"peddle" poems
Leg off the table
you red face recruit!
put on the offensive
and break down
the bolted door!
you are the soul saver
the peddle maker
the calibrator
with colored handbills
and front line
rhetoric
join the masquerade
in ivy league style!
politicking with
cunning guile
invisalign smile
blackened vile
bleeding the funnel
with gold plate omega
and crocodile shoes
get on stage
and dance you fool!
you are the headline maker
the pantomime juggler
the compromised closer
pull out that 5 page review
(bullet points only please)
and polish those weathered lines!
did you give it your all?
the door tags
and pleasantries
the tidings
and clippings
the irrevocable claims
and postured blames
all those impressionable basics
put to the test?
you know the call
(straight from
those cold academics)
the pie chart gurus
and contract killers
(complete with bone in finger)
whipping their
frenzied crew
in an all night
charade
old yellar
and the gatekeeper
sure seem amused
(sharpening their inquest
behind closed doors)
firing up the shiit storm
with those hostile priicks
and a slew
of insatiable
cures
there’s laughter from the back room
the dripping nose
and wavering hand
the cut white lines
and checkpoint tales
the pipeline romance
and lacking form
(of a basic essential
character!)
soundboard
and narratives
for logging time
slouching on the
steel case
over moot points
ready to play
the 3 weight
butter card
(if need be)
might I remind you
it’s only an inquiry
(with a slight hint of concern!)
surely no
malfeasance
or deception intended
so step back from
the melt down
and cut to the chase!
headlines to breadlines
penthouse to outhouse
those immoral pursuits
have taken their toll
(haven’t they?)
madman or rogue
(you take your pick)
for the scores
and tabulations
are final
shame on you
for the foul play
the bold hypocrisy
and order desk games
the back stabbing blames
and spurious names
just sign on the dotted line ~
this banter
is killing me
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 1:12 PM UTC
Amid the verbose magicians
Seeking kinships
And sailing deep into their arduous mists
Watching them peddle their afternoon
To a handful of smiling children holding their breath
Amazed in gentle body trick
The older men of age
Leaning deep into their creased chins
Stroking the grizzled fat
Blinding light of soul
Staring down the barrel of life
Striking the enemy one last time
And yet smiling
sober,
Met of match,
taking care of their kids.
Then there's the cold-clocked dudes
On the phone pushing buttons
In a button-up raglan
Lost indistinct
the promised land
The golden shores swept away by
inconvenient time
Left shopping in an auto mall
"Won't you look at the time?"
7.07 APR
Boy what a steal!
And Steve maddened and screamed
As the lines blurred instinctual between opposing teams
And the oven dinged a great alabaster slant
Leaning towards the new millenitants
Rise up!
***** the wheel
Turn the axel from pistons
To alkaline metal
And doubt with great monumental
Quality
That the machine borders all
And we cannot retreat
And while I sift bouyantly between the waves
Searching the puzzle piece within the molecules
Reconnecting with the things
And representing
dreams on a 66 hertz screen
I call rather failing
Towards a black rocked shore
Towards the sweet Dorigen
Of my dreams
Finding an integral of time
And space
And calculating the intangible slope
Of my desmise
With the imaginary constiutent
Of that lighted mind.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 4:24 PM UTC
Oh you a gangsta now?
Let me guess cause you got those "hard" tattoos
Jordans as shoes
And blow more green in your in between time
Oh you a gangsta now?
Cause you fight a little bit
Stay on that corner and quick to pollute your nation
With the wicked ways of degredation
Oh you a gangster now?
Cause you roll with a clique
To weak to stand on your own
But there validation gives you the courage
To steal without hesitation
Peddle drugs with no reservation
Take life as quick as a minute passes...
Well I hope those tats come with teflon
Cause while you out here playing the don
There's plenty associates that'll aim at your head
For your place just to save face with a few so called good men
I hope that corner has insurance or at least comes with benefits
Cause as past gangstas before you predicts there are only two outcomes present
Lifetime in a 6x8
Or 6 feet under while your soul patiently waits the outcome of where it will spend eternity
I guess this is what our forefathers gave their lives for
For this ignorance of the so called gangasta
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 9:08 AM UTC
I made my own stop.
I made my own end of the line.
I made my own terminal.
I end here.
Someone died here today;
the start of their journey,
and the end of my own.
oil blood urine
fluids of mechanic and natural origins.
I peddle my wares;
I sell my sweat;
I am an energy salesman.
I ride this rail on rubber, not steel.
I do not intend to steer clear
but still be clear when the front-end is near.
Electric elephants bound to acrobat playgrounds.
Painted Tusks as valuable as my soul.
I do not meddle with my pedal:
joules of life grow more valuable.
energy exchanged
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
From my mute mouth pours the emotions and exaggerated feelings of a once precious time constraint love. From the peddle touch of your masculine being evokes the insurmountable lust to be touched more and more like the tease of a honey bee that passionately ***** and pollinates the delicate flower bud until it screams in the wave of the wind, but now left not so naïve and innocent I like the flower am left to bud and bloom without my once precious time constraint loved…
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 11:51 PM UTC
Bricks and mortar, steel and boards,
Phone poles lined with power cords, on
Pothole streets, where engines roar,
'Neath smoggy skies, where jet planes soar,
Where penny merchants peddle wares,
And news reports pretend they care,
Where vagrants sleep, and children stare,
And people work for lives not theirs,
That's life in the jungle, adrift in the herd,
Where terrestrial beasts envy free flying birds
Where the pundits stand polished, and speak empty words,
And the artists paint portraits, while posted on curbs,
Where the men push carts, full of empty cans,
And the women spend paychecks, for spray-on tans,
Where the truckers drive loads, 'cross a thousand mile span,
To appease the great gods of supply and demand,
Asphalt and tarmac, girders and glass,
Terrarium trees in cemented sod grass,
Ripe with the stench of exhaust fumes and gas,
As the choir lines up for the 10 o'clock mass,
While the brokers all scream, at a packed stock exchange,
As the veterans in wheelchairs sit begging for change,
That's life in the jungle, it's just a big game,
But remember you're playing, lest you go insane.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC
Took the 17 down nicollet
Passed the City Center
Passing time
Passing men on the streets with an open guitar case
Passed the kids with their skateboards
Passed the guys covered in ink playing fight night on the street
Fifth street
Yellow cord
Brake peddle
Bus stop
Sidewalk
The sharks fight the jets
Romeo goes to Juliet
Old men with canes talk on their cell phones
Nicollet and 4th feels a little heavy tonight
11:47 comes my bus
Down 4th ave
Passing time
Passing the former home of the Twins
Passed the cops with their lights on
Passed some kids in their visors
Red light
Doswell street
Yellow cord
Brake peddle
Bus stop
Sidewalk
Out on the street
Street lamps glow fluorescent
New moon fixed in the stars
Tilted, slightly
The tweakers stay in the shack down the block
They’ve got the rocks in their socks
And they’re sleeping on the carpet
Welcome mat turned over
Shades drawn tight
And an icy cold feeling runs in their veins
And they roll back into a dream
Apartment building
Stairwell
Door 10
Living room.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 4:22 PM UTC
America, rollin’ its dice,
hurlin’ ‘nades on the ice.
what're we lookin’ for?
***** we huntin’ for?
whether it’s a score to settle
or another lie to peddle
where do we go from here?
how ‘bout that future we held dear?
gone, done, buried, shunned.
eat crow, ***** retch, and—
run?
don’t run. can’t run.
these colors don’t run, I’ve heard.
though maybe they flow against
each other like water and
oil in a grating chemical fash-
ion that can’t be calculated
or be sufficiently integrated
like we dreamed they would.
and dream we do, for America
and her future, or so I hope,
given that each year that passes
leaves bruises and gashes
in that fabric, so fragile, I hear.
sad, wrong, and crooked;
Trump’s America.
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 5:34 AM UTC
.*i guess a loss of subscriptions is, somehow, a badge of honor, namely? i somehow managed to attach a screwdriver to my words... why? read below... English women consider motherhood to be a job... how ******* demeaning! gone are the days of womanhood attaining the stature of god, in the Christian methodology of encompassing the pivot of lady Madonna... perhaps a too high peddle-stool? i guess so... i'm not usurping the female status, but elevating a female stature, deeming motherhood an UNESCO status? seems it's too much... for some people... who make it necessary to befriend their shadow, and travel to the hinterlands.*
just your atypical pedantry,
a translator's subscript comment -
who's richard rojcewicz's...
regarding what?
heidegger...
das volk,
and the three derivatives -
volkhaft (populist),
volklich (communal)
und?
völkisch (folkish) -
i'm starting to suspect that
i'm tapping in the all things folk....
unconsciously, favoring folk
music...
see, us central europeans,
we bunch together and share
the most odd similarities -
i never thought that the song
herr mannelig could be translated
from Swedish - as it was
translated into German...
then again... Vikings founded Kiev...
and all these loan-words
of Germanic origin in Polish...
the only Anglo loan-word
that i know of, is, weekend...
hence, das volk, people -
by the way... German has "too many"
definite articles,
and only one ein - or eine -
is that the same rule as in Ęnglish?
i.e. N
in an example,
rather than in a counter example?
two vowels adjacent in separate
word, sitting across from the grand
chasm of... a spacing itch?
but look at German, i never get it...
DAS DIE DER...
is there an aesthetic difference,
and only an aesthetic difference
to mind?
bewildering...
if there is such a thing as a western
civilization...
that sometime
pompous obnoxiousness,
fair enough... no problem:
but learn to hide it,
feel it, rather then feed it...
it's not a question of a civilization,
but more...
an answer to what is less
civilization, and more... a chore...
just like western women,
notably the english women
call motherhood a, "job"...
it's a... wait... a job?
doubt was big in classic philosophy
of the Cartesian schematic...
so no one knows that
the French existentialists
brought in negation,
as the driving force to replace
doubt?
who the hell sees doubt
these days?
either the know it alles -
or the hush-hush crowd...
motherhood is a... job?
well... then i guess, being a man...
western civilization,
by that standard of logic...
can't be anything more...
than a.... ******* chore!
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC
We used to go down by the old dock
To wait for the boats to pass by
In Amsterdam's last nook
With our old hand gloves
That kept the last inch of our old selves attached to our bodies
And the air was fresh
Filling our lungs with aromatic daytime
The buildings leaped out of the river
Making the horizon line a thin slip above us
And we came alone
To Amsterdam
To the handsome port here
Just to get some chips in a cone
In the Afternoon when the fog had gone and the cold had warmed
We went for a long walk
Just on our own
Through the city
Along the Canals
My lord It was beautiful to see it all so clearly
The floating tops of great cathedrals
And slanted open top house boats
We even rented out bikes
Saw the streets by night
Felt the chilly winds return
But in bed felt the warm ironed sheets beneath us
And we came once a year
To Amsterdam
To The constricted Canals
Just to get some chips in a Cone
But we did go home of course
Well you did
I though, never left those days we spent
In the golden light of the canal-side winter markets
You moved on and called it a thing that we used to do when we were young
When we had more time than sense
I still remember it as if it was yesterday
Us in a peddle boat
Passing the Frank's old place
With that love of the past
And of just silence
And we came with each other
To Amsterdam
To the storm of riverside cyclists
Just to get some chips in a cone
I'll never forget them
Those chips in a cone we had
At least seven times a trip
We'd go up to the stand by the canal
And not worry about our health for once
This was more important
It was the chips in a cone that brought us together
And the taste of such a simple thing still makes me smile
I remember the last and final time we went
Just before we had our first son
It was the night before we left
And I went up to the woman in the chip in a cone stand
One more order
One last chips in a cone
It was all I had come for
So simple but such a milestone
The end to my youth
And we left with each other
From Amsterdam
With a lot more than we brought
Forgetting to finish our chips in a cone
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 8:27 PM UTC
Bicycles and icicles remind me of you.
Cold winter nights
feel warm,
just with the thought of
You.
You send my mind
round and round,
while you peddle to find solid ground.
Bicycles and icicles don't go well together,
neither do you or me.
But that wont keep me from thinking of you.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 3:18 PM UTC
When the funding is cut
So the hospitals shut
That’s a Tory
When the poverty bites
And you lose human rights
That’s a Tory
Such excess
Better reassess
Better repossess
Better get yourself private healthcare
Overtaxed if you work
Unemployed? Then you're scrounging on welfare
When there’s bigoted views
Blatant lies on the news
That’s a Tory
When the biggest and best
Are too rich to arrest
That’s a Tory
But they’re lax
Covering the cracks
Never paying tax
Claiming everything on expenses
They can steal with a smile
While they peddle their flimsy defences
When they're guilty of fraud
And they're banking abroad
That's a Tory
If they're selling your school
When 'austere' means 'cruel'
That's a Tory
Too much spin
Slogan and a grin
Wearing pretty thin
Bussing people in to applaud them
Any law can be bought
If you're well off enough to afford them
That's all folks and remember, you can't spell Theresa May without heresy
**
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 7:04 PM UTC
***** feet
***** of them ache
they're dry
all dried out, moisture to face and digestive tract make little difference
but comfort a little sort of; maybe
subdue to replenishing
skip the pain with a drink fucken, fucken drink fucken
dust lingers in the brain, it swirls
a cloud of ground envelops the shape of u
u become covered
u have a layer,
salty,
and dry
and 'organic'
(surely bio (though im not sure what is or why are))
full city boy, suburban boy, not particularly gritty boy
along side hippies
and volunteers all tripppy
and unwashed, and un plastic
yet forcefully hemped
drunk of micro beer
and burnt brown and blotchy red
and wire-y
and dry
and matted
as if nothing really matters except for principles
misguided and randomly enforced
feel like a husk; peanut shell
insides swallowed by the mouth of the party embodied
a monsterous sweaty man tanned and thickly bearded
and beered
fat dreads fall around and surround u; a forest of hair
a circle encroaching of fuzzy pillars in fibres
entrapped inside them; feel their lingering time matted hold
a wealth of effort to become unkempt; they are bars
they are walls
and the FACE!
……………………… ………………………………… oh
looming down, wafts of armpit vapour cloud; a looming puft that surrounds
engorged by the scent as it circles u, the mouth that lowered onto u
chews u and spills bits of u
chomp chomp
protein for vegetarians; u; ur rigour ur vigour ur guts
eaten in a flurry of chomps and slurps and it crunches
and it grates
like the rocks on the ***** of ur feet it grates
u are digested
and reused
as they would like
but for them; for a collective u dived into
for fun
2 days to peddle ur wares
to progress ( admittedly through some days of regression…)
for all humans, and Humans; for fun
on monday we will repent
for the damages waged on the inside of the body
and the outsides too
for some gain
i guess on this which we settle
for always for display for fun
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 2:10 AM UTC
Air dancing through
Hair, faster faster I peddle away
Trying to find a way
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 12:27 AM UTC
I used to identify with this idea of self
but it’s become an empty canvas,
a memory of romanticizing help
from being attached to words and panic
like they are the resolution to this
normalization spell
Coming to terms has kept me awake,
knowing that perceptions are lies
and with this continued heavy weight
from seeking external answers
my eyes will forever stay open,
devoid of the internal ocean
Burnt out from each day
maybe I was meant for the night
if I’m still finding ways to shake,
still saying good morning to the stars
wondering what this all means
and where the answers are
But here is good enough
to contemplate
while we humans
peddle our ignorance,
shy from possibilities that are endless,
afraid of simplicity
that is timeless:
ignoring nowhere
when it is somewhere,
though we mustn’t bask in fear,
no one ever arrives late-
if suffering occurs from attachment
then letting go must be
the way to stay sane
Right?
Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 11:37 AM UTC
Why do artists **** their arts?
Journalists obey corporate bosses.
Doctors peddle drugs for status.
Lawyers work for robber barons.
Bankers' havens for barons' taxes.
Kings start wars for hefty profits.
Charity's done for the sake of publicity.
Vanity today is a thriving industry.
Shopping's done with borrowed money.
Bankruptcy levels; not seen in history.
From hazardous things; profits aplenty.
Poisoned wells we leave our progeny.
These lunacies have a common cause,
To win 'the rat race'; at any **** rate,
Even earthly mother, we brutally ****
How much is enough, to be content?
Pharaoh's wealth was greater than most,
But while he drowned, it saved him not.
Instead, strive for a righteous life,
Bonded to mother, free from desire.
For we're not islands, or rats in a race.
And when we stand on Judgement Day,
Our wealth that day will have no say,
Our deeds that day will lead the way.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
Shoop, Shoop
***Shoe, *** ***
Shoop, Shoop
***Shoe, ***
The moment I laid eyes on you
I knew it was true love
You were sharing a root beer float with your friends
Down at the soda shop
I looked debonair in my Pompadour
You cute in your poodle skirt
I took out my comb to slick down the sides
As you smiled, giggled, and twirled
I asked if you'd like to go out
Just you and me on a date
I picked you up at seven o'clock
In my 56' Chevrolet
Your father gave me a stern look
Your mother a gleam in her eye
He asked where we were going
Why to church sir, I said with a smile
Shoop, Shoop
***Shoe, *** ***
Shoop, Shoop
***Shoe, ***
I took you to the drive in
Bobs Burgers and Late Night Shakes
Afterwards we both went dancing
At the Hop just down the street
You had my heart all in a flutter
As we slowed danced all night
It was then I knew for certain
That I would make you my lovely wife
I got you home way past your curfew
Your dads silhouette by the front door
You said I can't go back to that
I pressed the peddle to the floor
So here we are these many years later
Me as your husband you as my wife
With our grand kids playing about our feet
Thinking back to that fateful night
Shoop, Shoop
***Shoe, *** ***
Shoop, Shoop
***Shoe, ***
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 7:58 AM UTC
well I come from California
over sixteen years ago
to the green and verdant mountains
to make and peddle dough
I was hired by a family
that were just plain donut dumb
and I pounded out the business
on immigrants worked numb
Baked Fresh Daily !
to hell with labor laws
I don’t believe in overhead
and fairness makes me pause
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 8:35 PM UTC
Race toward the mountains,
Peddle through redbud alley,
Chase the blood red sky.
Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 9:10 PM UTC
lucid
reclusive
aint a job in this world
so i do this
i choose it.
abusive
inclusive
lyrics with no music
slowly comin down
from the roof its
abysmal
noctural
medical
spewing from my heart
internal
infernal
eternal.
words to an ancient lullaby
that only i can hear (and i don't know why)
flushes upon
my cheeky cheeks
it feels so queer
when i speak my speak.
hipsters and goblins
spokes from their mouths
i wanna rob them
mob them
sob them
sounds from the ether
i wanna shock them
out.
sell my soul for a dime full of emotions
peddle my heart for a little bit of potions
twist my tongue
and dab my eyes
room full of tears
but i got no cries
land full of ears
but i got no lies
body full of flesh
but i got no tries
elephant
irrelevant
beating my head
for the hell of it
chandelier
another beer
sleep thru the night
wake to the same fear
i don't know you
and you don't know me
there is no us
so there aint no we
just let me live
i'll let you be
i'll stay clear
but there is no free
toes toes
into the sand
wish upon a star
that i conquer this land
hoes hoes
i cannot stand
to nowhere i lead
place out your hand
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 3:13 AM UTC
I was born a butchers boy
I never lacked for meat
Purse strings tight as a bishop’s ***
My childhood lacked for sweets
My sweethearts now a butchers wife
Two lamb shanks for a ha penny
We waste our coin and copper hair
By eating sweets a plenty
The merchant comes to peddle time
The reaper dreads his arrival
Those with coin and copper hair
Can purchase their survival
I will die a butcher’s death
My sweets have sealed my fate
With empty purse and graying hair
The merchant comes to late
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 6:35 AM UTC
Please do it
And get it done
And be serious
And be fun
And enliven those around you to be their best
Never rest
Never settle
Let your world be determined by worth and mettle
Meddle in every affair
Detail every error
Never back peddle
Or be caught unaware
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 3:49 AM UTC
Ellen DeGeneres!
Mellow and generous,
Mellow and generous,
Ellen DeGeneres.
X2
How can we peddle this,
Greedy degenerates?
Mellow and generous,
Mellow and generous.
I was just reppin it
You cannot step to it,
Ellen DeGeneres,
Ellen DeGeneres!
bass drop
I am not popular
My, what a thot you were!
You should be jealous of
Ellen DeGeneres!
like Meek
I was just a lost boy
Never understood the cost boy
Never really worked a market
But I never really liked the market
I just wanna overcome the darkness
I just wanna wanna make the sun shine
I guess I really want love to be great again
**** all this hate again
Cause I see you're vicious like a shark is
I am so done with the corporate mind
Grinding machinery, that's not my kind
You are not kind, you are so shy
Scrapin the sky
Fake **** and lies
You think you know what I'm talking about.
I am a poet with way too much clout.
I hate the way that this hatred compounds,
You're just a clown! You make me frown.
Simultaneously
Unh!
Ellen DeGeneres!
Mellow and generous,
Mellow and generous,
Ellen DeGeneres.
Ellen DeGeneres
She's on my friends list!
Mellow and generous,
Ellen DeGeneres!
How can we peddle this,
Greedy degenerates?
Mellow and generous,
Mellow and generous.
Reppin this Emmy ****
Dressing too fabulous,
Ellen DeGeneres,
Ellen DeGeneres!
bass drop
I am not popular
My, what a thot you were!
You should be jealous of
Ellen DeGeneres!
I'm never gonna let my heart grow cold like that,
Never gonna do just what I'm told like that
That shit's old, my man
That shit's sold, my man
That shit's got us got us lookin' sideways in the fold, my man
Cause I think I hear a higher callin
Human race is fallin but you're stallin
I know you don't think you're Josef Stalin
But I think you look like Charles Ponzi,
Oo
(Sung)
My girl's not a cheater
So I don't think I really want to either
I don't think I ever wanna leave her
Iy just. want to. love,
Said Iy just. want to. love,
Said Iy just. want to. love.
(And party hard.)
Ellen DeGeneres!
Mellow and generous,
Mellow and generous,
Ellen DeGeneres.
Ellen DeGeneres
She's on my friends list
Mellow and generous,
Ellen DeGeneres!
How can we peddle this,
Greedy degenerates?
Mellow and generous,
Mellow and generous.
Reppin this Emmy ****
Dressing too fabulous,
Ellen DeGeneres,
Ellen DeGeneres!
bass drop
I am not popular
My, what a thot you were!
You should be jealous of
Ellen DeGeneres.
You should be jealous.
Ellen DeGeneres.
Reppin it, reppin it.
Ellen. Loooooove
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 4:52 PM UTC
Life seems to have us in shackles and chains
it always seems to take what we gain
we always back peddle
all because you can only go so far with shackles
those chains are attached to irons
the seems to always ***** out our fire
but life gave us one thing
out of those awful shackles and chains
Life gave us a desire to fight
a desire and a will power
to break those shackles and chains
to snaps those irons
what keeps those who are lost and broken going
is the knowing that freedom
comes to the one who fights for it through the light and dark of life
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 7:02 PM UTC
Rounding life’s corners on my Bigwheel
Smile splashed across my face
Eyes illuminated with glossy tears from shear speed and joy
Not considering the path ahead or the road behind
Simply now, simply sublime
Regaining control after speeding too quickly
A brief lapse in judgment nearly bringing cataclysmic spills
Up on two wheels for a moment
But now firmly planted, gripping the road
Only speed limit is desire
People see my style as I pass
Like I was from Ipanema
And I can hear my theme music blast as I fly by onlookers
Giving me a rhythm to peddle to
Getting funky on these streets
And bystanders become bydancers
Unavoidable, infectious pandemonium
People woop and get down and *****
To fill that former droning, stale silence
I feel like me again
Which is really the only way to feel
Because why should you feel like someone else?
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 12:57 AM UTC