"resourceful" poems
Artistic
Respectful
Intelligent
Avantgarde
Empathic
Moving
Intense
Loving
Youthful
Sporty
Preppy
Emotional
Nice
Caring
Eccentric
Resourceful
Happy
Adamant
Natural
Naughty
Aware
Alive
Learning
Isolated
Scared
Original
Naive
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 2:25 PM UTC
You're just a tiny bit minimalist in your own unique way
a white star I have to squint to see in daytime sky
not a Mercedes five point but a Nissan Micra car
you park neatly in a three point turn by my netsuke
and put a circular dent on my platonic furniture
Your two humble rooms devoid of any bold sculpture
except a fold-out table and a miniature bubble chair
and a futon for a bed which is troublesome to share
you draw the line at adornments but allow a wallflower
A bulb in a bowl is your ornamental garden feature
mealtimes a nibble on grated carrot celery cucumber
you run so long on empty you're an eco friendly teacher
stretching out the energy is a passion of my lover
engaging in lessons on sustaining a resourceful nature
Your shoes two pointe ballet slip ons easy to care
barely there g-string thin cotton underwear
nothing loud to upset your understated figure
slight as a pin drop your bottom's semi-derrière
sits so light on feet I'd swear you float on air
I rarely get to hear you come before you're in my hair
with a voice pitch high as a smitten kitten's purr
your upper reaches get a score sized single 'A'
nice when it fits into our schemes of feng shui
I carry your bundle home on the roadway rivers of light
yet you only burn one ray of candle power at night
born of scintillating atoms which flow along each vein
containing so much love without clutter in your frame
a brave star small as wings formed of minuscule wire
flutters in your eyes with minimal flare
but deep desire
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
before the world i stand as woman, African queen
exotic beauty, strong, tough and resourceful
there in lies the damest of all that bind me to a cruel fate
"Africa, the birth place of mankind"
her daughters, slaughtered,mutilated and, raised to feel inferior
relaxers, skin lighting cream, weaves, wigs, diets
raised by western thinkers, propaganda splashed on the soap box
forced to work for the rich and powerful plastic people
forced watered down music
i dream of a world lead by African queen's
confident in there velvet cream skin
loving afro hair
swagging there bustyness with pride
no more selling our bodies for west
taking pride in being different
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 3:58 PM UTC
**
A new poetry posting site from God's own country, Kerala in India
Poetry dates all the way back to the beginnings of Humanity. People have always been questioning nature, and the day-to-day existence of themselves and other humans love, death, survival, war, injustice, and the universe are all examples of things that have been questioned by men and woman since the roots of human existence. Whether in nursery rhyme, ballad, jingle, rhyme, anthem, or music, people have found poetry to be an outlet for expressing these questions, sensations, and experiences
People often associate it with strict rhyming patterns, complicated vocabulary, hidden iconic meanings, and difficult rhythmical conventions. Poetry is even taught in school to be an intricate, complicated, inexplicable puzzle. True, poetry is difficult. Sure, it can be harder to understand than prose. However, that is only because sometimes it is involved with your inescapable complexities
and uncertainties of your existence.
In this era when the soul wants to go on a spree, imagination and creativity are all merged to serve and let you fulfill your wish to express. The pen, mightier than the sword, is free and can conquer hearts all over the world. So here is a site which allows unity in diversity and considers not cultural and racial barriers. It welcomes professionals and amateurs equally as poetry believe not in prejudice. Human beings are free to write their feelings and emotions. We therefore invite here people from all over the world to celebrate under the ipoetree. Feel at home here under the shade of this tree which
pines to have as fruits your poems.
Williamsji Maveli (Williams George Maveli) is an enthusiastic and solid writer. He is a sincere, resourceful and diligent in his poetic work. He is very well connected and networked within the literary community and is willing to take up projects even in his tight schedules. His writings reflect the amount of research on the current events that has gone into it along with his knowledge and expertise in the field. However, Williamsji’s many poems are simple to read, interpret, and understand. His latest book, titled “ARAMVIRALTHUMBATHU…” (On the tip of the sixth finger), is now published and released by H & C Books,Trichur, Kerala in India, which is a collection of lyrics.
If anyone is interested, please email to [email protected] or write to
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
PO BOX 3
ANGAMALY
ERNAKULAM DISTRICT,
KERALA - INDIA
**
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
Capricorn the sea goat
Equal parts earth and water
Emotions rush over like waves;
quickly they consume like undertow,
dragged into depths of melancholy abyss
Determined, we persevere as if nothing is amiss
Climbing back atop the mountain in spite of such turmoil,
we bury our feelings in the cool dark soil
Though sometimes we get stuck in the mud
so we wait until it turns to clay
Aiming to build solid foundation without delay,
forming structure is our forte
We’re quite resourceful, I must say!
Sure, Saturn’s influence is rough;
repaying karmic debts can make life feel so fatalistic
It's why we can’t help being so tough;
these unexpressed emotions make us want to go ballistic...
Just always remember it’s all humbling at the end of the day
Such lessons are important for doing whatever we may
Really, we wouldn’t have it any other way
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
Pizza--the only I want to poor my feelings onto
Because when I think of its filling capacity--
Its carb-heavy, fat drenched, and sugary-savory goodness--
I honor the people who continue the artisinal craft.
Pizza--it's the food for all hungers.
It fills you with energy when you're high,
Just after a win with a cheery, rowdy gang of five.
It's the traditional topping on the pie.
Pizza--All and everything, when the time calls.
When the emptiness cannot be filled,
Let it be filled with years of associations.
All in good company, Pizza, my best friend.
So I met a new person today--quiet and resourceful,
She was counting her inventory,
Solving a problem set or learning a new trick.
I barged in while she put aside her life for mine.
She said, "What may you have, sir?"
"A medium with pepperoni," I said, "and linguica, please".
That was all that's said as she carried on her fees.
"That'll be $18.05," and a shot of guilt charged me.
Pizza, though poor my feelings how expensive the taste!
When, just then, she collected the money
The pizza was all too simply done and I was on my way.
I was the one left, saying, " Well, enjoy your weekend!"
But as I drove and the pizza aromatized,
Neither she nor I were free from capitalized.
A self-disciplined pizza artist, stripped of her dough,
Like the boy who made chocolate with a molinillo.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 2:40 AM UTC
T ough resourceful,
I ntelligent and admirable
F ound face first in the pages of books
F reeing herself from the cages of the world.
A spired writer with pent emotions
N egligence of vent
Y onder is her ability to write for fear it may
come to light
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 5:50 AM UTC
Read, watched, Listened for snippets
Wore the buttons,
Devoured anything…
Apartheid
Had my own personal
Bedroom Revolution...
Jumped high…In place… with the best of them
Little balled up fists…
Pumping…
Chanted the chants
Sang the song
Freeee-ee Nelson Mandelaaaa
Freeee-ee Nelson Mandelaaaa
And I meant it!
Oh My God I meant it from my
young revolutionary soul
Cried adolescent girl cries
For our South African brothers and sisters
All of the martyrs
Known and unknown
STOP APARTHIED!
STOP APARTHIED!
Free Nelson Mandela!!
To this very day
I love me some Nelson Mandela
Love the man he is
Mourn the man he was
Big Fine Educated Pugilistic
African
Man
Passionate
Compassionate
On that serious mission
Who, though technically still breathing upon his release, in reality
Gave his life
To promote the cessation of
An idea more merciless even than the Rwandan genocide
In that Death
Seldom came quickly
A system more sadistic even than the African Slave Trade
In that it was not based economically
Therefore ALL the
“Kaffers”
Could be maimed or die
And it wouldn’t cost a thing…
Monetarily speaking
A society wherein
Each Black death
Someone’s Job… or
Someone’s Entertainment
Every atrocity’s purpose to serve only to
Douse fuel on the already
Brightly burning fire of
Hate and torture and hate
I love Nelson Mandela
For making like David
And having the *****
To take on the Goliath
Apartheid
Satan is creative
His minions resourceful
We will never know the indignities;
Can only imagine the violations
My Nelson was forced to endure
Imprisoned for 27 years
I love
Nelson Mandela
For having the strength
To keep living
When so many others couldn’t
Still able to put
One
In front of
The other
Albeit gingerly
But still locomoting
Out of hell
On his own two feet…
That alone makes him a hero
To me
In my heart he will always be
The
Big
Fine
Educated
Pugilistic
Passionate
Compassionate
Hero
That the young revolutionary in me
sings about…
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 6:29 PM UTC
My own person is healthy and courageous. My own person is self-aware and emotionally intelligent. He is growth-oriented, resourceful and positive.
My own person is supportive, thoughtful, kind and empathetic. My own person is ready to take accountability, communicate and work through things even when the going gets rough.
My own person desires to make me happy, chooses me and shows up for me. He is sure about me and healthily obsessed with me. My own person encourages and lifts me up when I’m at a low point.
My own person does not disappear when I need him. My own person protects me. He knows how to introspect, reflect and has a desire to be better.
My own person does not make me feel small or irrelevant. My own person is a secure place where I can feel at home. My own person is expressive. He is a source of light when I am in a dark place.
My own person is as sure about me as the sun rises and sets without our asking, with certainty; regardless of the weather, timezone or location.
May 5, 2023
May 5, 2023 at 4:33 PM UTC
You see Diogenes living in the slums. He lives in a barrel. This is the man even Alexander the Great admires. So it makes you wonder about Diogenes.
So you pretend to be there quite by accident and you ask: “Diogenes…Who was your teacher?”
“A mouse was my teacher,” says Diogenes.
You are quite confused. And you say: "A mouse is your teacher? And how is that, Diogenes? "
“Well, most exquisite Sir,” says Diogenes to you. “Most cultured Sir,” he says. “I had no home and I was in the streets. I almost killed myself. Then I saw mouse. Mouse ran around and looked for food and it found some and I observed mouse for over two days. And I realized how resourceful mouse was. And then I said to myself: ‘Learn of the mouse, Diogenes- and all will be well.’ And so I learned of mouse. And every time I have a problem, I simply ask myself: ‘How will mouse solve this?’ And so mouse became my teacher. And now, most Exquisite Sir, I have a problem. You. I want to get rid of you and I ask myself: ‘How would mouse solve this problem?’ He would bite…”
You listen to this and you are afraid – and you run. And Diogenes has done well; he has learned well from his teacher. And you can hear him shouting to you: “By the way, who was your teacher?”
Oct 7, 2010
Oct 7, 2010 at 7:05 PM UTC
Glitters and red meters
givers and received perceivers
usher the gift of illusionary display
vision all the aspects of reality
Signal the surreal posts on trees
yank and spotlight my dreams
walk and split the glass panels
wagon us from societal ice
Glitters and red masks
course every vein of our being
pour the red wine and misplace
protrude every nautical sense
Read my palm, contact the wizard
grab my sight, take me to the moon
contactless,eventful and tasteful
contactless, easy and resourceful
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 4:49 AM UTC
Strike, Strike, Strike
The multitude of voices having might
These were Union Workers shedding some light
It was the Brotherhood Union of any Local being powerful
The Union Workers are all resourceful
They are working at a large industrial plant
Management wants to roll back wages and reduce health care
Now all that is simply not fair
The Union said No and told management to come up with a better deal
The Union Workers shouted “Is Management for real?”
Management was truly for real on their agenda
So strike was in as Worker’s march
The clock balanced as if it was an arch
Shouts went on
Brotherhood Union together in multitude strong
The Union and Management just couldn’t get along
Timing didn’t seem right
But the Union Workers were determined to shake up management being excite
After all, survival is establishing a cost of living deal, and why should Union Worker’s be polite?
Chant was “Union Worker’s Talent Skills but Management is functioning as if they are on a pill”
Now Management brought in contract workers to fill in
This strike could continue until then
However, the contract workers have no knowledge and experience in what the job entails
The aftermath, they all will fail
So management is at a loss without the Union Workers
But the question being, how long could this strike last?
It all depends in management doing the right thing
So until management sees the light
Union Workers will continue the fight
Two days had passed
Negotiations came fast
Union Worker’s ratified a new contract offering improvements to wages and health care
Management had choicer then to be fair
So the Union contract was signed and put into place
Union Workers returned back to work
The strike brought awareness
Management simply was out done
Union workers stuck together being among.
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 1:32 PM UTC
Simply, a flower cannot blossom without sunlight and water.
So be resourceful, make decisions for yourself, and plan how and when you want to bloom.
And who you want beside you when you do.
Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 9:32 AM UTC
I have fought hard with Anxiety
Having been swung between
Two spheres of moods
One of melancholy and the other
Of excited elated optimism
Between the two
I would exhaust myself
Day and Night
And to deal with my emotions
Was no easy task
I would cry and weep
I would feel down
And blame myself
I would apologize
For being thus
I was not in my element
I tell
When I am fresh
I feel I have lagged behind
Due to missing things while at low
It has been one sad plight
For me to have come thus far
I am still hopeful of a day
When I have overcome
These swinging moods
I hope to keep a positive
Spirit that enables me
To act constructively
When I can't be constructive
I would just start affirm
That I am more
Than I think I am
Then I start
To work like I have been
Able bodied and able minded
Sitting here
jotting down makes it all come
to view. Affirm and believe
that is what i do now
to be better each day
I am responsible
I am reliable
I ma resourceful
I am resilient
i am healthy; i am lucky ; i am virtuous; i am organized
I feel the energy when I say these
I act different when I say these
I have faith surging into my veins
From somewhere or nowhere
I create, I cook, I clean, I write,
I eat, I make tea, I feed my family
I pray, I meditate, I am not overwhelmed
i am a wonderful person
When I affirm
I can live with this person
She is good to me
She thinks highly of me
She attracts nice friends to her
She is just pleasant to be around
She is someone I could love forever
She is my friend and hero
She is my superstar and confidant
She is all I need to keep me
Close to the Creator
I love her
I love me
I love the positive me
I love the quiet me
I love the peaceful me
I love the loving me
I love the lovable me
i love all that she could be
I love all that she gave up for me
I love her day and night
I love being with her all my life
I need noone but her
I need nothing but her love
I need nothing but her assurance
I need only her
She and I
We are one and the same
We play and plan together
We are best friends
We create our good times
We are the joy of the world
We are the gift to the world
Together we conquer
Together we let go
Together we enjoy the ocean
Together we go places
Together we are I and myself
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 7:57 PM UTC
now, ladies and gentlemen,
as you can plainly see
I am quite adroit and learned
and this lady quite occupied
I am, let me make it clear,
extremely preoccupied
keeping this lady warm and happy
as she in her turn does ditto for me
Now whether we please ourselves missionary
or front to front
is really no business of yours -
but it’s purely and ****** our business and pleasure
So, most lovely ladies and resourceful gentlemen
you must find yourself a different room each
and leave me to fiddle or ****** as I wish
O shame on you ladies -
do you not lure your men
far enough into your depths?
O shame on you men -
do you not come hard enough on your women?
go you now and find each a body
and go spiritual, ****** or *****
have no guilt, enjoy abandon
love as you wish -
but really, you busybodies,
it’s time for you to relinquish pretense of surprise
and depart from here, and
leave one body busy with the other
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 7:52 AM UTC
This brown buff speckled throstle of a bird sits in the higher most branches of a yet to be leafed poplar tree . . . and sings. Such a song in the April morning air it greets the day, celebrates the rising sun. Above a suburban street the bird’s song catches the reverberation of a double row of houses, their windows bouncing sonic reflections of unaccompanied melismata.
Olivier Messiaen loved this bird for its répétition égale. Walking the mountain woods around his summer home he would wonder that the grive musicienne could make so exactly repetition after repetition of a complex phrase. A proto-minimalist perhaps? The male mistle thrush appears in several ***** works but most prominently in Saint Francois d'Assis singing luminously on the clarinet.
Although this is the ungregarious male singing away on this spring morning his name carries a female designation Turdus Philomelos. Poor Philomel, whose name means one who loved song, she was a princess of Athens lusted after by King Tereus who took her to a cottage in distant woods and ***** her. Then, he cut out her tongue.
Vengeful Philomel alone in the woods, but a most resourceful and artistic young woman, she set about weaving a tapestry that told all.
*‘She set up a Tracian loom
And wove on a white fabric scarlet symbols
That told in detail what had happened to her*.’
She sent the finished piece to Tereus who promptly ordered Philomel's death and that of her sisters (one of whom he was married to). As the girls were about to be slain they were changed magically into three birds . .
Joanna Laurens play The Three Birds takes the only fragment we have of Sophocles telling of this strange tale. Laurens is both musician and linguist and the text is a marvel of strange sounds and rhythms as the sisters communicate with each other in their personal private language akin, it is said, to Jersiese, an ancient Breton dialect.
So thank you dear song thrush for this morning's wonder: a song sans pariel.
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 12:52 AM UTC
I think yesterday is years away;
Between one and the other,
Between fathers and brothers.
So sisters and mothers
Blink feathery at their watches.
Hums like a hummingbird
Flails to a shrillness,
And a polyphonic fearing panic
Pulls us all back by chance
To the chancery.
Somewhere after grandfathers
Before grandsons,
Like Robert Frost being a modern
Not modernist—
There’s the last of the conceivable eros—
Conceived by sleeping
Resource and resourceful
Poverty with all the impressionism
of the gardens and allegories
at a dinner party.
Mar 22, 2011
Mar 22, 2011 at 1:49 PM UTC
If you have nothing to say
resourceful or respectful.
Then kindly keep your trap
closed or end up in one
Nov 25, 2022
Nov 25, 2022 at 1:46 PM UTC
you know Poet Archetypal -
everything about him
was Poe-tickle
When he sneezed
he said: Haiku!
When introduced
to someone, he'd say:
"Haven't we met-a-phor?"
He's quite resourceful
like he'd introduced himself to the girl
because he wanted to meter
When he took his leave he'd say:
"Love to stay - but it's getting a-lliter-ate"
And sure he met Luke Skywalker
and said to him: "Met-a-phors with you"
It was fun having him around
but lately he's been in prison
for driving without poetic license;
and also because his creditors pursued him
because he just Ode so much
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
aromatic coffee awakens senses
midst the gestured warmth of radiant
smiles's 'tween morning brew,
reverently paused to catch
the awe inspiring poignancy
of sunrise's exhilaration,
whilst cozily wrapped in the delightful unfurl
of captivating poetry's skillful delectation
a rising ritual begun many blue moons afore,
tempting consciousness, feeding soulfulness
enlightening sensibilities as it
enriches the day's appreciation
'pon the keen awareness of poets,
tempests from all niches of the world
coming together amid upheavals and serenity,
ceremoniously dubbed fierce confirmations
of words expressly borne, communing the
artfully spirited of resourceful artisans,
procuring special collective bonds that
only poesy can wholly dictate,
they look upon us as enigmas
rather strange breed of puzzling characters,
as this inexplicable endeavor
escapes their stifled perceptions
of conduit's musing reasonable facsimile,
we're merely cognitive passages for
experiences on common ground
in realizations of all-too-human foibles
eccentricities, yearnings and fortitude,
released deliverance of potpourri
serving up inky joy beyond expression,
intention's distinction deciphering
reflections in meditative affirmations,
breadth of unrestrained beholden visions
conjured notions of paramount significance
wherein lies evidence of life's burnt offerings,
beginnings and endings of hearts' indulgences
wept in resolute celebrations of existence
as only a poet could discernibly translate
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
Did you happen to notice
That last year Santa's sleigh
Was missing an important
Figure, by the way?
Let's see: Comet and *****
Along with Cupid and Prancer
Were there, and so were Donner,
Dasher, Blitzen, and Dancer.
Which reindeer was missing?
Rudolph? Ah, you guessed it.
The news was out there, but
The media had suppressed it.
(Because of frequent fog,
Santa was being sensible
In counting on dear Rudolph,
Who had become indispensable.)
It all started like this:
On the morning of Christmas Eve,
Rudolph was tired from having
Been on the qui vive
For sneaky present robbers
All the previous night.
By noon, poor ol' Rudolph
Looked a sorry sight.
To perk himself up a bit--
The "where" is still unclear--
He dipped into a little
Too much Christmas "cheer."
Now I don't know about you,
But Rudolph's nose would flicker
Whenever he drank wine
Or any other liquor.
When the team of reindeer
Lined up, Santa could tell
That sleigh-guiding Rudolph
Wasn't doing so well.
Needless to say, Santa
Really got a whiff
When he approached his friend
And took a little sniff.
"I can tell, dear Rudolph,
That you've been making merry.
Did you turn your eggnog
Into a Tom and Jerry?"
"I think--hiccup!--a little,"
Said Rudolph with a blush.
"Go to bed," said Santa.
"We are in a rush."
That night Santa was forced--
Although he felt remorseful--
To use toys with lights
To guide him. How resourceful!
So last year if the batteries
To your toys were run down,
Causing disappointment
And many a tear and frown,
Don't feel so sad.
They went to a good cause:
They helped to distribute
Gifts from Santa Claus.
Regarding this year, I
Don't want to keep you guessin':
Rudolph's back in service.
I think he learned his lesson.
But some say Santa's considering--
Despite objections and moans--
Future gift deliveries
With the use of Amazon's drones.
- by Bob B
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
Needed someone to love
someone to hold,
someone to fall for
Couldn't I have told
You, that I wasn't cold
Out of my mold
I could not crowl
Just a little bold
That's what I needed to be, lord
To confront the world
No treasure, silver or gold
Too young, I wasn't that old
To take consideration,
And of your love behold
The world distorting your peace
Your true self I could not uphold
Couldn't you have managed to hold
Hold onto me through madness and massacre
How could I have believed
We had no enemies
When all I saw was war
Our chances were rigged
Our chances were not ours to deal
Our places were not opportune
Our cards were long fortold
We held onto the unattainable
We fell to the struggle from within
We were fighting hard to rebuild
What had already failed,
Thinking the helpless
Could reverse their inevitable fall
In the questions, desperation, and pondering
No catharsis, no purging, avails
All the true revelations are lost
Only un-resourceful quiescence stalls
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 10:06 PM UTC
Well it was Tarquin's idea, actually.
It came to him after watching 'Slumdog Millionaire.'
Have you seen it? Marvellous film.
Such resourceful people.
Anyway, we were looking at schools,
and the local comprehensive -
simply ghastly - we couldn't put Eugene through that.
But two blocks away
there's a school for the blind.
Ofsted simply raved about it.
So, we popped the old eyes out
- easy as
- and Bob's your uncle.
He starts in August.
More tea?
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 9:22 AM UTC
How funny it is that when you describe a girl you call her pretty, call her beautiful, call her gorgeous.
Our girls grow up with the only compliments they receive to be ones remarking their bodies and yet we wonder why we can't get them to eat.
They grow up believing wither consciously or unconscious they are judges by the bodies.
That the size of their jeans is their caste.
That if they aren't pretty they are nothing.
Our little girls slather on the makeup and step into their heels smile till the corners of their mouths crack as if life was a beauty pageant and success and happiness were prizes to be won.
When you describe a boy you call his strong, call him tough, call him powerful.
Put the weight of the world in his hands and hope he can handle it.
Our men lead the way and our girls follow.
Why when you see a girl you never call her intelligent, call her resourceful, call her powerful.
Imagine a world where little girls weren't just bodies.
They were the daughters of destiny and the friends of fate.
They could do anything, and they were told that from the second they could listen.
Imagine if our girls could look past their bodies, could pus aside shame and hate and learn to love the vessels.
Imagine if our girls were powerful.
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 3:09 AM UTC
Finally made it to where I want to be but now I need to change my goal
Build up on what I've started make the quest more challenging
I get bored and need more inspiration to be more I don't settle
I don't friend anyone unless they are resourceful
I need to grow develop into the person I'm meant to be
Hard work pays off so don't give up things have shifted in my direction
All I ever needed was a fighting chance to become who I see myself being
Focused on what matters my health
Achieving goals not settling proving them wrong
Bettering my image moving up at work
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 1:59 AM UTC