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"rebounding" poems
Uncharmable charmer Of Bacchus and Mars In the sounding rebounding Abyss of the stars! O ****** in armour, Thine arrows unsling In the brilliant resilient First rays of the spring! By the force of the fashion Of love, when I broke Through the shroud, through the cloud, Through the storm, through the smoke, To the mountain of passion Volcanic that woke --- By the rage of the mage I invoke, I invoke! By the midnight of madness: - The lone-lying sea, The swoon of the moon, Your swoon into me, The sentinel sadness Of cliff-clinging pine, That night of delight You were mine, you were mine! You were mine, O my saint, My maiden, my mate, By the might of the right Of the night of our fate. Though I fall, though I faint, Though I char, though I choke, By the hour of our power I invoke, I invoke! By the mystical union Of fairy and faun, Unspoken, unbroken - The dust to the dawn! - A secret communion Unmeasured, unsung, The listless, resistless, Tumultuous tongue! - O ****** in armour, Thine arrows unsling, In the brilliant resilient First rays of the spring! No Godhead could charm her, But manhood awoke - O fiery Valkyrie, I invoke, I invoke!
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4.7k
Pan to Artemis
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round: And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover! And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, A mighty fountain momently was forced: Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail: And ’mid these dancing rocks at once and ever It flung up momently the sacred river. Five miles meandering with a mazy motion Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean: And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war! The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated midway on the waves; Where was heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves. It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! A damsel with a dulcimer In a vision once I saw: It was an Abyssinian maid, And on her dulcimer she played, Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight ’twould win me That with music loud and long I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome! those caves of ice! And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed And drunk the milk of Paradise.
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3.4k
Kubla Khan
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round: And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover! And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, A mighty fountain momently was forced: Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail: And ’mid these dancing rocks at once and ever It flung up momently the sacred river. Five miles meandering with a mazy motion Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean: And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war! The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated midway on the waves; Where was heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves. It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! A damsel with a dulcimer In a vision once I saw: It was an Abyssinian maid, And on her dulcimer she played, Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight ’twould win me That with music loud and long I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome! those caves of ice! And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed And drunk the milk of Paradise.
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54
The raindrips are dropping outside for a change, some way I still feel them draining through my decrepit veins. Thunderous applause for the storms that wage, The wars that I've paid for with my strayful ways, day after day. Come now, Come play in the swaying waves forming aside my imminent lines, The ones that play and play on, Bouncing and rebounding around inside my mind(s). Tip, typing away, Fueled by the fires outside this time. Each of these rampant keys seal away the pains that fray these frail heartstrings. Filling the gutters with the utterances that speak the futile fightings, Flying through the air, With the nimbus lighting my way through the faintest of nighttime scenes, Hoping these barely discernable dreams are the ones that will see me through the day. Easing my restless heart with the chaos rains that thunder and pour, They sway my mind to sleep. Pray, that it will all be over soon, or perhaps, even today.
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Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 9:06 PM UTC
Even Chaos has its Peaceful Ways
Whenever I look at you I know what I'm doing Isn't making it any better But I still look at you Almost every day I try to feed myself With your willingness Your "beauty" Which isn't really your beauty But just a cheap Shortened version thereof A minute long relationship If I think you're really hot And it's a sad one It's a rebound I live Every day I keep rebounding with you But it doesn't seem like I ever bounce away from her Sometimes I wish You were someone real But then I'd be crying Even harder Because I'd be giving more Of myself away to you So maybe it's better that I only see images of you I cry enough already And I need a rebound But rebounds don't work for me You don't work for me But I still give myself to you
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Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 2:49 AM UTC
You Don't Work for Me
On the ocean of life I Dropped  thought-pebbles Resonances in winds Rebounding in ripples Actions born in countless waves Triggering counter-actions! Cataracts of wonders, suddenly Vomiting volumes of gold Pouring golden flames Into life ocean purities Bouncing up hills and valleys In voyage of expectations Creating realities in emeralds! Tumbling air in blues Skies beatific glory binges In endless waves in azure skies Echoing sounds of depth Deeper than the deep Launching into the Deep Harvesting immortal gold Reaping eternal glory!
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Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 9:28 AM UTC
SOUND OF DEPTH
your kisses make me feel at home, make me wanna stay at that moment, pause my life in that instant our lips touch with love and not separate them never again Your arms are the warmest thing that hold  me ever I can feel our hearts meet and start beating at the same time every time you hold me And I smile there I feel safe and small like nothing matters beside us Mornings are better if I wake up by your side in your arms, nothing can hurt me your love surrounds me and your kisses are the cure of everything But your eyes I can’t translate into any idiom what they make me feel because instead of butterflies I can feel all kinds of insects rebounding in my stomach every time you look at me with those brown eyes
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Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 3:28 PM UTC
kisses
It's happened again cupid has cycled his laughing cast Without discretion, displayed in viscous currents One man finds a mate through an easy game of chase the scar, Lazy frowning and statued emotion Her eyes sparkled in such a kindred flame Artificially, just as the sad boy does rebounding desperation on both parts He as the hermit,with a minimal compassion She played the role for all affection Drove her half mad, cutting lonely A last chance to see him to the dance pupils strayed off, eating the smoke For a couple months, I think, maybe more Distance was death for the loving seperation Caring is old, the premature pleasure maker Chakra cats and Vampire disease Chased with blood, drunk on a rhapsody The girl dumped the filthy ****** baggage Humbly fornicating with a more fitting fellow Similar in grace and taste Aspirations and dependence on denser levels Red to black or black and blue With a new foundation built Companion demolition, scheduled for certain Love sued the suit and Brothers close at heart It's happened again Cupid has cycled his laughing cast Without discretion, displayed in viscous currents
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Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 8:15 AM UTC
Sol Luna Endymion
hard-candy crunches between chattering teeth--warm blue drool pools down wet chin. wet skin reeks of chlorine, and swimsuit sticks to piggy thighs and pancake chest. eyes are everywhere: eyes to stare and judge and mock and compare. it’s unfair how these other girls eat chips and pizza yet their bodies are set to be nubile marble demigoddesses living off six pomegranate seeds. i am teenage Taweret. the unforgiving spandex drips upon the floor, as if i had peed. quick! get a towel, you’re ruining the parquet! leg bones, feet bones hit the floor, followed by white waves of flesh, always late, rebounding wetly. bones and fat. soggy pig bones.
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Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
pool party at Satan's
NUCLEAR FISSION & A PISTON distracted by the shine rebounding resounding wave of care hit in the chest, square I am the cylinder and you are the tube and the way you always move against this liquid love well, darling you're bound to combust. it's science.
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Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 2:24 AM UTC
NUCLEAR FISSION & A PISTON
Every time I forget, or, at least, seemed to forget, you'd come back and haunt me with your stares. Every time I finally wasn't thinking about you, you'd be there to fill up my thoughts once more.
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Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 8:47 AM UTC
Rebounding.
How overly flawed My mistakes are, As they flew Breathlessly Under the skyline. I exhaled those regrets But they kept on Rebounding Back at me.
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Feb 18, 2021
Feb 18, 2021 at 2:38 AM UTC
Mistakes
An ebbing pulse of syrupy bees Illuminating the forgotten namesake For the sake of acoustic agreement. FOR THOU SHALL NOT TOUCH The ebbing pulse Of syrupy bees. In the origin of all our sticky swarm Our namesake is remembered-- As the sticky swarm a rebounding Reaching Retracting arm claws-- As our faceless SAKES rebound again. For the Just in case.
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Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 4:12 AM UTC
Just in case.
The habitual morning nicotine ritual - exercising rites of many bored day runs for marijuana seekers in the combustible wheel-turning mechanisms of search and by no means of excellence - speaking simplistic languages - concerned with being full full of joy, full of joy, full of joy Determined to the final goodbye, the doldrums of steam-heat villages Walking casually - robbed of daydreaming spectacle twenty years to outer space, inner space - diving up like water bobbing air pockets Tasting the Big Sky - delighting in just one event - and everyone's correct opinion concerning all as it is and as it used to stand - it changed- watch it change- the ebbing and flowing pinpricks pulse with time & desensitizing imagery Going home - to the mists of the attic Father/mother/son - a question of relation Naming the precise, exact moment when the abstract word becomes idea - thought - turning - mind rebounding off the word - the principles - ideas - underlying reason - implications - emotional offense and nonsense
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Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 6:01 PM UTC
Free Falling Sickness
This ***** Artificially awake Lydia apples 20 years have passed oranges i want a do over manhole cover coins savage glares across the 4 wheeled property lines young moms not giving a **** that's alright kiss of sun hidden from anxious from blue oak , it's ridges pluming in the dappled twist and floundering wave, wiggling wave of oak leaves green as frogs. ponytail suzy, *** from galaxy sci-fi i brought up a cup while it was empty there, but so distracted by my own trembling effort, every hair a furry hood, every fatty fixture of my face a rebounding basset hound tennis shoes up to my neck, dumb naked in my greenery, already old somehow, the window closing, the permanency of parks, like a stilletto in a limosine, green fixture of my white blinded attempt to see tomorrow, tourist . thoughts of Sylvia , my gaping awe at the feminine, and its green garden. -cbrander
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Jun 26, 2022
Jun 26, 2022 at 12:26 PM UTC
poem this ***** artificially awake
Spurious words and spinning wheels grasping the unmade road crossing streams of deserted hinterlands sparing no weakness Plenty in the fork of the day shining down like twilight whittling down the breeze of night and smashing up the stars Meandering past the lazy groves grain in corsets musk in roses pushing the littlest hearts and raising their eyes to the sky a glimpse and a glimmer sparkle of the waters and we were unshackled lost In more ways than one you whispered in the tiniest hours and I heard the edges of your echoes resounding slowly and gradually rebounding for more filling the universe.
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Aug 18, 2012
Aug 18, 2012 at 10:16 AM UTC
Losing Time
The wind-chime tolls, Whispering tales of old, In the late evening so cold, Answering the calls of a wolf howl; A figure stood alone, In the shadows of fear and fright, For he but have only to hide, Until the passing of the night’s grim tide; Trees rustled in the distance, As a hooded soul walks in silence, Cloaked and shrouded in moonlight’s defiance, He was unconcerned by the stranger’s appearance; Lips of crimson red, And eyes dark and seemingly dead, She glanced at him with not a word, But somehow he completely understood; The wind-chime jingles, While the stars dance a merry twinkle, For two lonely souls with hearts so brittle, Had found each other to slowly whittle; It was a story with many a retelling, And each of it with no happy ending, For when love arrives two worlds start colliding, Taking a toll on those involved like a spell rebounding. @byizn
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Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 9:05 PM UTC
Wind-Chime
Sweeping the dust away Around our feet In endless circles Proving drowning was Never the case For you babe On the verge Of rebounding to A plain sight Constant reminders due Weeks ago Lies swarming subconsciously Waking, rolling, and floating.. Itching, burning, and pounding.. Jogging carelessly back To base Was the first issue
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Oct 23, 2010
Oct 23, 2010 at 1:21 AM UTC
***** Laundry
moving forward from A to B to eternity from milliseconds to eons from a tick of the clock to a heartbeat to a lifetime each measure, a length of string determined by Fates or a burning wick in a roomful of candles where nothing can be earned time spent time left with universes in between life's images captured in a puddle harmonic resonance ripples through the calm radiating outward energy rebounding and returning to stillness reflections of a harvest moon on white rushing waters blue electricity crackling on crest tops as waves unfurl on shores and return to oceans a vision viewed since antiquity moments of time shared with ancients and generations tallied by stars and grains of sand
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Aug 18, 2010
Aug 18, 2010 at 10:40 AM UTC
A Promise of Tomorrow
I shift swiftly from the window sill Fearless after forlorn grievances Hey Taylor you have me believin' Failed love stories, you're just teasin' Eighteen years and I reached maturity Listened to your ballads, felt amorous I can't ask that you'll write me a song I must confess, I think of you all day long I want you to see me, white horse mounted Rescue you from a life rebounding I raise a hand and pray to the lord But you're the reason for the teardrops on my keyboard Why can't you see... me? Are we meant to be? I would hold your hand, let your soul fly free.
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Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 4:44 PM UTC
A Short and Pathetic Poem for the Unnatainable Angel of my Dreams (Adolescent Longings)
Blasphemy! Must you harass my soul Heat breathes from within Ah! How you vex Mocked assurity charismatic inquity Magnetically persuaded Hell can be evaded But once Pantomime with my Heart strings Positvely attracted To that which is negatively Perceived With so much ease Doth that rock role down The hill Artificial light... Crushed with each rotation How hard fell I for you Upon a hill... Upon a hill... Repeatedly pelted With this divine purpose Blasphemy! Must it be This sin I furtively commit Wilting Internally Looked upon as if My skin is no longer adhered to these decayed bones Looking inside of me My downfalls Splashed in my face Oh! I'm melting! ...for her But a consonant No larger than a rock in the road Return to me Reverberation occurs Rebounding off the walls of Your thought cavity He...R Three dots seperate me from "Straight is the path and narrow is the way" And Homosexuality ~Deciding Factor~
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Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 9:05 PM UTC
~Deciding Factor~
Pennies casually dropped to the distant depths in gathering pending hope to wishing wells Moonbeams caught amongst their silvery slivers of light amongst themselves Quiet whispers rebounding of that chatter of fates bent confusing and strange ways Echoes like ripples from lakes surface created by skipping stones vibrate through life’s days Searching into the distant horizons shot with heat haze fortune cookies shatter break Emotions in gathering ripples travel ev outward causing those ripples cross life’s lake Standing silent watching with eyes that search my soul standing apart from that crowd Wonder why they rush about trying to be the things that they are not and they need be so loud Warm hands still remembering the days that now be past treasuring those holding recent memories Thoughts of times so different like summer childhoods never ending breeze such things they are these White edged satin azure sky blue days that seemed to have no end fraying satin now it still it clings to lace Memories even those photographs growing yellowed and torn with age they can’t replace your face Moving sideways shifting to greet the mornings early light another day is christened dawns first shimmering light People shuffle move about pretending they are real but like the mice in programmed corridors they drift through life’s mazes But ever watching smiling tempted sometimes to laugh but never shedding raindrop tears observing from on high Those tear shaped raindrops from my weary eyes so much of life they've seen are falling like those pennies from the sky (C)G.Evans Reserved 2017
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Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 4:53 AM UTC
Optional well thats what it said
Pennies casually dropped to the distant depths in gathering pending hope to wishing wells Moonbeams caught amongst their silvery slivers of light amongst themselves Quiet whispers rebounding of that chatter of fates bent confusing and strange ways Echoes like ripples from lakes surface created by skipping stones vibrate through life’s days Searching into the distant horizons shot with heat haze fortune cookies shatter break Emotions in gathering ripples travel ev outward causing those ripples cross life’s lake Standing silent watching with eyes that search my soul standing apart from that crowd Wonder why they rush about trying to be the things that they are not and they need be so loud Warm hands still remembering the days that now be past treasuring those holding recent memories Thoughts of times so different like summer childhoods never ending breeze such things they are these White edged satin azure sky blue days that seemed to have no end fraying satin now it still it clings to lace Memories even those photographs growing yellowed and torn with age they can’t replace your face Moving sideways shifting to greet the mornings early light another day is christened dawns first shimmering light People shuffle move about pretending they are real but like the mice in programmed corridors they drift through life’s mazes But ever watching smiling tempted sometimes to laugh but never shedding raindrop tears observing from on high Those tear shaped raindrops from my weary eyes so much of life they've seen are falling like those pennies from the sky (C)G.Evans Reserved 2017
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17
Through a garden bedecked in the finest façade In a natural beauty of eons compiled An assault to the senses which quickens the pulse Yet soothing the detail, organically styled Its borders haphazard yet clearly defined By a frenzied assortment of pollen clad blooms Enhancing creation with lust and a craving With nectar, ambrosia scented perfume The thickets and bushes, with industry cloaked A sprawling utopia thriving therein With bees and with butterflies drinking their fill And drizzled in webs which the spiderfolk spin A meandering trail through flourishing life An encouraging push from the sun to my rear Entrancing, the chill of the dew underfoot Yet thrusting itself like an ice laden spear My sight is attracted by hidden desire To a door at the crest of a flurry of stairs And the stone of the flight is as fire to my soles After languishing still as the midsummer glares The door is ajar and within comes the sound Of a single piano, adeptly caressed Each note sends a shiver rebounding around me In purity soaked and perfection possessed I make my way forward and darkness inside Removes me of sight as my pupils adjust And the air is intense as a northerly breeze And shimmers in motes cut of sunlight and dust My eyes become clear and before me they see Cascading and dancing a musical frieze A picture in motion, a fairytale path In a spectrum of tones and a myriad keys Inspiration her name and the course she describes Is a poem in light to beguile the mind She speaks with her body, a wordless refrain Of a mystery poets have clamoured to find A pipe cuts a harmony no one could play Distilling forever the passage of time And though such a symphony draws at the tongue Causality never once utters a rhyme A pattern of shimmering images form Behind inspiration and quickening pace To fade with the music and ever be lost Lest the pen of a poet can hold them in place Most fickle of muses and teaser of tongues To flirt with despair and to promise elation We chase but remaining just out of out reach Is the ghost of a girl which we call ‘Inspiration’
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Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
A Girl Called Inspiration
Through a garden bedecked in the finest façade In a natural beauty of eons compiled An assault to the senses which quickens the pulse Yet soothing the detail, organically styled Its borders haphazard yet clearly defined By a frenzied assortment of pollen clad blooms Enhancing creation with lust and a craving With nectar, ambrosia scented perfume The thickets and bushes, with industry cloaked A sprawling utopia thriving therein With bees and with butterflies drinking their fill And drizzled in webs which the spiderfolk spin A meandering trail through flourishing life An encouraging push from the sun to my rear Entrancing, the chill of the dew underfoot Yet thrusting itself like an ice laden spear My sight is attracted by hidden desire To a door at the crest of a flurry of stairs And the stone of the flight is as fire to my soles After languishing still as the midsummer glares The door is ajar and within comes the sound Of a single piano, adeptly caressed Each note sends a shiver rebounding around me In purity soaked and perfection possessed I make my way forward and darkness inside Removes me of sight as my pupils adjust And the air is intense as a northerly breeze And shimmers in motes cut of sunlight and dust My eyes become clear and before me they see Cascading and dancing a musical frieze A picture in motion, a fairytale path In a spectrum of tones and a myriad keys Inspiration her name and the course she describes Is a poem in light to beguile the mind She speaks with her body, a wordless refrain Of a mystery poets have clamoured to find A pipe cuts a harmony no one could play Distilling forever the passage of time And though such a symphony draws at the tongue Causality never once utters a rhyme A pattern of shimmering images form Behind inspiration and quickening pace To fade with the music and ever be lost Lest the pen of a poet can hold them in place Most fickle of muses and teaser of tongues To flirt with despair and to promise elation We chase but remaining just out of out reach Is the ghost of a girl which we call ‘Inspiration’
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48
Imperial palaces sweeping the landscapes for miles beyond the eye's vision gleaming in their perennial silhouettes sparkling down the dies shimmers of light rebounding off their sharp heads piercing the sky and the eagles soaring round incessantly until the clouds move to their momentum spinning on apparent winds grudging none their splendour printing the ages.
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Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 8:47 PM UTC
Saharan Breeze