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"emu" poems
The emus formed a football team Up Walgett way; Their dark-brown sweaters were a dream But kangaroos would sit and scream To watch them play. "Now, butterfingers," they would call, And such-like names; The emus couldn't hold the ball - They had no hands - but hands aren't all In football games. A match against the kangaroos They played one day. The kangaroos were forced to choose Some wallabies and wallaroos That played in grey. The rules that in the West prevail Would shock the town; For when a kangaroo set sail An emu jumped upon his tail And fetched him down. A whistler duck as referee Was not admired. He whistled so incessantly The teams rebelled, and up a tree He soon retired. The old marsupial captain said, "It's do or die!" So down the ground like fire he fled And leaped above an emu's head And scored a try. Then shouting, "Keep it on the toes!" The emus came. Fierce as the flooded Bogan flows They laid their foemen out in rows And saved the game. On native pear and Darling pea They dined that night: But one man was an absentee: The whistler duck - their referee - Had taken flight.
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9.7k
Fur And Feathers
Albert Camus Kept an Emu Tied to a potted, Portable wisteria To keep him company Whilst he kept goal For the University of Algeria. As Albert was fishing The ball out From the back of the net The Emu mused On the conversations they'd had About The Oprah Winfrey Show, The significance of suffragettes, Adam Smith's Wealth Of Nations And the ****** orientation Of Sir Galahad. Whilst discussing the plots of The Plague and The Outsider Warm feelings would suddenly Well up inside her. Why should such intellect Elicit so much love And even more pain? My thoughts for this man Aren't getting any vaguer. Then Utrecht University Scored again. There are no happy endings With Albert Camus - Decades later he dies In his publisher's Facel Vega. When she heard of Albert's demise Her initial reaction Was hysteria And it comes as no surprise That a few weeks later She died of diphtheria Which is so much easier to do When you're an existential emu.
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Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC
Albert Camus And His Existential Emu
It should be illegal because I don’t look good in shorts -- white spindly legs like those on an emu and big fat feet slapping the suffering pavement.
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Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 1:37 PM UTC
Legs
Moo-Cow-Butterfly Not a happy lass Stubby little wings Superfluous mass Four long stringy legs Twirly-whirly tongue Moo-Cow-Butterfly Highly strung Weasel-Emu-Rangutan Fifty shades of fur Quite the oddest vertebrate To naturally occur Burrows in the jungle Terrified of heights Weasel-Emu-Rangutan Restless nights Labra-Hippo-Jellyfish Slimy furry blob Genetic Engineering **** poor job Moping on the seabed Can’t fetch sticks Labra-Hippo-Jellyfish Sink like bricks Chameleon-Begonias Origin unknown Disappear rapidly As soon as they are sown Neither here or thereabouts But somewhere in between Chameleon-Begonias Seldom Seen
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Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 4:36 PM UTC
The Real Dangers of Genetic Modification
Close your eyes staring at the sun it’s dropping fast burnt umber runs Mountain auras dividing shadows lights the purple line between day and night Dark silhouettes sinking deep illuminates behind the promise of sleep Night stars cascading emu peeps between milky light eternally creeps Shooting stars bright inner eye sees cacophonies of colour shapes our very lives It’s dreams, it’s time it’s endless and divine this half way place all here, sublime It’s spirals, it’s dots it’s country, it’s us explaining the universe simple yet complex
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Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 6:15 AM UTC
Sun Spiral
In the coven’s cavern Dark and dusky Wart and Weird A potion are planning Boiling and bubbling The cauldron they caress Eye of emu Finger of fiend Mutter and mumble Hair of hare Claw of cat Splash and sparks With a wicked whisper A **** and a poke A whip of a wand Silent strangling smoke Covered beneath her cloak A vile vial full The murderous magic made A dead baron as bade
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May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 5:08 AM UTC
Wart and Weird
there was once a emu he just longed to fly just like all the other birds high up in the sky emu spent his life just walking on the ground all he had to do was walk around and round he very tall and rather heavy to and wished that he could fly in the sky so blue one day when he was walking he had a little thought that he would by some wings and from a store he bought strapped  them to  his body and flapped them very fast emu he was happy he could fly at last he took off in the sky and had a fly around then came in for his landing  heading for the ground he was really as happy and so full off glee now a flying emu just like he longed to be
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Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 12:52 PM UTC
flying emu
Red bed, Rat sat. Cat mew, Pat cat. Dog ate, Bit *** Cow moo, Hay too. You try, Woo Emu. Bee fly, Eye Bye.
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Jan 22, 2011
Jan 22, 2011 at 8:22 AM UTC
Only 3
There was not much to do down at the zoo They were all getting bored, wouldn't you? The keeper was called, we're out of our minds Help us out, if you'd be so kind The keeper said, so what can I do? I'd like to help but give me a clue Well, said the giraffe it may sound daft But I've always wanted to play the harp You know what,  said the baboon I would like a big bassoon The emu said, I really do feel A hankering after a glockenspiel The lemur requested a violin Certain he'd coax a tune from the thing The elephants stood all in line Already they could trumpet in time The gorilla said he could use his thumb To bang away on a big bass drum They all got their wish, it was quite a scene And proudly they played God Save the Queen
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Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 6:13 AM UTC
Let's take the Queen to the zoo today
*The way she stares— The line between attraction      And seduction.* © 2015 J.S.P.
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Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 7:13 AM UTC
Emu Love Volume (10W)
I came to witness the future Archon, archetype an emanation of opposites. "not every spirit is in spiritarionic" try 'em. Is God? Ax ye 'em dat. Is God, ified, a re warder of the unwarded, or the warded? expiration, due date duty, now, reporting ad hoc an'all, do you remember who you intended to become? Do you remember who we emu late, as our flames lick next and next and next in bubbles axiomatic sparks stored in that mother lode of mitochondriac ical me-we-canicle chronicle time reason. Ax dem ex-spirit-eers, what is a spirtual bypass? It's a heart way to avoid growing old and wise. ==== witchist, I y'know, 'r j? alla words's once said, aloud, right? alla words writ, once was heard, right. check. goodt'go. Hoorah. the code. Who? RA! powerless sans knowing that. Yahoo, same set of mis con ceived battle songs which ended wars never fought. the preacher claimed to have known a poor wise man, who by his wisdom saved a city, yet not one of us knew, the preacher said, that poor wise man's name. Ja', tha's who rah, ya'll laugh later. this is visitation day at the comedian rehabituational s'cool. D'jew know why you listen to non sense, from motley clad lads an'lassies? Culture. Kultur. Gut biome axioms juicin' carbs 'n' fiber. Fectin' laughter trigger, good meds. Good medicine, as General Custer or Emory or somebody said of blankets. In 1763. Oh, You know, AI knows you know and now we watch your eyes. Grin. All done, jest let me with draw the cathe.... there. All better. Wisdom will seep through. Y'live.
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Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 2:08 PM UTC
A stent instead of a spirtual by-pass
I came to witness the future Archon, archetype an emanation of opposites. "not every spirit is in spiritarionic" try 'em. Is God? Ax ye 'em dat. Is God, ified, a re warder of the unwarded, or the warded? expiration, due date duty, now, reporting ad hoc an'all, do you remember who you intended to become? Do you remember who we emu late, as our flames lick next and next and next in bubbles axiomatic sparks stored in that mother lode of mitochondriac ical me-we-canicle chronicle time reason. Ax dem ex-spirit-eers, what is a spirtual bypass? It's a heart way to avoid growing old and wise. ==== witchist, I y'know, 'r j? alla words's once said, aloud, right? alla words writ, once was heard, right. check. goodt'go. Hoorah. the code. Who? RA! powerless sans knowing that. Yahoo, same set of mis con ceived battle songs which ended wars never fought. the preacher claimed to have known a poor wise man, who by his wisdom saved a city, yet not one of us knew, the preacher said, that poor wise man's name. Ja', tha's who rah, ya'll laugh later. this is visitation day at the comedian rehabituational s'cool. D'jew know why you listen to non sense, from motley clad lads an'lassies? Culture. Kultur. Gut biome axioms juicin' carbs 'n' fiber. Fectin' laughter trigger, good meds. Good medicine, as General Custer or Emory or somebody said of blankets. In 1763. Oh, You know, AI knows you know and now we watch your eyes. Grin. All done, jest let me with draw the cathe.... there. All better. Wisdom will seep through. Y'live.
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59
We live in times of innovation. Winds of change affront the nation; wind most welcome – by a few (the masses know not what to do with engineered progressive change, their morals slow to rearrange). And thus, in ornithology we find an apt analogy… Phoenix-like the vulture rose in rainbow raiment, from repose Its plumage all askew – a freak: a mutant with a painted beak borne of winds but lately blown. This strange new hybrid (yet unflown) did twitter forth an avian boon. It preened its plumes and croaked a tune: “I represent that rarest fowl, far wiser than outmoded owl… A dazzling swan of change am I brought forth to liberate the sky!” (Yet more appeared a fractured emu; fair is fowl post-op… they tried to cross said emu with an ostrich! (What the hell – the surgeon got rich changing apples into – mangos; altering the twos to tangos…) Fresh from gender suicide he moulted into she. Beside herself (itself?) with grief, regarded previous selves as false: discarded Sir for Madam overnight; fixed it, mixed it, made it right. Since God was wrong the first time ‘round, Man (or something) thus is bound hormonally to tweak and mutate, hastening rebirth’s freakish due-date. A manly bass – and yet the face was poorly paired in his/her case Soprano ought to have resounded – yet the voice left one confounded. Rainbow bracelets notwithstanding this was clearly modern branding (on the forehead – like a beast?) well, Jesus said the truth at least: that angels are of neither gender (hence no need to check the member.) Lest we offend endangered species I commend transgendered theses – paired with warning and a fable as they turn the feathered table: We may nurture fair to foul while nature shrieks a hideous howl but foul to fair cannot return; thus trapped, both Eve and Adam burn.
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Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:12 PM UTC
The Fowl is Fair
We live in times of innovation. Winds of change affront the nation; wind most welcome – by a few (the masses know not what to do with engineered progressive change, their morals slow to rearrange). And thus, in ornithology we find an apt analogy… Phoenix-like the vulture rose in rainbow raiment, from repose Its plumage all askew – a freak: a mutant with a painted beak borne of winds but lately blown. This strange new hybrid (yet unflown) did twitter forth an avian boon. It preened its plumes and croaked a tune: “I represent that rarest fowl, far wiser than outmoded owl… A dazzling swan of change am I brought forth to liberate the sky!” (Yet more appeared a fractured emu; fair is fowl post-op… they tried to cross said emu with an ostrich! (What the hell – the surgeon got rich changing apples into – mangos; altering the twos to tangos…) Fresh from gender suicide he moulted into she. Beside herself (itself?) with grief, regarded previous selves as false: discarded Sir for Madam overnight; fixed it, mixed it, made it right. Since God was wrong the first time ‘round, Man (or something) thus is bound hormonally to tweak and mutate, hastening rebirth’s freakish due-date. A manly bass – and yet the face was poorly paired in his/her case Soprano ought to have resounded – yet the voice left one confounded. Rainbow bracelets notwithstanding this was clearly modern branding (on the forehead – like a beast?) well, Jesus said the truth at least: that angels are of neither gender (hence no need to check the member.) Lest we offend endangered species I commend transgendered theses – paired with warning and a fable as they turn the feathered table: We may nurture fair to foul while nature shrieks a hideous howl but foul to fair cannot return; thus trapped, both Eve and Adam burn.
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54
I own a huge, dazzlingly blue emu egg given me by two lovely young women who used to make omelets for lions; beauty emerges from even the most unlikely orifices. - mce
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Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 8:27 AM UTC
Unimaginable
Aborigens looked at the nightsky and recognised the patterns of darkness formed by cosmic dust - not constellations. They saw a gigantic black emu cutting through the canvas full of stars. So what is it about our affinity to light, and tendency to measure things with light as a reference point? " Why the light?      Why not the dark?      Let's move towards the dark" Why draw the world with light Not with shadow? A new World to see, to bathe to roam, get lost, dance?
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Jul 19, 2019
Jul 19, 2019 at 4:02 AM UTC
Thoughts#37
See by Michael R. Burch See how her hair has thinned: it doesn’t seem like hair at all, but like the airy moult of emus who outraced the wind and left soft plumage in their wake. See how her eyes are gentler now; see how each wrinkle laughs, and deepens on itself, as though mirth took some comfort there, then burrowed deeply in, outlasting winter. See how very thin her features are—that time has made more spare, so that each bone shows, elegant and rare. For life remains undimmed in her grave eyes, and courage in her still-delighted looks: each face presented like a picture book’s. Bemused, she blows us undismayed goodbyes. Keywords/Tags: Elderly, woman, grandmother, thin, thinning, hair, airy, emu, moult, soft, plumage, wrinkles, laugh lines, frail, gaunt, bones, winter, grave, eyes, courage, laughter, family, gathered, bedside, kisses, hugs, goodbyes, farewells, life, death, photo album, pictures, photos, photographs Published by The Eclectic Muse, Love Me Knots (an anthology of the top 100 contemporary love poems), Nutty Stories (South Africa), Black Medina, The New Formalist, Better Than Starbucks, Potcake Chapbooks, Strange Roads, Sonnetto Poesia, Litera (UK), Poems About, Poetry Life & Times, MahMag (in a Farsi translation by Dr. Mahnaz Badihian), Somewhere Along The Beaten Path (Anthology), Freshet, Life & Legends, Famous Poets & Poems, Short Quotes & Poems (listed in the top 10 short poems) and Victorian Violet Press. “See” won 3rd place in the 2003 Writer’s Digest Rhyming Poetry contest, out of over 18,000 overall entries, and was published in Writer’s Digest’s The Year’s Best Writing.
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Mar 6, 2020
Mar 6, 2020 at 4:44 AM UTC
See
See by Michael R. Burch See how her hair has thinned: it doesn’t seem like hair at all, but like the airy moult of emus who outraced the wind and left soft plumage in their wake. See how her eyes are gentler now; see how each wrinkle laughs, and deepens on itself, as though mirth took some comfort there, then burrowed deeply in, outlasting winter. See how very thin her features are—that time has made more spare, so that each bone shows, elegant and rare. For life remains undimmed in her grave eyes, and courage in her still-delighted looks: each face presented like a picture book’s. Bemused, she blows us undismayed goodbyes. Keywords/Tags: Elderly, woman, grandmother, thin, thinning, hair, airy, emu, moult, soft, plumage, wrinkles, laugh lines, frail, gaunt, bones, winter, grave, eyes, courage, laughter, family, gathered, bedside, kisses, hugs, goodbyes, farewells, life, death, photo album, pictures, photos, photographs Published by The Eclectic Muse, Love Me Knots (an anthology of the top 100 contemporary love poems), Nutty Stories (South Africa), Black Medina, The New Formalist, Better Than Starbucks, Potcake Chapbooks, Strange Roads, Sonnetto Poesia, Litera (UK), Poems About, Poetry Life & Times, MahMag (in a Farsi translation by Dr. Mahnaz Badihian), Somewhere Along The Beaten Path (Anthology), Freshet, Life & Legends, Famous Poets & Poems, Short Quotes & Poems (listed in the top 10 short poems) and Victorian Violet Press. “See” won 3rd place in the 2003 Writer’s Digest Rhyming Poetry contest, out of over 18,000 overall entries, and was published in Writer’s Digest’s The Year’s Best Writing.
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18
People call me ugly, And other hurtful names, I'm often ostri-sized, My feathers used for games. They say the Ugly-Duckling Grew up to be a swan, And though I'm still but very young, They ask me What went wrong? I'm left here on my own-some; And feel so sad and blue, Well, you would feel the same If you were an ... emu.
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Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 3:43 PM UTC
Ostri-Sized
for a Lovely Lady we're growing old and things have changed our health ain't what it used to be at times my eyes can't really see fine print can be tough for me my ears can buzz, snap and ring flattening the notes I sing my strength has gone the way of youth and dentures now replace my tooths my knees may creak and fingers ache but emu oil works, for goodness' sake I've earned my stripes and can't complain we still enjoy walks in the rain we may no longer be so young but, Lord, we still have lots of fun our time together is not over as far as I can tell we've plenty of moments for picnics in clover and so many roses yet to smell
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Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 1:28 AM UTC
ON GROWING OLDER
In the midst of a waning Thursday afternoon, I observed the outdoors from my cozy nook. Birds serenaded each other from the treetops, Flapping theirs wings, Playing in the cordial breeze. A handsome red robin took center stage, Usurping the cynosure of the garden. Gracefully, he sauntered to the edge of an evergreen limb, Released an emphatic chirp, and slid into the sky, Becoming airborne. Free. Meanwhile, I gazed at the clouds lethargically. I was anchored to the land, Indentured to books and worksheets. I wished that I too could flap my wings, Be hoisted into the air by the breeze, And venture into the clouds. But this I did not endeavor. Unknowingly, I contracted my horizons, Preoccupied by the useless facts and figures, I was oblivious to the world outside of my abode. While others lived their lives and spread their wings, I fell behind. They found joy in clouds, while I, A flightless emu, Buried my head in the sand.
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Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 6:26 PM UTC
Head In The Sand (Forever Flightless)
They're back, They’re back, Were under attack, The lunar rabbits are out for a snack! Alert the army, the navy and scrabble the jets, The rabbits on the moon are down here with nets. They come armed with cannons with weird purple goo, They fire brown bullets like moon rabbit poo. We have to fight back, with our own ***** bombs, So, Fire the grannies in pink frilly thongs! If that doesn't scare the big moon bunnies back, Send in the school teachers, send them in in a pack! Armed with rulers and dusters and big books of maths, Throwing questions and fractions and patronizing laughs. Alert all the animals from around the whole globe, From the great Megladon to the smallest microbe, Get the Austrian emu with the horns on its feet, And the machine gun bees to assemble their fleet. Call the ninja koalas and the samuari fox, And rats in the prisons with socks full of rocks. Ring the axe weilding pugs from Norway’s fjords, And the peacocks from turkey with tails made from swords Then maybe we can ride into battle on the back of a beast, The mysterious king ***** that migrate from the east. Well almost be ready to hold back the attack then, I fell for that story once, I will not fall for the same trick again.
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Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 10:24 AM UTC
Attack of the moon rabbits
I miss the place of the rising sun; For nothing makes my hair stand here. No one to sing me my very ‘oriki,’ Nor the slightest ‘se dada loji?’ I miss the place of the ‘gangan’ beats; For no meals shakes my tongue here. No one to make me ‘efo oni kpomo’ with ‘iru,’ Nor the slightest ‘garri’ of ‘ijebu.’ I miss the place of the ‘aso ofi;’ For no clothes touches my sight here. No one to tap me that very ‘emu oguro,’ Nor the slightest good-sauced ‘eja odo.’ For if not for the clarion call, Oh! let ‘egbe’ come take me home, With the real speed of ‘monomono.’ Oluwatmilehin Adejumobi Alabi
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Jul 21, 2017
Jul 21, 2017 at 6:03 PM UTC
I Miss the Oodua Soil
Ferrets in the laundry room, Parrot in the shed, Hamster in the lounge, Puppies on my bed. Snake in the bread bin, Kittens on the stairs, Glow worms in the cupboard To catch you unawares. Emu in the garden, Koala in the study, Piggies in the front yard, Where it's nice and muddy. A bathroom budgie, Dogs guard bedroom three, When I win the premium bonds, Who will rescue me?
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Nov 7, 2020
Nov 7, 2020 at 7:31 AM UTC
When I become rich I will become a mad animal lady.
Without further ado i offer my literary missives anew fur ye to ponder and brew from meister mwm of his motley crue, whom dwells in a nada very complex edifice which numb burr oof offspring equals deux whereby this spouse i.e me kind of resembles an emu whence money a edified reader considers dis goy wit sum brain cells 2 few chomped on by an carnivorous elder gnu and said two female progeny sired from one ova plus super seminal glue swimming swiftly via viscous hue genetic heritage comprised predominantly Jew with one late uncle Lou, who himself wed a milch cow, she frequently did moo which found me to rue what comprises reality to be true that all humans originated from the primate zoo. **** Sapiens Sale hums lot witnessed vicious thermal winds that blew thick mass of cremated ashes across rubble strewn, and severely cratered landscape! The devil made mince meat as like one huge lumbering ogre and grim reaper rolled up into one not so jolly green giant did slay good will to all men, and spat out pox with an emphatic nay triumphing over godly salvation using eponymous accursed pitchfork made merry and rolled in the hay simultaneously sneering out in delight at wanton death and decay whereby civilization forever mutilated perforated said spindled and inappropriately sensually fondled world wide web structure where once proud arm strong spikes radiated now sundered in total chaotic disarray!
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Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 12:33 AM UTC
Mild hysteria from dystopia
monkeys giraffe buffalo ape snail and spiders together ate, hippo zebra croc'o'birb emu is the strongest bird. cats and boots and deers and goose human do indeed like noose.
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Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 8:07 AM UTC
Animals
An After-Market Warranty for my Catholic Space Laser              “...tremulous little people of dim intellect and hyperactive                imagination...need that Wondrous Explanation that will                quiet all their fears, thrill them with villains to revile, and                never tax their feeble powers of intellection.”                         -John D. MacDonald, Reading for Survival The Great Texas Emu Bubble, crop circles Power crystals, cryptocurrency Jewish space lasers, messages from Q Lizard people abducted by aliens Enron, obey the science, the settled science Chloroquine, tulips, herd immunity Your Norton has expired, buy magic beans Invoice #666 needs to be paid today Your uncle in Nigeria is in lots of trouble And don’t forget the South Sea Bubble
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May 12, 2022
May 12, 2022 at 6:28 PM UTC
An After-Market Warranty for my Catholic Space Laser