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"inglorious" poems
Do You Ever Find … ? That Words Sometimes … KEEP On … " Runnin' " … Through Your Mind … ?!? Sometimes ... My Rhymes And Words Are … ...... STUNNING ….. !!!!! These Days I Find My Word Designs … Refine And Dine Just Like FINE Wine … !!! So Here's A Few To Give You … " Clues " ... of Some of The Ways My Wordplay Moves … Wordplay … ? Just … RIDICULOUS … !!! Volume … ? Straight Up … INFINITE … !!! Inception Is … " Synonymous " … With BIG VIRGE The … EPONYMOUS … !!!!! Conception … NOT …. " Inglorious " …. !!!!! ******* NOPE … ERRONEOUS … !!!!! My Use of Verse Is … " GLORIOUS " … !!!!! In Fact It's … " MERITORIOUS " . !!!!!!! Because It's TIGHT NOT Porous …. Chorus … NO … !!! Because It Flows … And Has NO PLACE In … ... " Talent Shows " … !!!!! TALENT ... ??? Whoooooaaaaa You'd Better KNOW … !!!!! What I Construct May One Day BLOW … !!! A Hole In ALL These Shows For … " Ho's " … !!!!! Prostitution …. NO …. !!! NOT How I Roll … !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Talking of THOSE … NO TIME For Coc’ … !!! Or Yes … ******* … !!! Because My Nose ... Does NOT House Notes … !!!!! Where AIR Should Flow … !!!!! FLOWS … ?!? I Got …Those … !!! QUOTES That Rock Boats … !!! Races Places So Many Faces … Sometimes My Mind ... DEFINES … INVASIVE … WAIT ..................................................................... !!! I'm Just PLAYING And Relaying ... Words of Verse … From The Thoughts of … ….. " Big Virge " ….. !!! My Head … ??? It HURTS ... Just Like My Arm … !!! Because I Write … Like Those Who Fight … And Wear The Garms' … of Those Who Choose To ... YES … " Bear Arms " … ?!? Violent … NAH … !?! Big Virge Is … ….. Calm …............................................................. I'd Rather Charm … But PLEASE BE SMART … !!! Before My Words … Get In Your ... " CLAAT " … !!! Or Your …... " RASSHOLE' " ….. !!! Am I Bajan … ??? NO ... But Here's The Quote … I'm … ENGLISH Born … So Know of Their Scorn … !!!!! But Am Now REBORN … !!! With … CARIBBEAN Views … Just Down The Road … From My NEW Bedroom … !!!!! On BAJAN' Shores …. !!! NOT Cold But WARM … !!! I'm HAPPIER NOW … !!! That I Have FOUND … A Place For Myself … On My Parents' Ground … !!!!! Africa Next … ? Well … More or Less … So MUCH of This WORLD … !!!!! I Haven't Seen … YET … ?!? Girls … ?!?!? That's Where This Poem ENDS. SO MANY Look FINE But I Just Can't find … One Whose Down To … " Fool Around " … !!!!! With The Man … Big Virge ... ... " The Connoisseur of Spoken Words " ... I Guess That's Why … ? I Write These Rhymes … And Put In Verse … Words That … " Traverse " … That I NOW FIND … " Run Through My Mind " …..
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Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC
"Run Through My Mind" ... A Poem written by Big Virge 20/12/2013
Do You Ever Find … ? That Words Sometimes … KEEP On … " Runnin' " … Through Your Mind … ?!? Sometimes ... My Rhymes And Words Are … ...... STUNNING ….. !!!!! These Days I Find My Word Designs … Refine And Dine Just Like FINE Wine … !!! So Here's A Few To Give You … " Clues " ... of Some of The Ways My Wordplay Moves … Wordplay … ? Just … RIDICULOUS … !!! Volume … ? Straight Up … INFINITE … !!! Inception Is … " Synonymous " … With BIG VIRGE The … EPONYMOUS … !!!!! Conception … NOT …. " Inglorious " …. !!!!! ******* NOPE … ERRONEOUS … !!!!! My Use of Verse Is … " GLORIOUS " … !!!!! In Fact It's … " MERITORIOUS " . !!!!!!! Because It's TIGHT NOT Porous …. Chorus … NO … !!! Because It Flows … And Has NO PLACE In … ... " Talent Shows " … !!!!! TALENT ... ??? Whoooooaaaaa You'd Better KNOW … !!!!! What I Construct May One Day BLOW … !!! A Hole In ALL These Shows For … " Ho's " … !!!!! Prostitution …. NO …. !!! NOT How I Roll … !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Talking of THOSE … NO TIME For Coc’ … !!! Or Yes … ******* … !!! Because My Nose ... Does NOT House Notes … !!!!! Where AIR Should Flow … !!!!! FLOWS … ?!? I Got …Those … !!! QUOTES That Rock Boats … !!! Races Places So Many Faces … Sometimes My Mind ... DEFINES … INVASIVE … WAIT ..................................................................... !!! I'm Just PLAYING And Relaying ... Words of Verse … From The Thoughts of … ….. " Big Virge " ….. !!! My Head … ??? It HURTS ... Just Like My Arm … !!! Because I Write … Like Those Who Fight … And Wear The Garms' … of Those Who Choose To ... YES … " Bear Arms " … ?!? Violent … NAH … !?! Big Virge Is … ….. Calm …............................................................. I'd Rather Charm … But PLEASE BE SMART … !!! Before My Words … Get In Your ... " CLAAT " … !!! Or Your …... " RASSHOLE' " ….. !!! Am I Bajan … ??? NO ... But Here's The Quote … I'm … ENGLISH Born … So Know of Their Scorn … !!!!! But Am Now REBORN … !!! With … CARIBBEAN Views … Just Down The Road … From My NEW Bedroom … !!!!! On BAJAN' Shores …. !!! NOT Cold But WARM … !!! I'm HAPPIER NOW … !!! That I Have FOUND … A Place For Myself … On My Parents' Ground … !!!!! Africa Next … ? Well … More or Less … So MUCH of This WORLD … !!!!! I Haven't Seen … YET … ?!? Girls … ?!?!? That's Where This Poem ENDS. SO MANY Look FINE But I Just Can't find … One Whose Down To … " Fool Around " … !!!!! With The Man … Big Virge ... ... " The Connoisseur of Spoken Words " ... I Guess That's Why … ? I Write These Rhymes … And Put In Verse … Words That … " Traverse " … That I NOW FIND … " Run Through My Mind " …..
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97
But are not the scandalous rumors, the jealous lovers, and inglorious ******** born of passion?
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Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 4:27 PM UTC
Born of Passion
You could not ask for, And I dared not offer you, the small inglorious flower of cactus. Instead I brought you tulips and roses, to fill our lives with transient happiness. In the darkness we hid our face. Thus passed years, Times we shed silent tears, For having not dared the most precious - A small inglorious flower of cactus!
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Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC
A Flower of Cactus
Sitting in her wheelchair, Wondering what to wear, Natalie, the Notorious, Found her situation nothing short of inglorious. Absorbent or plain, it didn't seem to matter, Until, down the hall, she heard Nurse Agnes' chatter. Her ears perked up, as did her head. Glinting eyes showed much to dread. Natalie said with all due sobriety, "Here goes the plan in all its entirety." She gave herself a wink, and tossed back a mickey, Choosing her time, being quite picky. Natalie searched out that sanctimonious nurse, And giving vent to her rage, she let out a curse. She flew from her chair, and let out a yell. Frightened Nurse Agnes, in fear she did quell. But Natalie's plan, to take the nurse down, Fell quite flat, when she hit the ground. Poor Natalie had totally forgotten, The chairbelts kept her in, "Oh, how rotten!" They snapped her back and she hit the floor. The ice pick she had, flew into the door. Really now, it's sad to say, that Natalie the Notorious to this day, Avoids plots of ice picks and death, And focuses mostly on keeping her breath.
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Jan 28, 2011
Jan 28, 2011 at 5:18 PM UTC
Natalie the Notorious
The briny tears have dried The sounding knells are stilled The grieving crowd, dispersed The parting pain, allayed Benumbed lie the dead Beneath the marble vaults Bereft of power and prowess Benighted and beaten. The sun shall never cast its glorious rays The stars shall never their brilliance shed The breeze never shall bring tidings new The showers shall no more drench them through A thoughtful friend sometimes seen around A fervent prayer at times chanted aloud A plaited wreath, rarely laid over A trite rite, randomly carried out There’s none left to mourn or weep Nor anyone to sing, sigh or sob Leaving the dead to rot in the closure of graves To life’s alluring charms, the dear depart. Cold as clay the dead lie so still To be feasted on by maggots and the worms Life with all its glory – defunct Its fever and fret too – extinct. How in vain we run after wealth The power and position we deem so great Shall come to naught within Time’s gloomy vault Yet we run and yet we straggle behind. In vain ends our travail for might Inglorious is our quest after fame Transient turn the riches, we garner Short lived is their gleam and glitter. Oh Lord! Lead us not into illusory charms Deliver us of our avarice to hoard For all that is born and made ‘Must consign to death and come to dust.’
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Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 6:29 AM UTC
Dust unto Dust
Can't you feel my screaming heart? I feel all yours and it's unbearable To know everyone's intention may seem ineffable Though my passion is emotion and empathy my art Dwelling silent in a crowded room To the right a pursuit of lust And my left a lack of trust Empty grins with their facade and doom Another item has been stolen My peers in an unknowing uproar I see the culprits guilt pour From his weary eye and coven The ***** swoons the love of an unworthy patron She gazes at me with a tempting question Attempting to construct my envy and affection My will is stronger than that seducing notion The lonely man makes a joking inquisition All the rest see it as a laughable gesture I look with sad eyes to see his slouching posture He wants to die in his pathetic position The muscle bound dunce smacks his lips Glorified as the acrobatic conversationalist Strapped men in shackles and girls can't resist His compensated shortage of yays and yips A quiet smile looks on with a perfect mask Playing pretend with an inglorious burden Faking a life inside of her chaotic garden Of hollow theatrics in which she basks There goes the lad with his flippy hair The little ladies want a picture with the fellow Oh you're so rad the flocking lasses bellow And, you wonder why I don't seem to care?
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Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 10:07 AM UTC
Shallow
Stunningly beautiful, soul full of pride, The vision of perfection, by my side, Enhanced is the feeling, swelling inside, Price is platonic; our hearts must collide, Heaven nor hell, unbound by earth’s shackle, Euphoric by design, our love entails, Nostalgic I’m not, we are no debacle, View the world, no map marks our trails, Inglorious, is the search for love Ethereal, since you are but a dream, Illusion is grounded, fly now my dove, Reality is us, we are a team, After all, you are my Aphrodite, Yalla habibti,
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Dec 8, 2009
Dec 8, 2009 at 10:31 AM UTC
Aphrodite
The tyranny of this empty room will always be the underlying comfort of no one. These books left unread, has been the taste of my inglorious pursuit of happiness. A guitar hanging on the wall collecting dust and rust, is a product of my unremarkable trust with myself. A single bed that will be slept on later, will be filled with imaginative thoughts of grandeur, Combined with the thoughts that betrayed me compiled with, "I should've and could've". Only this pen latched on to my hand to carve the honest words, This paper to produce erasures of beautiful sentences. The writer that will bear the coming of tomorrow.
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Dec 17, 2021
Dec 17, 2021 at 11:08 AM UTC
Tonight
How far have we come? Our masquerading insanity, Egotistical sensuality We bask in the luxury Of our miserable depravity Tumultuous cries and sweet lies, It's only a state of mind We malice, not chastise, And give birth to anarchy The world was an empty bliss Reveled in the vast starlit sky Now consumed by the beast inside, Our inglorious unbecoming iamthe_avatar ©2015
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Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC
Our Inglorious Unbecoming
Who are we to say, That they and those with whom they lay, Are forever condemned to eternal fire on this day? They say they speak for the one above, Yet who are they to say who and who God is to love? Are we not all one and the same, Denizens of this world living under one name? Yet, instead, we intend To hate until they bend, And seek their inglorious end. Let us love one another, As sister to sister, brother to brother, None of us are free, Until our brothers and sisters see, The day they may sor in the sky, Shackleless,without a sigh, As they reach their dreams, saying goodbye.
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Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
Equality
Spit in my face you Jews, and pierce my side, Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me, For I have sinned, and sinned, and only he Who could do no iniquity hath died: But by my death can not be satisfied My sins, which pass the Jews’ impiety: They killed once an inglorious man, but I Crucify him daily, being now glorified. Oh let me, then, his strange love still admire: Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment. And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire But to supplant, and with gainful intent: God clothed himself in vile man’s flesh, that so He might be weak enough to suffer woe.
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1.5k
Holy Sonnet XI: Spit In My Face You Jews, And Pierce My Side
If we must die, let it not be like hogs Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot, While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs, Making their mock at our accursed lot. If we must die, O let us nobly die, So that our precious blood may not be shed In vain; then even the monsters we defy Shall be constrained to honor us though dead! O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe! Though far outnumbered let us show us brave, And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow! What though before us lies the open grave? Like men we'll face the murderous, cowardly pack, Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!
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1.4k
If We Must Die
shifty-eyed sundays/summer smiles. green backyards child-full, meat eaters meat-eating, bellies & throats conversation/food-filled. young families flocking fawn-eyed to communion barbeques, sweaty raspings/of feeding minds; living-room, reading-room, lessons & phonics shortwinded swindlings at tables of breakfast (equal portions) ---sub-divided. categories..elements systems of classifying, lessons limping/near succeeding. trekking inglorious [tired] track laps---round laps of track, tried feet feet-walking sleep-talking waking, taking rests. @ intervals, (splashes of time) clock/clock-time. sleep, repose, health profits; restless prophets. word-of-mouth. strange tongues, th'creaking of breaths, classical forebodings---brow beating, war breeding. wrist flickings/blurred strokes markings/carvings---letters/numb3rs, communicating---language speaking. (overhearing.) positive consensus > press play. un-buttoning buttons soirée is overfinished, overture. shirts come up/over/off--- bath's running---taps run-running, clippings clipped from papers, ---snip-snipping. crashing/slicing blades of scissors, point-on-point. television evening sign-off/lights off. interestingopenwindowenergy, an elegy.. under_scored.
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Oct 27, 2011
Oct 27, 2011 at 9:20 PM UTC
paper_weights
it stopped raining after some long hour had passed the rain had simply faded like shawled figure moving through the afterlife just the signature of presence evaporating into the still air like the quiet thunder of a doves wings in the evening shadow a sense of walking the day down through its years a child at dawn full of promise and wonder a man full of strife and the heat of passions at noon an old man gasping by the witching hour see the day walk its life to the tomb before the grand spectacle of night has finished and the very damp ground was littered with leaves pulled from their high towers and cast down by the winds strong hand dirt in clinging clumps decorate the once vividly clean surface of her lawn chairs she pecks at the debris with a rapid motion wipe away the inglorious world with her chatter is subtle but not unfriendly as she offers tea the long hour passes as we instilled with small conversation watch the overcast slowly dissipates like her charm it is fleeting she at last asks about your day with hands folded in her lap like two neat doves fearfully waiting to fly in panic at such slight provocations the rain left its signature on my life both beauty and troubled thoughts gather beneath its wet canopy all reach life in the waters of the world all rise from child and fall to tomb like rain falls back to the earth which birthed it we all return to the soil thick and rich loam full of the savaged remains of the fallen and the seeds of the yet unborn
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Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
overcast afternoon
it stopped raining after some long hour had passed the rain had simply faded like shawled figure moving through the afterlife just the signature of presence evaporating into the still air like the quiet thunder of a doves wings in the evening shadow a sense of walking the day down through its years a child at dawn full of promise and wonder a man full of strife and the heat of passions at noon an old man gasping by the witching hour see the day walk its life to the tomb before the grand spectacle of night has finished and the very damp ground was littered with leaves pulled from their high towers and cast down by the winds strong hand dirt in clinging clumps decorate the once vividly clean surface of her lawn chairs she pecks at the debris with a rapid motion wipe away the inglorious world with her chatter is subtle but not unfriendly as she offers tea the long hour passes as we instilled with small conversation watch the overcast slowly dissipates like her charm it is fleeting she at last asks about your day with hands folded in her lap like two neat doves fearfully waiting to fly in panic at such slight provocations the rain left its signature on my life both beauty and troubled thoughts gather beneath its wet canopy all reach life in the waters of the world all rise from child and fall to tomb like rain falls back to the earth which birthed it we all return to the soil thick and rich loam full of the savaged remains of the fallen and the seeds of the yet unborn
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37
coursing in his veins the blood of yellow hue a sure verification of a coward's cue men of courage bore a darker shade of red there was such bravery in the way they bled behind them the craven one so weakly stood they'd be taking the bullets meant for his hood yellow with dishonor spineless of back not having the gumption to face an attack his veins so desperately bereft of fortitude they were so inglorious in their aptitude
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Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 8:18 PM UTC
Coward's Cue
You stare as if you know how my blood runs through my veins. What wood are you? Did you not come from a clan of massacred trees chiseled by an inglorious machete? Were you the door that barred the perils to our house? Did you block the brutal sun from getting in? Who carved you? Was it not the ****** Was it not the thief? Was it not the murderer behind the bars? And you accuse me to have sinned when all you do is mimic the fingers of your god. Have you even opened those tinted lips to mutter a prayer? Why did you not dare to move or tap my back when I opened my zipper? Instead you feasted on my obscenity. Why can you not tell your god I attempted to fast? Come! Bleed and let these thirsty eyes witness your miracle! Idiot. ©04-10-13
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Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 7:34 AM UTC
Ode to a Canonized Oak
She was my sunshine, She was my rain, I had another chance, Now I'm single once again! But before my breakup, Prior to this beautiful relationship, I was feeling lonelier than ever... Hadn't I thought forever single 'coz so much was the pain after my inglorious accident, But I knew that I would fail my decision & taste the pain once more.. Little did I know that her newer, younger ego would be stronger than any diamond. She was my girl, I took it so literally... She was my girlfriend, I felt lucky to be with her.. She sure was cute and sweet, I just felt so much privileged. She was a very pampered baby, More my daughter than a friend.. She was still immature mentally, Not ready for the relation... She was addicted to fast-food, I was being eerily parent-like to her... She loved to tell me her sufferings, I was telling her to improve her habits.. She broke up the relation just recently, I was dumped again for being overcaring. But it's okay with me, I will take my box elsewhere, Because such a girl will surely be, I think she's out there - somewhere... Surely she is out there.
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Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 7:47 AM UTC
Her Ravishing Roles In My Dreamland
He raised his eyebrows, puckering his lips. Bearing a watch on each of his wrists, Along with a large leopard print cowboy hat; To hide his long shiny inglorious black I think he noticed me watching, which surely wasn’t new, Cause he smiled and blinded me with his polished gold tooth. Under the heels of his leather feet, the side walk shattered, Walking slowly, he leaves behind what he’s fractured. -Walking into tomorrow, he starts a new chapter.
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Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 1:54 AM UTC
Just People Watching
mum married her love rose covered eyes ended serving an ungrateful master finding fault with fault finding inglorious ******* his mother should have strangled him at birth it cost her, her life she loved him to her dieing breath she fulfilled her duty to the T now you want me to forget and grand you a 2nd marriage oh my God repeat of the 1st grant performance a new opera will be build new players and costumes to make you scream and cry at once you will be deliriant with joy and pain equal amount competing for your soul all to serve the god if status and money no. i do not grant thee anything you owe me a childhood of love teenage years of caring grown up years of leading instead you work as fault finder all day, all night, over consuming
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Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 7:06 AM UTC
grand opera
My death will be a masterpiece, Inglorious design, Tear away the hope for peace, The loss of all that's mine.
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Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC
Weary
I sat at the patio seeing that portrait of a women facing ocean discovering unsoundness of my imagination as a saccadic thunder blazed opening the eye of sky as the clouds liberated first rain drops which kissed inglorious mud filling the air with intoxication of romantic vapors. Chained by the lust of intolerable fragrance i crept along with those winds near to the parapet as lazily as a drugged snail! Tantalizing my dreams a heavy wind with some dew blew on to my face as my lips raised in a sarcastic passion conveying its reason to live. Humanity overflown from my heart as the innovative part of my brain continued to search for the irrational logic of my smile.
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Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 3:59 AM UTC
The portrait
The week's been long and draggin' on. Our labour's been labourious. Toilsome tasks have tarried on - and their ceasing inglorious. But surely as our souls are spent, and stamina a-sundered. the whittled work has come and went, and out we've come from undered! And thus, my friend, the week has past. So here's a rousing raised-glass cheer - that dreamt-of day descends at last: Friday Friday, Friday's here!
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Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 2:43 PM UTC
T.G.I.F.
devouring, always, thirsting for words, jonesing for dramatics, yearning for redemption. the keyboard pounds, some inglorious Beethoven composing some dilapidated Archduke Trio, just for the hipsters the action repeats. now. now again. in spite of its supposed purpose a mere reflex? or the essence of self. more more more, i say why should not the skies erupt with rivers of euphoria and other useless miracles? the city, overrun with ugly serpents, makes the whole gambit crystalline: permanent, frozen, and most of all, clear, as a may afternoon, laid out on the Front Lawn. so, always, never does it come. the chalice spills forever, and i must lap it off the ***** floor, because why cry over spilt milk? nothing grieves me heartily indeed but that i cannot do much at all, that i can do everything and don't, that i need everything evil and beautiful.
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Aug 1, 2010
Aug 1, 2010 at 4:54 PM UTC
lucid