"hoover" poems
Writing for me is simple..
Lyrically ready to maximize my potential..
I have something to say I don't blow hot air like a inner tube...
Tell them liars they need to relax..
I am the type to push it to the max..
Switching gears and lanes until the governor snap ..
I cannot be contain..
Like the green hulk fighting the thing
I wish you could take a walk through my brain..
You would see different things depending on the time of day...
Like dead people, relatives that passed in my memories they live...
Times of my youth when I was a kid...
I didn't smile much.
I was a good kid I didn't wild much...
Pops sold crack so I styled much ...
Gun shots in Baltimore, my pops died once...
In my mind I question a ****
Like are they always ready to ****
Or does life have them Close to the edge..
Of a cliff a jagged hill
And they don't want to die in this dog eat dog world..
So they let blood spill..
I wonder if I was a G would I bang.
Red or blue claim a gang.
Be like Larry Hoover...
A young shooter...
In and out of prison I maneuver
Run the block like a ruler...
Be part of the the trash like manure
Be a coke runner a drug mover..
Corrupting the body of drug users. ..
Would I be known as a survivor
Escaping death more than MacGyver
Embrace the streets as truth knowing that's it a liar...
Nickname my gun human torch cause it fires
I wonder cause honestly I don't have a gun
This poetry is my weapon..
I am only gangsta through my lyrical aggression
Day 1 down...I am up to the challenge.
A poem a day ..to test my talent...
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 4:14 AM UTC
As I ponder, perplexed by the possibility
Of a premature passing that may present itself to me
I consider and calculate
Though my conclusion may be crude
That the finest fix for my fear is a feasting of food
I munch on a morsel, my mouth making moisture
Overwhelmingly open to offal and oysters
I'd take them, temptation takes its toll
Curiosity for calories that I can't control
I'd have them, Hoover them, heck I'd hoard 'em
But by now I believe it's basically boredom
Not a necessity to nibble the nosh
It's late I ate a plate at eight, I can wait my gosh
No, I know there is no need
To slurp on soup or scoff some seeds
Only fatigue fuelling the feeling to feed
Got to get to grips with this gross and grotesque greed
Choking on choices, trembling in my chair
Do I punt for the pudding, the peach or the pear?
Selecting such seductive sweeties
Or dealing with death, diets and diabetes?
While I wonder and weep about what will win
My insatiable starvation stumbles on a sin
Not funny you'll find when you're finished and fat
'Cause in the kitchen on the counter there's a KitKat
Four fiendish fingers fascinate the feeling
So seductive, my senses soaring to the ceiling
Try to meet it, cheat it, beat it, defeat it
But what the hell, I don't care, I'll just ****** eat it.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 5:08 AM UTC
Here are my eyes
my fried eggs
teal lily-pads floating
on white albumen.
Here are my elbows
like deformed peaches
my knuckles the peas
wrist corn on the cob.
Here are my teeth
my frosty Stonehenge
a ring of slabs
solid halibut.
Here are my ankles
four gobstoppers
cracking as rocks
under her size-five feet.
Here is my nose
fastened to my face
the garbage chute
meets hoover hybrid.
Here are my knees
two wrinkled potatoes
mashing in their sockets
as waves crumble on me.
Here is my hair
my straw candyfloss
unlike her buttered popcorn
curly-wurly waterfall.
Here are my tonsils
squashy strawberries
wedged at the back
of the cave I once made.
Here are my lips
azalea-pink sweets
flecked with salt
from our slice of sea.
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
The phone rings:
It doesn't work anymore.
Diazepam, Red wine, 6:30am, hip replacement,
Plunger, television, boxes of photos, carslberg, peroni,
The flush is broken on the toilet.
I've sat for 15 minutes.
Examination, xbox, unemployment, skunk,
Washing machine, dishwasher, dryer.
It's raining, Old towel and bucket
under the hole in the roof
Cat food, cod liver oil, mould, 8:45pm,
3pm, appointments, 12pm.
Laptop, silence, phone calls,
Toilet, bucket, bleach,
Oven cleaner, kitchen roll, dirt, carpet,
Television, Hoover,
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 8:35 AM UTC
Goodnight pumpkin, I luv you. L-U-V U.
Dear mom,
Nothing ****** me off more than misspelling the word Love.
If you’re not willing to put two seconds into a text or even a letter
to spell it correctly, then you need a ******* dictionary.
The only time you looked into a dictionary was to find words big enough so they could fit through ears but not into my brain making it easier for lies to flow out of your mouth like it is second nature.
The only truth that ever spit out of your mouth like lemon juice, was when you told us, not all lives have happy endings.
But when you were still here, and I was only eight,
you let me watch disney movies so I could learn my own fate.
One of the movies taught me that if I said Ohana means family,
that you’d respond with,
family means no one gets left behind, or forgotten
But you left your kids to pursue Your happiness,
Now every time you leave to Pennsylvania another memory of us flies away from the airport you call a body just like the planes you get on,
Your lies create a tornado that destroys everything in it’s path,
and my life is a flat ground so this spiral of emotions won’t stop until you do.
You circled your yin-yang arms around me for the first time in the hospital, that was the same night people in white coats handed you a certificate with my name written on it, Now anytime my name is brought up in a subject you pull your hoodie over your head as a sign of embarrassment.
I want you to feel the pain you have been giving me for the last 2
years when you hear this poem.
I want you to realize that you’re the reason my feelings are
scribbled down to make a mess out on paper.
Every night I make a new river with my tears and when I realize you are
lying to me, it makes waves of depression
and those waves, are created by earthquakes of anger.
These waves are strong enough to break through any hoover dam
made up of antidepressants and pills that will only make me what
you want me to be which is “normal”?
If you tell someone you love them at least have the audacity to
mean it.
Be a the definition of a mom and care about us and our
feelings, and not just your own.
Mom, I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U
Ohana means Family, but no one said family would last forever. But
you always will last forever, in my heart
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 10:37 AM UTC
There's a fella you've all heard of
From a sandy foreign place
He was sent down by his daddy
From somewhere in outer space
He died and he came back again
Then he hit the dusty road
Now he's there for me with a helping hand
When I've almost dropped my load
Jesus is my barman
I munch his salty nuts
He fills me up with lovin'
Till it rumbles in my guts
He's my one almighty Hoover
He ***** off all my sin
To all my tricky crevices
He bravely enters in
He eases through my tightest spots
He's always got my back
He lubricates my passage
Down the narrow winding track
He tinkers with my plumbing
Removes my stubborn stains
Then with his holy implement
He firmly rods my drains
Jesus is my bell-boy
In his elevatin' craft
He pushes on my button
Then he takes me up the shaft
He's my fire fighting saviour
When flames begin to roar
He grabs his mighty helmet
And he breaks in my back door
He's captain of my ******
Commander of my boats
Don't worry if you're sinkin' fast
Cos Jesus always floats
If you're cold and need to light a fire
The lord is right and good
There's one thing he's remembered for
It’s always having wood
Jesus is my dentist
He drills me with his bit
He fills up all my cavities
Then I gargle and I spit
And one day when it’s legal
We'll end our secret fling
With his ring on my finger
And his finger in my ring
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 10:46 AM UTC
A mess.
Squeeze past the bed
Drawers reluctant
A suitcase on the floor
Coming or going?
Not sure.
It’s a mess.
Perhaps if I clear it up?
But to clear the clothes off the floor
I’d have to open up those drawers
Reluctant to.
Where’s the hoover?
I found the vacuum.
Life’s a mess.
What with all that going on
Going on in the West
With the banks
And the robbers
They should sort their act out
Make some efficiencies
It’s just
Oh it makes me want to
My life’s a mess.
Life’s a mess.
My life?
A mess?
Life.
It’s a mess.
Messy.
It’s life.
Just can’t be
Bothered
To get a
GRIP
On it.
1. Is it my life?
2. Is it a mess?
3. If it is my life and it is a mess, does it follow that my life's a mess?
4.
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 8:36 PM UTC
There you were:
Second to last track
Side 1, “Atlantic Soul Classics”.1987
R.E.S.P.E.C.T. (Take out the TCP)
The power, the control, the energy,
Never heard a **** thing like it.
Then that Cliff Richard Show footage I saw on some old BBC clip show (yeah, I know…Cliff, eh?)
“Don’t Play That Song” in crackly black & white
Sorry for the language, Sister.. but **** the power of your piano playing in that moment made me realise that you were not “just a singer” but a full-on force to be reckoned with.
Like Sinatra you studied lyrics like a monk deep in illumination and then blew the song away with your received otherworldly knowledge:
Eleanor Rigby
The Weight
The Dark End of The Street
Border Song
Bridge Over Troubled Water
I Say A Little Prayer
Oh, these were your songs, now. Don’t let anyone forget it.
But there was something more to you than all of this.
The way MLK kissed you with beaming pride at some long, forgotten award ceremony.
The way you sashayed African culture when you stepped out in public.
The way you ripped up your own records when you tread the boards & faced your humbled audience.
The way you stood by Angela Davis when she was hooked up on some stupid jackshit Hoover charge.
The way you verbalized the black American experience not just through countless moments of sheer liberation but in the solemn way you stepped up to the piano on Amazing Grace
You comforted this whiter-than-white Paddy on more than one occasion and forged a path of hope in many of his troubled waters.
Oh, God we will miss you & your power – all of it.
That once in a millennia voice whose measured restraint & joyful release touched millions.
You will never walk alone.
Farewell Queen.
You are finally at peace.
Thank you, thank you Ms. Franklin
Sean M. O’Kane
16/8/18
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 5:21 PM UTC
He knew what women wanted
After all, he was a man of the world
None of that namby pamby stuff for his woman
Oh no, he was a practical man
So when she opened her presents
To find an iron and a hoover
She was ecstatic
She was that ecstatic
That when he came home the next day
To find his shirts pressed
The house spotless
Her gone
He couldn’t believe it.
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 4:21 AM UTC
I was born in grave clothes
Raised in grave clothes
Unaware I even bathed in grave clothes
I didn't know the extent of my decay
Like the bones were expose in my face but I didn't have reflective glass to see my flesh
I was on a rotten path
Death would have been the only prize at the end of my race
Strongholds wrestled my thoughts and subdued my brain
Bone marrow deep I was linked to Adam
Lord knows I wasn't Abel
Dna tied to blood imprinted on the ground I had more in common with Cain
It's true a heart beat of sin causes death to course through vains
I wondered how could I be treated
Something was missing something was needed
To my shock it was Jesus
Clear! He got my heart beat right
With that resurrection power
Made my heart see light
He changed my life
I started to realize that the same power that raised Christ from the dead
Was the same power that lived in me
That does more than allow me to breathe .
It brings life back to limbs riddle with rigor mortis
It's reverses decomposition brings back what death has stolen
It's uncontrollable like a lighting storm.
It's unadulterated
Once it hits
It's changes landscape like when a nuclear warhead is detonated
Hoover dam generated power
Turbine engine spending power
Lift the dead out of sin power
Tectonic plate shifting, erecting mountains from plains power
By one name only can we be saved power
Second coming cracking the sky power
All knees shall bow and all tongues shall comply power
Corruptible turned into incorruptible in a instant power
Rebirth repositioned repurposed repented power
Turn what seems to be a lost into a win power
It is finish the precursor to the release of infinite power
I could never be the same because the spirit lives in me gives me power
My arteries are laced with a burning flame
A roaring wind, a groaning earth, a raging sea crashing waves
The impact of several elements crush the chains of a slave
It's the same power that said come forth Christ friend walks out the grave
The same power that moved the stone a borrowed tomb turned to a cave
It's the power of the Resurrection
In a world full of aborted life
It breeds conception
In a world that attempts to abort Christ
The church still cries out in reverence
Changed death for us now it's portal
Changed lives of stop watches into immortal
Resurrection power a glimpse into the eternal
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 6:26 AM UTC
There’s a salesperson at the door
someone said
and so you went to the door
and there was the young salesman
with a book in his hand
and in a sharp grey suit
and hair neat and short cut
yes?
you said
I represent Carson’s stores
and it has been brought
to my notice
that you are behind
with your payments
is that so?
you said
yes
the young guy said
three months behind
and if you don’t pay today
the item you have chosen to buy
will be removed
is that so?
you said
the young guy looked
into his book of figures
and script
so you called out
Dolly there’s a young guy here
who says we owe him money
you both waited
while Dolly came to the door
what do we owe?
she asked
money
the young guy said
what for?
Dolly said
a vacuum cleaner
the young guy said
you are three months behind
now if you do not pay up today
it will be removed
Dolly raised her eyebrows
and put on her
don’t mess with me face
and went off
the young guy
and you looked
at each other in silence
after a few minutes
Dolly returned
carrying the vacuum cleaner
here
she said
here’s your **** Hoover
take the thing
and go stick it
where the sun
don’t shine
and so the young man
held up the vacuum cleaner
and looked at you
and Dolly
and said
right don’t come back
to the store
because you won’t
be served again
and off he went
out along the road
in the falling black rain.
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 3:24 PM UTC
My **** is today
I got a low score
My sweet is today
I got to wake up.
I feel like a zombie today
My mind drifting to somewhere else
Yet my body is sitting in class about earthquakes
And a teacher with a face-palming pronunciation and grammar.
"Percent..." I heard her say once.
*But it went percient instead.*
I feel like sleeping today
Not the usual snoring kind.
That one with a total blackout
where no one can wake me but me.
My sweet is today
I get to write poems again
A slam at most
Now give me the mic (1, 2, 3, 4...)
My **** was yesterday
I was watching a slam with a friend
Not live, though
And someone called me weird.
I feel like an idiot today
Walking these halls
and wasting this ink
But (I hope) Colleen Hoover doesn't mind
I borrowed her version
of **** and sweet
-090915
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 7:57 AM UTC
Mr Kalashnikov I'll ask you nicely
Please don't point that thing at me
Laszlo Biro how nice to see you
Without you where would we be?
Mr Molotov may I remind you
You are in polite company
May I present the Earl of Sandwich
Do partake of his wares
And special desserts are served soon after
Presented in person by Anna Pavlova
The Duke of Wellington brought in some mud
Mr Macintosh is expecting a flood
Candido Jacuzzi and Joseph Pilates
Appear to be making friends
Henry Shrapnel and Joseph Guillotin
Who invited them?
Ferdinand von Zeppelin,
Perhaps you would like a schnapps?
Mr Winchester, Mr Colt, Mr Gatling, Mr Lewis
So many gunmen I'm alarmed I confess
May I trouble you Mr Hoover
To help tidy up the mess?
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
This week has been very long so far
Maybe because I mashed my head on Saturday,
But Joe turned up to surprise his Ma,
Would have bin rude not to share the MDMA.
But what goes up has to come down,
We had our fun, our chats, our tunes.
On Sunday he was Nottingham bound
Monday a pin-pricked balloon.
Overcompensation followed
I Frontlined the pets, took the cat to the vets, did the weekly shop, used the hoover and mop.......watched "The Waltons"........I made pies and mash, grieved for spent cash, looked for a job, tried not to open my gob..........watched "The Waltons"......I sorted the cupboards, mixed up my words, misheard repeatedly, had great thoughts ...fleetingly........watched "The Waltons"
Finally Friday beckons invitedly, a time of unwinding.
I can't believe that in the past I would have bin planning
More pill taking excitedly.More fun and lights blinding
But thank god I'm too old to be young ..... Must be soon Spring.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 6:51 PM UTC
the kissing dogs are gone, sleeping long, chasing fancy in their fog
curious, a girl with a pocket of amaranth
always fresh rain on her lapel and neck
and eyes that become fixed and smaller in pleasure
an image that remains un-graven in memory, a mystery still,
like a candle stolen from a windowsill
sitting at a bar, drinking ***** with lime
seeing people i know, yet alone in rhyme
"this is how it’s going to be", said the picture of j. edgar hoover
"i’m burning you, feeding the furnace in your belly.
'you'll meet the devil if you haven't already'”, said the *****
"it will all sour, everything. get a taste and die
knowing one heaven”, said the lime
"you want to melt. the heat of your desperation touches me. you want to become a lone liquid and disperse into the clouds.
you think you can travel the world that way, maybe be tossed around
in the clear tide near fiji. but you won’t, look at me”,
said the ice in the glass.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
Daisy, Daisy give me your answer do........
boy! That Cadillac was one hell of a piece of engineering.
Burned a long time, like it enjoyed the pain of the flames.
He smiled at the thought.
Handmade by union men the way it should always be.
Not those ******* up ***** like Jimmy Hoffa either.
That ******* probably a ****** like hoover.
The image of him in a basque stuck.
Made him angry, but he soon reined it in.
Lecter was never angry. Not in the books.
He prefered the books, no change-the -ending for the mass appeal.
******* movies.
He was cautious now, the fake i.d. for the rental would fool most.
He was pushing things, her blood in the trunk even burnt black worried him. Next time will be better.
In Daisy's book was a circled name with hearts drawn around it.
Louisa. Her address as well. Nice and easy. 200 miles to go.
Make like Rutger in The Hitcher, move west....
The VW Rabbit was a ****** car after the Caddy.
The two kid's didn't want to give it up easy, but they did in the end.
They looked so silly, tied back-to-back in the rear seat, legs broke to squeeze them in.
Made him smile all through the night.
No blood this time, not yet anyway. Playing Slipknot to **** him off, little *****
Well write a song for these two, clown boy.
He had looked on their lap-top at the poetry site.
Saw the latest post from the pub landlord. He was a little confused, this poem didn't seem to be telling him his next move.
He dragged them out into a ditch before dawn, stood on their necks to **** them, like the coyote trappers did, cruel ********
No blood, just **** all over each other as they died.
Maybe he'd get a reward poem for doing it, in the meantime finding Louisa would keep him occupied.
The vw had a cheap sat nav, hope she's home.....
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 3:20 PM UTC
Little hoover how you have grown
But a lesson to be learned
Still needs to be told
Food is good in proportion
Fat,
Salt,
Sugar
Is Sweet things aren't always good,
For to be healthy we must eat well
"We are what we eat"
To roll, to spin, having fun
Exercise is the key to healthy living
"Little one"
One day you will be realise
What words are spoke,
For not eating correctly
Bags will be clogged
Filters a mess
But eat good through all
Your changes be it
Bags,
Filters,
Even
Hoses,
Knowing that you had eaten well
Treats can be had in proportion,
"Everyone deserves one or two or three"
But remember we are what we eat
"Little Hoover"
"You haven't hoovered your"
"Brown bread crusts"
Little one you wish to grow to be
Like your father,
"Eat healthy"
Choose wisely what you **** up.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
recipes and bookmarks
in strawberry are falling,
stains upon my fingertips
grasp colourblind for
reds and yellows and pinks
and all they find is dust,
people, just falling away,
crumbling inescapably,
coming apart in my hands, just
cracking, like mirrors,
and all they do is stare,
stare straight at me as they
dissolve like sugar. they don't
stay together, no matter
how much I want them to.
people cannot stay together.
it seems that we're all breaking
at different speeds, and I might
be broken tomorrow, and he
could be next week, and her,
just dust in the cracks, human
skin in the still air, floating
aimlessly until we're
****** up by the hoover
and quietly disposed of.
May 20, 2022
May 20, 2022 at 8:08 PM UTC
I can't write.
My fingers, thin, hoover above the keybord, a yellow bug irritating me when it collides with the light bulb
and my eyes, irritated as they are, and the tv in the background because it always is because I am not looking -
thus the situation being, and me in the middle of it, and no other noise except tv, bug, typing and - eventually, my own blood rushing-
and nothing comes from nothing, or so they say, and still no great lines on the page.
I will have to revise this and see what can I change, for next time.
The bug is gone.
Aug 5, 2012
Aug 5, 2012 at 4:18 PM UTC
I thought kisses were supposed to give you butterflies
but our love is a nuclear fallout.
and when you ripped my heart from my chest,
I saw the worst insects crawl out.
you told me I was great in bed,
but when you left,
you caused a meltdown in my head.
you put your atoms in my reactor,
expecting them to grow, but all they did was consume and glow.
they became radioactive,
and so did I.
your love burst right through me,
but I’m yet to die.
instead, I’m here
watching the people around me burn and suffer
and telling them them that its not my fault.
its my ex-lover.
I look around
and see their skin bubble.
I try to help
but I’m buried under your rubble.
the debris that you left when you made me explode
you’ve yet to pick up, to lift the load.
I knew that falling for you was a bad idea
and I’m feeling it now, I’m reaping what I sowed.
I disobeyed my rules of human preservation,
giving in to you was breaking my own moral code
and when I tried to block you out,
you took a side road.
you put it in gear
and drove into my heart.
but the pain I felt
wasn’t the worst part.
because when you put it in reverse,
you had become my foundation and I fell apart.
now I’m in pieces on the ground
scattered around, unbound,
thinking that you should regret it
but its the other way around.
because I still love you and your stupid eyes
the way they light up the skies
I forgave you of your sins
you’ve been baptized
but I advise you to stay close to your allies
and make sure they hear your cries
because I’m a bomb wearing a human disguise,
and when my anger does arise,
you’ll meet your demise.
you made me what I am,
a battering ram
with enough force to break hoover dam.
you used to be the lion but now you’re the lamb.
because here I come with the grand slam.
please ask me if I give a ****
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 11:21 AM UTC
If ennui were pie,
we had a good slice of it
in the wee dark
waiting for the last
homing pigeons to arrive
with the latest PR from Jupiter
and how it's the planetary Hoover,
except on occasions
it misses a flot,
and a helluva lot of dinosaurs are vaporized.
Feb 4, 2011
Feb 4, 2011 at 10:20 PM UTC
Still puffin' cigars in my sixty six jaguar
Made a hood star from climbing a far
**** the drug games I made my name
Through lyrics of pain easing ya migraine
Words pure as Columbian *******
That's means you'll go insane
Tryna hang with the dark Knight Bruce Wayne
Which means ya mentallydrained going
derange
My smiff n wesson lays a nice range
From the Midwest to the south of Central Texas
Get love from my barrio we stay thorough
Haters get marked like zorro so follow
The leader beat pleaser turn ebenenzer
Once I spit vocals take over ya locals
Can't Max me out my own **** hardest to hit
Ya swear it's back in the year of nine six
Slammin' all of the these industry clowns like Jordans did the Knicks
A Timely essence
Even if I'm chillin' with the dead residence
you'll still feel my presence no hesitance
To foes stained ya calicos wake ya up with a cup of
Flow
and I stay smokin' girls ******* holes setting fires to their mentals
My flows set on auto pilot causing riots
Baltimore rage untamed had to put my rhymes in a cage
Seen the guage
Cocked back ain't no taking away from that
Deaths in progress only blessing you seen
Is stress so take another hit of cannabis
Before you enter the eternal abyss hang ya body over the
cliff
Like Big Red record every word I said
And still can't get a word to the feds I'm the black
Hoover
got flats from Houston to Vancouver
Let me show ya who's the real bruiser
Spittin' rhymes that lay more bodies than Fallujah
Cruise right through
tha
My rhymes is tank shootin' missles with no
thanks
I'm only here to live out
My fathers prank
Though the devil keep me above all levels
Tryna stay from the goods I was made rebel
Fools thought they was Cain til they found out I was
abel
Killin' em with microphone cordless cables and
turntables
Read between my eyers n you'll see visions of many
halos
Feb 16, 2019
Feb 16, 2019 at 8:01 PM UTC
Marquis de Sade was arguably
the most dangerous man alive; until
the Reign of Terror & Napoleon; who
was arguably the most dangerous man
alive; until Jack the Ripper, who was
the most dangerous man alive; until
WWI & ****** who was the most dangerous
man alive; Al Capone was the most
dangerous man alive, until Hoover,
who was the most dangerous man
alive; Malcolm X was the most dangerous
man alive, until the AK47 & AR-15; now we
can all be the most dangerous person alive;
but human beings have always been the
most dangerous species on earth;
the nuclear bomb was the most dangerous
thing on earth until climate change; now
the earth itself is the most dangerous thing
on earth
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 3:57 PM UTC