"magistrate" poems
In glorious flight owning daylight
You magistrate freedom across
An ocean with your own box
Of twilight that you share
In a land of fish
A moonlit wish
With wings that
Kiss the
Sky
Throughout your expeditions to ground
Your voice is a dynamic sound
None can ignore your presence
What would Pandora say
When you sing that way?
Higher you fly
Distances
Many
Won't
Instruct us to use our heart compass
Open our eyes to perspective
Show us potential to live
When self-doubt is about
Like a grain of sand
May our cares be
Found without
A need
For
The liberty of our latitude
Is the length of our attitude
The way the wind blows effects
The direction we go
Our choices to be
Curiously
Ebb and flow
Waving
Lo
Behold a new dawn of bright feather
Consider the stormy weather
Notice how cloud and sun
Witness the Mother
Nature at play
Survey to
Coastal
Bay
May we find our way as you have shown
Limitless unbounded and flown
So shallow is the worry
No longer a fury
A calming has come
Soaring above
With truth in
Our hearts
Won
Riding the currents of emotions
Soaring aloft mental oceans
Wings spanned in physical worlds
Discover us great pearls
Of wisdom and poise
Joyful in noise
Good solid
Gifts of
Sage
Cleansing our spirits of past trifles
Being careful not to stifle
New growth with every gust gained
A quill, a crest, a quest
A mountain peaked with
Knowledge like the
Pier we are
Destined
To
A gate to become the best versions
Of our outstanding self-landing
Into the stars we have been
The fringe dust of pinion
Divine with the wind
Beginning free
And renewed
With no
End
© tHE tERRY tREE
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
What moral magistrate
Monster of mediocrity
Makes a model citizen of me
Even if I don’t want to be
All upright and uptight
Humorless jackboot
Goose stepping toadstool
The fascist conservative fool
Who pedals misinformation
Counting on fear and stupidity
To turn strangers into tools
Yep that one eyed sheep
In the blind herd
Who wants to tell me
What I should or shouldn’t do
Why bother
With that proctor
Of indignity
Who counsels
The talented
To remain dormant
In their humility
Doctor of docility
Prescribing conformity
Storming the cities
Bleeding us of our individuality
To make more metal cogs
For the culture machine
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC
1177
A prompt—executive Bird is the Jay—
Bold as a Bailiff’s Hymn—
Brittle and Brief in quality—
Warrant in every line—
Sitting a Bough like a Brigadier
Confident and straight—
Much is the mien of him in March
As a Magistrate—
3.6k
Under prickled probably-a-berry-bush
overhead the scented magistrate and the muffled cough
of one emberassed to be viral
she's somewhere on the a-scale, but she is so very divine
zero public humility, whopee cushion existentialism
'I didn't do it, you did it.'
Oh right, thanks for putting your hands up
now turn around and lay your chest on the front of my squad car
sleep again and I'll wake you like Royalty once woke the jester.
jam your front toe on the archway
so you can be the vocals in my band
we'll be jamming next week, if you care to join us?
I understand.
It's not as much effort as sudoku
if you ask me.
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 5:52 PM UTC
I
Now the rain hammered down And the waters did rise
And the drunk at the Inn Looked his wife in the eyes
Then he looked at his boots Of soft leather so new
and he saw her strong back Then he chose what to do
"The river is deep and it's running in spate
I'll not get a dousing and I'll not be late
So you'll take me across woman just you alone
Or by God you will suffer when we both get home"
You're a cold-hearted ******* without any charm
You've broken my heart like you once broke my arm
But I'll carry you out through the deep and the flood
Thought the water is almost as cold as your blood
So they walked to the banks of the river so fast
And he clung to her shoulders a man foul and vast
She strode forward with dignity into the flow
Stopped sharp took a breath singing as she let go
"You're cold-hearted ******* your drunk breath on my neck
You've beaten me down to grey broken wreck
Now I'm stood in the river and I need a rest
So I'll stand here a while with both feet on your chest"
So he struggled a little and then he was still
While she sang with new freedom enjoying the thrill
She knows if the magistrate says she must swing
She will still feel the freedom and still she will sing
"You're a cold -hearted ******* without any charm
but I'll wear a smile now I've done you such harm
now you're dead in the river amongst the dark stones
and the trout and the weeds dance amongst your cold bones"
Jul 21, 2011
Jul 21, 2011 at 8:31 AM UTC
The tradition of marriage,
Bourgeois blackmail and baggage,
Is it all a bargain for men?
Is this what white weddings meant?
All the love that is lost,
And what is the ultimate cost?
A divorce court pizza,
Magistrate smirks like Mona Lisa,
Four corners, one for each,
Dog gets the crust, if it can reach,
Cats get the anchovies,
Were white weddings for phonies?
When is the revolution?
Blancmange brides for pollution,
Bridesmaids-Little Bo Peeps on crack,
Does society cut us some slack?
We joined the bourgeoisie,
All ends in tears and hypocrisy.
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 4:48 AM UTC
whittled down and disavowed
by an overreaching society
the pomp
and zeal
with such appeal
and airs of impropriety
unbelievable populace
chickens
chickens
chickens
free of heads
still peck, peck, peckin' ya
copulate, then like you less
pickens'
pickens'
pickens'
slim as anorexia
Act Now!
Don't Wait!
the finish line?
keep runnin' straight
you can go to class
...don't be late
or just go tip the magistrate
pointless?
I doubt it very much
more fish in the sea
spontaneous lush
oink less
piggy hush!
buy, buy birdie!
consumerism's sturdy
making up makeup
makin' me look perdy
hopin' I don't wake up
Live as hard as you can
just to die before you're thirty
if practice makes you perfect
then perfection makes you *****
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 12:15 PM UTC
The royal magistrate gives the laws,
the wind sails true,
the grass grows greener,
the sun shines brighter,
you dance in the meadows of youth
each day,
starting now.
The avant-garde ******** ends now
we are guided by the restrictions
we live in.
each day,
self-regulated,
un-mitigated,
joy.
Waves of acid-washed notes flash by,
each one dwindling longer than the one
before,
mingling in a pale composition
with each beat goading the next.
Jun 9, 2010
Jun 9, 2010 at 12:22 PM UTC
Caligula, wise man of course,
Sought due promotion for his horse:
With no prerequisite debate,
The beast became a magistrate.
And then one day, without a groom,
He clopped into the Senate Room,
Followed beastly intuition,
Became an instant politician.
Without regard for poll or slate,
He soon demolished all debate.
And senators called out for more
When he did wonders on the floor.
With misdemeanor as the rule
He was a true unbridled fool,
Guided by a brute suspicion,
Stamping out all opposition.
He was reviled by common folk,
Democracy was deemed a joke;
To quote the ancient anecdotes,
He once said, "Let them all eat oats!"
Now that he's passed beyond declension
His legacy deserves attention:
Some politicians to this day
Still emulate the equine way:
They clop and neigh, they snort and roar,
There's always something on the floor;
They pound their desks, they're downright corny
Making all the issues thorny.
Don't wonder when they clown around
And seem so shockingly unsound;
Just trace the madness to its source:
Caligula adored his horse.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 5:50 PM UTC
We began with little mutations,
Harmless, or more so beneficial,
We adapted to our love,
With no methods of dispersal,
People thought we couldn’t get any closer,
But your behaviors changed and we began to isolate,
We were stabilized so I hoped for fusion,
But realized that overtime not even reinforcement could’ve helped,
We had our Kingdom set up,
And later we fell into a “Family”,
But you classified me too general,
Now I don’t know where I belong,
My feelings for you were like the Cambrian,
Sadly enough they became a catastrophe,
You started selecting,
Seeing me as worthless,
But I knew I am not one to select,
You looked at me like you’ve studied Phylogenetics,
I was at the most top,
But ended up at the bottom,
You were not natural, but neither was I,
What did our selections favor?
And our relationship turned into cloud and dust,
Sadly it collapsed,
And you left me imprints of lies and hurt,
And words preserved inside me like a cast,
You ingested away my feelings,
I was the pili so attached to you,
But you were an endospore resisting all of me,
You no longer knew what feelings were,
And to you, I was an annual,
Got replaced so quickly,
But I shed tears where the oceans have formed,
And supported you like the roots of trees,
But you were a virus,
A pathogen,
A parasite,
And I was the host,
Blinded by your toxins,
And my cells swelled in favor of you,
You offered me and I gladly took,
I thought I was an obligate,
Surviving off of you,
But I was too mindless to see the real you,
And I was like the Archaea,
Survived the harshest paths for you,
But with a single expression you crushed my world,
And like a Zygomycota you’ve molded our love away,
And sadly enough I couldn’t evolve,
With pain feeling like spikes inside,
I am no longer the magistrate of love,
And love is my killer.
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 2:00 PM UTC
Cold stairs inside of bricks
Breathing fire outside of sticks
You don’t like it when I look like this?
Different? Logical?
My face
Warm with blood
Filled with your majesty
Patient like a flood
Never the same
Bored by the ******
You orchestrated
My body maimed
Slamming at justice
Cherishing the gaveled
My life opened in envelopes
Sealing the unraveled
I address you correctly
In a bench of lies
You sit embarrassed
Everyone watching your eyes
A signed order
Sealed with my truth
Wrongly justified
Like a deafening light
Whispering from the fright
Crushing the gavel
Normalized contempt
Justice is now exempt.
Feb 10, 2010
Feb 10, 2010 at 5:59 PM UTC
spring. it's almost unsleeping
and stubbornly worn with
young feet in all her little parks
and her grassy and gluttonous
new flowers uncouple their
fragrant heads bumbling
a savage and stemmed arcuate
light that tumbles out the swaggering
mouths of upended winter.
the small and creviced
the hardy chapels of wood
and plastic and nails and wire
will burp to some agile fleece
some women and boys
into the delicious war of
new uncaking roses or the fine **********
that is this tide of bubbling heat
gnarling at the pale and loveless moon
who also is a *****
that plasters every skin with her lipsandfingers
she,TheSpring, will splay her plaintive thighs
and in their between, will march the strong
weak column of undead flesh
who are men and girls
and they will love her
the freckled empire of her *******
the fortress of her smooth impossible belly
the unquestionable meter of her hips
and they will climb her naked ribs
with hands of innocent foolhardy clasping
to the magistrate of her tongue
the holy orifice she wears at the between of her cool cheeks
and smatter on it
grossly ardent spit
Mar 4, 2011
Mar 4, 2011 at 11:18 AM UTC
Amid the flood of horror stories about demonetisation comes a heart-warming incident from Bulandshahr district where the groom’s father asked the bride’s father to welcome the baraatis (wedding guests from the groom’s side) with a simple cup of tea to avoid an expensive marriage in light of the note ban.Traditionally the baraatis are given many gifts from the bride’s family, but seeing how stressed the bride’s father was about trying to arrange cash for the marriage, the groom’s family told him that a ‘simple ceremony’ would do just as well.“The marriage was fixed before demonetisation. We faced a cash crunch like everyone else. After queuing up for 10 days, we got Rs.2,000 only. We told the bank officials that there was a marriage in our house. We got a letter of approval but even after that we did not get any cash,” the groom’s father Vijender Singh told The Hindu.
Thoughtful gestureMr. Singh said that he then spoke to the bride’s father Kali Charan, who was also facing a cash crunch.“When I spoke to Mr. Charan, he was sounding down as he could not arrange funds for the ceremony. I proposed to him a simple marriage ceremony. He initially hesitated as he was feeling bad. But I managed to convince him and finally we decided to hold a simple ceremony,” Mr. Singh said.The marriage between Dinesh and Veena took place on Sunday.Dinesh hails from Jaleelpur village in Jahangirabad in Bulandshahr district while the girl is from Jaypee Nagar.“We, along with the baraatis, reached Bulandshahr on Sunday. After completing all rituals, a cup of tea was offered to the baraatis,” Mr. Singh said.Mr. Charan said that he initially “hesitated” to do a simple ceremony due to social stigma.‘Initially hesitant’“Even on the day of marriage we were feeling bad about how the baratis and locals in our village will react. But everybody encouraged the step and appreciated us. I am thankful to God that I have chosen a good family for my daughter,” said Mr. Charan.The district administration also appreciated the thoughtful gesture of the groom’s family.Setting an example“During demonetisation, we have experienced that rural areas have suffered the most. But decisions like holding simple marriages shows that our nature is to help each other. This example must go on to serve humanity. The State government will facilitate the family for setting an example,” said Bulandshahr district magistrate Aunjaneya Kumar Singh.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/princess-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-formal-dresses
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 4:26 AM UTC
*Arousing early before the sun
With the call of a cock-a-doodle-do
From the lap of relishing morning sleep
Comes the milk man ringing
His bicycle bell
Like a frisbee comes flying
Newspaper by the paper boy
Rap of musical vessels performed
By the servant in the kitchen
Non-stop speech by my
Mother, the magistrate
My name being called thrice
For my presence in the court
Interrupting my mother's speech
Mischievous younger one
Eluding from brushing his teeth
Busy in his world of getting ready
My father to scoot like a silent cat
Enjoying the morning mess
My grandmother, laughing toothless
Resting in her easy chair !*
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 4:42 AM UTC
Move aside, let me put this mic to use
Your purpose on the stage is just to amuse
My next trick, some lyrical abuse
Pay attention now, no excuse
You think you're a bomb? Well I'll just defuse
Be a good sport and be in time for your curfews
I'm the captain, watch me navigate (Gorillaz reference)
Words to fabricate and rhymes to calibrate
Eradicate everything until you're forced to abdicate
If you're going against me, you'll need a magistrate
Activate the **** switch, we can't let him retaliate
Ready for arms men? It's time to annihilate
To me, this talent I have is innate
And you lack it, great.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
Change the subject of the reason
To hold your hand in the whining
Twilight of spent dreams and
Penniless trust funds merging like
Waves crashing onto diamond sand
A voice calls out to you and
You listen but discover that
Histories red dress is burning, not
Flashing in the sunlight like you wished
Where there are friends there is
Remorse for the highest mountain-top is
A meaningless wish - you are already there
In dreams, we desert our lover's and
Dance with ourselves and everything
We need is on the page or in the street
Or felt in the touch of an old college ****
You thought was going to be the one
That was where the magic was
That was when you believed in happiness
Now, there is only this moment
The eyes tearing open the sores of
Your mistakes, seeing that there is no
Such thing as dreams, only reality
Only the seams of time that trickles
Like the melting snow of December
Like the first rain after a desert wind
Like an explosion of love after a season of hate
The sword silver swaying for so long
Unsheathes itself and prays to God for forgiveness
We are the same monsters that bore us
The usages are dead and dusty and smell of
Stale ***** and the sweat of the Devil's demons
Lava pours from my fingertips as I
Question myself and everything that I have done
People move on like chess pieces
Sprinting to die for their country
Their love their family their religion
Their ideologies their love their hatred
"To die for something is to die honorably -
Any other way is disgraceful," the magistrate preaches
The
Rule:
Tell what you want
When you want to
Do not wait
Procrastination is
The poison that will not
Be forgiven
Prayers of the people
Shed the dim light of hope
On the living ******
We are at the harbor with
Open hearts and
Compassionate guidance
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 1:23 PM UTC
The dogs and the men
they bleed into the fields today.
The primal is protected with tradition
for the blood magistrate and bared teeth.
For the hoards,
who’s cider ice lollies dribble into tweed.
Snuffed Wellys suffocating in Jempson’s bags
pressing their crescent moons
into ****
Iris flash, fast peristalsis of air
on both ends of the trumpet today.
Screaming brass.
War only requires one note remember.
One long note
orchestrated by children’s fingers
lifted to the butchery song
releasing the blood-cell men;
the forest’s traitorous antigens.
They are there to nit-pick the trees.
A mercy killing, without a wall.
They should have had a wall
and they tell me
my morals are sickly.
My sensibility is held up with gum.
So pound that war drum.
We’ll bite the backs, tear the scruff
like some death mother to them.
For the runners and the watchers
olympics needed prey aspects
to keep it going.
Teach your children to need that itch.
To save each and every Sunday school *****
from her husband’s boredom
and her children’s boredom
and all the things you notice when you can live and eat
this side of your living seat.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 5:21 PM UTC
Down
Midnight shoreline, down
Where the horizon meets the sky
We go down
Towards
Meager but eager, towards
Forever inching away from the lie
Moving towards
[The cold shower wakes you from slumber land
where the clouds were only vapour
and their atom bomb, shell casing suicide shitstorm
was but a nightmare in the mind of the Monarch larvae]
You could buy stocks in Halliburton
make a cool mil
Profit from the prophet, manufacture more than hate
Hollow tips, shallow hipped ***** on the pixel paradigm ***** site
Third eye magistrate, legislation of the pallid nation
Awe-struck in a hazy daze of bullet hole days
Don't ******* play with me, sunshine
David still has his **** in the mouth of a pig
and his own mouth on the great **** of Israel
{REDACTED VERSE}
So we go
Down
Midnight shoreline, down
Where the horizon meets the sky
We go down to baseline loneliness of the soul
and tear our clothes from the vessels we sold
Down we go, to watch the world end
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
Justice is not an action
Justice can not be manufactured
Justice can not be administered by magistrate
Justice is not a cage
Justice is not privilege
Justice is not retroactive
Justice is now
Justice is love
Justice is intuition
Justice is heart
Justice just is
Jun 19, 2020
Jun 19, 2020 at 8:59 PM UTC
We are at the mercy of blood alchemists. They turn lead into gold and war into paper. Their sacrifice based sorcery transmutes our possessions into theirs. They just need death in the equation as well as our placation.
The blood alchemists defeated the defensive zealots to establish a new leader. Their new leader had devised a formula for turning bigotry into power at the expense of sanity. He crafted a potion to control the minds of the malleable that poisoned his brain with paranoid fantasies.
In the fascist alchemist's perception, all protesters become demons in need of exorcism. Transformers and electromagnetic waves carry his insane demands to Ukraine. He demands the death of a statesman expressing contention. This is the formula for turning dissent into fear. This is the concoction that turns power into silence, he seeks to suffocate his enemies in dirt.
Followers of the fascist alchemist believe he's a god who can do no wrong. Townspeople see through this facade trying to explain he's flawed to mind controlled dogs. His spell is stubborn so citizens start sticking to strife after he obfuscates what's wrong and right while a politician's life hangs in the balance.
Conflict is conformed into cover as he uses fear of the other so subjects won't see his gunners killing our Yemeni brothers. He buries our problems in dust, that once unsettled, erupts into a noise so loud we can't call him corrupt. Ignoring the will of man he'll even **** his clan if they still his plans. His henchmen drenched in blood are as expendable as the foes he shoves. Summoning a power vacuum, a portal to autonomy, all the cronies crammed in his chaos cabinet are ****** out one by one.
So this attempted assassination is the final straw once the magistrate catches wind of his shockwave sins. The blood alchemist must attend a hearing where enemies and allies alike adjudicate his egregious actions. The hearing will be dictated by what seers see for our future. The verdict will be determined by the brain washed judging the brain washer. Before dissent could materialize into resistance, the blood alchemists slowly eroded justice until a force field formed to protect the trickster's horns.
May 21, 2021
May 21, 2021 at 2:58 PM UTC
clouds cannot hide behind the sun
while the magistrate’s Attila the ***
the man is out to hunt for fun
run for your life “Bambi”, run
02/10/2017
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 5:32 PM UTC
He talks about his days they’re almost over
The headstone is a truth told entirely in lies
Soldiers on for the sake of nostalgia
Counts his smarts like the lines on a dial
Fakes it like a real man
Caught by the feeling, meets the ceiling as a ghost
Monuments to skin those days are over
A healthy dose of same ain’t enough to keep it down
No one left to blame, by the time it hits the ground
Working against the blood flow,
I thought I’d know me a bit by now
But we’re all stuck in limbo
Frontin’ its own occasion
Wading out with lead boots, down the line
Get me off that straight and narrow
Call to arms that magistrate, its a crime
Working against the blood flow,
I thought I’d know me a bit by now
But we’re all stuck in limbo..
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 9:27 AM UTC
if existence is merely an illusionary veil across our lids
then the inner euphoria that comes with this deception
must merely be a vindication of a life well-lived,
a life well-deceived.
if the misery and despair that drove the slits on my wrist
were simply drifting facades, simply an imitation of tangible grief
then which part of my suffering am I supposed to believe
was a concrete part of the life
I assumed that I lived.
if so,
why do we plainly disregard the ticking clock set upon our souls
the unrelenting countdown to our demise,
and commence the futile cycle of attaining earthly affluence
too worthless to transport into the abyss
that charters all that you believed.
what if the breeze brushes your final flame
and no god exists to magistrate your sins
and solely the predicament of non-existence
occupies the nullity of your fading essence.
then is living truly a desolate state
with a hopeless beginning and an unavailing end,
and just the perpetual succession
of a life fully, entirely, deceived.
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 5:25 AM UTC
He was only a simple storyteller
But looked much like a clown,
He wore red, yellow and jingle bells
When coming to our town,
He’d sit outside by the wishing well
And gather up all the kids,
Who’d laugh, and clap their little hands
At everything he did.
The parents, they didn’t like him much,
Their eyes were filled with fear,
They thought, like the Pied Piper, all
Their kids might disappear.
He seemed to be so harmless, though
He won their trust, despite
The stories that he would whisper by
The wishing well each night.
He set up a little pay booth at
The well, and scrawled a sign,
‘I only charge but a dollar each
For the stories that are mine.’
But no-one left any money
At his tiny little hut,
So everyone woke one day to find
Their doors were nailed shut.
And then they found in their gardens
There were strange things in the ground,
All their veggies were growing square
That should be growing round,
He told a tale of ungrateful folk
Who proved to be so mean,
Their square was filling with artichokes,
Their lawns were blue, not green.
He asked, would nobody pay him
For his stories and his verse,
They said there wasn’t a way in hell,
But he could do his worst,
The beer was turned into water down
At all the local bars,
And when they went to go home, they found
They couldn’t start their cars.
They dragged him before a magistrate
Who said, ‘You’re quite a threat,’
He jingled his bells and said, ‘Oh well,
You ain’t seen nothing yet.’
The bench the magistrate sat upon
Was wood, cut down from trees,
And suddenly sprouted branches
Five feet high and thick with leaves.
They couldn’t admit what he had done,
He’d made them look like fools,
He had a rapport with nature and
He’d modified the rules,
‘I’ve only to tell a story, it
Becomes a new creation,
Anything that I want, I get
From my imagination.’
Everyone pays their dollar now
The streets are neat and clean,
The carrots aren’t growing upside down
And even the lawns are green,
But everyone’s still suspicious when
It comes to telling tales,
They still remember about their doors
And hide their hammers and nails.
David Lewis Paget
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 11:11 PM UTC
Conversation opened. 1 read message.
Skip to content
Using Gmail with screen readers
in:sent
Click here to enable desktop notifications for Gmail. Learn more Hide
Move to Inbox More
6 of 184
Majesty's Thereupon
COUCH ALLENS
Apr 10
to j_blayze2002
Majesty’s Thereupon
Region wifery taken role witnesses smart
Forthwith ‘ Sufficient’ Sureties wedlock confraternity
Basses bound over protocols.
Sessions same facets subsequence crown intends before
Nativity respect marginalization prior stating ‘Rosencrantz’
Magistrate provisions continue committal within the holy recognizance state of restaging/ Once discharged in rewritten accounts writing the entry palace of provincial domains/ Proper echoes where ‘Orderliness’ Ordinations/ Procedural in the ‘Continuous’-Prospect Fuel Constants/ Mirror Convictions Loggerheads/ Sufficient ‘road-map’-Territories Summon Arms
Validity/ Description Variance ‘ within the athletic of allergic/ Ceasing holds-all dying gloomy/ Distress ‘insanity’-irregularity illegality/ Redoing the ‘hyper-dialecticians’-Therein/ Deemed ‘reasons’-beginning shore ‘whisper’-The prejudices/ Receptacle grounds ‘ Bishop’-The Reliving descendants/ Appoints in the behalf asylum wherein ‘Rope Such Likeness’-District Components/ Zoe Potency ‘Third-Parties’ Labourers Velocity/ Residence minority by natives of activations/ Observant ideology acres void of felonies.
Retaining the unpredictable ‘Co-Existence’ of Overalls/ Inhabitants
‘One-Litre’-Imagination Drills….’
PORTAL MADE INSURANCE GAZETTE ' SPEAR EARNS...'
v
Click here to Reply or Forward
0.04 GB (0%) of 15 GB used
Manage
Terms - Privacy
Last account activity: 1 hour ago
Details
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 7:57 AM UTC