"discotheque" poems
I
Through vines indeterminate
Red cherry eyes peeped,
And spied two forms,
Fleshy pink and brown
Trees, tangled at the roots,
kissing in the canopy.
II
The garden was our
Discotheque, the sullen
Moonlight reflected
On the Black Beauties,
Twisted black mirrors,
in the garden of joy.
III
O, to again be mov'd
By your heirloom lips,
I'd give it all, the earth,
the sun, and the water.
A sacrifice: my Homesteads,
for a home.
IV
Soil runs dry.
The sun scorches.
Plagues run rampant.
We burn, we are sacked
and pillaged, and destroyed.
Roma, Roma, Roma.
V.
Maybe the rain,
Or sweet shade,
Or gentle sun,
Or simply the need
To be so defiantly
alive, will bring us again,
And I will drink you up again,
Brandywine.
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
As I rounded the hill
Face to face with the still
That I'd only heard rumors spoke of
With no one around
I sat myself down
And proceeded to sample the stuff
As sweet as honeydew melon
Got my feet to a geling
Made me feel like I did in my youth
Sat with a dumb gaze for a while
Then got the biggest of smiles
When it came to me what I should do
So I went with my plan
And opened a stand
Right there on the mountain side
When word in the forest got out
I never had any doubt
That all of the critters would be stoping by
You should have seen them all guzzle
As the squirrels ordered doubles
Then proceeded to tell wild nutty lies
It was quite the fiasco
When they brought out the cowboy hats and lasso's
As the party went well into the night
They paid in nuts and berries
Which was fine by me
With them I made different flavors of shine
In flavors I made 32
So I wouldn't get sued
By Baskin-Robbins who has 31 at this time
From all the flavors I made
Boysenberry was the fav
The raccoons made up a dance called the boysenberry crawl
Which was a big hit
At the discotheque
The beavers built in the early fall
We made a deal
I would sell them my swill
For a little piece of the pie
We were all getting rich
I have to admit
It's quite the relationship, the beavers and I
Of course the beavers got greedy
You know how beavers are needy
Couldn't leave well enough alone
Figured they had the right
Who's going to pay for these lights
That make this the best disco in town
They started charging a cover
Which didn't go over
As well as they would have liked
Plus they doubled the price of the *****
Which left little food
On the woodland creatures tables at night
Things went from bad to worse
When they started to curse
Me, "The Man" for the troubles they had
I barely made it out alive
By the skin of my hide
When I packed and hit the road mighty fast
Things had been going so well
Before it all went to hell
And me and my still were forced to leave
Now still to this day
You know why I always say
That famous line, passed down in time
"Leave it to Beav"
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 10:51 AM UTC
Girls just want to have fun
And I'm the hopeless romantic
I wanna dance with somebody who loves me
Sure, she's a
Maneater
And she's still
Holding out for a hero
I don't care
Sweet dreams are made of this
I won't hold back now
I'm so excited
I release the epic
Eye of the tiger
I'll make you scream and
Jump for my love
This truly is
The final countdown
I'll make sure you
Give it up
Just promise me that you'll
Wake me up before you go-go.
Because baby,
Our 80's playlists will have such beautiful children.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 3:54 PM UTC
our withering is changing. we have new lungs and the sour mercy of our discotheque is no longer
earth shattering. new bells that'll ring, ping the sonar of thus far, and right now. our iguana
is bothered but our cactus is out of practice, so we malice the wrong people. brown scotch
botched in the locust plume of our nothingness.
all in the night jar.
we palm the coin of many realms but snooker the genie into 4 wishes for kicks.
we split the bucket list and enlist strange agents to embroil the liturgy of our silence
with the umbrage of our slumbers.
where rumbles the blunder of our measured steps
as we stumble through the rapscallions of our private thoughts in the after hours.
we empower our oblivion
by kissing on the mouth.
this is how we keepsake sacred, but escape velocity by way of quiet... this loud.
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 7:41 PM UTC
Once, I thought of you as one usually does
Of some sort of mythical being.
Your presence only in conversations,
Drunken confessions,
A slightly blurry photograph on a phone,
Your name becoming a by-word for
Intense ****** attraction.
Once, I met you at the discotheque,
Your raven hair swirling around a
Black-clothed, willowy frame
As you partook of your personal bacchanal,
A private smile meant for my companion
On your kissable lips
And in your unfathomable eyes.
Once, you left me tongue-tied and shy,
Blushing furiously as I searched in vain
For words that usually
Happily danced on my tongue.
We left each other that night
Without having spoken past polite greetings,
And I was bitterly regretful.
Once, I decided to love myself,
And began to become almost beautiful,
Shedding layers of flesh and fear
And though I had long forgotten your face
I resolved that were I to see you again,
Both smiles and sentences would
Easily flow and you might learn of me.
Once, I took that risk,
Sending you a message full of sarcastic
And clever comments laced with charm.
This time I was ready
To set aside all of my misgivings,
Ignore your intimidating beauty,
And let myself peek through and smile.
Once, I thought it utterly impossible
That someone like you may notice me,
But after a year of meditation and peace,
I now know I was too afraid to be noticed.
Even if you lose interest and look elsewhere,
I still consider this quite the triumph,
For you were part of why I searched for myself.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 8:12 PM UTC
I’ve felt lost
Like tangerines being pushed into the
Discotheque of animosity slowly murdering each other’s nebula with
Arms crossed over and eyes blazing joints among the durable and dangerous
Architectures where the faculties of the skull
No longer admit the worms of the senses
How much time may be disjointed while everyone
Takes to their wondering sky
The glass floor the rock beaten path
The somber shadow of neglect justifies
My hiding from the world somewhere
I shatter into a billion pieces and slowly the collapse remembers how it once
Felt the ugly ball of lights thrusting each beam into my skin
A metallic taste in my mouth
The groovy red liquid that makes life dependable as painted laughs
Migrate to the other side of dawn
No one hopes for anything
Let it all disintegrate into the coming rainfall
Gathering in small odd shaped holes all over the cities belly
Barbwire disguises melancholy gasps of breath
I’ve seen you in those hours where anything can happen
And it does
No longer waiting at the long table
No response no self doubt
My particles coagulate in my throat
The simple thought disappears
A night of unrest turns your skin inside out as
The violence escalates into silent picture mode
Only thirst recovering from three days of religion
And no explanation is needed
I know when all those beautiful sad laughs you send out on every
Other month finally arrive I’ll be ready to open my eyes
Hold my hands out and receive you in full
Is this your spirit?
Or the glare coming off the street lamps
Just close the door
And lose all memory of me
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 10:23 AM UTC
We were victims of the night,
the chemical, physical, kryptonite
Helpless to the bass & faded light
Oh, we were bound to get together,
bound to get together
She took my arm,
I don't know how it happened
We took the floor and she said,
"Oh, don't you dare look back
Just keep your eyes on me"
I said, "You're holding back"
She said, "Shut up & dance with me"
This woman is my destiny
She said, "Oh, oh, oh,
shut up & dance with me"
A backless dress & some beat up sneaks,
my discotheque, Juliet teenage dream
I felt it in my chest as she looked at me
I knew we were bound to be together,
bound to be together
Deep in her eyes,
I think I see the future
I realize this is my last chance
She took my arm,
I don't know how it happened
We took the floor & she said,
"Oh, don't you dare look back
Just keep your eyes on me"
I said, "You're holding back"
She said, "Shut up & dance with me"
This woman is my destiny
She said, "Oh, oh, oh,
shut up & dance with me"
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 9:58 AM UTC
across the room your footsteps click
when you see my eyes roll back
just know you did this
as my vision goes black
this room has a wonderful indigo atmosphere
you and i are burning scarlet red
the jealous grass withers brown here
the mornings we just lay in bed
can almost taste it on my tongue
the sweetness of your morning voice
nostalgia for when we were young
and didn't have a choice
such a sweet treat to my ear
and you're laughing into the curve of my neck
"a dance to our song, dear"
Enjoy the Silence at the discotheque
touching you is coming home to me
drawing in close when night is too cold
when the lights in your eyes reflect the city
we make promises, we'll never get old
there can't be another feeling like this
you're from another world it seems
where there are six
for you and i exclusively
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 2:36 AM UTC
Another day, another night.
You say their debt outweighs their death.
Logic dispels the search through trash and mildewed lore.
Makeup runs and your choices stay.
Becoming much thinner now yes?
The air is unintelligible.
These things will last.
Abandoned not loved, the fate of your newest choice;
a most crystalline series of poor choices, calculated missteps and those carefree mistakes.
Like the smoke flown from your lungs over the roof of neon discotheque.
Either/or.
You smell of spoiled treasure.
Move past the decay, past perfumes and powders.
There is you, skeletal and shaking on a small bed in the middle of a dark place with a hint of light all around you, shadows form on the edge, the mythos surrounding your empty head, but never bending to enlighten you.
Stay still.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 11:06 AM UTC
[Since the season has been a bit overwhelming for me, I wanted to share a children's poem from my earlier collections. Hope you enjoy this other side of my personality ;-)]
DIGGIN’
Doug dug a hole to China
And there upon the way
Another Doug was digging
To see the U.S.A.
Doug and Doug stopped digging
Then heard more digging sounds.
A shovel came protruding
And Dougie was inbound.
Dougie, Doug and Doug sat down,
And I’m not kidding you,
The dirt collapsed above them
And Doug the Fourth came through.
Eight more Dougs came digging,
A dozen Dougs in all.
It felt so overcrowded
They dug four mammoth walls.
Now, middle earth’s a party,
So if you dare the trek,
Come dancing down with diggers
At 12 Dougs Discotheque.
Steve Roberson
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
I was never one for dancing,
But I was always interested in the view
Tonight was no exception.
The music played your theme
Your hips moving, to rhythms
My feet would soon forget.
My heart fluttered
Matching the tempo of drums
Then Pounding faster.
As your twists mesmerize.
The lights play games of tag
On the ceiling,
Across the walls,
On the floor,
Across your curves.
I'm swallowed by your visage.
As the room follows your lead.
Spinning,
Twisting and contorting
Carrying you towards me
Or me towards you.
I no longer can tell.
Your eyes sparkle
In between the strobe.
Inviting me to join you
As my body learns a second language.
First clumsily, but
Each second brings fluency.
We are lost in each other.
Letting the music
Hypnotize.
Our bodies, symbiotic.
Energy pulsing-
Through each other,
Into each other.
During a moment of clarity I think.
If she drank a poisoned cocktail.
I might ask the bartender for what she's having.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 5:20 AM UTC
When I was in hostile environment training in Manchester
I picked up this butterfly pendent for you but never presented it
Because of your ludicrous inkling, that true friends should never exchange gifts;
When I first met you working at that coffee shop back home
I was trying to woo you by writing poetry but I failed and read them on my own;
When I was 20 occupied in Dubai I was rationalizing what adventures you might have ventured in to
While observing the city ***** ****** monoliths of sand cement and glass;
When I was stuck in an airport in Pakistan, I saw a humming bird and a blue plastic bag
Arbitrarily floating in the air, then thought of your indigo hair band
Which you use to wear, hopelessly on your left arm
When I was watching the Formula 1 back in Bahrain I watched the race cars firm pass
And wondered how our time together also expired just as fast;
When I was 23 - enduring in the war tore city of Baghdad
I meant to write but there was nothing stimulating
In that hell hole to write for your innocent soul to have ever grasped
Hence I held my silence steadfast
I spared you the misery when I failed to communicate the wounds I received in Ballad (a US Air force base in Iraq);
Then when I was in the ***** fields in the Kanoon province of Afghanistan
I discovered that ****** is almost as intoxicating & addictive as you
When I was in a discotheque in New Castle, I saw a girl with a butterfly tattoo
Reminded me of how you spread your wings and flew away with someone more attuned to you
When I was in a seafood restaurant in Singapore, I ordered a Unagi sushi (I did not even eat it)
Only to induce the aroma of your favourite dish as it evoked the sweet memory of you
When I was in a 15 hour layover in Male sinking my feet in the sea sand
I simply wished that you were there with me holding my hand
When I was once stuck in the metro in London I allegedly meant to send a postcard
But got distracted by the fact that you were engaged to another hence it was excruciatingly hard
After a Coldplay concert ended in Liverpool I saw this little Irish lass
And thought how beautiful your children might take after your beautiful stance
When I was visiting a castle in Edinburgh oh! How I wished I have secured a castle for you
And how I should have said those 3 words more often than I ever moved around without you
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 2:20 PM UTC
Honor, I wear a discotheque
Like, a clown's first dance
Integrity, comes for permission, wicked
Opinion, salt and pepper on an egg, is a demon's problem
Little more, than a thank you
Sassafras, is no hap's ecstasy
In the proud and angry due...
We made a frank photograph, your drunk intimacy...
Is a pardoned stare, at faerie tales
Meant upheld, upheaval is a wager
Of a world, with no clash with vice fail's
Proper though, in the name of fate's mere
Mercy, with an extra shirt
Ready for a pant's relent, regret
In an unescapable kiss, of hurt
And possessing quaintness, we are the boding let...
Witness the gasp...
Of a spirit, erudite to a finish
Of levity, long before callous can ask
Is it all right, to wink at liberty's wish?
Nov 9, 2024
Nov 9, 2024 at 3:37 PM UTC
He was a flower then
thorns is what he became
the diamond turned to coal
life ain't a discotheque
lights are never real
darkness is absolute !
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
I dreamed a nightmare
just last night
I dreamed a nightmare
what a fright
Your hands, they shook
as they gripped my throat
Your weary eyes
somehow seemed to gloat
"Look at my prize"
they seem to say
"I said I'd come
for you one day"
Those words you spat upon my face
like marks on paper, you cant erase
those awful things you did to me
and now you're climbing up a tree
with rope in hand
you tie a knot
and then you say
"Oh, I forgot"
You grab my wrist and pull me close
"Now its time for 'Adios'"
You tie the noose around my neck
bright lights surround, like discotheque
and as you place me on the chair
I recognize that auburn hair
the way it frames your little face
you're evil but you look like grace
you look into my eyes eyes and say
you'll never see another day
you pull the chair and all I see
are my own eyes looking back at me
I wake up as cold sweats surround
the dead of night, not a single sound
my breath is fast
my face is red
and my mind...my mind
it wants me dead
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 11:51 AM UTC
are you ?
that's when the wind changed, when i asked. it dropped the last last of a thousand afters -
and wrapped the tinsel laughing in the foyer of our discotheque.
that's when the elder proof took root in the cognizant. bore fruit and [ clasped rafter. ]
and perhaps a winsome blasting... though annoying, it's our affect.
but are you ? yet ?
and who's left to true ?
disaster ?
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 4:17 AM UTC
(20 minute poetry)
If bothered is the place to be
I can't be bothered to go and
see
the sights.
Sleepless under strobing lights in
the discotheque
to which I own the rights.
It's cold in the pinball this morning,
the heating is long overdue
the captain is ****** at the controls
so
what can the traveller do?
Again it's off key or
perhaps it's just me,
too many nights on the floor
and I'm losing the will
to survive,
but that's nothing new to
the man who's been through
the mill.
In Rotherham they can't
be bothered when,
but not all Rotherham men
are alike.
and I'm in London being stood on
standing on the tube.
Maybe bothered is
the face, palm, slap
the trap that
we all fall for
or maybe it's not
if
I could be bothered to bother
I'd take the time to investigate
more.
Tuesday's plain awful and
it gives me a headache
I should really sleep on
and not be bothered to wake
Soon be done
time to run
the next stop belongs
to me.
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 1:40 AM UTC
Well, the kids are all hopped up and ready to go, they're ready to go now
They got their surfboards and they're going to the discotheque A-Go-Go
But she just couldn't stay, she had to break away
Well New York City really has it all, oh yeah, oh yeah
Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker
Sheena is a Punk rocker now
Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker
Sheena is a Punk rocker now
Well she's a Punk-Punk, a Punk rocker
Punk-Punk, a Punk rocker, Punk-Punk, a Punk rocker
Punk-Punk, a Punk rocker
Well, the kids are all hopped up and ready to go, they're ready to go now
They got their surfboards and they're going to the discotheque A-Go-Go
But she just couldn't stay, she had to break away
Well, New York City really has it all, oh yeah, oh yeah
Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker
Sheena is a Punk rocker now
Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker
Sheena is a Punk rocker now
Well, she's a Punk-Punk, a Punk rocker
Punk-Punk, a Punk rocker, Punk-Punk, a Punk rocker
Punk-Punk, a Punk rocker
Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker now
Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker now
Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker now
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 10:33 PM UTC
Met a girl in Memphis,
home to Mississippi,
4am to Tunica or Tupelo,
I got lost in the mix of it.
She stole my breath that morning, knocked the wind out of me,
lost the lights of the discotheque,
we were pollinating free.
Psilocybin chocolates and silk ******* stars as far as eyes could see,
city lights replaced by fireflies,
the Delta's soul soothes a detoured man's decree.
Scent of perfume or poison,
could have been the peonies,
moon shined on domestic horses,
staring back cautiously.
Breeze sang static harmonies through the telephone wires,
And we whispered our hearts desires.
If you asked us,
about the world back then,
We'd have a laugh for an answer for you my friend.
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 9:45 PM UTC
I.
A little pakalolo for you and me to light up,
can you hear the tom-tom of the beat,
dissolving into a smooth sax…
That night in the discotheque, my god,
you were so handsome under neon lights,
swaggering with your schoolboy smile.
I couldn’t keep my eyes off of
the green-golden-halo around your iris,
inviting me in to adore you.
In the space of bodies, I grasped for the untouchable,
so greedy for this tenderness stretching out
in the dark heat like a fat cat in the sun.
You left east. I smell you on my skin, I smell
freshly mowed grass, wash drying in the wind,
the pure air of the high mountains.
I never really touched you after all.
II.
When you spoke, I only heard your voice, the melody,
its joyous tremolo, its tired flatness,
the deep bass arising from the middle of a storm.
We never called each other by our names. We didn’t need to.
I walk to the open window, below,
the busiest street in the city, silent at 2 am.
The air is buzzing with uncertainty. Just a minute ago,
your tiny room was drowning in light so orange.
I thought that sunset would last forever.
Forever? I’ve wanted you more than anything,
more than sanity, more than life itself.
For ever ever?
The sky melted into ink. It meant goodbye.
III.
It’s your song
that moves within me what can be voiced only in clichés,
as if I couldn’t talk about the deep end of love
without comparing it to a gushing river,
turning gentle into rough then gentle again.
Pisces Moon –
next lifetime maybe,
you'll be free and I'll be brave
and we won't know each as we do.
If it's real, does it matter, what kind of love we're given?
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 6:53 PM UTC
Beat in the blues the musky smell of smoke slithering
in and out of nostrils- dragon like dancing
to the ceiling and the drums bop, hard as muscle
women gyrate to the pulse of passion
sounds embrace lovers heading into the mist of night.
Between the banter snorters ****** in coke
and cannabis wasted in the aisles of wonder
glancing at the lights flickering in the rooftops
of their eyes, seeking angels of mercy to take
them deep into the oblivion of emptiness.
The midnight gong sounds shattered as we
huddle in the days of the darkness of unreason
wallowing in the madness of the music
and breaking every rule that kept us trapped
in the cages of that society .
As I look back now, leafing through the years
I cut through the morass of tradition and broke free
from the shackles of sensibility and found my feet
in a wild, wild world where nothing mattered
I am now rested at the journeys end
waiting for the skyline to blow up in flames.
Author Notes
Recollection.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
I once bore witness to no soggy corner, a seedy cinema, or a vile discotheque
when out in the open, the somnolent air on face smashing the distance
often times misappropriated as meaning, or desire – that we hold no choice
to circumstance and acquiesce: I have become consequently obsequious
as in April’s proper warmth swallows the coldness of metal and mostly words;
it was when nights are spent without maps – roads and their meanings,
separated by lines – washed with the squalid metropolitan living,
down from the urban thresh to the empyrean glower of a slow moon beginning
to ignite in someone else’s but mine only and nobody else
aches and persistent meanings, a hand reopening
a long-forgotten dusk – painted anew with a chance never off-tangent
but always at the cynosure of things
this glass with rondure of your face, the valve of shower
your hands or simply the droning sound of driving homeward
that I cannot escape, a voice leaning in, saying something
in the calm wind.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 3:14 AM UTC
We met
in the heat of the discotheque
they played the sixties
all night long
afterwards
I jumped the queue for kebabs
and you had Shish,
Later still,
the hesitation before a kiss
frightened I'd miss the moment
but never
did
and confirmation
of a further assignation
at the discotheque
where we met
next Saturday night
feels like
a hundred year wait
until we get back on the
dance floor
and gyrate once more
to the beat
I can still feel the heat
of your lips.
It's not wishing on a star
that has brought me this far
it's the red vauxhall viva
my fathers old car
she
sits
under the hanging dice,
I think
our names on the windscreen
would look rather nice
she
says
no
and I go along with her.
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 1:14 AM UTC
.when sounds replicate strobe-light effects of a discotheque; ending up looking -esque: till ledemann.
madman:
every time i listen to
some static-x,
i turn into a complete
meat-head,
headbanging after
******* into the throne
of thrones...
eh?
marvel universe,
and the current
movies?
i left the whole party
with the x-men
movies...
apocalypse
was always my
ultimate
villian
anti-thanos...
the whole
nordic theology
inclusion...
n'ah...
left that ********
with logan
and...
that antithesis
of Elvis
cover
of a nine inch nails'
song.
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 11:07 PM UTC
#FLYING THE GREEN-TEA CAPSULE INTO CITY OF NIGHT BY DRIVING (KC & the Sunshine Band of moonlight/streetlight/headlight) ERRORLESS LEARNING / BRAIN OF HEAVEN / THAT’S THE WAY delayed response: vision by precognition, alert to imminent renewal deja vu SUPREMACY OF ORDER / SACRAMENTAL HEALTH / AUTHOR BEHIND THE SKY rhythm in flow of angelic code X musical mode required no deciphering PLANET OF PERPETUAL BECOMING / LOGOS>CHAOS / ETERNAL RECURRENCE OF MUSIC heightened perception: continual surge of lights on horizon INVISIBLE CONSTELLATIONS DANCING / QUEEN OF THE SOUTH’S SMILE instruments of the angels = seraphic versions of terrestrial instruments LIMITLESS DISCOTHEQUE SMOOTH SPACE= DETAILED LIGHT SHOW lost track of thought on a nomadic journey with no destination WELL OF LIVING WATERS / KEEP IT COMING LOVE / SECRET CHORD BEHIND SONG slow explosions over seconds, minutes, miles; motion times rhythm= yes THE LORD MAINTAINS ANONYMITY THROUGH SYNCHRONICITY random chains of association spiraling toward absolute sovereign transcendence. OVER THE BRIDGE INTO THE CITY / MUSIC OF THE SPHERES / DECENTRALIZED DISCOTHEQUE pray to maintain hermeneutic dimension or risk increasing instability READY NOW: RESTORATION OF ALL THINGS (BUT I HAVE TO STAY IN MY LANE) just some song from the 70’s, driving into the city . . . it was only disco GREEN TEA CAPSULE ARRIVES & ENTERS INTERPLANETARY HUB some song from the 70’s, flying into the city named KC & the Sunshine Band
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 8:07 AM UTC