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"eccentricities" poems
1575 The Bat is dun, with wrinkled Wings— Like fallow Article— And not a song pervade his Lips— Or none perceptible. His small Umbrella quaintly halved Describing in the Air An Arc alike inscrutable Elate Philosopher. Deputed from what Firmament— Of what Astute Abode— Empowered with what Malignity Auspiciously withheld— To his adroit Creator Acribe no less the praise— Beneficent, believe me, His Eccentricities—
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The Bat is dun, with wrinkled Wings—
I am an island. I am a little spit of land, Swept away by unsettled waters and shifting sands; Forced alone to make my home In an insubstantial sea. Yet on my island I am free; free to preserve my eccentricities in a nature reserve made from nurturing love of what I choose to be. I am an island. Borne away on wistful waves, I travel onward, Seeking a place where there are others who are free; And when I find them, There I’ll stay, and thereafter spend my days Not as an island… But as me.
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Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 3:35 PM UTC
I Am An Island
i've never fit the standard i've always been quite odd and while i know that makes me different i'm not necessarily flawed because it's always for the wrong things that the world tends to applaud though i swear it's not intentional i've never been conventional my behaviors have no pattern my colors have no scheme when i'm asleep i'm thinking and when i'm awake i dream while the rest are all so silent something inside me screams i'm more than three-dimensional i've never been conventional you may find me confusing you may not like me very well that's something i understand i'm a hot pink among pastels still i think, no i believe that eccentricities propel the reason i'm ascensional is i've never been conventional
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Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 8:43 PM UTC
i've never been conventional
.ah here comes england with its eccentricities, ah hier kommt polen mit seine christentum: where anyone can be a messiah, as stressed by the byzantines. my first love was the love of the english grey, (in honesty mentioned it was the double-decker first, since i fancied myself the great bus-driver of the no. 5 bus back home) earl grey came and said: ‘i can’t look at these skies without sunglasses!’ and so it was, mid-autumn with sunglasses at loss the sun-worshiper enter the moon idiot, looking for accents, looking for anything. in england they called him das deutsche - for reasons believable enough; the luftwaffe eagerly anticipating the tunnelling centipede that is the euro-star train-tunnel: the panzers are rolling in! the panzers are rolling in! strange he never minded the coal-miners as useful as minded by edvard gierek von silesia - to the dispute of silesians not ex-patriated to saxony (oh wait... texan boy doesn't sound as nationalistic as minnesota boy?). ooh pokey poo... writing about germany became so **** so recently, i forget that i started it: here’s to the english language’s chirality of s and z, actually being superimposable: from words in the socratic sense as encoded by plato i don't get a bunch of ideas... virtue does not make me ponder it with meaning or definition, i only see the kabbalistic sensibility of anti-alphabetical sequencing as v i                   r               t               u          e... otherwise              e      i    u             r         t         v; almost sounds like s.t.d.
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Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 6:33 AM UTC
Naked Orthography
.ah here comes england with its eccentricities, ah hier kommt polen mit seine christentum: where anyone can be a messiah, as stressed by the byzantines. my first love was the love of the english grey, (in honesty mentioned it was the double-decker first, since i fancied myself the great bus-driver of the no. 5 bus back home) earl grey came and said: ‘i can’t look at these skies without sunglasses!’ and so it was, mid-autumn with sunglasses at loss the sun-worshiper enter the moon idiot, looking for accents, looking for anything. in england they called him das deutsche - for reasons believable enough; the luftwaffe eagerly anticipating the tunnelling centipede that is the euro-star train-tunnel: the panzers are rolling in! the panzers are rolling in! strange he never minded the coal-miners as useful as minded by edvard gierek von silesia - to the dispute of silesians not ex-patriated to saxony (oh wait... texan boy doesn't sound as nationalistic as minnesota boy?). ooh pokey poo... writing about germany became so **** so recently, i forget that i started it: here’s to the english language’s chirality of s and z, actually being superimposable: from words in the socratic sense as encoded by plato i don't get a bunch of ideas... virtue does not make me ponder it with meaning or definition, i only see the kabbalistic sensibility of anti-alphabetical sequencing as v i                   r               t               u          e... otherwise              e      i    u             r         t         v; almost sounds like s.t.d.
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35
Sitting on this addictive desk Staring at the wonders of the world via the internet From the modesty to the grotesque It's funny how they all forget The life outside of this intoxicating bottle of wires But who am I to complain, for I am one of them Lost inside these eccentricities that I admire Wondering, conjecturing all about the beautiful eerie emblem. What if just one day, one day we all stood and went outside? Smell the breeze of the isolated air Feel the earth, the dirt, that we denied The earth we wear and tear And yet, the ungrateful spends no time to relish What we have, inexpensive But all the care is for the wires; hellish This is the mysterious truth Of the brute Of mankind and their neglect Of a life that may never resurrect -fir.m
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May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
Bottle Of Wires
aromatic coffee awakens senses    midst the gestured warmth of radiant       smiles's 'tween morning brew, reverently paused to catch     the awe inspiring  poignancy                of sunrise's exhilaration, whilst cozily wrapped in the delightful unfurl    of captivating poetry's skillful delectation     a rising ritual begun many blue moons afore,   tempting consciousness, feeding soulfulness     enlightening sensibilities as it         enriches the day's appreciation                'pon the keen awareness of poets, tempests from all niches of the world    coming together amid upheavals and serenity, ceremoniously dubbed fierce confirmations       of words expressly borne, communing the          artfully spirited of resourceful artisans,      procuring special collective bonds that                only poesy can wholly dictate, they look upon us as enigmas   rather strange breed of puzzling characters,      as this inexplicable endeavor         escapes their stifled perceptions          of conduit's musing reasonable facsimile, we're merely cognitive passages for     experiences on common ground        in realizations of all-too-human foibles           eccentricities, yearnings and fortitude, released deliverance of  potpourri    serving up inky joy beyond expression,     intention's distinction deciphering       reflections in meditative affirmations, breadth of unrestrained beholden visions    conjured notions of paramount significance        wherein lies evidence of life's burnt offerings, beginnings and endings of hearts' indulgences      wept in resolute  celebrations of existence                 as only a poet could discernibly translate
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Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
Poetry's aromatic unfurl
aromatic coffee awakens senses    midst the gestured warmth of radiant       smiles's 'tween morning brew, reverently paused to catch     the awe inspiring  poignancy                of sunrise's exhilaration, whilst cozily wrapped in the delightful unfurl    of captivating poetry's skillful delectation     a rising ritual begun many blue moons afore,   tempting consciousness, feeding soulfulness     enlightening sensibilities as it         enriches the day's appreciation                'pon the keen awareness of poets, tempests from all niches of the world    coming together amid upheavals and serenity, ceremoniously dubbed fierce confirmations       of words expressly borne, communing the          artfully spirited of resourceful artisans,      procuring special collective bonds that                only poesy can wholly dictate, they look upon us as enigmas   rather strange breed of puzzling characters,      as this inexplicable endeavor         escapes their stifled perceptions          of conduit's musing reasonable facsimile, we're merely cognitive passages for     experiences on common ground        in realizations of all-too-human foibles           eccentricities, yearnings and fortitude, released deliverance of  potpourri    serving up inky joy beyond expression,     intention's distinction deciphering       reflections in meditative affirmations, breadth of unrestrained beholden visions    conjured notions of paramount significance        wherein lies evidence of life's burnt offerings, beginnings and endings of hearts' indulgences      wept in resolute  celebrations of existence                 as only a poet could discernibly translate
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39
The eccentricities of nature Leaving us at its mercy Sun and rain are taking turns To play with us, caught unaware Mood swings of nature Blatantly leaving us perplexed Sometimes raging with fury Or its calming nature acts as a balm Another moment tornadoes Ripping across the hearts of habitats Leaving us bare and unsheltered Earthquakes depriving the ground beneath Leaving us with open chasms of darkness Erupting volcanoes, burning away Glowing rivers of lava, taking its own course Not showing any mercy, drowning dreams Icy cold glaciers melting away the past To drown away the future of our existence And the vast seas encroaching shorelines So many vignettes of nature We can only be mere spectators To the eccentricities of nature
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Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 8:32 AM UTC
Nature’s Tale
How can you expect someone to love you - when you are not the person they wanted? When all you are is a substitute; filling a vacancy left open by the person they wish to be with. How can you be enough to a person who is never impressed by any of your efforts? A person who sees all your expressions of love, as inadequate coming from you? How can you be appreciated by a person who sees your eccentricities as flaws? A person who attempts to appropriate anything, and everything unique about you. How can you be worth meaning a great deal to a person who sees no value in you? A person who is prejudicial without remorse. How can you be worth loving when you struggle to love yourself? When life has flagellated your self-esteem; when depression has left you void of any jubilation, and left you with an overwhelming emptiness and nights of crying-induced sleep? At my best, the love I give is not reciprocated. The person I am is not celebrated. The emptiness within me seeks solace in recluse.
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Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 4:02 PM UTC
At My Best.
i told you, the most volatile substance, auto-combustion: let's see: the (ν / v'eh point) - touch on elocution, almost δ'eh                   point - but then the oddity: thievery - hence coupling θ                and            φ, well                     s                and             z (hardly an ß) might also make a hush sh sh sound for the eyes to spot with a şiş kebab being served (kebaab if you're talking africān - prolonged on dentistry's dire inspection) - no diacritics and many eccentricities - many accents, and a bowler hat at the royal Ascot - peacock feathers to a flutter ooh! firewood for the comedy scene - the / d or v? veering point or the deepened point? thyme - now that's a solitary τ (tau), well, many more examples! ha! thighs and thievery - theta cheese - thrombosis - that - now that's definitely armed with δ - thermometer - thick - in-between scotch fudge - thinking - throw - viably also famished - invariably also alphabetically accounted for as: thrice - and phosphorescent - pucker up now dear, no point calling jane austen right now, it's too late: better watch the jane austen book club, now that's a great romance movie - serious though, ah, there you have it, though rather thought - another eccentricity to curse periodic examples to rule: vogue in that though - feta cheese in that latter - no one dared to say: i vote, deer fur i am - imagine that said in Chelsea or Camden - you'd never get rid of those crack ******* junkies following you to Waterloo shouting: 'we've found Napoleon! we've found Napoleon! Napoleon! Napoleon!'
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Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 1:50 PM UTC
the most volatile substance
i told you, the most volatile substance, auto-combustion: let's see: the (ν / v'eh point) - touch on elocution, almost δ'eh                   point - but then the oddity: thievery - hence coupling θ                and            φ, well                     s                and             z (hardly an ß) might also make a hush sh sh sound for the eyes to spot with a şiş kebab being served (kebaab if you're talking africān - prolonged on dentistry's dire inspection) - no diacritics and many eccentricities - many accents, and a bowler hat at the royal Ascot - peacock feathers to a flutter ooh! firewood for the comedy scene - the / d or v? veering point or the deepened point? thyme - now that's a solitary τ (tau), well, many more examples! ha! thighs and thievery - theta cheese - thrombosis - that - now that's definitely armed with δ - thermometer - thick - in-between scotch fudge - thinking - throw - viably also famished - invariably also alphabetically accounted for as: thrice - and phosphorescent - pucker up now dear, no point calling jane austen right now, it's too late: better watch the jane austen book club, now that's a great romance movie - serious though, ah, there you have it, though rather thought - another eccentricity to curse periodic examples to rule: vogue in that though - feta cheese in that latter - no one dared to say: i vote, deer fur i am - imagine that said in Chelsea or Camden - you'd never get rid of those crack ******* junkies following you to Waterloo shouting: 'we've found Napoleon! we've found Napoleon! Napoleon! Napoleon!'
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39
Our bilingual illiteracy and contemporary expression of vintage infancy remind me of developmentally mature eccentricities within a complex haven of interpersonal dynamics. Just like a carnival hall of mirrors, our perceptual disturbances succumb to elaborate revelations and dreadful expositions of what we presume to be articulate prose. Although the socio-political roots of a seductive striptease may shatter the silence of our audible and urban ecosystems, we can now access realms which connect to the severance of divided collusion. Our galaxy has established her infinite story, in the same manner as a wrought iron gate interferes with the evidence within our contemporary society. It is just like an alternate universe.
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Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 1:02 AM UTC
Empathy
A book? A book! A book! A book. Sometimes, he really didn't make any sense to her. But she was sure, she didn't make any sense to him either. She had asked him for a solution to a predicament. He answered with a question of his own. There eccentricities were boggling, to people and to minds like the white spots around your eyes or the colour violet. There was a point he was building upto, she was sure. Well not sure, hopeful really. "So why a book?" She asked? "Why not?" He answered! "How would a book help me with my existential crisis?" "Well, a book has been credibly established to allow people to travel through time. So how does one derive the question to 42? By a book of course. How does one spend 5 hours in 4 minutes? With a book! When the questions are more elusive than the answers, read a story taller than the empire state building. And you'll probably fly through existentiality, well of one form at least. Books are what make sure that time doesn't remain linear, but rather flows like a twizzler in a baby's hand." "That was so nonsensical it actually made a little sense", she thought. She'd never tell him of course, his head was inflated enough already. "So", he continued, "Read a book, and I'll read with you. And maybe we'll find the question to your question in the blink of that naked surety you find in the split second of absolute consciousness between the pages."
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May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 1:57 AM UTC
A Book!
Without asking for more than the simple sweet simplicitys, I am bounded by the same laws and rules for life. No use in explaining the values of eccentricities, We are all tools for the media, for what they strive. A product of the temptation for power over others, we will stay The same forever, entrapped in ice with our sisters and brothers, The silly dreams we have, our pursuits. A tiny bit of concern to the Rich-who live to find the right eyeliner, lip gloss-or the best set of Nine Irons for golfing or business suits. Some day they will Get what they deserve, some day...some day. But too bad for me, some day came a little too late...
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Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
Vanity
I. April made port. The hordes of sand stood ready; surveilled the eccentricities of April with a judging eye. Lightwinds seem to sturggle pathing as if they were still learning cantrips. No blood no magic. All is well with my soul. The crooning of the bony earth woke the slumbering April-bud. It sang in seismic trembles. We danced with the needles that recorded this symphony. The ticking of your hair. The elevated pulses of sharp, angled red; we rejoiced in the every spike. Ruminations preserved. II. Sometimes, I wish there were parking lots for ants in front of a bar where they would swap stories while drowning in vats of apple saliva. Their antennae would sway to and fro, and there would be proper queues which would make the sight more stunning and post-apocalyptic. There would be lots of kissing. There would be courtesy and curtsies. There would be stories about patriotism; how they so love their Queen and would fight for Queen and colony and breadcrumbs and peas. There will be no discrimination; no one shall look at one ant and say, “Hey, sugar-lover;” the winged will fall in line as much as the crawling red and black. Ruminations reserved. III. O cold, cold, Earth, t’was your day, in echoing chime! The miters sanctified by satyr priests bore bare relations succinctly longed for and wanted! Godspeed! The atmosphere wears its gown, the Aurora, in celebration! The drum-line needs no motivating, it goes ever on, the snares rumbling in sync with the fire-ants marching in time, the fire-ants marching in time! Never before had a white flag been as unnecessary. O cold, cold Earth, cruise the orbit with this enchanting chanting, ever-going on. Ruminations deserved. IV. The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen. Ruminations unheard.
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Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
A Parking Lot for Ants.
I. April made port. The hordes of sand stood ready; surveilled the eccentricities of April with a judging eye. Lightwinds seem to sturggle pathing as if they were still learning cantrips. No blood no magic. All is well with my soul. The crooning of the bony earth woke the slumbering April-bud. It sang in seismic trembles. We danced with the needles that recorded this symphony. The ticking of your hair. The elevated pulses of sharp, angled red; we rejoiced in the every spike. Ruminations preserved. II. Sometimes, I wish there were parking lots for ants in front of a bar where they would swap stories while drowning in vats of apple saliva. Their antennae would sway to and fro, and there would be proper queues which would make the sight more stunning and post-apocalyptic. There would be lots of kissing. There would be courtesy and curtsies. There would be stories about patriotism; how they so love their Queen and would fight for Queen and colony and breadcrumbs and peas. There will be no discrimination; no one shall look at one ant and say, “Hey, sugar-lover;” the winged will fall in line as much as the crawling red and black. Ruminations reserved. III. O cold, cold, Earth, t’was your day, in echoing chime! The miters sanctified by satyr priests bore bare relations succinctly longed for and wanted! Godspeed! The atmosphere wears its gown, the Aurora, in celebration! The drum-line needs no motivating, it goes ever on, the snares rumbling in sync with the fire-ants marching in time, the fire-ants marching in time! Never before had a white flag been as unnecessary. O cold, cold Earth, cruise the orbit with this enchanting chanting, ever-going on. Ruminations deserved. IV. The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen. Ruminations unheard.
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46
What vicious monster is this? What foul creature? That melts my bones my muscle my skin my soul into mild slop, which it devours lick by lick. What shallow eccentricities, What shining ******** aglow in peach pink under that lamp post. I thought you'd know the feeling. The slurping sickening devouring feeling. I thought you'd know. I thought you'd know.
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Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 10:54 AM UTC
Inner Turmoil
Marriage like I’ve already told you is largely a function of trial and error it is an exciting adventure and you’ll enjoy learning about each other’s likes and dislikes quirks and habits eccentricities and uniqueness celebrate your individualities as much you celebrate your togetherness both are equally important what works in one marriage may not work in another each marriage, like every individual, has its own unique personality discover yours but there are a few things that are constant and necessary Mutual Trust Mutual Respect and Mutual Love Love him of course for everything that is good in him but more importantly love him for his flaws be there for him when he falters because the world can love him for the former but only you, my dear, can love him for the latter. - Vijayalakshmi Harish 04.01.2013 Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
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Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 3:56 AM UTC
For a darling lady, soon to be married
In boots without holes, And a soul whole, I’m ready to roll Into an infinity of possibilities and eccentricities of simplicity. I feel fit you see, To dive head-on into a new song while the melody remains unwritten. I’ll uncap, uncurl and uncoil into this scoreless spring of my existence, Keeping an ear to the ground for hints from a distance, Rejoice in my own valiance of overcoming that dark beast. I am the animal, unleashed! And I shall place my cautious paw in spaces where only good has strode before. Short of saying more: I feel set free, at ease and eager to please. From my head to my knees I feel able to achieve dreams I am yet to conceive. And all this from release! Relinquish and re-grow!
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Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 7:19 PM UTC
New Shoes
Mystic notions of the unseen (dream) seer devotions to a Queen Hidden visions all come true (new) Arcane theories brought to view Beliefs so undefinable say (pray) eccentricities allure displays Representations magical (in scrawled) Philosophies oracle
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Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 6:47 PM UTC
Mystic Notions
If there is anything I need from you, it is waking me up with a kiss & a cup of black coffee, offering your arms so I can hide my face when I blush, to think my eccentricities are endearing, to simply hold me when I shudder often, to know I don't always need you to have the right thing to say: I just need you. My kiss is wild abandonment; my mind turns off & all I know is what your lips want from mine & how your body demands & will receive my own. I hope you won't turn away when you see I'll easily become any color you hint I should be. I'm at a loss that something so moldable could have any handholds to grasp. hair like singed chestnuts, embers still alight. eyes full of moss & earth. skin as speckled sand. your nose is crooked & you remind me of a bird, flighty yet focused. I have never seen a bird out of touch with the moment; whatever is in front of him is his attention's duty, & you are no exception. if you only knew how I felt to be the duty of your attention. the way you dug through your handbag, set on your lap... I smiled because it looked like you were peering into wonderland's entrance, contained inside your purse. your navy stilettos made you an auburn giant, tall & wafer thin. I want to take a bite. xo. Sophia.
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Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
Birds on Stilts
I realized it while I was high and my mind was wandering around. It completely blew my mind, how I always want you in my life. I am crazy in love with you because I realized how much you love me because you accept me the way I am with my craziness and peculiarities with my impulses and eccentricities. I realized how I had never been in love because nothing felt the way it now feels with you. How I yearn your touch and long your kiss. Because I find so hard to say the way I love you. How I can't write how you make me feel (all) the love I feel within. I realized how much I love you wishing you would feel the same finding that you feel the same deeply in love, quenched by love.
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Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 5:32 PM UTC
while I was high...
Self-effacement With time names and dates engraved on headstones weather beneath pelting sleet and rain to soften carefully chiseled letters Little by little etchings become blurred at the edges indistinct and unreadable Personality features fade daily hidden with words structured into facades readily available as a cover from those who wish to unearth the treasures within What a struggle to hide to mute or soften eccentricities into normalities What an effort continual concealment behind frights and fears as though a child playing hide-and-go seek with others Self-effacement becomes a life-style of constantly playing a game without a prize
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Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 6:51 PM UTC
Effacement
Write what cannot be said Feel the sting and exhale Out with the truth That you said you don't need me When I want to be your shoulder Before you beg the barstool for support Sent spiraling into a breakdown... I'd risk losing everything else To understand this universe That forms your turmoils, Eccentricities, and all. Even without sunshine to  delight in, I'd take in your darkness without blinking. So don't lie when you need me most Because I'd want you to catch me When I'm standing on the edge Alone
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Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 9:42 PM UTC
On Edge
My gwanny. She has wrinkles crinkles folds n ***** eccentricities widening gaps. has lapses, collapses, memory prolapses, grows mould n is old n sometimes-- she slaps us my gwanny..
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Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 1:50 PM UTC
"- My Gwanny -"