"remiss" poems
Wings a flitter
Iridescent feathers a glitter
Hovering briefly at a flower top
Usually not long enough to truly stop
This precious one of avian design
I see delicately perched upon a twisted vine
The sun glinting off the ruby throat
Making it easy for on this one to dote
Although this perch may be brief
It does bear out my belief
That the light of her essence
Has me blessed in her presence
Medicine, absent of strife
Filled with the nectar of life
Life that bears the scars of complexity
Yet revels in the miracle of synchronicity
Placed on my path with divine intention
I would be remiss to discount this intervention
And yet fail to mention...
A renewal of mon couer and the magic of living
For this is the medicine that hummingbird is giving
And for me it is so easy to see
She is Nenookaasi
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 10:00 PM UTC
Seasons pass, tempered by insalubrious fervor; treasonous design remiss of fate
An echo of prior songs resonate somber atrophy; mourn the passing of constant defeat, stained by triumphant dissonance and disdain
Fear strides along the broken path, left alone and solemn and crass: Through sour feats of vindication, tones of plight become dismissed
Surfeit, the sound of temptation rides upon the crest of dawn, blinding darkness like calming waves caressing infinite stretches of sand: soft and warm; kind and welcoming, embracing in its gentle touch
Sentience hides behind a creeping fog, whispering secrets of life eternal, bearing gifts wrought through sensuous candor
Two threads lost, now found; slowly bonding, uniting purpose, rhythm, rhyme, and reason; born from the same cloth, garnering habit, singing in harmony what echoes from within
Beautiful, intelligent, staunch with profundity; stark, handsome, wholesome, and good
The call of a true home may finally beckon..
Dec 13, 2017
Dec 13, 2017 at 2:08 AM UTC
I reminisce on this:
A time more filled with bliss.
When school is out,
And the children shout.
Our minds now worry-free,
We fill our hearts with glee.
I reminisce on this.
I reminisce on this:
A time that I do miss.
You can call it summer vacation,
When with no education,
We go to visit family
And maybe to travel oversea
I reminisce on this.
I reminisce on this:
A time of such remiss.
We forget responsibility,
And remember the ability
To go out, and have some fun,
But now, with it all done,
I reminisce on this.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
The solitude of when two hands meet garners thoughts of warmth and want for needs unspoken
I miss the days when simplicity was as common as the delicate exhale shared when two lips release from one a other
To gaze through sultry windows of the soul, soft yet weary with fervent witness, beckons notions of wanderlust to a place that shines brighter than any I've ever seen
I watch, bound by valor for not seeking more through presumptuous ineptitude; bewildered by the plight you've been mired by, I wince at the thought of harm coming to you
Your trust exudes a powerful purpose; wrought from the ashes of all that have claimed to impose before, I succumb to the surfeit of such a staggering meaning in that gift
I hold myself in bated breath for the day you would ever need my heart for your own, but stay guided to be here in spirit, ever more
Although my basic wishes be forlorn, in somber muse I find great purpose to be a part of this grand fate bestowed upon me
You are all I've ever sought; and through disbelief, I am remiss of all that's mired me before
If only, one day, perhaps we could be more..
Dec 23, 2017
Dec 23, 2017 at 6:21 PM UTC
Look up and breathe it all in
The sky is crying, exploding
with a torrential waterfall.
Inhale natures’ showering
an unblemished symphony
The black cloud’s unavowed weight
lingers invigoratingly overhead
Emotions ebb and flow
with the moment’s
immanent spirit of light;
there is a liberating sensation
that excites anticipation
of the sky’s impending
purposefully fated release ...
Heavens… flood down holy water
in a drenching act of baptism
a merciful drowning in a river
of celestial tears
Dowsing rains wash over
in a cleansing rain
Refresh the dust and ashes
the fallow summer leavings
What once was a blossoming presence,
evolving into a dimming
cold winter reign...
Now all that remains is but
a shadow of what once was;
hearts and bones nearly eroded away
by the years of fallen tears
To rinse away unrequited love’s
stagnant inversion, washing away
the invisible bonds that bind
to the loathsome heavy ball
of an unforgiving chain ...
Know the cleansing rain
is the spirit of love, washing over
a malnourished heart of soul;
exposed and bared naked
to a remiss world
Looking out with thoughtful eyes
into the boundless universe
Never to stop believing
rejuvenating dreams course beyond
this long road
Imagine the storm clouds
parting in the ominous
threatening sky
as an uplifting awakening light
comes shining through;
renewing the promise
that surrendering to love
shall renew purpose
and it feels like rain...
baby can you feel it (?)
December 2012 © harlon rivers ... all rights reserved .
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 7:24 PM UTC
Bride to Be:
Oh how could he do this to me?
I trusted him undoubtedly!
Now I lie upon the grass
Hoping one day a man will pass,
And steal my heart from my chest.
So I can escape this god awful mess
Fiance:
My heart is trapped inside,
A woman of a common kind.
Continually forced to pay the fee,
Of dealing with those bound to flee.
I swear I could give her all she needs,
the complete effect of fantasy.
But I would be remiss.
In not mentioning her recent fear to kiss.
Bride to Be:
I am a wallowing bride to be
Wallowing in misery
A month ago surrounded in bliss
Until he had to take that risk
All because he heard a scream,
Trailing from a crimson stream.
Fiance:
My face is cut and torn to shreds,
And now my love won't be wed.
I only did what I thought was best.
Yet I was surely led to loneliness.
I heard a scream from down the street,
And so I immediately took to my feet.
Saw the face of a woman scorned,
And a man who saw fit to leave me adorned
Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 10:59 PM UTC
It's still not ok, but then again, when has it ever been...
There's nothing but grey skies
I can just about glimpse them through the door
As much as I tried
I still find it hard
Sitting on the lowest stair
Watching through the screen door
A simple comfort, it always is
Watching as the first few drops fall from the sheets of clouds
Creating channels across the dirt on the glass
Bright, despite everything
Bright against the pale white paint
Its good to not have to think
It can get overwhelming
And I'll admit to one thing
As much as I'm remiss to static opinion
Catching just a glimpse or two of
A passing black bird or
Something...
Just to remind me
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 3:44 AM UTC
Pearls sent slipping from the string
& in that moment they sing like raindrops.
Monsoon pours red lust across my bed.
He provokes the thunder instead
with a dance of lips & fingertips.
Pearls ripped from the marble hollow
of intrepid breast, at my taunting behest.
They clatter to the floor
like my last shrouds of innocence.
His heavy touch does breathe
sweet incense
through the thick air of this precipitous night,
dark with wild unknown.
He comes to seek refuge in this storm,
& implores me to soak him to the bone.
Pearls tumble like sea foam
across the angles of my alabaster collar.
Crash to the floor like a wave to a beach.
Pearls, & tangled limbs & biting kisses
dive into delirious bliss & sweet remiss.
My ivory blushes with peach
blossoms opening to welcome his reach,
as we amble through a valley of pearls
& silken sheets.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 8:55 PM UTC
She was radiant- she still is.
She drew me in and captured me through surmise amiss.
Her intention not to seize me but through her remiss; I found a graceful figure.
My madness said I loved her as I descended to abyss.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 9:48 AM UTC
Lines of life through gene transmission
When handed down through *****
Tho’ rugged, sound or sickly matched,
Are caste about like coins.
Luck ensures a robust chance
Of longevity and health
With intelligence or dolt hood
As a final gauge to wealth.
Traits of blue eyed, fair haired lovelies
Brown eyed, freckled, long of limb,
Temperaments across the spectrum
Placid fat to fiery slim.
Aptitude to run the long race
Good endurance, depth of heart,
Lady luck decrees their worth
Tho' the Priesthood may depart.
Frontal lobes of clear retention
Heightened rationale of thought,
Reasons through the problematic,
Resolutions made as ought.
Capacity to empathise
In tears of joy and sorrow spent,
Capacity for true belief
When wrong is righted with repent.
Goodness and black evil
Are caste about like chaff,
Depends upon the show of cards
Who laughs the final laugh.
Conscience can be virtuous
But then, so can be greed,
Depends upon the circumstance
And if approached at speed.
And finally indulgence
Plays a massive hand in this,
For love and lust determine
If a union is remiss.
And should that union founder,
Should Lady Luck throw in her hand
...You can blame it on the chromosomes
Which confounds the Makers stand!
Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
14 June 2011
Jun 13, 2011
Jun 13, 2011 at 8:42 PM UTC
I don't have pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.
I'll stay away from Yellowstone.
If one's asthmatic in the Eifel region
You don't pronounce the "P."
This won't **** me.
I don't have COPD.
Everyone coughs in blue smoke.
My throaty itch won't **** me.
I won't constrict and choke.
I don't have an infectious disease,
Despite my personality.
I run for shelter in acid rain.
I drink water with ice cubes,
And spray my green out back.
As much as I hate to, I avoid rusty nails.
*** is safe... and at a distance.
Despite being repeatedly told to,
I never eat ****
The great imitator
Is a snivelling mime.
If I'm bitten, I recognize the marks.
The erupting of the ring of fire won't **** me,
but perhaps I was precocious
To drop the "P" in
Pneumonoultramicroscopicscilicovolcanoconiosis.
I haven't succumb to animal flues,
I stay clear from the bars.
I donate to the SPCA,
Bet on ponies or the odds of SARS.
I don't have meningitis.
I like lights and loud music.
If I get the night sweats,
I turn down my electric blanket.
I haven't the minor or greater pox,
I spurn comparisons.
According to the scoop and scope,
I ascend and descent C free.
But the time spent on Referrals
Might be the death of me.
I don't have botulism.
My smile still concaves down.
Curling convex above it,
A condescending frown.
I'm not a *****
I feel every poke and like.
My digits number twenty...
Twenty one.
My glasses are smudge free.
If anything I see too well.
Alcoholism can't **** me.
Alcohol can.
I haven't cardio entropy,
But I'd be remiss
To dismiss
The wise counsel Oz gave me:
"Hearts can never be made practical until they can be made unbreakable."
So true.
So true!
Anyway, none of the above will get me.
But, I do have what you have.
The young and grown.
The able and ill.
A hand.
A sweeping hand.
A second hand
Setting those infectious nonogerms
Like diamonds
In my Time-x.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 11:51 AM UTC
Them bastardized youths fell outside, dizzied by a reality unsolved.
Their maws scowled judgment and drooled Pabst down improbable bodies each of them lay in the stink of subtle conformity.
Fiercely unique culture beasts starved away in suburbs; Wikidrifting, those drugged litterbugs scampered.
Dropout fish fast against the current of their time, tired from dancing through desperate crowded nights and disparate lonely dawns, dangling degrees and the specters of success burning incessant their pride.
They were the ******** made so over time contracted by blind parents to nine-to-blithes in which quiet desperation, credit nooses, and irony were the small print.
They were carpenters afraid of their hands. With chisel to headstone, they lied on the hoods of used Japanese cars, panning the radio for a real connection and gazing up at vanishing constellations.
They were their poison and they their elixir, but a cold cigarette was a much quicker fixer of Helplessness Blues and the back of a Bible where a brief intellectual wrote “I am suicidal.”
For how does the turn of the epigram read to those who care less with every new beat of a drummed-up society so high off its piety that seeing stars vanish is simply a shame?
Those ******** dropouts tragically remiss, those Supertramps, Kerouacs, Cohens, and wits.
They were the alternative, urbanite fools that littered alleys with Greek fables and Tibetan tattoos.
Criterion flash cards and the literary canon allowed them to flirt with god in verse and art clues until Pollock’s canvas did rip off their eyelids which left them to know only Socrates knew.
They danced and they writhed, then ****** to pass time, and kept on their passions till lost were their minds. Then they all died, those blasphemous ********
But at least they washed on the back of their crimes.
At least they danced.
At least they were.
And there may be something to movement in chaos.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 8:06 PM UTC
Remember when we used to play outside until the sun went down
Remember when we used to laugh run and have no cares or worries
Remember how much brighter the sun was and colors radiant
Remember what it felt like to fly with the birds and swim in the sea
Remember how we were once young and fierce and free?
Now the world seems a little colder a little darker than before
Now it seems that little by little, life has somehow passed us by
We no longer know what it feels like to soar what it means to be alive
Full of concern we worry and fret we begin to forget
What things were like before we grew up.
Eyes so full of wonder filled with a sense of awe capturing each moment
Ears that take in every word every sound
Heart so filled with love and hope and more than big enough for all
Head full of hopes and dreams imagination and inspiration
Have a light and happy heart and never forget to bring your smile
There are many things we may end up teaching our kids one day
Important things to be sure
But our kids teach us and remind us where our focus should lie
Though we may not feel it sometimes they keep us young I would be remiss
If I forgot to mention the wisdom of a child is not a thing to dismiss
They look up to you and for better or for worse they are constantly watching
“I want to be a man like you” or “I want to marry a man just like daddy”
No sweeter words could a father hear, a greater gift no parent could ask for
Let us live our lives with balance: equal measures of youth and maturity
Of work and play, of fun and sincerity
May we have the grace to find balance in our lives
May we receive the judgment to put it into practice
And the peace that comes from having it realized
Amen
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
As the Protagonist expects
*** as a pretext
Baffles intellects
In an election context
So it’s no mystery
That he does this ya see
When ancient history
Can be so blistery
Given the nomenclature
Of its prurient nature
Clearly I would hate to
Be forced to debate you
But the Protagonist
Has long been doing this
Although he gets me ******
He doesn’t feel remiss
As long as he’s untoward
He won’t fall on his sword
And you can rest assured
That the past won’t be ignored
In any given broadcast
He can be put on blast
Because if one chose to ask
They'd learn about his past
Right down to his hair follicle
The man is diabolical
And also quite methodical
What I’m saying is he’s horrible
Like excrement stuck on a shoe
He’s nasty and it’s also true
Like a bowl of witches brew
He’s impossible to misconstrue
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 1:59 PM UTC
A room full of possibility
Hopes and dreams
my heart light as a feather
Rainbow cacophonies of my soul
But the colors only dance in my Dreams,
for my heart feels dark and laden with stone
Like a photograph,
so remiss of light
As I yearn with my whole self
and somehow… more
Picturing your sweet face ,
the warmth of your being
Yet here in the harsh light of truth
the door remains closed
Too hard to bare the empty promises
the ache I bare in my heart
I could fill an ocean with the tears
I have cried, begging for you
My heart yearns to lull you to sleep
To gaze into your perfect eyes
Mother and baby connected before
Being
The door lurks in the background
Does the door unlock, all my Dreams?
Or maybe…
It’s just .. another … room
Copywrite 2022
Kelly
All Rights Reserved
Jan 25, 2022
Jan 25, 2022 at 9:08 PM UTC
1709
With sweetness unabated
Informed the hour had come
With no remiss of triumph
The autumn started home
Her home to be with Nature
As competition done
By influential kinsmen
Invited to return—
In supplements of Purple
An adequate repast
In heavenly reviewing
Her residue be past—
2.2k
Time’s ominous perpetual precipice looms,
Darkly beckoning with gilded motives.
The student’s curse worming insidiously throughout the best intentions
The enemy’s ticking fingers foreshadow their fate,
But like blinded deer, we frolic obliviously,
Blissfully remiss in our duty as the forgiven.
Twilight nears, but we are still frozen in the sun.
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 7:27 PM UTC
Since now the hour is come at last,
When you must quit your anxious lover;
Since now, our dream of bliss is past,
One pang, my girl, and all is over.
Alas! that pang will be severe,
Which bids us part to meet no more;
Which tears me far from one so dear,
Departing for a distant shore.
Well! we have pass’d some happy hours,
And joy will mingle with our tears;
When thinking on these ancient towers,
The shelter of our infant years;
Where from this Gothic casement’s height,
We view’d the lake, the park, the dell,
And still, though tears obstruct our sight,
We lingering look a last farewell,
O’er fields through which we us’d to run,
And spend the hours in childish play;
O’er shades where, when our race was done,
Reposing on my breast you lay;
Whilst I, admiring, too remiss,
Forgot to scare the hovering flies,
Yet envied every fly the kiss,
It dar’d to give your slumbering eyes:
See still the little painted bark,
In which I row’d you o’er the lake;
See there, high waving o’er the park,
The elm I clamber’d for your sake.
These times are past, our joys are gone,
You leave me, leave this happy vale;
These scenes, I must retrace alone;
Without thee, what will they avail?
Who can conceive, who has not prov’d,
The anguish of a last embrace?
When, torn from all you fondly lov’d,
You bid a long adieu to peace.
This is the deepest of our woes,
For this these tears our cheeks bedew;
This is of love the final close,
Oh, God! the fondest, last adieu!
2k
The way he held me
How his eyes sparked
When met with mine
My god it threw me
Into a hope
Consuming
But hope is tricky
And slippery
And devouring reason
Committing treason
For a season
Then returning
In the yearning
Of the glance
From a new boy
From a new romance
****
Phases of the moon
Of the heart
A slivering slice of a crescent
The
Oh dear god
HOPE
Of a new start
LOL.
Just kidding
This new moon
And this new thing
Can’t be seen
In the dark of night
In my limited sight
Black-on-black
It’s all just the same ****
Right?
No way, baby!
Call it a maybe!
Call it a feather
In your hat
On your wing
Just fly into the horizon
Of the hope
Of this new thing
Until the arrow
Of the truth
Enters the marrow
Of your VIP booth
This is not cool
This is ruth…
Listen to me
You idiot
You fool
Remember boy one
Who held you
And flew too close to the sun
He burned you to ash
Then said “goodbye forever
I’m done”
Well, **** me up
That was fun
Then boy two
Who shoved you
Into the abyss
Wait...I’d be remiss
Not to mention
All of that ****** tension
Simmering
Steaming
Boiling
And Gleaming
Like the rays of the moon
Is she full yet?
Nah, it’s too soon
She’s still hiding
In the newness
Of nothing
Of black-on-black
Call me out
I lack a back
Bone to hold up
Any more hope
It’s all rotting now
In bed all day
Jotting down
Memories as if they will save me
Wow.
Okay.
Less saving
Instead
Evaporate me
Into the ether
Into the sun
Into the moon
The end seems far away
So I’ll just bide time
In my cocoon
Dreaming of the day
When she will bloom
Into her fullness
Picturesque
Over the crescent
Of a dune
Aug 26, 2022
Aug 26, 2022 at 8:54 AM UTC
No fancy words, no subtle metaphors.
No unnecessary rhyming, no forced stanzas.
No charming characters, no outraged emotions.
No known beginning, nowhere to reach to.
No false claims, no stories to declaim.
No pretentious wisdom, no poor philosophies.
No insightful analysis, no blind remiss.
No powerful principles, no meek cries,
A plain simple poem; read it as it is
before it dies.
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 10:25 AM UTC
Dear dancer,
behold
a much-belated birthday gift,
an elegy, apology.
I drove 3000 miles west last week
pursuing every single sunset
the way I once chased after you
and... I'm sorry.
Dear dancer, you are a tree.
How wrong to think your shade was made for me.
Leaves and blooming branches
stretched towards the sky,
floating petals dancing in the
wayward air,
roots deep beneath the grassy earth...
How wrong to think your shade was made for me.
To me
you'll always be the dancer,
ballerina, book lover,
pirouettes and paper cuts
and piano strings.
I'm sure you make them sing like
symphonies.
To me,
you'll always have your place,
framed against sunsets,
nostalgic memories.
To me,
you'll always have that blushing grin.
Sometimes I'll imagine you in coffee shops,
and I still have that mason jar of ocean sand.
Dear dancer,
I'd be remiss if I didn't give you thanks.
You may not know,
but
you saved me from depression.
You saved me from myself.
You showed me what it's like
to smile,
to smile from the heart,
and you taught me freedom once again.
Here it is,
an elegy, apology,
one last poem for you.
Happy birthday, dear dancer.
Happy birthday.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 9:23 PM UTC
Promise me
Forever;
Lie with intent
To love eternity.
Feign the strength of
A god,
Hold the weakness of
A mortal.
Never let “love” slip
From this deep caress;
Not a glance be remiss
From the touch of affection.
Let our souls portray
Light, in the darkness.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 11:27 PM UTC
I carry you on my lips, which can’t recover
from the wounds made by the sweet venom
of the taste of yours, when one thing or another
is trying their bond to riven.
But my conscience seem to hover,
in those moments we discover
own banned corner of heaven.
I carry you in my arms, when a pale ray of sun
teases us through the window,
from the whole world, we are remiss
and our joys merged into one.
With your hands around my waist:
a new day has just begun
and life dissolve its liquer of bliss
in my mornin coffee’s taste.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 3:40 AM UTC
Today I reached for you
With a kind of virtue
And sincerity pressed behind
the design on my lips
Little realizing I was still reviling
Within my current remiss
I went and sinned again darlin'
There's little to do for recompense,
and so cordially I professed to you
all of my candid truths
With every intent
To avoid becoming uncouth
and elusive
Because... I do miss you
And I suppose I well knew...
You don't feel the same
I could feel it the instant you responded
Not the least bit concerned
Which was well deserved
Leaving me completely despondent
I need you to remind me
Just how lost my heart has become
And what that has cost anyone
Trying to reach for me
When I become undone
Somewhere in between
the real desire to reignite whatever fire
had transpired between us
With a new flame
Lay my hidden ulterior motive
Even I believed we would achieve
Something constructive
Yet my devious mind
Deceived even myself
To harness this abject,
self-destructive desire
Call me by my real names:
Heartless.
Narcissist.
Liar.
Coward.
Creep.
Thief of catharsis.
Remind me of the same feeling
Delivered in your own unique way
Because I can't stand
To let myself ever forget again
This pain in my chest
Is everything to remain
It's all I have left
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 3:46 PM UTC
For my mate Ernest W who cared....
Invisible in silky strands, a gossamer of lethal thought,
Drifting through the nether regions, touching on my mind.
Complication’s vagaries encroaching on the circumspect
Magnifying well beyond solutions I can find.
Nervous in the groundswell now, I feel it all inflating,
Inflating to a curtaining beyond my self control,
Waves of peristalsis in a shrill persistant keening,
Locking out the sanity in holding logic’s goal.
Waves of peristalsis in a bath of perspiration
Panic in a rupture at the coccyx of my spine,
Ravenously eating at the fabric of all reason
Ravenously gnawing at this rationale of mine.
***** in a puddle on the floor beside my footwear
Cloying is the stench of the ***** in my drawers,
Lost are the vestiges of any thought of decency
Gone is the differentiation in my flaws.
Clenching of hands in a bind of blue confusion
Catatonic slowness in arresting the decline,
Vaccilating eyeballs are rolling for the camera
And utter desolation is a flavour on my mind.
Why be concerned with the shaming of tomorrow?
Why come to terms with the maunderings of late?
Why face the music of the mirth and derision
When there’s a more practical direction to take?
Glide to the realm of the smooth overflowing
Slide in the slipstream oblivion makes,
Slip the bonds of your sad mortal tenure’s
Awful array of destructive mistakes.
Glide to the realm of serene independence
Glide far away from the troubled and hard,
Gone to the gossamer web of the ether
Gone to the nether world’s silky facade.
*...........: But what's the guts Courageous,
You happy with your deed?
Are your friends all overjoyed
To see your suicide succeed?
Is your family unaffected
By the loss and guilt remorse,
Your sudden grand departure
leaving kids without recourse?
Did you think about the aftermath?
The chaos and the pain
And the long term implications
Of your shattered families' shame?
The guilt within your partners heart,
The kids who are confused
And the ****** dissapointment
Of your mates.. who feel abused?
The mess you left behind you
And the tangled web you wove
And the bruising of good memories
For which, you once,...had strove.
Your painless, quick demise, you thought,
Released you from all this.....
But the sadness in the silent eyes
Condemns you as remiss.*
Marshalg
In an effort to understand why?
....And explain why not !
9 December 2010
Read more: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/suicide-12/#ixzz17kzvfsTk
Dec 10, 2010
Dec 10, 2010 at 2:09 PM UTC