"corresponds" poems
The sun rise as your beauty widen naturally
The fragrance of the beautiful sunshine
Corresponds the butterfly as they
step toward its soft petals
Your smile that will never fades
are the most wonderful thing
in this World.
You are so adorable
that even the stars from the galaxy
they could chase you
From the moment you've opened
your eyes in this World
I'm glad that you became my Mother
And I'm lucky to be your daughter
You are like a superhero of our century
The way you are,that makes you precious
The way you handle everything
I salute you for being strong
and brave enough
You are so positive for having and taking
the courage to live this life
You are one of a kind
Simply amazing Mom
That I couldn't ask for anything else
Except you,
And I lovingly tell you the truth
I really enjoyed everything about you
Cause in who you are right now
Is the most brilliant and spectacular
thing that we could ever had
As this day bless you with
great joy &
another years to come.
I greet you a "Happy Birthday"
As you grow older,
Always remember
That you are always
Love.
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 4:24 AM UTC
trust (verb):
the action of placing faith, belief, and confidence in another;
something I don’t do anymore
truth (noun):
a statement that corresponds with what is factual or certain;
something no one tells anymore
love (noun):
very strong feelings of affection toward another;
a lie that I don’t believe in anymore –
how they get you to give them everything,
you and your life and your heart,
and you’re completely okay with doing that because you think they are doing the same;
a game; an illusion I don’t look for anymore
love (verb):
to make a commitment to someone;
to give your heart completely and unconditionally;
something I avoid admitting, because if I do,
I can no longer protect my heart from the crushing boulder
that’s taken refuge in my chest for the last year
to be myself:
to simply void myself of emotion;
to distract myself with work when I can’t numb myself anymore
May 18, 2012
May 18, 2012 at 3:14 PM UTC
People who live by the sea
understand eternity.
They copy the curves of the waves,
their hearts beat with the tides,
& the saltiness of their blood
corresponds with the sea.
They know that the house of flesh
is only a sandcastle
built on the shore,
that skin breaks
under the waves
like sand under the soles
of the first walker on the beach
when the tide recedes.
Each of us walks there once,
watching the bubbles
rise up through the sand
like ascending souls,
tracing the line of the foam,
drawing our index fingers
along the horizon
pointing home.
4k
Already the month
of August 2018,
May never become
a je June'm
(Forget-me-not)
time of year,
especially for nouveau
homeless and,
penniless residents,
(now more like worrier),
who reside in the
(burnt to a crisp)
Golden State where,
towering uncontrollable
wild fire infernos veer
really did tax mental,
physical, and spiritual
oye vey iz mare (to
the bajillion power
of Google Plex) their
heirlooms, mementos,
and trappings of
das kapital lifestyle
went up in smoke,
which tragedy didst seer
the eyes (yes, iz traumatic,
but also the air)
looms with toxic
particulate matter,
though concerned former
propertied owners
(now ashen faced)
as utter grief doth rear
a scorched (bumping) ugly head,
yet the onset of Autumn,
(and the main
purport of this poem)
(oh my dog, that twill be
in approximately three weeks,
when Eastern Orthodox Church
denotes beginning of ecclesiastical
annum mull house
for straight or queer
(these times opening
doors to LGBT, or GLBT
(an initialism that
stands for lesbian,
gay, bisexual, and transgender),
nonetheless history
replete with app pear
chock full of factoids such as:
September (Latin septem,
"seven") with near
exhaustive steeped in
pagan glory of antiquity.
Ancient Roman observances
for September include:
Ludi Romani, originally celebrated
September 12 - September 14,
later extended to
September 5 to September 19.
In 1st century BC, an extra day added
in honor of deified
Julius Caesar on 4 September.
Epulum Jovis held: September 13.
Ludi Triumphales held: September 18–22.
Septimontium celebrated September, and
December 11 on later calendars
September called "harvest month"
in Charlemagne's calendar.
September corresponds partly to
Fructidor and partly to Vendémiaire
of first French republic.
On Usenet, September 1993
(Eternal September) never ended.
September called Herbstmonat,
harvest month, in Switzerland.
The Anglo-Saxons called
month Gerstmonath,
barley month, that crop
then usually harvested.
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 5:00 PM UTC
Warning: This content may contain graphic descriptions, which may not be suitable for underage viewers if reading aloud.
Our bodies touch
as I embrace you tightly
I feel an overwhealming
warm sensation consuming
my entire body as I
run my fingers through
your long and beautiful hair.
I begin to kiss you lovingly
and passionately on the lips
to ultimately display
my affection for you
and feelings that
can''t be explained
even in the most
beloved words.
Sweet and soft kisses
on your neck are
to let you know that
I''m ready this time
to show you that
you are meant to
be mine and only mine
for now and forever.
I place my hand on
your leg slowly sliding
it up to your thigh
gently massaging your
inner thigh while
I bite into your neck
listening to your soft moans
and becoming more aroused
as more delightful thoughts
come into mind, on how
I can pleasure and satisfy you
mentally and sexually.
Excitement and the craving
for lust becomes addicting
and drives us both mad
with wild intentions to
make love to one another
I remove all of your clothing
along with mine as well,
I place you on the bed
I take it slowly once again
by kissing your body all over
my hands wonder all over you
massaging your legs,
massaging your thighs
then massaging your *******
I align your body with mine
carefully allowing myself
to go inside of you
because I value every
moment of our intiment pleasure
my hip movement corresponds to yours.
I whisper loving thoughts in your ear
on how my endless desire to
please you like you truely deserve
may not ever be fufilled.
I caress you
while you are in my lap
we exchange loving
and passionate wet kisses
I increase my speed
and exert more force
making myself go "harder" and
"faster" allowing you to feel
the warming sensations that
I once felt before flow
into you as well
I feel you tighten up around me
I notice that your legs and arms
are placed around my waist
clinging to me tightly
feeling safe and secure
in my arms
you wanting and encouraging me
to do whatever I please
as long as I don''t stop
I become driven by
my very own intentions
I feel the both of us
on the verge of climaxing.
Dec 19, 2020
Dec 19, 2020 at 9:27 AM UTC
It rained for three straight days
during my first visit
to you.
Fitting. I should have expected as much.
Especially if it corresponds to your happiness,
I can only be more thrilled
about rain
and what it brings down with it
and the slates it washes clean.
We drank with reservations
and read poetry with gusto
and fell to the floor with love
as the thunder clapped across the
valley
and the rain poured from our skin.
You are small,
not even close to helpless,
but I would face down anything
so that your hands may stay and fit
so delicately in mine and
so your lips would find mine
again.
When we met, finally,
and I felt your frame fall into mine,
trusting me enough for that
so soon,
I was honored,
and I knew that the fears I had
about what this would be like,
what you might be like,
what we might be like,
were unfounded,
and very complicatedly so.
Wouldn't it have been easier
to despise the other?
But no,
instead we fell into rhythm
as if we had never been out of sync,
we fell into and onto each other
time and again
in ways that could only be described as
perfection.
I saw you gaze onto me
with a mystique only Picasso himself
would be able to render,
so I lost myself in your eyes
with words I've known for
long and with thoughts I could
finally say.
It rained for three straight days,
but on the day I left
the sun beamed through the sky.
So I left,
with kisses and kind words,
and it wasn't until I was on
the excruciating road back
that I realized
I was leaving home
for the second time
in only one trip.
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 8:25 PM UTC
In the breath,
of Winter’s first kiss,
my mind freezes,
racing with thoughts,
as the wind caresses,
my cheeks,
coloring them,
in a shade of pink.
A night of preparation,
for this worker bee,
attempting to preserve,
my miniscule piece,
of a gargantuan world.
In the beauty,
of the night,
I transform,
from a worker bee,
into a queen,
unconventional,
yet lovely adorned,
in originality.
I catch your gaze,
dark and mysterious,
as I enter into the room,
trying to hide my longing,
for the splendor,
of your handsome figure,
intriguing my interest.
I am fond,
of your dark attire,
your lean,
yet rough exterior,
that moves in the form,
of a gentleman.
A stranger with a fedora,
draped upon his head,
leaving my eyes to glance,
down to his eyes,
lingering upon me,
as though only I exist,
in the vividly embellished ballroom.
Fear paralyzes us,
leaving neither you nor I,
to move forward,
to dance,
into the ambiguity,
of emotions,
confessing the attraction,
compelling us to submit,
to the arrow of Aphrodite,
thrusting us to surrender,
to the yearning of our hearts,
to express adoration,
for each other.
I place a bead,
from the necklace,
dangling upon my neck,
into your hand,
allowing you to remember me,
hoping you would return,
after this enchanting encounter.
I observe your hesitance,
in response as you contemplate,
praying your aspiration,
corresponds to my wishes,
fighting my temptations.
I stand in silence,
reflecting upon your,
captivating charisma,
as you body moves,
elegant in manner,
to be closer to mine,
embracing me,
in a modest act of simplicity,
I shall never relinquish,
from my memory.
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 2:56 PM UTC
“No, I said the song was stuck in my head”.
Well, maybe your just trapped in an entire melody.
Chained to a wall of harmonics.
Pinned to the floor by the tetra-chord.
Sequenced and submissioned in a pool of Lonian Mode and Aeolian Mode notes.
Your brain corresponds to a numeric ratio responding the principal intervals of a scale.
Hail to the symphony, to the orchestra.
Give your all to Pythagoras, the Greek philosopher of such discovery.
This ongoing evolution of stringed instruments and major and minor scales, forms, interprets, co-exists with one another, forever.
If you were to associate yourself to the modern tunings of ancients temperament, you’ll see that just because they have ultimately derived, does not mean that they have all died.
The song you are stuck in reaches way back in time, when world knew no hymn.
Any song is a reminder of a world that once was dim.
Sep 20, 2010
Sep 20, 2010 at 1:26 AM UTC
a flashing neon cocktail of colour
shines a peculiar light
like a fossil washed in my jeans
it allows me to speak to Panzas donkey
in a place where black winged angels wait
providing a backdrop to unconscious geography
that can never be reclaimed
movements are that of a stage contortionist
slow and deliberate
they recollect colliding tangents
that preclude all manner of inquiry
there is an articulated confrontation
that corresponds to a drawn curtain
an ash grey partition
painted with a particularised creation
projecting in a self generated universe
an estrangement to the world of aligning
past and present
A windmill tilts and magnifies
the sense of isolation generated
by my conversation with Panzas donkey
in a realisation of the unquantifiable location
of the non-geometric dimensions of Quixotic thought
yet allows for an initiation of sensory experience
as a world that exists independently of
physical space is explored
and I realise the expansion of consciousness
is the emitted light of relative thought
that flashes in colour before me
it is my dreams, they are violet
like the sky
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 10:18 AM UTC
i pour myself another flask
tilt my head to the heavens and choke it down
as if to say 'that one's for you mom'
the gulps of jack honey that kiss my stomach
become a bitter reminder of the things that i relinquish in sobriety
they ask me about my coping skills and lately
i nit pick, mock, and overanalyze
see, i am much more bitter than the poison i swallow
yet it will never occur to anyone that i have a void in my heart the size of kansas
i take another swig, feel the whiskey warm my cheek, and
close my eyes to imagine my mother's hands cupping my face
as if to subtlety remind me that i'll be alright
but that never corresponds to the way that i've felt since that night
i stand in front of the mirror bearing a shocking resemblance of her
my eyes tilt down a little and my lips are thin, just as hers were
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 8:26 PM UTC
>The sky roars as the thunder explodes, the storm collides in my every memory of waking thought, I seem to clash as the change of season happens as abruptly as my change of emotion.
<I am plummeting to the bottom of the ocean
Drinking in the salty sip
Rising high as the commotion
Riding the low and the wavering dip.
>My focus seems obscured, scrutinized with every drip.
Drip drop...
Drip drop...
Lost. But still standing, the question is how.
Because every universal structure has me be-dowered.
The ocean holds many highs, ones that are forbidden.
Forbidden as the eyes can see.
But to me, I stare blindly, waiting to breathe.
<Unto the unknown
Unto the breach
Splitting at the seems
The why's
The where's
The how's
Are those my dreams?
Will warmth conceive?
O' come back to me
>Thoust lay beneath, I try to see,
I perceive with the eye of the cat, the mental stamina of a bird.
But lost in the eclipse, there's no looking back.
Pushing forward, I make my move.
Lips on focus, biting them as I inhale the atmospheric scent.
<Mystical indulgence
String of pearls diamond droplet around my neck
Gypsy traveler drifting between each breath
Spirit at the helm
Moon bound
Earth to the ground
Cat lives left
If I fall
Faith will stand again
Wingspan stretched out
Sun set
>Sun so far, it seems so near.
Sun so near, it seems so far.
Breathless, but still in sight, I reach over and feel the delight.
As darkness and pain is madness, so is light and healing.
Everything corresponds together and creates the balance.
But I write, "hello darkness my old friend''
The paper drifts away, as the sun rays hit my face
The string of pearls rest against your neck, as the master of puppets arrive, we soon begin our test.
<Our hearts write the line
Then,
silence.
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 4:25 AM UTC
It is the essence
of all things,
standing here in
flagrant opposition
and calling ourselves
friends
And yet through
the fights and opposition,
there's the bend and
sway of latitude
where each word is but
a shadow on
emotion's battered
skull
Can you see me
as I see you,
here now within the
present moment,
underneath a sky
that doesn't care
whether we laugh
or dance or cry?
Can you hear it now,
that drum beat of
indifference,
threading through
the certainty of
footsteps etched
in stone?
Oh, these contrived
things we share,
and our sanctimonious
musings that
tell nothing and give
nothing but
the languish of
a soul deprived
And in these brick
edifices,
we would cling to
our salvation within
a solitary world
we need to believe
corresponds with us
There they are,
these moments
and damnable expressions,
cast like lots
onto the stage
where the curtain is
just beginning to rise
And if we were truly
honest,
if our truth was so
undisguised
then it wouldn't take
the very breath of us
to turn the other way
But a black hole
is mesmerizing,
the unknown is
a desired thing
for if you can
walk into those
darkened rooms,
you can come back
to spread the tale
About the Carpenter
who wasn't a Walrus,
and the Dark Man
who possessed light,
and the Woman who was
a ****** Harlot
yet somehow set it all
to rights
It is there,
you see,
in the rhyme,
the single rhyme
that tells the mystery
of this riddle
And I am only its instrument,
sitting down like a flute,
pressed to the lips
of infinity
and screaming out its
breath
And here's the part
where we rise now,
here's the portion
where we say "Amen"
and walk away towards
translucent horizons
and ebony dreams
filled with alabaster
musings written in gold
It's all symbolic,
you see
The alcohol of the
intellectual,
a summation in
a single stroke
of lines
So I can weave my web,
and you can weave yours
but the meaning,
that subtle meaning,
will be a secret to us
that's etched in stone...
Mar 24, 2010
Mar 24, 2010 at 5:50 PM UTC
The fused light
The brightness is tinged in haze it is corresponds to us walking in twilight but is the gift of
Discovery that hovers near all is needed is curiosity the needle that will stitch a thousand
Wonders take from time and place all guessing fill the abandoned with power and grace The child of yesterday will emerge a wand is held to dispel inroads that have been made
By neglect and cruel slights the soft blending is truly the mending that will remove deep lines
Of worry and trouble you can’t walk in light and not be refreshed the residue of malignant
Thoughts and actions by others or even your self can’t endure light’s purifying qualities as well
As sight nullifies the danger of colliding with objects keen eyes see the riches that lie near and
Far expectation guaranties prosperity and prepares people mentally in its acquisition the golden
Light switches cumbersome burdens acquired in dark desperate hours that offered no relief it
Takes the renewing day to give you the power to expel waste that draws from evil darkness our
Deeds are contrary because we practiced them while hidden from the light but assurance rises
Not just on the distant horizon but in the weakened troubled mind once it has failed true
Forgiveness is the rekindling rallying call that light so grandly affords without it victories can’t
Be found truth says I am the light and the way how many wayward broken men and women have
Found and left their chains of slavery at His feet now they by divine impetus carry themselves
Forward carefree unrestricted there is a glowing light from within that can never be darkened
Though hell try with all of its might the fight is His and he never has or will be defeated oh sweet
Destiny we found you after many days of cruel blindness now we are transfigured we take on
The golden soft glowing a comfortable showing that is all bestowing love has its richest flow we
Are no longer deceived that life is only things but it is others and Him that only matters what joy
You will know when you walk in the light
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 3:34 AM UTC
The soft encasement of our footsteps on damp grass,
cold which slowly seeps into my cloth made shoes
eventually to carry up my ankles, through and through
we sit on the old trailer, looking up
to a sky of but few stars, most hidden save the dippers
and our small talk begins to chorus with
the symphony of the night while we grant ourselves
permission to bypass such warning labels that
we've been wearing for the past year.
The past is the past, or so I've told myself
you've endorsed this new policy of "no regrets"
and sweep your tongue not only over my neck
but across beliefs held close for so long
I know not what to do with you, for I am leaving you
to an unknown I've learned of over and over again
merely by walking the same path in circles with you
and those circles have permeated a spell around my heart
which tends to seek, and return to you.
The change that corresponds between us displaces goodbye
we've tried so many times and the word is not strong enough
to cut the stem that is our understanding of one another which
stretches out between us over a sea of all that is flowing forward
dividing our worlds, placing us on separate sands
though we sit so closely now that our gazes still connect
in the dark where the moon hovers in a cloudless sky
and you've missed each shooting star that has flown
for the entire time, you were looking at me.
In bodies ever so familiar, our recognizable outer shells
we relax there for a while
because in the name of human decency, in our closeness
you and I may be gazing up at the stars talking about cats now
but I know that this is how we are waving across a vast sea
and if all of this flowery talk
is to be swallowed up by the night's shadows
as the cold continues towards my core and drives us inside
as our steps are forgotten by the damp lawn
I know, for truth, that goodbye does not quite blanket our history.
Yet, may a good-night lay to rest such things.
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 7:41 PM UTC
I crave for your lips on mine
I crave our bodies together as one
I crave our soul intimate with each other
I miss your touch
The way you take control
I want to feel your body burning with my touch
Because you start this fire inside of me
And it's flame only corresponds with yours
I can't help myself with these feelings and desires
I want the world to know about how our love could burn an entire forest
And at the same time grow trees out of it
Because together we grow each day
As your lips start from my mouth then slowly to my body
You tell me to relax
With that said my body hastily responds to it
Then you whisper to my ears
"Good girl"
Oh God, those two words together makes my heart melt
Me only being good to you and me being your girl
Is the best power duo out there
The words "good girl"
Seems to be a paradox don't you think?
Because at the same time what we're doing
Your hands on my thighs
Trust me I'm only bad for you
Once again his mouth on mine
I swear it taste like safety and security
And when he grips
It is painful yet so satisfying
He tells me
"I could bury my face into the nape of your neck and call it home"
Teachers, school presentations, my parents
Warned me about drugs and alcohol
But not a boy who could make me scream until my lungs runs out of air
I never knew what love bites were
Until he imprinted his on me to mark his territory
He said he's never been into exploring
Until he started his exploring my body with his
Together we could make our own country called love
Capital city intimate
And Valentines Day is everyday
A city filled with love bites and hickeys
But only where we can see
I've never truly met a gentleman
Not until he showed me how gentle he can really be
With the way he caress my body
If I could describe his entire existence in one word
It would be home
After a night filled with adventure
We lock eyes
A connection and bond so deep
I know that I'd be spending my next 60 years with him
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC
patiently waiting for an indication
a signal worth of chaos and destruction
i said, let me try
your mere existence of admiration
and a whirlpool of unsure emotion
yet again, i said, let me try
leaves me surmising and surely wanting
a pessimistic hope and a dreary longing
a day would come by
a hope is drawn by
let me repeat it, i said, let me try
tiny stardust die every overlook shot
but sparkles every time you lay an eye
a heavy breath which corresponds a weigh
that will surpass every breaking heart
every longing heart and every healing heart
for the last time, i said, let me try,
with you
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 7:16 AM UTC
you kissed the scar below my breast.
the scar that resembles the
eye of providence.
there was horror in your eyes.
you asked me where
my blood flows from
and i did not know.
what i did discover, however,
was that with who I am
and all i believe in and love
corresponds with this scar
that i was born with.
i always knew where it was
but i never really focused
on the shape; and
come to find out that this symbol wound, to me, was
absolutely frightening
and completely satisfying at the same time.
when i discovered it,
i had stars in my stomach,
it was like looking at it for the first time.
it told me that
i was born to be;
born to create
born to know
I finally knew that i was of the sibylline highborn.
-Arizona
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 7:58 AM UTC
She sells herself to finance her suicide
Surrendering to the seductive siren sensation
One more hit of his pipe translates to
One more hit of her pipe
One more putrid ***** transforms to
One more skillful stick
She murders dignity to pursue decadence
Mumbling monotone mantras maniacally
One more trip around the block equates to
One more moral placed in hock
One more greasy smile amounts to
One more dance with denial
She absorbs abuse to save souls
Protecting proteges poised for perdition
One more lash of leather corresponds to
One more tickle of a feather
One more session of spanks brings
One more gesture of thanks
She stifles all semblance of normalcy
Wallowing wordlessly within her weathered world
One more pain converts to
One more gain commutes to
One more pain to one more pain
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 12:34 PM UTC
The process eternal
writhes on and on as endless organism
& is unknowable unfolding
of yet-to-be-known reflections of past
presented as myriad forms
all somehow me
all somehow mind
thought-born love
beauty eternal yet
harboring menacing laughter
somehow all corresponds
it is unclear yet simple
unknowable yet obvious
waiting to be seen
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 2:08 AM UTC
Resist most
let a few in
hide behind a wall that appears paper thin
watch it dissolve
into sticky fly paper
people are compelled
instantly attracted
you let people in
and begin to form a bond
if they leave
part of you corresponds
as you add on to the wall
you prevent intrusion
it all adds on to the illusion
the inside seems so great
because it was made so hard to penetrate
the thicker the wall
the longer they stay
rewards come soon
to those who are welcomed
because behind that fly paper
is all of your imagination
so share out loud your thoughts and consolations
the air around you the air inside
is filled with admiration
and overflowing with pride
because now that your inside
you are forever mine.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
I'm a dead man
Deceased by crime
Folly
Shame corresponds
With my rather
Complicated mind
My spirits dampened
Spent on *****
Disgrace
No heir
Empty desire
Hateful glare
Waiting for
The spark
A grateful gleam of hope
Run
Embrace ruin
Choices made on a whim
Tired and broken
No high
Simplistic grand opera
An end to all
Up and over
Down and under
Dead and alone
Independent
Forgiven against an empty space
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 5:01 AM UTC
I believe there is a certain necessity for persistent re-evaluation of one's self. to allow the psyche to reassess and perceive one's personal growth. are we still exerting energy and resources towards what finds us that betterment upon our inner wealth? this should directly concur with pure candidness; one's ability to balance the acknowledgment of their faults with the appreciation of their prosperity. this aforementioned ideal of persistent re-evaluation corresponds with my argument that complacency is trifling in today's world. though, I mean to mention a prime difference between that of momentary complacency and perpetual complacency. momentary complacency is viable and is, in itself, essential. we must, at times, come to terms and concede for rejoice. perpetual complacency, however, proves to hinder our ability to constructively progress our state of well being. within this argument, my mind wonders to that of this near obsession with improvement and all of the flawed gimmicks that follow. how far can one go? nevertheless, I want to be better. I want to see better. I firmly believe that we could do better.
be well,
bcb
Mar 30, 2020
Mar 30, 2020 at 6:24 PM UTC
Everywhere I see leaves falling down on me
I see beauty of autumns arrival
There is beautiful fresh air, tears of joy
Autumn heat is sweet
Overflow of green grass reveals beauty
pure is the heart twisted with oblivion
lounge around corresponds with quiet times
Pair of hummingbirds fly high
begin to remember fun in the sun
pertain emotions to harvest time
Gaze into the early morning sun
distance will make the heart grow fonder
Measure your intellect skills
Treasure every moment, every day
Refrain from craziness in society
Everywhere I go, I see leaves
falling down on me
Bizarre days ahead
Enter with extreme clarity
every season,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 4:57 PM UTC