"impacts" poems
~ i am a preamble, seeking to evolve ~
~ my every emotion, thought and deed, cascades, consequence ~
~ your every touch forever impacts, in cascading consequence ~
~ we are all sacred, equal in our worth, may we each, behave so ~
~ paradoxically ~
~ our security is rooted in our acceptance, of insecurity ~
~ our cyclical attractions, and repulsions ~
~ are the forces which bind us ~
~ while i don’t understand all the motivations ~
~ or all the machinations ~
~ of the forces applied, to divide, conquer and control ~
~ i deem they are parasitic, and thus ~
~ reliant upon our cooperation, to survive ~
~ when i haven’t worked myself out in perfect coherence ~
~ i’m in no position to pass judgments upon any other ~
~ in absence of fraud, deception or manipulation ~
~ embracing sovereignty and free will ~
~ i vow ~
~ to wage peace, cooperation, creativity and love ~
~ to seize opportunity to nurture ~
~ our garden planet ~
~ as a humbled gardener ~
~ there is no spoon ~
~ it was only an illusion ~
~ there are no sheep ~
~ just tactics to divide, and distract ~
~ we are only ~
~ children and parents ~
~ friends and lovers ~
~ sisters and brothers ~
~ cosmic conscious explorers ~
~ shaping our reality ~
~ nurturing OUR Garden ~
~ namaste ~
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 2:15 PM UTC
Today I walked into Barnes and Noble to buy my summer reading book which just so happens to be super thick and its boring **** me now!) Anyways, while we're there, out of curiosity, I asked if they had any John Green books (because everywhere else, they're either sold out or on hold) and they did. The lady brought me to a table. A few of my friends had recommended his works. Scanning the table of books, unsure of what to chose, a guy walks up to me. He looks about my age, maybe a year or so older. He's pretty cute, which is quite the pleasant surprise because usually guys don't talk to me. He says, pointing to The Fault in Our Stars, "I couldn't help but kind of overhear you talking, but I read this and it was amazing." He points at Looking for Alaska. "My girlfriend read this... said it was pretty good." So I say thanks and something awkward like 'I'll have to check it out,' and get The Fault in Our Stars. This small gesture has restored my hope in our generation. The guys in my school are mostly arrogant airheads with no taste in music, in my opinion, anyway. In addition to this experience with a stranger, today, while at a shopping center, I saw a girl wearing a 5 Seconds of Summer shirt, as I had mine on, too. I complimented her and she smiled and said, "Thanks, you too." This small gesture has also restored my hope in our generation. Today I learned that not everyone ***** and that makes me really happy. I guess that if you put yourself out there, ever so slightly, in the right places, you might learn things or make new friends. What if I'd talked to the girl about 5SOS? Or asked the guy about other books he's read? There are so many opportunities every single day to improve the quality of our lives and we pass them up, because they're things that are thought of as small, but can have huge impacts. I believe that if each and everyone of us tried, just a little bit, to talk to strangers, the world would be a better place. Not everyone wants to hurt you. I'm not saying to invite some random person into your house, but to talk to people with common interests, or compliment someone on their shirt. Little things like that, as they did to me, can make someone's day. I walk to my mom with a pile of books. She turns to me and says, "Since when did cute boys talk to you at bookstores?"
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 11:20 PM UTC
We’re quick to blame those that break our hearts,
Railing against lovers for our misfortunes,
Consigning them to hell and so forth,
When in reality,
Our oft exhausted and defeated transgressors
Serve merely as the catalyst for the internal destruction that follows
For no one impacts your emotional wellbeing as much as you,
And you birth your demons, your pain,
After ‘us’ is no more,
There is just you and your head,
An entity far more dangerous than any borne of flesh and blood
Do not judge those that hurt you,
For they are as foolish and human as you,
And remember that though
Love may linger and torment,
It is a reminder of what your heart can do,
When it’s met its match
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
Jim, Clara, Lizzie, and Tim
are sitting comfortably
around a work meeting table
drinking delicious coffee and
eating delectable sandwiches
which their manager provided for free;
these employees love their manager.
Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
area engaged in a ‘Quality-Circle’:
A group of employees
who meet regularly
to consider ways of improving
their workplace.
Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
conceptualise themself
as not slaves but cooperators
with their manager
to improve
the functioning of their workplace
for the benefit of the employees,
and the benefit
of the shareholders, customers, suppliers
management and
their whole society.
Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
are exercising joyful creativity
to identify problems
and discover solutions
which they will diligently implement
to improve their workplace,
to increase their joy and happiness
in their workplace:
by increasing ease of their work,
by increasing efficiency of their work,
by improving quality of their work,
by increasing productivity,
by increasing customer satisfaction,
by improving environmental impacts,
by increasing profits.
Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
realise that a continuously-improving
well-functioning workplace
provides them secure and enjoyable employment;
so, participating in the joyful creativity
of a quality-circle
striving to continuously improve their workplace
makes them feel
joyful and happy.
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 5:24 AM UTC
Listen you don't need a Therapist
Sure they help you but do they really help?
They're never there when you are looking at the mirror and calling yourself disgusting, and that you're hideous.
They're never there when you are on the verge of tears when something impacts you dramatically.
They are never there when you want to cut yourself so bad.
They ask how you are doing, they ask what you want and need.
But do they really care? You just get money out of me do you want to help or do you want the money to survive.
After this you always go back to your happy home planning the next family vacation
But I always go back to the loneliness, the dark room that doesn't shut out the screaming behind the walls.
I go back to feeling like I'm nothing and that I'm unwanted
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 10:03 PM UTC
One day you meet the people you think you could trust
but everything that was turns to stardust,
everything you loved seems to go so fast,
Girl why didn't you realize they all wear masks,
And your "friends" don't realize how she impacts you.
You don't realize this are fake accusations,
Why the hell do you people give me these complications?
So congratulations!
you made my life a complication!
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 7:41 PM UTC
If my life were a movie it would be one of those films that gets hyped up to no end because I’m one of those kids with the rough childhood who just wants to make it
When in reality it’s just a less action packed but just as dark dc movie
My story has also been confused with a marvel movie since the protagonist is me
And i can't help but cut my overbearing traumatic tragedies with self deprecating comedies
But my life to me feels more like an edgar wright movie where the action isn’t as exciting as The fact that I was able to get out of bed this morning
And my day to day reality will forever feel like a motion blur of edited out negative emotion
I think Maybe my life could be a wes anderson movie stuck in one color palette for the rest of my eternity
And my maturity tends to overwhelm me
my journey is like an anderson movie because i tend to create a world around me
Taking time to shape my own protected reality so that the outside world can’t hurt inside me
If im being honest though i want my life to be a spielberg movie that grabs attention of all ages coming from all sorts of places
I want to spin my truths into his fantastic fantasies where no one equates my past with me
But at the same time I want my life to be a blast from the past john hughes movie where i find a way to stop my past from haunting me
And everything ends up okay at the end of the day because my minds overbearing insecurities
No longer have control over me
Now i see that in actuality other peoples movies are just too much for who i truly want to be and how my trauma impacts me
I mean between my all of those boring biographies and my abundance of favorite movies
I’d want my life’s movie to be full of images depicting my fondest memories and all my angsty gen z tendencies
If my life were a movie i’d make it about how I am, or was, or am going to be
If my life were a movie I’d make it about me
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 12:24 PM UTC
Three Nails (...)
Not so many as to denounce
A job done to make me well.
Three rudimentary spikes to nail
A man's own flesh to wood.
Three nails cannot
Seem so much to proffer;
Human efforts complementing
God's sacrificial offer.
A self-inflicted crucifixion?
Yes, I would do my part;
Would do me good, I think,
To offer up an offering to God.
So let this painful work,
Human endeavoring,
Perfection capturing,
Begin.
A simple thing, I think,
To hoist and hammer
Nails into myself,
A manly job to undertake
Impaling self
To spare my God
A little work.
The first, perhaps
Most painful...
To stop the feet
Their wandering ways,
To give me pause for just a bit
To meditate in pain
And to reflect or to project
Myself in better ways.
.
Then on to nail number two,
One hand to hold the nail
And one the hammer.
The pain intense
Impacts my good intent.
.
And yet, I've nailed number two,
And finding where the problem lies,
I have no way to nail thrice.
My living flesh begins to writhe
Its will-ward way,
E'en though in sky-ward
Agony my soul now wails.
Then I remember
Someone said,
"Your crucifixion stands
Upon a different hill,
Hangs on a different tree."
. . .
Though I can never end my flesh,
He paid my debt for me.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 9:01 AM UTC
Our so-empty lives are filled with pointless plans,
Every decision impacts life, and sometimes death.
The earth split - death was in that sometimes day,
Where unending need became the end of their world.
Montana was my home-from-home in Haiti,
Art deco paradise, an instant hellish grave.
What of my shoeshine man with ***** shoes?
Two hundred dead too hard, one is possible.
Little things we do to change the world,
The smallest possibilities in this nightmare,
Saving lives each day with lifeline texts,
Today we are the hand of God in hell.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 5:30 AM UTC
Beware the cavity of depravity
Most people my age got lost in the game of parenting
Elemental wisdom
Or a sentimental prison
You've replicated yourself innumerable times
And still your nature is love
Did you ever wonder
what your lives might have been like
If you had more often gone within
You have to let me go to let me stay
She said, I'm a reality ******
But it's been a rough couple of days
Life in paradise or life imprisonment
You never really know if its in the flow
Until you have to let it go
So what is this curse that says comfort must always come first
I shall not abdicate my throne to anyone
The vision of the voiceless is my kingdom
We bide our time and strive for sanity
As all forms fade and our encounters hibernate
What impacts an emperor
What impacts an empire
Its all within my reach
This compulsion to teach
To create art
That comes from the depths of our hearts
Did you take your medicine today?
She said, You are my medicine.
I replied, Then take me already
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 11:54 PM UTC
My room - womb:
Self-furnished surrogate;
Protective and exclusive;
Umbilically attached to the Other
Via electrons and electromagnetic waves,
Stimulating half-dead neurons;
Nourishing; pseudo-social life.
A womb - my room:
Self-imposed cocoon,
Refuge and retreat;
Amniotic psychic cushioning,
'Tissue-like; apathetic swaddling
Absorbing impacts of buck-shot cultures;
Allowing light mixed darkly - melancholy.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
In the end it’s the smallest of things
That make the biggest of impacts.
It’s the last ripple of an earthquake
Or of a skipped stone.
It’s like how you’d rather cut open your leg
Than turn a corner and stub your toe.
It’s the smaller kiss on the forehead
That follows the longer one on the lips.
When saying goodbye
It’s not the deep looks into each other’s eyes
It’s the rear-view glance at that person’s
Back that makes you cry.
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 6:23 PM UTC
**A ravaged beauty -
long threatened tired life,
riding appreciated**
Friday’s off-road cycle ride started late with a heart-choking chill head-wind blown rain - blurring my glassed vision, so I trusted into the triple lanes of colours slicing through the Vale of Neath. Here a builder’s ladder jumped boomeranging off it's white van - attempting to decapitate me - behind me it’s miss was announced by squealing brakes and crunching impacts, scaring alive splattered visions of a flat-end and being posted within a near drain. Surviving today's devilled ribbon of the dangerous windscreen imprisoned - sitting with pub bound murderous cohorts - I found off-road safe solitude’s mountain bike path East to Coelbren - joining new, a fine yet unsigned cycle route curling around Mynydd y Drum, to open views of Cwm Tawe as I pass hunting twisting through woods a single Red Kite. Then gravities speed, circles barriers into Ystradgynlais top - a narrow ribboned descent, hemmed by cars and paved children to the rugby fields.
**Senses travelogue -
previously un-experienced,
time spins slower**
Here the trails old section points to Swansea - winding lost betwixt fields, paths, trees and roads to Cwmtawe Cycleway proper, there to pedal beside and across Afon Tawe with repeated special offers of child saddled exhaust roaring kamikazes, bicycle maiming broken glass, proudly owned attack dogs, branch hung ball-sacks of excrement, visions of the lost ripped-away steel gated stops, hacked-off wooden fences and never-there deceitful dreams of red doggy bins all disguised what passed for hidden beauty, which he called lovely ugly. *Backing-into Pontardawe to crawl away below the dark bridge,
past a single inviting pub - I accompany the Tawe and it's twin a decrepit polished canal
through ***** alleys - until our hero stutters, gapes then tunnels under
great noisious noxious ribbons of hurtling tired....*
**Pressured paced life -
impossible commitments,
Living organic**
.
May 1, 2010
May 1, 2010 at 9:37 AM UTC
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that no man is an island, whole unto himself/herself.
Every person needs to feel safe to express his or her desires in as open and direct manner as is available.
Each person should be told what is expected of them, and what can be done in the case said expectations cannot be met.
Each person should be encouraged to pursue his or her own interests and given the tools necessary to do so.
The striving of each person is as important as the collective aim of all mankind.
We believe in a world which achieves its goals through the focused, deliberate behavior of determined agents.
Any person striving against another’s interest or aim should declare their reasons for doing so.
No person should secretly plot against another.
All motivation for action should be weighed against the public good, and all actors should be held responsible for behavior directly hostile to the betterment of one’s neighbors.
One should act with the mindful awareness of the impacts his or her actions could have on the other.
We are indebted to each other’s needs and desires for our very existence, as it is the movement of the commodity market which ensures our existence and this is dictated to a large extent by real human demands.
We are dependent on one another to use resources wisely and economically, bearing in mind that waste threatens the survival of our species.
Being the bearers of a legacy stretching back to the haze of pre-history, and an even longer biological chain of inheritance, we as humans, are dependent on each other for a collective understanding and appreciation of the world.
Without wasting time, we must acknowledge that it is in our best interest to act deliberately, without giddy outbursts of petulant exasperation, to solve the problems that our mutual dependence creates.
There is no alternative to the necessity of working together to understand and amend the dire circumstances of our existence.
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 6:25 AM UTC
Forgiveness is a wild beast
of an exotic land.
I know it. Its shape,
color, texture and
particulars of its habitat,
yet it means nothing in my
day to day; at least nothing that
impacts the path I walk
or world I touch.
It is as distant as a polar icecap
and about as much
help as a glass shard
beneath my bare feet.
This wild beast makes noises
perhaps sour perhaps sweet
to the ear
but I do not know
nor can I name them.
Daily I set out and go
stalking after it in
my bare feet and soul ache
unable yet to find it for myself
or others, I make
my ****** way along this
un-exotic, piercing path.
It is a way I cannot abandon
but I must laugh
at the folly of my purpose
for I have long since washed
the picture of this creature
clean and thoroughly sloshed
it remains in my mind.
I am left to blame the blood
and curse its trail tracking
ever after me in the mud.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 3:09 AM UTC
BANG!
up
to action
BANG!
rising panic
adrenalin
BANG!
swiftly
to the window
BANG!
fluorescent yellow jackets
they're here
BANG!
its the back door
set the barricade
BANG!
will it hold?
not for long
BANG!
they've come later
than usual
BANG!
we'd thought
not today
BANG!
we'd dropped our guard
prepared food
BANG!
a meal
cooked in vain
BANG!
the barricade
starts to fail
BANG!
our bodies flung
at the metal door
BANG!
summon strength
hold it closed
BANG!
successive impacts
rattle our bones
BANG!
screaming now
rage and pain
BANG!
"open the door!"
**** you!!"
BANG!
we wont make it
easy for them
BANG!
but we know
how this ends
BANG!
our home in chaos
frantic packing
BANG!
save the tools
we'll need them
BANG!
they're our keys
to a new home
BANG!
our foes advance
on another door
BANG!
they're determined
so are we
BANG!
it breaks
the door opens
SLAM!
somehow
we kick it back shut
SILENCE
they've stopped
why?
VOICES
the other door
they're in.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 5:24 AM UTC
Secrets, secrets, are no fun, unless you share with everyone.
But what if the secret affects someone else?
What if the secret negatively impacts yourself?
Secrets, secrets
I try to clear my mind,
But it keeps popping up
Time after time.
Are no fun
I want to yell, I want to scream,
I want the whole world to know
What's eating me alive
And why I'm bursting at the seams.
Unless you share with everyone
I have been sworn to secrecy,
And I cannot tell,
I've sworn myself in,
And with this I dwell.
The past is heavy,
But secrets weigh more,
And with no one to tell,
My heart and brain begin a War.
I'm battling myself,
At every given instance.
And oh, how I wish
I could return to my days of innocence.
But I have been sworn to secrecy,
And now I cannot speak of it,
Such an invasion of privacy,
And a secret I can't admit.
But maybe, just maybe,
One day I will.
I'll get it off my chest
And will no longer feel mentally ill.
Secrecy does weird things
To a person,
And the longer it goes on,
The more their mental health will worsen.
Secrets, secrets, are no fun, unless you share with everyone.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC
We're all un-informed about something
We can't know everything
But when your ignorance impacts others
Un-knowledged and un-aware
It is not the same as un-mindfully aware
Inflicting your imbecilic infections
Upon others I cannot abide in
We need more un-derstanding
To be un-bigoted
We need to stand together
In this un-certain world
To do anything less would be un-reasonable
Un-do your ignorance
Un-screw your head from your ***
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 11:39 AM UTC
**A ravaged beauty -
long threatened tired life,
riding appreciated
Friday’s off-road cycle ride started late with a heart-choking chill head-wind blown rain - blurring my glassed vision, so I trusted into the triple lanes of colours slicing through the Vale of Neath. Here a builder’s ladder jumped boomeranging off it's white van - attempting to decapitate me - behind me it’s miss was announced by squealing brakes and crunching impacts, scaring alive splattered visions of a flat-end and being posted within a near drain. Surviving today's devilled ribbon of the dangerous windscreen imprisoned - sitting with pub bound murderous cohorts - I found off-road safe solitude’s mountain bike path East to Coelbren - joining new, a fine yet unsigned cycle route curling around Mynydd y Drum, to open views of Cwm Tawe as I pass hunting twisting through woods a single Red Kite. Then gravities speed, circles barriers into Ystradgynlais top - a narrow ribboned descent, hemmed by cars and paved children to the rugby fields.
Senses travelogue -
previously un-experienced,
time spins slower
Here the trails old section points to Swansea - winding lost betwixt fields, paths, trees and roads to Cwmtawe Cycleway proper, there to pedal beside and across Afon Tawe with repeated special offers of child saddled exhaust roaring kamikazes, bicycle maiming broken glass, proudly owned attack dogs, branch hung ball-sacks of excrement, visions of the lost ripped-away steel gated stops, hacked-off wooden fences and never-there deceitful dreams of red doggy bins all disguised what passed for hidden beauty, which he called lovely ugly. Backing-into Pontardawe to crawl away below the dark bridge, past a single inviting pub - I accompany the Tawe and it's twin a decrepit polished canal through ***** alleys - until our hero stutters, gapes then tunnels under great noisious noxious ribbons of hurtling tired....
Pressured paced life -
impossible commitments,
Living organic**
.
May 6, 2010
May 6, 2010 at 12:54 AM UTC
as the kind of person i am, i don't regret any of my decisions
because I've made my decisions and there is nothing i can do now
they've occurred and i can feel bad about making them
but i never regret them, because there's no use wishing i could change them
this aspect of me becomes prominent after a loss
recently it feels as though there's been a lot of loss
and it's terrible, i hate the feeling of it
but loss shows me a lot of things
loss has shown me that sometimes it's not the losing that hurts
it's the lost effort and feelings and time
it's the lost emotion that hurts me most
people walk in and out of our lives and we have no control over that fact
but they take moments and little pieces of us along with them
but we take a little bit of them as well
and sometimes what we take hurts
loss teaches us how valuable our moments are
that every little moment is worth something
regardless of how small we think it is
because one day we or somebody else might not see it as miniscule
but as a miraculous moment that is impacting on their life
loss doesn't erase these impacts and hurts on us though
it might even enunciate them
and loss doesn't make the sadness of losing that person go away
time does
and even though time takes away that pain we have those moments
you should never regret those moments
whether they be good moments or bad moments
you took them with you for a reason
i think me as the person i am
certain moments shine light on certain aspects of myself
and loss shines light on my inability to regret moments
although some may see that as a bed things and call me emotionless
i view it as a tool to view moments a little differently than others
to view them as valuable and worth remembering
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 11:46 PM UTC
watch them dance.
see the way the blood trails behind?
vivid footprints, declarations of madness,
a history lain in red paint and black ink
a story, seeping from an open palm
to pool with indifference across the college-ruled stage.
watch them dance.
the impacts, do you feel them?
those collisions of thought and language
wherein reason is sought through brutal force,
berating the ears as they skate and
sprint across the plastic tiled minefield
of truth and bludgeoned metaphor.
watch them dance.
Oct 9, 2022
Oct 9, 2022 at 8:03 PM UTC
Music is a wonderful inspiration
It is one of the only things in this world that makes me feel such emotion
that it’s almost a physical feeling
I know that all emotions affect the human body physically
But, music impacts me in a different way
When I’m listening to The Avett Brothers
I feel this wonderful and amazing pressure in between my chest and my stomach
The closest thing I could describe it as is a light inside me
I don’t know what I would do without music
It is simply pure magic
Magic that has the power to change moods
touch hearts
and even hurt people
Music is one of the only things all human beings have in common
Even if you’re one of those people who say they don’t like music
It lies within every person
I truly believe that music is born in us
Oct 6, 2012
Oct 6, 2012 at 9:29 PM UTC
I feel so much and I try too hard
But none of that impacts you at all.
I give you everything you ask
And everything more that I can.
You always take it for granted
Where your genuine thanks is rare
And then the heart I give to mend
Your own is just given away
To the people who destroyed yours.
You’re the kindest to everyone
But me, who is kindest to you.
I’m better off done.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
So When It Comes To Poetry...
What Really Can Be Deemed...
To Be A... " MASTERPIECE "... ?!?
A Really COOL HAIKU...
Where Words Number A FEW... !?!
Or A Poetic... Stanza...
With IMPERVIOUS Data...
That HITS Like A Gun Clapper... !!!
Or Verses That SHATTER...
A Readers BRAIN MATTER... !!!
Because Of Wordplay...
That’s TRUTHFUL And BRAVE...
On Subjects That Make...
Most Writers AFRAID... !?!
Or Masterpieces Releasing.....
The PLAINEST of Speaking...
And TRUE DEPTH of MEANING... ?!?
Or... Poetry Seeking... ?
To BREAK Through Glass Ceilings... !!!
Where Judgements Are Made...
About... What Is Claimed...
To Be A... " Masterpiece "...
Are Judges Like THESE...
Those... TRULY WORTHY...
of KNOWLEDGE And WISDOM...
About... ALL Words Written... ?!?
Are They REALLY Objective...
About Words That They Credit....
As Being … IMPRESSIVE... ?!?
Is A Masterpiece Short...
Or... Can It Be LONG... ???
Can A Poem Be Thought...
To Have Masterpiece Form... ?!?
Like That of A Painting...
Because of Its CADENCE...
And POETIC Statements... ???
AND.............
Whose Mind Can Decide... ?!?
What It Is That DEFINES..
A... MASTERFUL Piece...
of Verse And Poetry... ???
And What About WRITERS... ?
Do We REALLY ASPIRE...
To Have Our Written Works...
Be Seen As GREAT VERSE... ?!?
Or As A MASTERPIECE...
of A... Poetic Breed... ?!?
Sounds Like EGO To Me... !!!
I’d Rather Inspire Young People To READ...
And Write REALITY Within Their Poetry... !!!
That ENSURES LEGACIES...
of Words With... Qualities...
That Breed MORE UNITY...
That Have POSITIVE Impacts...
On... HUMANITY... !!!
Because THAT HONESTLY...
Would Be The Kind of FEAT...
That I TRULY Would See...
As Something That Could Be...
A POETIC Piece of GREAT Artistry... !!!
That Indeed Could Be Deemed...
As A REAL...
..... “ MASTERPIECE “..... !!!
Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 1:40 AM UTC