"malfunctions" poems
I hear your name everywhere
Your whispers in the buzzing of the bees
Your exasperated sighs in the beeping of the cars
Your ecstatic storytelling in the humdrum of random noises
I see you in every hue
Your calm demeanor in shades of blue
Your road rage in shades of red
Your cheeky laugh in shades of yellow
I taste you in every way
Your kiss in this smooth black chocolate
The warmth of your hand in this bowl of soup
Your icy stare in gulping this cold water
I smell you in every scent
Your warm hug in this cup of coffee
Your compassion in this bouquet of Stargazers
Your glistening eyes in this cigarette
Doctors, please help me
I have the rarest case of synesthesia
When it comes to you,
My brain malfunctions
My senses, once numb, feel everything
All at once
In the most passionate and
In the most heightened sense
To feel you in everything.
To experience you in every way.
My eyes only see you
My nose only smells you
My tongue only craves you
My ears only hear you
My brain only perceives you
My synesthesia
Is only in the form of you.
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 9:38 AM UTC
I am circumcised, therefore, I enunciate...
circumcised: to purify spiritually
On the eighth day,
from my nativity,
circumcised,
as is the custom of my
wandering tribe.
marked thusly,
perma-identity carded,
thusly begins the path,
a pink-bricked road this one,
not to the Mighty Oz,
no phony curtain pulled aside,
where anyone goes to get
spiritual purification
for a price
Ah, you suspected something else,
something explicit,
not me~style,
give you honey,
road provisions,
come along for the observing his
clickety clackty clock
Ready?
For where we venture there is only
one exit,
And you are so not ready - I am who I am and I am
not ready too...
every line an enunciation,
every stanza an annunciation,
Angel Gabriel, a solo duo, unlike
Beyoncé and Jesus
we be on our way to any kind of purity,
poetry can buy
who knows what awaits us,
could be catholic, universal,
even the uncircumcised
get a chance to enunciate.
let me offer a clarification.
proclamations and sensations,
conditions and exploitations,
brown eyed girls, and surfer boys,
functions and malfunctions too,
abbreviations or adjudications,
conjugations in the congregation,
exhumation, the final excommunication,
I shun none,
I enunciate this:
false starts and junction boxes,
too many so so tired,
when can I lay down my shovel
and cease the decreasing deceasing of the body
this day nears complete,
and soon to eat
the last meal,
and still I ask
when can I lay down my shovel,
when will purity be mine,
my spirit's circumstances
repeat the commercial,
I am circumcised, therefore, I enunciate...
forgive my abstrusion,
my metaphors always offer perfect laxity,
choose the interpretation that pleases most
and my drift is toward the end of days,
when will my brow be a motif of
anointment and crowning head birth?
This is my Enunciation.
I cannot yet lay down the shovel,
and this writ is as of yet, still uncircumcised -
completely incomplete, it will be finished
when the spirit says
you are the purity,
the trinity of two hands holding two others holding two others holding two others and the chain is perfect because
it is broken perfectly, a forever repetitive respective handle with care
process
Forgive my visionary words that
give little clarity,
so summary due you,
This is my
Pronoun citation
I am
I am circumcised, therefore, I enunciate
on my way to the purity of spirit.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 9:19 PM UTC
That night you told me we were the same kind of crazy.
I take a peek at you through my Wells goggles. I've had a sip too much of my grapefruit ***** and we are the only two people in the bar.
I'm light as a feather and with gin nipping at our noses, we let Jack Frost drive the car that night.
That's the thing though, sober or not it's all the same game. The wells is just gasoline to ignite our volatile roulette.
Drink number two still as pink but this time I'm ******* faster. I'm trying to imagine that the lime at the bottom taste like your lips and I am inching towards your soul.
That night you told me we were the same kind of crazy.
Chemical malfunctions in our past, led us to that moment. Infinite understanding of misunderstanding.
I'm light as a feather and I let you drive home, but I never asked if I could stay.
I cannot do simple math to save myself from blushing. As people start trickling in I count my breath and catch the eye of a familiar stranger.
He was wearing the most arousing scarf.
I wish that was your scarf.
With Jack Frost waiting in the car and grapefruit in my veins I count the steps synchronising the strides with my heartbeat.
**** it's cold. Please let me hold your hand.
Pack the bowl, pack the **** pack the one-y
Isn't it funny that rhymes with honey.
Glossy eyes and records. Your White as fresh snow sheets.
I digress.
Why do you always make me leave?
I could just lie with you, I'd just like to listen to you.
We talk, but vaguely. I wish you'd open up to me.
I'm sorry.
Comfort keeps us swollen, but what we have is frail.
Maybe I don't love you, but I don't feel cold to you either.
Give me something to think about when you aren't around.
You're my friend.
Platonic, no depth, just silence.
My vocal absence attempts to create space for your stories.
What are you about? How did you get here? What happened to make you untrusting of my company?
These are these things you think I cannot see.
Somewhere in our cloud of smoke is the door to your heart.
I don't want it to be mine, I just want it to tell me stories.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 4:30 AM UTC
every single time
you smile at me
something in my head
malfunctions
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 5:33 PM UTC
When the seed of enmity is sown…
Shocked mind dawdles
Anger takes its seat
Startled brain malfunctions
Germ of jealousy sets in
Pained heart cries
Hatred straps relations
Interest fades away
Vengeance creeps in
Zeal dies away
Cunningness takes its position
Curiosity passes off
Disillusionment walks in
Passion loses identity
Rivalry spoils relation
Keenness to knowledge dwindles
Harsh words have no wisdom
Actions become meaningless
Despair leads to madness…
When the seed of love is scattered …
Words gain wisdom
Compassion binds the relation
Spirit of pride looks up
Actions have aim
Friendship and brotherhood grows
Zeal and passion intensify
Progeny adds value to life
Parentage gets importance.
Everything around looks colorful
Life becomes meaningful…
So its for you and me to decide
Which seed to be chosen ….
Seed of enmity or love
To make life worthy to live …
**************************
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 2:55 PM UTC
In the midst of nothingness
Searching through darkness
Embracing loneliness
Comprehending vagueness
Befriending uncertainties
Playing with vulnerabilities
Absorbing obscurities
Appreciating difficulties
Drudging malfunctions
Living with illusions
Addicted to intrusions
Slave of temptations
Colors of dark grey and black fill the world in which I live
No other feeling could possibly be worse than this
Where once was a room filled with laughter & Cheer
Now stands loneliness, emptiness and despair.
Memories of you seem to creep around the corners of my mind
Endless haunting images of your face that won't decline
An overwhelming of emotion that my body can't contain
Fills my soul with unbearable grief, sorrow, and pain
Oh, How I long to hold you in my arms just once more
And tell you that things will be again, as they were before
But, as reality sinks in, I know that will never be
For the choices that I've made in my life have sealed our destiny
No one could ever fathom how wretchedly my heart aches
And how I greatly regret that you've had to pay for my mistakes
If I could go back in time, and change only one wrong that I've done
I'd go back to the Hour, to the second, on the day I lost you.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
Love is like,
A man born without arms,
He lives his life accepting his disability,
But Constantly jealous of those with arms.
he sees people with arms of every variety; skinny, tattooed, bruised or muscled, and even some like him.
Everyday he watches people use and missuse their arms,
Yet Barely appreciating the mere existence of their own arms.
One day, he hears about a new procedure that could give him fully functioning prosthetic arms.
He is hesitant about the cost and risk,
but decides he must try.
A week later after a successful surgery,
The bandages finally fly free, and so do his arms.
He flexes and bends them every way possible,
testing the boundaries of what feels like a new world to him.
There is an endless beauty in their function.
He feels a joyous wonder,
to experience the touch and precision
of his sweetly sensitive fingertips caressing the surface of anything in their reach.
For the first time, he finally knows what true freedom feels like.
Months pass as he becomes familiar with a new world under his fingertips.
But as time goes on he begins to notice occasional malfunctions in his daily tasks.
He thinks hes losing touch with the connections used to communicate with the main circuits,
But doesn't think it could get worse.
As Weeks pass more connections falter between him and his once perfect partner.
The day starts like any other winter morning,
an icy cold, cloudy drizzle.
He's driving the windy back roads to work,
rounding a sharp bend in the road, when he suddenly feels a spasm ripple through his arms
ripping his hand from the wheel and all control.
His car veers off the roadside cliff
leaving gravity to doom him to an icy river below.
The car careens through the droplets of rain in the air.
His world slows down as the car begins to plummet downward,
only seconds before impact.
The freezing icy rain and air rip
through the broken windshield,
but nothing feels colder than the betrayal of the arms he once held so dear.
And in that moment,
he wishes that he'd never had arms at all.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 4:17 AM UTC
It's hard out here for an automaton
the sun is hot on my metal
Over heats my copper wire
Causes all manner of motor malfunctions
System failures
In cold winter days the residual wetness I step in
shorts my circuits
and shocks my partners
I am fond of small coffee shop nooks with outlets.
I don't need to travel too far to recharge
And since I'm so shiny
often briefcases and lipstick come around
sit their lattes on my discarded instruction manual pages
To offer me oil
I will let them insert the Nettie *** shaped disk where they choose
it's rough being a clock work boy
I set myself to operate
at three hours before is necessary in case
I'm distracted by some new upgrade or need
to document another error message.
they never write me back,
bronze looks good on thigh plates
I had this woman notice my key today
protruding from my back
the translucent panel showing into all my cogs and gears
she said she wanted to turn it
back, so she could see my program
run it from the beginning again.
I warned her, turning the key
would only turn back me.
I would rather let the program run on it's natural course,
sure, I'll get closer to the end, but I'm a curious construct
haven't seen the end of my functionality yet
woman keep coming up and asking me to turn back the key
and I am weak,
but don't worry I said
if I run out of energy, you can always turn the key back.
I'll play it all over and you can remember.
She didn't like the idea of doing the same thing over either
she turned the key, waited for it to run out,
left me on the doorstep for some other person to turn back on.
it's hard out here for an automaton.
the sun is hot on my metal
over heating my copper wiring causing all manner
of motor malfunctions
and system failures.
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 3:36 PM UTC
Figure out the password.
The only way you could do that, is if you were the mystery machine itself.
It stands alone, by itself, clustered with other machines.
The mystery machine is an investigator, figuring out what other machines are up to. Their own password.
Then a human comes.
Trying to figure out the mysteries of, Mystery Machine. Why does he cry, when its not allowed to have emotions, why does it fall in love, with whom does it trip with. Why does it have malfunctions, but auto repairs anytime, he comes to find out the mysteries. He has a handbook. He twisted, and turned the **** gave the ***** a little jiggle, Opened the head and climbed inside. Everyday people would walk by the mystery machine, and try to look inside of it. But all they could see was a child locked up inside, sleeping for comfort, living inside a mystery.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 8:03 AM UTC
Sleep didn't quite find it's way to me last night
I felt crushed by nothing but a great deal of pain
Aching all over my body from my head to my toes
Beginning to feel like I'm going mentally insane.
No way to escape these hurt feelings so I'm being told
No cures, no instructions or any such easy ways out
Doctors aren't particular or sure on how this will end
No such clues or any directions to what this is all about.
Suffering from morning through the middle of nights
Affecting my mind, my body and taking over my soul
Extremities malfunctions and the stinging under the skin
Causes me to cringe unwillingly and to lose all control.
Loss within myself because of the endless pile of sorrow
Gratitude for the good life ends with nothing but grief
Fighting this battle and all the fictitious stories of hope
Grasping for any moments that spell any signs of relief.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 7:47 AM UTC
I'm still caught up
In the faucets
Ive been brought up
My losses thought up
In loss-less
Fossils
soldering
The slaughter
Atop
An my inner adulterer
In the fodder
Of a ****
I am the will
Of my weakest link
Give me a shrink
To **** away at the sheets
Of freedom
Drink away the stink
Of freedom
You cant free them
Cant believe them
Cant be them
Just retrieve them
From this life
Deceive them
To the knife
Bleed them
From the heights
Of ego
Let em flow
To never
In the blight
Of severed stems
With sedatives
And seduction
Isolate the malfunctions
Of my internal combustion's
Busting in
Annihilation
Of the problem
Manifestation
Of the solemn
In columns of regret
Inscribed across my chest
Blessed with contempt
For the clause
Unmindful of the laws
And stalled
I will stand
Where you fall
And call
To myself
From the stealth
Of broken homes
And hungry dogs
I am the fog
Of arson
The discontent
Of the larceny
Of the peasants
I'm blessed in the curses
Of burnt
Churches
But in worse ways
Im versed
In aversive
Silence
Dispersed
In cursive slices
I realise this
Is
The decisive
Moment
In which i wake
For the sake
Of procreation
Infection
Of a system
Convection
Of a prison
Citizen
Of a religion
Under taxation
To live in it
I'm illiterate to the
Commonalities
I cant depict
the squiggled lines
Its a tragic comedy
Giggling to the rhyme
I think it is
Perfection
At its peak
Pulp for the weak
Its neat!
I cant tell
If i am half awake
Or half asleep
But text is cheap
So i bleed
On screens
But dont mean
A thing
In dreamless
States
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 4:42 PM UTC
The elegant madwoman with a golden valor.
Louder than the falling trees
stumbling everywhere around her feet!
The spiritual mother, everyone's empress,
a concrete rose blooming over every obstacle
as if she were a one-woman, 21st century dynasty
with no malfunctions in its empire.
But, there's something writhing its way out
from the cellar reserved for her scathing history.
Past the cobwebs and futile pretensions of valiance
lies this warrior queen's greatest desire:
shrouded in shame, the need for love still haunts.
But it won't some accessory amid the ninth cloud!
Hard work and minimum wage flow much more smoothly.
She's known this since she discovered the world,
since she entered a home full of broken furniture
and reeking of alcoholic breath and stagnant, bitter tensions
that were released when father's fist met daughter's face,
and her bruise-soaked body became the symbol of her innocence.
That must be why she spends so much time
in the darkest Brooklyn alleys, selling her self-respect
to any man feeling particularly kind that night,
and letting any detrimental cycle resurface
for just one rush of vulnerability.
This contemporary queen dons a crown bejeweled with more grit
than the streets of three New York boroughs,
yet all she requires of the world that she holds in her hand
like a ruler deciding the fate of her people
is someone to transform adoration from myth to reality.
Will she ever find light from the alley?
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:45 AM UTC
You and I were introduced as the wheels left the ground
And we angled towards the heavens.
Hundreds of miles per hour,
South bound, towards the Florida Keys
And you mentioned the unusual serenity
That lies at forty thousand feet.
I memorized a trusting face while turbulence
Interrupted our peaceful flight
And you found your first opportunity
As you played in on my fear of heights.
You ended up following me, something I never expected
And like an unwelcome pest,
Like a moth or a spider,
You took up residency in the cold dark corners I neglected.
You so intricately spun your web of lies outside my home
And when you introduced your bait,
You let it dangle above my doorframe,
And I didn't hesitate.
I sunk my teeth into your tragedy and you wove me in
Leaving me tangled in the silk you manufactured,
All along that's how I let you win.
I let you tear open my stitched up wounds
And peel back my flesh and expose my interior
I let you examine how my brain functions during REM sleep
I let you study my neurological system,
And I gave you a private screening of my dreams.
While I was busy over analyzing your past
You were rerouting my neurons
And creating malfunctions within the synapse.
You rewired my entire nervous system
While I let you research the functions of my cells.
You're nothing more than the insects and the pests
With too many legs that crawl along my cellar walls.
Like a daddy long leg spider, I never saw you as a threat
Until you tangled me in false intentions
And left me for dead.
I learned the daddy long leg spider
Has a poisonous venom, lethal if injected
But it was cursed with a mouth and teeth too small
To leave any human the slightest bit affected.
But I was the one who allowed you
To shrink me down and make us the same
So your tiny teeth could penetrate my skin
And leave venom in my veins.
And it was only in that moment, finally standing eye to eye
That I noticed the lack of conscience in your irises
For the first time in my life.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 8:28 PM UTC
maturely premature thoughts preexist inside
waiting to explode and marvel
at the symmetry of our meetings,
asymmetrical
incongruities.
unthought veils bearing everything
mysterious. magic rarely happens
when eyes open slowly for the
first time. life hatefully
spiteful, vengefully
insipid, unknowing
uncaring,
who cares, time
lost,
repent,
recant,
re-imagined revisions,
systems breaking human
conditions, connections. see
past the humanity,
inanity and insanity are deliberate
malfunctions- there is beauty
inside every action, movement, and
word.
torrents of half thought forms cascade
over fickle answers,
responses to help your quest. yet
in the same ****** breath you say
‘you’ve thought too much;
imagined
enough-
excuses are all
you need’ while
i cry to you in silence,
you’re missing the beat, the
form, the aspect and motivation
of the intellect that you
so silently yearn
for in your verbal
abuses.
this will only get you so far before
you see as i see
or not at all
Jun 18, 2010
Jun 18, 2010 at 3:45 PM UTC
Pupils like pins altered in transmission
A lump in the mind jumpstarts to life
It's only a matter of time before the malfunctions occur
For some tests and trials the result is cancer
Ask Moscow after fifteen years
Grasp your cellphone without an ounce of fear
Deny the facts right in front your face
or be a minority of one
Completely insane
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 11:25 AM UTC
I'm not here,
nor there,
not truly tangibly anywhere.
As transparency slithers about my veins,
i'm phantom,
silent deathly.
Eyes carry and lurch black holes
to quicken about the pupils.
It's the faceless death that paces about you,
rests against your blooming breath sitting next to you.
If I cradled the malfunctions,
misplaced to mutilated insides
about my criss crossed shoulders,
wingless back of blades,
death will but flutter in resemblance
against my skulls frame.
Transperce,
unravel about the living,
wings of dust reel,
I phantom of deathly....
a faceless orphan forget me.
Gods got no place for the dying ghostly.
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 12:20 AM UTC
I've forgotten morality,
Dignity, mortality.
I'm barely a human at this point.
So impulsive, self-centered
Self-loathing, ill-tempered.
Sanity where do I join?
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 4:57 AM UTC
we are all malfunctions waiting to happen so i don't know which is worse - bursting into flames or never sparking.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 1:51 AM UTC
The funeral was OK
the food afterwards was hardly any better
Dressed up in suits and black,
the stiff and uncomfortable
feeling drifted across me like
the cloud of cigarette smoke
growing outside the front doors
I wasn't prepared to deal
with the situation at hand
I always get the same old
anxieties when I come to these things
I've been to quite a few
Do I say I'm sorry?
or nothing at all?
Do I smile?
or act sad?
We arrived slightly late
so naturally
all eyes on us
...at least for the moment
Avoid eye contact. Keep walking.
Family that I hardly know,
conversations that I don't belong in
the awkwardness set in like
a slow-submerging needle,
beneath my broken skin
the injection drills in deeper
scratching me from my insides,
my hand shaking all the while
as I drive it in myself
The shame when I catch myself
taking too many glances
at the attractive cousin
or some other random gorgeous distant relative
that I never knew I had
The pressure when the immediate family stops to talk
my expression tightens
how do i feel?
my breathing malfunctions
what do i say?
I quickly recover by pointing to a
black and white photograph
purposefully placed amid the rest of the collage
on the tilted white mat board
thank God for those things
The strong men cried
the long-winded women fell silent
a baby was whining during the service
and was promptly
escorted out of the chapel
it is disrespectful, but
with the tension in the room,
who could blame him?
Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 11:13 AM UTC
Permeating - Begins with a simple dispute, argument, disagreement, and conflict with the individual. Second, temperate levels arise, violence emerges, resulting in uncontrollable actions, creating a brutal response. Third, very difficult to describe, but I will do my best, here it goes, limits have exceeded beyond recognition, logic is no longer liable, quickly disappearing, reasoning malfunctions, love is no longer there, hate has taken full control, picture this experience, the demonic manifestation.
Torturing - The body increases heavily in strenght, meanwhile pain flows throughout the blood stream, invincibility neurotransmitters take over, eyes dialect largely covering the entire layer, screams become very unfamiliar, roughly deep raging voices infuse, bloods exposed, numbness arose, receptors react, nothings inevitable its too late, shark bate, regenerate don't anticipate or hesitate, meditate composure and control the setting, pain is in motion.
Suffocating - Powerless embodiments, crucial destruction, ineffective signals, petrified terrified horrified symptoms, death is near if the hody turns weak, vulnerable absorption, manipulating cells propelled, evil casting spell, damaged speech impairment, strange feelings corrupt breathe intakes, prone to cardiovascular shutdown, heart attack, seizures, lose conscious, maybe faint, watching this occurrence is far much more traumatic, I'd say an experience unforgettable, marking scars forever, taken to my grave, remember Jesus saves...
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 2:58 AM UTC
You gave me these feet to walk
This mouth to eat
To laugh, smile and talk
These feet I grind into the ground
Round and round in circles I go
Until my energy levels hit a new low
This mouth it smiles
Automatically, despite the turmoil within me.
Luckily for others.
You didn't give it transparency.
You gave me these teeth to chew, to eat
These hands you gave me
To meet and greet, demands
These teeth are rarely used
There's never much opportunity to bite and chew,
And these hands prove use in inflicting another bruise
On my body.
This brain you gave me to function and learn
This voice you gave me to express
Opinions and concern
This brain it is broken, it serves to destroy,
It malfunctions, a dismantled toy.
And this voice it turns on the right tone, until I am alone.
You gave me these legs,
To stand tall and strong.
You gave me these shoulders,
For others to rely on
These legs they are weak
They tremble and fall
And these shoulders offer no comfort at all
You gave me these organs to keep me alive
You gave me this heart to beat, to change lives
These organs I starve
And this heart it slows
As thoughts of self destruction
Circulate and echo
You gave me these eyes
To see the world and cry
You gave me life, to live not die
These eyes are faulty,
They prove me harm,
This life, I sabotage, as the ringing of alarms
Gets louder and louder.
You gave me these fingers to write not fight
You gave me these toes to explore new sights
These fingers they write scripts of pain, and ache after awhile
These toes they march on,
Perhaps it's denial.
You gave me common sense
In an attempt
For me to able to differentiate
Between right and wrong
But this tongue in my mind
Is so very unkind
And this common sense
Forms no self defence
As the walls they crumble down.
You gave me these emotions to think and Feel
You gave me these feelings to work on, to heal
These emotions they malfunction
In a world of self destruction
These feelings they soar
Like hungry lions they roar
Emotional regulation
Was a skill
You forgot to give
And it makes
all these things you gave me to live
Hard.
And again I am scarred.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 7:30 AM UTC
1) : No Animal poems
2) : No Extreme poems
3) : No Old whatsoever poems
4) : No *** poems
5) : No ****** poems
6) : No Casandra complex poems
7) : No Celebs poems No wait thats OK!
8) : No ******* poems
9) : No Disambiguation poems.
10) :No go **** yourself poems
11): No **** me poems
12): No *** poems
13): No love poems
14): No hate poems
15): No nature poems
16): No political poems
17) No happy poems
18) No ****** poems
19) No poems about body functions
20) No funny poems
21) No honey poems
22) No poems about, AI malfunctions
23) No poems about no poems ;)
..................
*just refine
yourself
out of
*******
existence
poems*
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 2:15 PM UTC
Break, break, break
'til your sanity seeps.
Burn, burn, burn,
'til your mind malfunctions.
Kick, kick, fight, ****
**** the demon, the demons yourself.
Bully the brain
destroy the mirror,
fight 'til the end,
The end is fighting back.
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
In my youth,
They called it an Idiot Box,
But at six and eleven,
The real news arrived.
Africa, Vietnam,
Assassinations;
Mr. Ed and Mr. Sullivan shared our dessert.
The IB gave bedlam meaning.
Now,
We're patients in the asylum,
Spotting wardrobe malfunctions,
Commenting on roses,
Losing airwave evangelists
For commandments
Flung from the Tower of Babel.
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 10:27 AM UTC