"privileges" poems
I will never understand
Society’s preference for love.
It is made out to be
Such a beautiful emotion
In songs and movies.
So why can’t everyone feel it?
Is there no Freedom of emotion?
Love is to be shared
Between two emotion feeling
things
Right?
So a man and a man can love each other.
A woman and a man.
A woman and a woman.
What is so wrong with that?
Social media is filled with same *** couples,
Happily together
For years upon years.
So why shouldn’t they tie the knot?
Do you realize that you’re making them feel less human
Because they don’t have the same
Privileges as straight couples.
Bullying is made illegal in multiple states,
Bullying includes not allowing people into
You’re group.
So how about we stop bullying
Men that love men
And women that love women.
We are all equal.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 5:32 AM UTC
My 2 Cents
“the advocacy of women’s rights on the grounds of political, social, and economic equality to men.”
Let me start by mentioning that I don’t usually get involved with political matters, but in this case, I’d say it’s more of a basic human rights matter.
I’m a man, and I’m a feminist.
I was lucky enough to grow up in a home with three women; my mother and two older sisters. Growing up with them gave me an enormous amount of respect for women, (even though I may have lost a certain amount of socially expected masculinity along the way), and their current lives continue to increase my respect for the opposite gender.
My oldest sister is leaving to study abroad at Oxford in less than a week to major in philosophy. Philosophy. She also graduated high school with a 4.0 and was involved in power lifting competitions and is enlisted in ROTC. Simply put, she’s an animal. She’s worked hard her entire life and I’d hate to see a world that put that hard work to waste.
My other sister is working three jobs to pay her way through college and is planning to major in psychology. I’m always envious of her work ethic and level of commitment to not only her education, but to her friends and family as well.
My mother has been my backbone since I was a child. She was always the one I turned to in times of trouble, and continues to be. She works hard everyday, while going through mentally straining marriage problems, and comes home and still asks me about my day. She has given me nothing but unconditional love for my entire existence.
For these reasons, it boggles my mind why anyone would ever be anti-feminism. I am genuinely confused as to why, because their bodies are different, women get less privileges, respect, opportunities, and even money. I just don’t get it.
I am also disgusted that women are seen by most men as walking ****** organs. l will admit genuine guilt to using the number scale to “rate” women. It’s something I grew up with, but now it sickens me. Assigning a number to a woman based on your misguided views on how she should look, whether you would **** her, is something I find repulsive. There’s nothing wrong with admiring the opposite *** but no one gives a **** about your stupid opinion, especially the woman.
I hope someday if I ever have a daughter that she will have the privilege of living in a country of gender equality, tolerance, and open-mindedness.
Anyway, I just wanted to put my two cents in.
I am a man.
I am a feminist.
Peace.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
Better Philippines.. Go Federalism Now!
R oad to a new Republic of the Philippines
o nward to the era of Federalism government
d ays are gone when power is handled by the few
r ich pen become richer and the poor even poorer
i t's time our country will be run by a man with a vision
g overn the Philippines according to the will of the majority
on the basis of basic rights and privileges as local citizens.
R eal leader is someone who stands for the people
o n the realization of their basic needs and ambitions
and who leads by example and can implement the laws.
D uterte is the man of the hour
u nder Federalism form of government
t he local government can obtain bigger budget
e xtracted from its own income and tax collection
r ealistic projects of the LGU can be materialized
t hen better and faster urbanization will implemented
end the corruption and criminality, support the President!
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 12:33 AM UTC
the amount of melanin in my skin often seems to conjure up some controversy so when I sit down to write and I see my hands, my light skinned not quite black but surely not white hands I think about the privileges thrusted upon me and when I begin to write I feel my hair against my back, my curly ***** but not quite ***** hair I wonder how what's on my head could make what's in it so frazzled
I often frustrate myself because I feel like my writing often centers around the fact that I am a woman and I am colored
and the fact that when I say I'm colored some look lost
in fact, in the film, for colored girls
Thandie Newton's character says "being alive and being a woman is all I got, but being colored is a metaphysical dilemma I haven't conquered yet."
and I found it frightening how relatable that was to me, being that I'm not quite almost a woman and not quite almost colored
but when I look at my poems they reflect that I indeed am
even though I'm lightskinned and I'm 16 and according to my white friends I'm, just like them because, as I've discovered our definitions of what a black girl sounds like and acts like and is like are extremely different
and I guess that reflects on who we've been introduced to
I have cousins and aunts and grandmothers and sisters
who represent what I believe emulate what a black woman is
and these white kids see what the media feeds about how black women walk and talk and act and lack
see when I picture a black woman I see beautiful smooth chocolate skin full lips round ******* wide hips and a smile as brilliant as her mind
when these kids picture a black woman they see ***** hair dark undesirable skin soup cooler lips and a mind filled with ignorance
and this is where my struggle begins
But in every ethnic group there is good and bad
and I am sick of black women only being associated with the bad
the fact that when most non blacks think of what a black woman is, they imagine an unintelligible mindless sassy loud mouth is over whelming to me
if you're skin isn't light enough or your behind isn't big enough you're only "pretty for a black girl"
I not only want to raise but destroy all expectations society gives black women
but I cannot do this alone
because we are smart and we are beautiful
we are troubled and we are strong
and we are one
once we stop tearing eachother down we can all be one
and I'm not sure why god blessed black women with so much beauty or why I'm so blessed to be one or why he put this determination in me but I think I will recognize it the day the world recognizes how beautiful are we.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 4:20 AM UTC
The news arrived
Of the new arrival.
We grant him
All the Rights,
Privileges,
And Responsibilities
Accorded to
A son, brother,
And grandson.
May his endowment
Of love and honour
Stand him in good stead.
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 2:45 PM UTC
I've spent a really miserable month.
I told the wife we'd go out to a nice restaurant
On her fiftieth birthday,
Which naturally led to happy anticipation.
So, the evening before she asked me,
"Where are you going to take me on my birthday, dear?"
And I replied, quick as a flash, *"Up the ********
The silly ***** seemed to have suffered
A major sense of humour failure;
Surely my prezzie would be a sure fire winner,
Certain to restore bonking privileges.
But when she unwrapped it and saw
A giant green ******** to get her in the mood,
She turned quite nasty on me, to put it mildly.
So I slapped her one in the ******* kisser.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 12:32 PM UTC
Confined to eternal asphyxiation
They live a suffocated existence
No hope to regain what they took for granted
They showed no regard for earth, air, or water
This polluted wasteland, their planet
They cannot love each other anymore
Their punishment is solitude and xenophobia
What privileges they had, once upon a time
Affection and love, and interpersonal immersion
Now doomed, forever, to be alone
In this world destroyed by greed, desire, and lust
For power, the human beings atone,
They do not deserve to be alive, let alone
To walk aware of their wrongdoings
They should have been erased
I would have loved to be the executioner
Of billions sinful, lying, cursed, wretched,
Vile, incessant, promiscuous, vicious, insidious,
Slimy, wily, evil creatures humans are
Instead I have become their saviour
I feel no pity or sympathy for the Devils
They became in exchange of their materialism
I see them walk in masses of melancholy, loneliness
As I once did for which they showed no regard for me
And heartless, I ignore their silent cries for help
You are sentenced to life in prison, one like no other
Free to live in a society which shows more confinement
Than any man-made cell or coffin
Elements you took for granted shall be stripped away
Your sinful quest for immortality has led you accordingly
It is forbidden to breathe the air you polluted,
Drink the water you tainted, eat the fruits of the earth you destroyed
Your senses will be nullified and your spirits
Crushed as this planet was insufficient
For your corrupted existence .
Dec 3, 2009
Dec 3, 2009 at 11:38 AM UTC
Among the most necessary things
for the survival of intellectual constructs
(such as personal rights, privileges, and information in general)
is the notion of Satyagraha, as coined by Gandhi:
The notion of Peaceful Non-Compliance
to the ******** of your time.
It is truly Compassion manifest.
Civil Disobedience is a Virtue
of which you will never hear in our Schools or Churches
or on packages at Wal-Mart
or from Politicians.
Civil Disobedience is the Voice
that cannot be taken until your Death.
Civil Disobedience is the Music and pulse
of a truly living Culture.
Civil Disobedience is the respectful denial to conform
to the laws imposed and policies enacted
by those who are undeserving of such power,
or those who abuse the power they so grandiosely wield.
Civil Disobedience is necessary
for the survival of a thriving popular Democracy,
and thus is punished by the Authoritarians
who use Democracy as a veil for Totalitarianism.
Civil Disobedience is the only vote you'll ever be guaranteed in your life.
It is Democracy seeking refuge in Vigilantism,
It is Anarchy embodying the greater good.
It is what must be done in the face of Oppression by Authority.
I most sincerely and personally maintain:
Civil Disobedience is a Virtue,
Civil Disobedience is a Need,
Civil Disobedience is a Philosophy.
Civil Disobedience is Peace and Harmony
in the faces of Chaos and Tyranny.
Civil Disobedience;
Peaceful Non-Compliance
Respectful Dissent
Informed Resistance.
Pacifism is not for the faint of Heart.
-\-
*Then again,
the options are few
when we couldn't fight back
if we needed to.*
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
Here you sit alone,
You used to froth and foam,
Abuse of women, eh,
Talking to yourself again,
You abused alcohol and drugs,
Now you're a winner with no hugs,
Yes, I guess that makes you a winner
of no privileges, now I'm a grinner,
Who does misogyny make a winner?
Nothing will save your morning teabag,
Fasting is good for you, dear, signed, this old bag,
Now you're thirsty again,
You're the winner of a futile old age,
So, alcohol made you the winner,
Good day for a smile, I'm a grinner,
I'll never be your tea lady again, grinner,
So I guess that makes who a winner!
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 5:03 AM UTC
I heard a woman singing in the car,
about being reborn as a peacock for Krishna
so that she could sit in beautiful penance for him.
While watching whizzing morning work trucks,
and beat-up corollas and motion blur,
I thought of you in the stillness of sleep.
If I were to be reborn I'd like to be a bird as well
so that I could provide the down in your pillow,
and be cushion to your carousel crown
But then I would be lonely when you go to work.
If I were to be reborn, I'd like to be your sunglasses,
so that I could protect your squinting eyes,
and live by your lushest lashes.
But then you'd lock me away in a case, and I won't be able to see you.
If I were to be reborn, I'd be a bracelet made of magic beads,
so that I could promise health around your often pained wrists,
and fix the freedom in your fiery fingers.
But then you'll probably lose me, or unstring me accidentally with time.
If I were to be reborn, I'd like to be your favorite puppy,
so that I could pacify your inner turmoils.
and be held by your human hands.
But then you'll possibly outlive me, and I wish to watch you grow.
If I were to be reborn, I'd be lonely, locked away, left, lost, and outlived-
so I'd rather stay in this life with all of my privileges
of providing, protecting, promising and pacifying
as your lucky lover.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
Seven New Poems For Seven Days #3: Orphan
Orphan
The funeral will commence at 11:30 am.
Gives me one last review time before the
Final Exam.
Panicked, I discover a whole new chapter
for which I am wholly unprepared,
though its inevitable presence was
assuredly knowable long in advance.
Orphan
It doesn't fit, occur, imagery is of a young child to
soon abandoned, not a late-in-life curmudgeonly poet-boy,
who has been multi-times reincarnated.
I add this title to my list
of proper ways to address me,
titles earned by dint of hard work,
or just unlucky luck.
This new status, orphanhood,
bequeaths no special privileges,
other than, a semi-official
societal permission slip
to feel bereft, lost, and compose poetry.
Know a real orphan, from early, early on,
has never recovered and
never will for it is just impossible.
Just impossible.
So whom am I to make light of
my undesired, unrequested new degree?
I accept it and to my surprise,
It hurts.
7/21/13
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 11:56 AM UTC
Me.
I am much privileged in my own life.
I am the only born child of my parents.
I am loved by my parents and by my lover.
I am adored by my lover who feels truly for me.
Parents.
Their dear love is one among some of my privileges.
They could provide me with a lavish brought-up.
They now tolerate my being in love with her.
They know deep inside that she's the one.
Her.
She is the best gift in this moorland life of mine.
She got my mind's inner eye transfixed at herself.
She is a cute person who loves me as if she is loony.
She makes my life so beautiful and so is her beauty.
She definitely is a privilege to me but doesn't get it.
She surely puts up a surly face to my being busy.
She playfully ignores this fact and pulls my leg.
Together.
All of the entities are equally indispensable in my life.
All in the ascending order of priority I have told about.
All but yes, she often teases me with her cutest tantrums.
All of it I will never mind any of these mood swings of her.
Because.
My parents also bore mine when I was a kid.
My demands were all met just about anyhow.
My responsibility will grow after we get married.
My children-our children will also have their needs.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 11:06 AM UTC
We laid on **** rugs,
And creativity flowed out.
Finger tips to minds,
Like making love,
We made music.
I slept with you,
And turned into a spider
A vine,
And rooted myself
Into your dreams
The kind of dreams,
You try and fall back into
After the daylight has woken you.
Squeezing eyes shut,
The window growing smaller,
Darker.
But oh! The reality.
My dreams, in all their dimensional glory
Living beauty, right beside me
Privileges,
An art gallery without a Do Not Touch sign
Fluid art, I caress until I’m reaching through it
Until in envelopes me,
Until it is inside me,
Watering the vines
You already planted.
-Taylor
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 12:44 AM UTC
I envy you because you have both parents
But you mistreat them
I envy you because you were given a chance for education
But you bunk classes just to smoke drugs
I envy you because you have a roof over your head
But you choose to throw unauthorized parties
I envy you because you have something called a “room”
And yet you’ve turned it into a *** lounge
I envy you because you are fertile but you keep on taking abortions
I envy you because you have a high ***** count
But you mistreat your children
I envy you because you always have food on your plate
But then you complain on how it tastes bad and you throw it away
I envy you because you have a grand mother
Yet you say she lacks wisdom and is boring you with her endless fairytales
I envy you because you have clothes
Yet you complain and say you want ripped jeans and ripped t-shirts
I envy you because you still have your face and it isn’t ruined
But then you are busy destroying and covering it with makeup
I envy you because you’ve got a chance to celebrate Christmas
But you complain on how it always takes place at the same venue
I envy you because you do not know life
Yet you you walk around mocking people like you own the world
I envy you because you are not me
I WISH I HAD THE PRIVILEGES THAT YOU HAVE.
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC
While an intrinsic ardor prompts to write,
The muses promise to assist my pen;
’Twas not long since I left my native shore
The land of errors, and Egyptain gloom:
Father of mercy, ’twas thy gracious hand
Brought me in safety from those dark abodes.
Students, to you ’tis giv’n to scan the heights
Above, to traverse the ethereal space,
And mark the systems of revolving worlds.
Still more, ye sons of science ye receive
The blissful news by messengers from heav’n,
How Jesus’ blood for your redemption flows.
See him with hands out-stretcht upon the cross;
Immense compassion in his ***** glows;
He hears revilers, nor resents their scorn:
What matchless mercy in the Son of God!
When the whole human race by sin had fall’n,
He deign’d to die that they might rise again,
And share with him in the sublimest skies,
Life without death, and glory without end.
Improve your privileges while they stay,
Ye pupils, and each hour redeem, that bears
Or good or bad report of you to heav’n.
Let sin, that baneful evil to the soul,
By you be shun’d, nor once remit your guard;
Suppress the deadly serpent in its egg.
Ye blooming plants of human race divine,
An Ethiop tells you ’tis your greatest foe;
Its transient sweetness turns to endless pain,
And in immense perdition sinks the soul.
2.1k
We live in a society that is reluctant to hold individuals accountable for their actions.
They did this to him because of his smile.
They did this to him because he was in the bar bathroom a long while.
They did this to him because of his clothing style.
The environment can create stimuli and stressors which trigger predispositions.
Predispositions of behavioral tendencies to make bad decisions.
They did this to her because they saw it on TV.
They did this to her because nothing comes for free...
or at least easy.
They did this to her because of how they were raised by mommie.
However, at the end of the day, you have ****** autonomy.
Physically responsible for your own actions,
you have damaged another human...
being.
You don't want to accept you could do something so heinous to another human's ****
or ******
Morally responsible to actively educate,
yourself.
How to live in a world with other humans whom differ from you.
People who you may not completely understand.
She said no, but things happened so fast.
Kept go-ing on, not for long he didn't last.
He might have been interested at the start of the night,
but wasn't trying to be perceived as putting up a fight,
resisting what his assailant created, his forever tragic night.
I'm not big on the concept of 'deviant behaviors' or 'social taboos.'
Certain things however, you should know what to do.
We violate others' rights, freedoms, privileges, happiness, mental stability, and personal well being.
And For What?
It doesn't matter if you're gay, like metal music, or get drunk, because
We can't blame the color gray.
not tomorrow nor today.
Don't sit, just stand, get up and say.
Advocate that **** is wrong every innocent second of each precious day.
more clearly defined, not merely social constructs within a particular society.
Long story short; **** is Wrong. Get and Give Consent. Be Safe as well.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
Service
the sections
we skim
on
four limbs,
integral
to the insect
cause
and effectively
crippling
the cross culture,
dumb and
auspicious
in the year
of the
opposable
thumb.
Feline
friction
in
the way
you
hug the fuzz
and
tug at
the tension,
a conscious
show of
subterfuge
and
pretentious
pretenses
concludes
in the dismal
aftermath
of a
stamped
and sent
ten cent
envelope
filled with
nothing
but hope.
Sacrilegious
privileges
construct
reality,
obstructing
the
graffiti art
along the
cosmonaut
crosswalk.
The fire,
fought
with wine
in the dark
etched an
imprint
in ash
where
the
cadre had
left its' mark
in the colors
of a
corroded
battery.
Under
spray
paint stars,
hollow,
half
sunken
sights
echo
through
the
illegitimate
children
of a
wind
chime.
Sulfurous
silver
lining
igniting
the ego.
A blue
reaction
in a black
field,
refraction
with a
maximum
yield,
it all glows.
Feline
friction
in
the way
you
hug the fuzz
and
tug at
the tension,
smooth
and rigid,
we fit in
the grooves
and service
the sections
in a
crippled
cross
culture
that
crawls
on all fours,
integral
to an insect
cause.
Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 5:27 PM UTC
Sadness.
How is that portrayed?
My childhood has taught me
that sadness
is merely tears and privileges taken away.
A face turned 8:20.
A tantrum.
"Boo-hoo".
But that's not at all what sadness looks like.
Sadness has bright eyes,
warm rosey cheeks,
and a perfect smile
plastered on its face.
Sadness is that girl that always smiles
but never talks
because of the fear she'll say something
not important enough to hear.
Sadness is that boy that always acts
like he's too cool for anyone
but in reality is dying for a real friend.
Sadness
can be anyone
at anytime.
And all it's trying to find
is a reason to really smile.
To be like happiness
instead of fake it.
That's sadness.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
Zenia Argos is tired. Tired to her ventricles, but still curious. She might possibly have told the right person on a certain type of night in the right kind of bar that she defined herself by her curiosity. Now she felt that her strange mind and her odd ways probably overwhelmed her and had thereby come to define her.
~^~
Zenia not only felt undefined, she felt amorphous.
Like a ghost in a black silk raincoat and black patent leather stiletto heels, she stalked through airports and the gutters of various cities. She forgot to ask herself meaningful questions. She forgot to ask herself any questions at all.
~^~
One day in some unbelievably high-numbered floor of a high-rise hotel in a city whose name she had forgotten she woke up in a luxurious enough bed with a body on the other side of it, face turned away from her. Her brain tossed up only this inane phrase, which repelled and fascinated her at the same time.
"Age has it's privileges"
First thought after that was a silly image of an actual ledge, outside of a high rise building such as the one she found herself in at the moment. With a cartoon cat and a cartoon Zenia fighting to stay on the edge, and comically slipping, hilariously falling, and hanging on, in fast forward and then reverse, and she lay there with her eyes closed and watched the vaudeville show for as long as it took to run through it's loop several times.
~^~
Then she wondered why she was thinking in perfume ad cliches, especially ones from decades, perhaps many decades ago?
This prompted her to jump, catlike, from prone, to alert, and holding her gun from beneath pillow, scanning the room.
Nope.
Not a perfume ad.
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 8:04 PM UTC
Life is so generous
Ever so full of gifts to spare;
Ever so rich of privileges that glamours;
Over-flowing chances that fills up this fine young soul to give a full flare
Yet it's so generous that it gives also "lemons"
Life oh life,
Why "lemons"?
I grew up knowing,
Lemons are best served cold
Especially in every summer for those who thirsts for such juicy quench
While feets're on sands and the kingly sun's overhead
But why "lemons"?!
Maybe it wasn't just lemons picked up from metro market
But lemons from life
Then I suppose it does'nt matter anymore
I guess what matters is I have these...
I have "life" and I have "lemons"
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
I am not privileged
I’d rather be a poor fishers kid
I carry the burden of having to make it
I carry the burden to follow social norm
I carry the burden of suits and schedules,
of walking in straight lines.
We lie to ourselves when we call the western world privileged
These exact privileges are what makes us miserable
I’d rather be a poor fishers kid
I’d rather fish and gather my food everyday
Like we pray for
I’d rather enjoy nature every day
But instead we call ourselves privileged
When all we do is chase shiny objects
without realising what slips away
We call the western world free but no one really is
I’d rather be a poor fishers kid
I’d rather wake with the tide
I’d rather cast my net
than chase a clock.
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 1:55 PM UTC
If she gathers enough sticks,
she'll be able to get the fire going real nice;
enough to see her hand
in front of her face for a change.
She's been scratching around in the dark,
wide-eyed and ravenous,
feeling the ground for wood
for what seems like hours.
Her fingers start to blister and sting
from the friction and the grinding
of her begging and pleading
for just one measly spark.
It's been like this since that day
when everything was still pretty nice
in her podunk town where she
was known as the black sheep.
That day, that day, in late April,
when she raised her hand up
stuck out her thumb and
blotted out the sun.
She woke up with dirt under her nails
and pulled a lock of hair out
that was starting to mat.
She went to sleep with dirt under her nails.
She went to sleep hungry
and now she chews on anything that moves
in the umbra that couldn't be too far
from where she used to live.
Dead leaf blankets-
"Are the trees still alive?
What did the forest smell like,
sound like, at high noon?"
"What were colors?
Light-lovers and their shrieking tears
filled with nostalgic longing for
magical, pretty un-black; privileges".
Sanctum in the murk.
She walks tonight, but not far.
"I am the mother of the moth,
and the sudden ritenuto".
) o ( ●
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 6:35 AM UTC
I am lucky
I am lucky that I am
I am lucky that I am living
I am lucky that I am living in the state
I am lucky that I am living in the state of being
I am lucky that I am living in the state of being in which
I am lucky that I am living in the state of being in which life
I am lucky that I am living in the state of being in which life gave me.
I am lucky that I get to have the items I have
I am lucky that I get to meet the people I meet
I am lucky that I get to see the things I see
But I am unlucky to get to see how my privileges corrupt people.
Make them turn my lucky life into hell.
The ****
The ******
The theft
The battery
The harassment
I am lucky that humans abuse their privileges...
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 12:17 AM UTC
Hie Yamaha Wegman ****** voyager, voted vonage valuable, unrepentant TIME Magazine subscriber. Spotify sportsman Snapchat smartly. Sleuth slenderman silences Shutterfly schvitzing. Saxby sassy Santander sais sage rues rudimentary router rotorooter.
Royale Rococco rigged remarkably regular referee reefers red reddit reeder recuperating. Reconnaissance recluse really rabid. QVC quotient quoting, quo quoi quivering quite quirky. Quisling quipped. Quintuplets quintessentially quiet. Quids Quicken questions.
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Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC