coast,
that extends from sea shore to the mountains.
3
**When we relished steaming brown rice,
mixed with clarified butter,
with spicy tuna curry, tasting so dainty,
cooked in bubbling sweet coconut milk,
my eyes like two crazy butterflies
circled your face, a blossomed Champak*.
Mashed cassava and roasted squid,
melted on our tongues,
in a perfect culinary language
any one would understand without effort.
4
Your lips had cinnamon scent,
spice land's boons,
when we kissed we touched heaven
of scents and spicy tastes.
When our eyes fell on each other,
near the ancient synagogue,
the hay days of which is over,
a long jasmine garland coiling your hair,
marked you different,
from the the ladies of your neighborhood,
surrounding you.
How well you did pretend
that you have never seen my face before!
You have mastered love's cunning,
and all the wily tricks to cheat
the enemies of our fiery love
my Freudian mind perfectly understood.
Just imagine the brouhaha we would invite,
when we elope, in the last boat,
to Alappuzha, stealthily at midnight.*
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 1:33 PM UTC
Off that landspit of stony mouth-plugs,
Eyes rolled by white sticks,
Ears cupping the sea's incoherences,
You house your unnerving head -- God-ball,
Lens of mercies,
Your stooges
Plying their wild cells in my keel's shadow,
Pushing by like hearts,
Red stigmata at the very center,
Riding the rip tide to the nearest point of
departure,
Dragging their Jesus hair.
Did I escape, I wonder?
My mind winds to you
Old barnacled umbilicus, Atlantic cable,
Keeping itself, it seems, in a state of miraculous
repair.
In any case, you are always there,
Tremulous breath at the end of my line,
Curve of water upleaping
To my water rod, dazzling and grateful,
Touching and *******
I didn't call you.
I didn't call you at all.
Nevertheless, nevertheless
You steamed to me over the sea,
Fat and red, a placenta
Paralyzing the kicking lovers.
Cobra light
Squeezing the breath from the blood bells
Of the fuchsia. I could draw no breath,
Dead and moneyless,
Overexposed, like an X-ray.
Who do you think you are?
A Communion wafer? Blubbery Mary?
I shall take no bite of your body,
Bottle in which I live,
Ghastly Vatican.
I am sick to death of hot salt.
Green as eunuchs, your wishes
Hiss at my sins.
Off, off, eely tentacle!
There is nothing between us.
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Nothing is really mine except Krishna.
O my parents, I have searched the world
And found nothing worthy of love.
Hence I am a stranger amidst my kinfolk
And an exile from their company,
Since I seek the companionship of holy men;
There alone do I feel happy,
In the world I only weep.
I planted the creeper of love
And silently watered it with my tears;
Now it has grown and overspread my dwelling.
You offered me a cup of poison
Which I drank with joy.
Mira is absorbed in contemplation of Krishna,
She is with God and all is well!
*
O my King, my father, nothing delights me more
Than singing the praises of Krishna.
If thou art wrath,
then keep thy kingdom and thy palace,
For if God is angry, where can I dwell?
Thou didst send me a cup of poison and a black cobra,
Yet in all I saw only Krishna!
Mira is drunk with love, and is wedded to the Lord!
*
The heart of Mira is entangled
In the beauty of the feet of her Guru;
Nothing else causes her delight!
He enabled her to be happy in the drama of the world;
The Knowledge he gave her dried up
The ocean of being and becoming.
Mira says: My whole world is Shri Krishna;
Now that my gaze is turned inward, I see it clearly
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Magnolia Queen, Magnolia Queen
Launch one thousand ships
Oh, carry me back to the in-between
Magnolia Queen, Magnolia Queen
The shadows will dance, the shadows will dance
The fire burns hot
From the iron king cobra’s trance
The shadows will dance, the shadows will dance
Oh, carry me home, oh carry me home
Through the absinthe seas
Watching the watchman mumble and drone
Oh, carry me home, oh carry me home
Whittling the trees, whittling the trees
Planets do align
To the face of the Magnolia Queen
Oh, only to the Magnolia Queen
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
1, for the slumber that tumbles us round,
2, for the remedy, the musics bold sound.
3, for the tree that became your canoe
& 4 for the rain, it's ambiguous blue.
5, to escape, to a world we contrive,
6 for the tricks that I played to survive.
7, because heaven, is supposedly on earth,
& 8 for my mother, and her unknown worth.
9 for the failures, the faults & mistakes,
10 for the fears that keep us awake.
11, for my father, consoles me each night, whispers advice crystal clear, filled with insight- words on courage & kindness, love & delight.
12- when you wake but it's already night.
13 forever, with strength glory and might,
14 with wisdom, discretion, insight-
both numbers together sizing up every fight.
15, for my little sister, and all her turmoil,
15, for her spirit, the last one to spoil,
she and the world but water and oil,
15 for her soul, and like the mighty cobra it's coil,
deadly & graceful defends its home soil.
16 for the evil- the wicked & cruel, the endless hate they spin into fuel.
17, for reason, justice & art,
and all the other virtues life etched on my heart,
18, to redeem, to admit your mistake, to truly move on then perhaps to retake.
19 for that shame, always the same, so familiar it almost comforts my brain. 19, for the suffering, agony & betrayal.
19 true stories retold as mere tales- how they surpass logic and induce other's fails.
20. For my years. For the moment, for now. For to the past I salute, and to the future I bow; All with the hope that next year I'll know how
to do what everyone else can.
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 1:32 PM UTC
Sunday:
Ant Pills
Bear Traps
Cobra Feet
Monday:
Dolphin Lungs
Eel Soup
Frog Limbs
Tuesday:
Gecko Suits
Horse Pie
Inchworm ***
Wednesday:
Jaguar Barbed
Koala Beer
Lynx Lynch
Thursday:
Monkey Chips
Narwhal Fashions
Otter Drugs
Friday:
Porcupine Rehab
Quail Map
Roadrunner Piano
Saturday:
Slug Party
Turkey Slop
Urchin See
Sunday:
Vulture Guns
Walrus Tongues
X No
Monday:
Yellowjacket Fever
Zebra Clowns
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:08 PM UTC
*a rain is falling,
on the crack’d earth
a rain is teasing,
on the dancing us
how do we return this present,
this overwhelming love,
endless kisses you shower,
in your every drop
a rain is calling,
on a thunder drum
a rain is singing,
come, ye all come
look the well is swell,
bare earth rustle green again,
how an elusive peacock cries
out the rain's endless names,
a rain is bending,
the mighty banyan tree
a rain is chasing,
cobra, ants and bees
how the sea rages in anarchy,
its heart is majestic today
cling of old things vanish,
in a flowing disarray
a rain is falling,
on the cracked earth
a rain is teasing,
on the dancing us*
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 8:56 AM UTC
Myself caught in the heatwave sunlight, brown eyes
furrowed in the sun, scarf loose on my neck/
the transcendental Denpasar morning-birds
are playing their melodies in my head still,
three years post-Indonesia.
All of my soul to India now,
sky the pink of painted elephants
on Jaipur dawning,
my afterlife was somewhere here
perhaps two generations ago, chances are.
Vijay Raghav Rao and Alla Rakha
playing the Tabla/via earphones/treading the
Funary Box City (Kashi) future Spring
hands held together keeping calm pace.
Looking about, my twenty-two year old face
catches humid wind
S
I
L
V
E
R
S
H
O
P
tattered bike leaning on the gated guest house entrance
PERENNIAL AZURE SHIVA SITS CROSS LEGGED/
COBRA NECKLACE IMITIATONS ON THE GODDESS THROAT/
MEDITATING SHIVA/
dulled from years and corrosion.
Brahmin center of the market street
flapping it's tail,
sweat beads from my forehead bleeding
to oily pavement.
At last the months have come for the river Ganges,
April penumbra/savage thunderclap
while school children uplifting the heart
AND MIND
are ROARING in their laughter
the CONTINENTAL DISCORD OF JOY
sleeping with their eyes open
while others are too tired for the Earth.
Sidney Bechet floating swan songs during
the black hour cremations/
“Bechet Creole Blues”
CATERWAUL IN THAT VOID
THE METAMORPHOSIS OF DEATH/
LUNACY OF LIFE
(I've arrived at the simultaneous crossroads
of both)
searing flesh in open air pyramids/
Manikarnika Ghat,
Asia F
L
O
W
S
through dreams
like inevitable prophecy
and as ash blends with stars
the CITY seems fulfilled
and mystifying
in it's
(((((RESPLENDENCE)))))
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
The engine is killing the track, the track is silver,
It stretches into the distance. It will be eaten nevertheless.
Its running is useless.
At nightfall there is the beauty of drowned fields,
Dawn gilds the farmers like pigs,
Swaying slightly in their thick suits,
White towers of Smithfield ahead,
Fat haunches and blood on their minds.
There is no mercy in the glitter of cleavers,
The butcher's guillotine that whispers: 'How's this, how's this?'
In the bowl the hare is aborted,
Its baby head out of the way, embalmed in spice,
Flayed of fur and humanity.
Let us eat it like Plato's afterbirth,
Let us eat it like Christ.
These are the people that were important ----
Their round eyes, their teeth, their grimaces
On a stick that rattles and clicks, a counterfeit snake.
Shall the hood of the cobra appall me ----
The loneliness of its eye, the eye of the mountains
Through which the sky eternally threads itself?
The world is blood-hot and personal
Dawn says, with its blood-flush.
There is no terminus, only suitcases
Out of which the same self unfolds like a suit
Bald and shiny, with pockets of wishes,
Notions and tickets, short circuits and folding mirrors.
I am mad, calls the spider, waving its many arms.
And in truth it is terrible,
Multiplied in the eyes of the flies.
They buzz like blue children
In nets of the infinite,
Roped in at the end by the one
Death with its many sticks.
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The brass trumpet sounds
In the dark, where weeps aloud
And hearts are made of silver
To match her necklace that slithers
As a snake which tangos
When their bracelets dangle
No one seems much surprised
For her dance, the cobra rise
To greet the man on the street
As he is poisoned head to feet
Shake the jeepers, I'm telling you
If not, may your spirit be cool
She is definitely a piece of work
And drunken whispers offer jerks
But, they do not have a clue
This woman moves to voodoo
Wiggle... Jiggle.. Lady Dancer
You eat them like a malice cancer
Wiggle... Jiggle... Lady Dancer
Tomorrow, you will have to answer.
Mar 8, 2011
Mar 8, 2011 at 9:24 AM UTC
Creatures of the night,
howling and cooing,
in the dark forest,
sending chills that
run down my spine,
with goose bumps
all over my body.
It's really spooky in
this quiet night as the
drizzling rain makes it
more difficult and
uncomfortable to see
in the dark.
The tranquil of this
night is so frightening
and makes one go weak
at the knees.
I can hear the ****** biting
the wood to make a ridge
so the flood will find its path.
You can hear every
footstep of these creatures
moving in the dark.
The flapping wings of the
dreaded vampire blood *******
hammerhead bat flying so low
above my head,
another nightmare of the night,
the night owl staring at me,
the park of wolves barking
at a distance,
the creepy noises of other
animals in the deep dark night,
the noise of the ruffled dried leaves
by the king cobra hunting.
It seems they are watching
your every move in the dark.
The whiff of your scent
they perceive from afar.
Alone in the quiet dark night
with the night creatures
is a perfect place to test your
nerves and witness
the beauty of the night unfold before you
in display of their magic.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 9:28 AM UTC
over a snow-covered mountain top in heaven
some secret river lies
stirring not earthwards
this river of the Gods
and then a prince disturbs
her peaceful ferocity
with determined prayer to cleanse
the sins of his forefathers
Look she trembles with wounded pride!
Not a mere mortal river is she
a Goddess, her anger awakened
but she must proceed
the Gods have asked her so she shall go
but she makes her displeasure known
threatening to swallow all of existence
she follows
the earth shakes
it cannot hold her weight
her power her strength her majestic gait
life-giver, she is now a messenger of death
in her anger she is beautiful,
this world cannot sustain her
only he who wields the trident
can reign in her fall
and then the Mahadev traps her
even as she falls in a mighty torrent
thinking she will sweep him
to the nether regions
in his locks she is lost
struggling, she resembles
the naga around his neck
she spits like a cobra
this immortal river
stays tangled in his locks for many a year
till, defeated and frustrated
she begs forgiveness
and then with his blessings
she trickles down
still furious in pace
but in heart at peace
the mother of all rivers-
this river of rebirth
her sound like thunder
her hair like streaks of lightning
celestial beings witness
the skies are lit
the parched earth satiated
Ganga has descended
as Bhagirathi
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
03.09.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 3:32 AM UTC
The Mongoose dances with the Cobra
Bending and twitching, it looked like yoga
One little ***** of those poisons fangs
Will leave it dying in ravenous pain
The Mongoose so small and frail
It looks like the dance with the Cobra is sure to fail
The jumping and striking is memorizing to watch
Looking exhausted they raise it up a notch
A dance to the death is the show before me
The Cobra's hood is all I can see
He sways from side to side trying to hypnotize
But I can hear the Mongoose's chattering cries
Bouncing back and fourth on legs of springs
The Cobra strikes, you can hear the zing
The Mongoose is to fast, to the side it jumps
Then comes the bone crushing crunch
As the snakes body curls in on it's self into a ball
Looks like the mongoose won after all
So even if you think of yourself as small
Be the mongoose when problems come to call
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 4:17 PM UTC
He heard her before he saw her
When he saw her he turned into a meerkat.
Her high heels seeking his attention.
He drew the line at sniffing her when he realised she was not dangerous.
She may have turned into a cobra if he did.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 4:22 AM UTC
I'm a Kool g rockin' coogis poppin' coochies
Haters get murked like Colhese my rap lease
Debutin' numero uno the heavy weight sumo
Born on Jupiter raised on Earth my heart's colder than Pluto
Mic judo flows stickin' of ya corticals
Check me in the articles I be the broken particle
Of the universal ya need rehearsal **** goin' commerical
I lay raps like a hearse flow for rappers funeral
I a criminal none keep gats by the abdominal rhymin' phenomenal the mighty Apollo
Blazin' my cocoa flippin' crime like Bardellino
One luv to my nino got it locked like a Vegas casino
We checkin' ya dough at the front door so stop ya show
Fronting and stunting once my nines get the hunting
Bullets spikin' like kickers punting raw taunting
Game hungriest similiar to the lochness
Mon-star far from subpar rhymes ride bizzare
A pharcyde takin' ya into a spiritual homicide converged to the angelic hide
Still a crime shame all of 'em say the same
Thing flexin' diamonds on they pinky rings yet another sad soul that sings sub siblings
To the underworld debators contract initiator so you can create a
Pace between the stage and the audience face
**** that rather keep a gat tucked in the front or the back
With wisdom to rack
Imagine that fools breakin' for stats? see where my heart at?
Diggin' reachin' into the minds of the youth with the brutal truths
Chippin' my tooth
From killin' booths once I plot ya will ya loose
bringin' the ghetto blues and cruising *****
Still a sober jealous God am I call me Jehovah
Tactics of a Cobra one strike it's over
Venomous ridiculous hataz so conspicuous
Hatin' us only to anger my artillery surplus and who bust?
More rounds than Matt Dillion coatin' ya brains
With my lyrical penicillin stealin'
Back the spotlight
Catch the bright sunshine that stares into my mind
A Pharoah prophecy laid in the back of me
Head til I touch my final resting bed I'll embed
The realist **** ya ever heard shooting a bird
To all my enemies I blast at 'em with as the bullets herd
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 12:40 PM UTC
The flower of womanhood.
You are like no flower,
you are a snake.
A cobra
with your head *****
ready to strike.
And stricken was I.
The apple of my eye.
Out of reach,
bittersweet
Like the honey-apple
I've never tasted.
But when in reach
you are still no joy,
for your taste is forbidden,
and cast from the Garden
was I.
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 6:15 PM UTC
A cat stalks amongst stalks;
monkeys like old men, fingers unpick
your banana hands, curious and careful.
Too much expression.
Don’t worry, have a curry.
And from a coach window glimpses of a land
where a skeleton boy sleeps or lies dead under palm.
And the red earth chokes.
Follow the waterfall to mango pickle
down river to a jungle boogie rhythm
you ain’t ever heard before.
Cobra skins and coy carp,
the sound of cicadas amasses.
A stand still in traffic, its ‘crush’ hour
its okay to beep even if it will never get you anywhere.
A treasure trove of trinkets, a myriad of jewels.
All you see is money,
all I see is you wanting money.
Dusty rags from sandy bags, the face of
desperation is ugly.
Temples carved into caves
as markets coloured like an artist’s palette.
An elephant’s eyes say more than this poem could.
Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 3:51 PM UTC
we all have sorrows as deep as wells,
but i'm tossing them right out the door.
maybe this is where i shed my old skin like a cobra,
but i'm hardly as vicious.
i'm only as dangerous as you let me be,
with my bones as strong as glaciers and
my eyes could swim inside aquariums
or the Mediterranean sea,
like i have gills that could let me breathe.
i could make a home,
20,000 leagues under or i could
touch land with my sun shining shades
of affections
with the complexions of new worlds.
and did you know, that there are more stars
in our galaxies than there are particles of
sand on each coastal line -
i guess you can say we learn something valuable
when you least expect,
like how cats have one hundred vocal sounds and
we can relate because
our vocal sounds
are endless. we can use our voices.
kind of like our opportunities,
expanding like water turning to ice on our
puddles so we can walk on them without
rain boots or umbrellas that catch our tears.
instead, we wear our thickness overlapping
our feelings and
i just want to be naked.
if that leaves me vulnerable,
so be it as long as i can taste the glass half full
on my skin.
i just want to be happy.
Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 2:01 PM UTC
A snake doesn't just throw shade
We thrive in the shadows
Stalking our prey,
Think you've got what it takes
We'll swallow you whole.
I dare the kittens birdys & roadkill
To make a mistake
You really think your house spits
poison Better than a snake?
Our Partsel tongue is "forked for her pleasure"
Each time we seal a letter
witches get wetter
other houses cringe at our fame
cold blooded killers
don't buy it? Just wait.
Our Snakeoil salesman
Will Have you beggin' for change
You dare to stand against a python?
You don't even know code
I can't pull punches
if I don't have hands, Bro.
Like medusas hair dresser
Expect-to petrify
Better call Cobra
Get insurance for your life.
What's the matter
Gonna cry?
Because We can't.
Ask science.
I dare you to challenge
My Reptilian brethren
We're Unhinging our jaw
getting fed like it's league of legends.
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 4:42 PM UTC
I am a cobra,
spiraling upwards.
Curling and slinking.
I am a cobra;
dangerous.
fangs dripping,
head dipping
lower
and lower
and lower.
Until I break up
and tilt my
forward.
Forked tongue
slips out.
I hiss away
all my doubt.
Folding my lanky, tall body
to fit my lengthy personality.
I am a cobra,
and I do a sultry dance.
I will not shake or dodge or prance.
I linger after every thought,
slip my way into the cold spongy grey tiled dance floor
until you cannot see me anymore.
I am a cobra,
you’d better watch out.
Sparkling white scales,
they shimmer softly in the moonlight.
A young
destroyer of worlds,
I take over the floor
and curl inwards,
then up,
then lift my floppy head
bristled all about.
I smile and sway,
then lick up the blood.
I am a cobra,
(so you’d better watch out).
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 10:38 PM UTC
I was walking my big Ridgeback Mr. Brown
across the Starbucks parking lot
when this little white poodle started yapping
from the rolled-down window of a brand new Mercedes.
Mr. Brown responded like shot from guns
and before I knew it
he was scratching at the Mercedes door
eager to make friends with the poodle.
Then the Mercedes owner came running out of Starbucks
spilling latte all over his substantial stomach
What the ****
Look at those ******* scratches!
Do you know how much it costs
to fix a car like this?
I’m suing you and your big ******* dog !
Not wise, sir, I responded…
to be so aggressive with someone you don’t even know
and who has a 110-lb. African Lionhound
on the end of his leash.
I might be a whacked-out Vietnam veteran
with a hairtrigger temper
or a gang member
or maybe I'm just a senior citizen
with an extremely protective service dog.
Well, he said, his belly shaking,
look at my **** car.
I am looking at it I said
and handed him the keys to my ’68 Shelby Cobra
parked and shiny right nearby.
Take mine, I said
it’s more fun to drive.
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 5:56 AM UTC
Mandrake the Magician
now you see him
and now you don't
you will marvel at this magic
while the villains won't
**** he is gone
or changed in an illusion
he can read your mind
and cause constant confusion
the bad guys will lose
crushed by his friend Lothar the King
the strongest man alive
wearing his fez and a golden ring
Mandrake waves his magic wand
to hypnotize the evildoers
while his lady the Princess Narda
applies the skewers
Theron, Hojo and Bradley the chief
keep him protected from harm
with Magnon, Lenore and Karma
at his home Xanadu keeping warm
the villains are many and rotten to the core
Cobra, Brass Monkey and evil Deleter
even the Enchantress Aleena must scurry
Ekardnam his twin in the mirror retreater
so you may try as you might
to remain evil and mean
but Mandrake and his crew
will make you come clean
Gomer LePoet ...
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 12:02 PM UTC
Inside your little mouth, a crucifix and a hula hoop plant great capers on the short hash marks on your glossy pinkish lips. Like a boardgame I can't win all by myself or a song without a tune, like the melody that chases strangers, or any words that precede goodbye.
The future is coming quickly now, serfs lining up to set fire to their nostrils, take the cue ball and whet their mass wicks for the apostles. Anecdotal anomaly that J-walk over crosswalks whose life then becomes an apostrophe. Morbid fixture on the substrate, creatures limitlessly nodding. A grape-sized egg fills its own unit and erupts to shape the outlet. Your verb-legs may appear demonstratively while you crowd surf, we should play the music louder while we practice all our dance work.
Sunday morning we wake up stiffly, my jowl hurts from mouthing softwords, the nights' adventurous perversity of thwarting dinosaurs with Cobra Starship. Even the back room closet manager gave us enough bleach to see our eyelids, frothy nictitating flitters drop freshly severed lashes that inspire wishes and sultry playlists.
Consecrated mien market of company meals. Underneath the cable cars the dye blunders sores in my eyes. Said I had to go, said I had to die. Said I had an itch but I couldn't get in front of all of this and unwind. Between all of the bees and buttered flies he made it hard for us all to survive, or service this state of our lives. I recall schoolyards where children paid to their dimes for us to see the spaces in the middle of lines, the circles on the circles we liked, stuck in bubble baths with crayon all on their hands. For the price of staying alive I deliver a bribe to sway eyes from the crimes of street dwelling inner-city sinners with stomach contents' upsetted by the rough ********* of heavy petting. She eats red licorice rope with with my fingers rubbing on her tongue. A pedagogy I use to teach, but pretty much no longer have a use.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC
Mercury is retrograde,
reducing me to idioms:
life is the Cobra Kai dojo,
and we are the Pilates kids.
So **** you, messenger boy.
i can still communicate,
if i need to.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC