"schultz" poems
Charles Schulz brought us Charlie Brown,
Who rarely smiled, joked, or sang.
A troubled soul—always down,
He hung out with the Peanuts Gang.
Lucy, Patty, Sally, Linus,
Snoopy—the whole nerdy clan
Tried to cheer ole Charlie up;
But sadly it was all in vain.
Life has many a Charlie Brown,
We see them come as well as go.
For, as in Schulz's masterpiece,
We tend, somehow, to love them so.
Too, we try our hand at luck,
Tryin' to cheer ole Charlie up.
-Walterrean Salley
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 2:52 AM UTC
We are the boys who go out and party, and get into trouble, oh yeah we're bad
You see I went to the club to watch a really cool band
For starters it took a while to start and when it did
I was the only one dancing, you see I was the only cool one there
And I went to the Brumbies and I yelled when they dropped the ball
Saying we stink we stink we stink
Then after that we went to an old house in Wanniassa
And I knocked on the door and this lady answered and said
How are you little cool dude, I am the evil white witch of Canberra
Who are you, you fine gentlemen, who are you
I said I am Brian Allan, and I am the head cool boy here in Canberra
The evil white witch said, not for long, I have Mark Marlor and Brendan Schultz
Both captured in my den in the backyard, yes it looks like a chicken coop
And I want you too, because mate, you are a little brat who hangs around witch's houses
I tried to escape, but the witch before my eyes, zapped me in chains in the den
With Mark and Brendan, and this was going to be doom for us
The white witch wanted to feed us, because he wanted us to fatten up
For the big feast, which was in about 2 weeks from now
And these three Canberra kids are the Canberra kids who will bring peace to the city
For the centenary, yes the white witch was sitting in her chair saying I have the cool kids
Mark, Brendan and Brian were saying, we are the boys who go out and party
And get into trouble. Oh yeah we're bad, cause we end up being chained in an evil white witch's backyard den, and we are by all means doomed
The witch came down to the den and said, have you boys gained fat yet
You 3 can no longer be muscle boys, cause you are my prisoners
I have you forever, kiddies
The white witch made sure that Brendan,Mark and Brian were securely chained in so tightly, and then went on a little walk around Canberra trying to find more Canberra crowd kids to catch, and he walked past the Duffy shops and the white witch saw Luke Salvorg who was. Under 12 for Weston Creek and he was riding his bike down tbe road, and yes, like all sports boy, he thought he was never going to be kidnapped, because he was too loud and too fit, but the white witch waved her arms and suddenly Luke found himself in the witch's den chained up, he was scared and Mark Marlor, who knew him, said, we must eat, because we are going to be the food at a dinner party, you see we all are kidnapped by an evil white witch, and don't worry she only wants boys, because boys are tough
You see, we are the boys who go out to party and get into trouble, oh yeah, we're bad, cause we end up being chained in an evil white witch's backyard den, Luke said please mummy rescue me, please, and I want you to do it now
Sent from my iPhone
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 8:47 PM UTC
Looking back at photos of Christmases past.
An action shot of my youngest boy,
testing out his new hula hoop.
I can see my mother’s feet.
She’s sitting in her chair,
watching what must’ve felt
like the magic of the day
unfolding before her very eyes.
And, it was magic.
For a while her pain had subsided,
her knees didn’t hurt,
and she simply enjoyed her small,
nucleus, family as we unwrapped
the wonders laid out before us.
Her shoes,
the ones she deemed the most comfortable,
were yellow and black little tennies.
I called them her bumblebee shoes.
And, there they are in the bottom left corner of these last three photos.
Now, she’s gone.
Somewhere, around the corner, we say.
To the other side, we say.
But, she’s always near, we say.
And,
as I think of her now,
I imagine her as a drawing,
a cartoon,
like something that Bill Watterson
might have drawn up.
Bumblebee shoes,
looking a little bit like dinner rolls,
(That’s how Schultz described Watterson’s drawing of Calvin’s feet.)
her capri jeans,
showing her little birdie-like ankles,
and her comfy, orange Kool-aid Man shirt.
(I still have it.)
She’s still a bit wobbly,
unsteady on her feet,
but she’s doing okay.
So am I.
(Angela too.)
So’s Pops.
So are her grandkids.
We miss her.
And,
this Christmas is different,
that’s for sure.
But,
she walks into my thoughts,
coming from the kitchen of my memories,
carrying a cup of coffee
or
a plate of something wonderful for me to taste.
And, she’s always wearing her bumblebee shoes.
***
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications 2018
Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 10:31 AM UTC
Marcy Shultz was a typist.
She typed and typed the day through
but never wrote a single thing.
Each morning she would drink her coffee
with a sunken ring at the base of the mug.
It was her good luck charm,
an assurance that at one point in one moment
someone had truly, honestly cared.
At noon she would salsa with the air,
knowing **** well that she would later devour it.
But the air knew nothing,
Thought nothing, just stood there.
Air is naïve, and she was alone.
At night she would shower with the blinds open
figuring if someone looked, someone cared.
But nobody ever looked, and Marcy never blushed.
She'd type little tales on her little laptop.
Typed little stories of little couples
walking dogs
kissing in park benches
laughing at rude jokes
eating tiramisu in little cafés
weaving stories of passers-by
carving initials in wood
waking up in the dead of night
to hear the rhythm of the other's breathing
before
holding each other's hands
and whispering softly in the light of the full moon
flooding in like spilt milk from the cracked window
saying,
"We are together now
and if a moment like this is happening,
then a moment apart is only imaginary."
Then,
always,
always,
always,
The little couples would make love.
Their moans bled through the window
like timeless cries over the milky moon.
The cats in the alley would circle about the songs
echoing loud from the little couple's little love.
Then always, always, always with frustration
Marcy Schultz would toss the tales and go to bed
and the couples would live on in crumpled paper.
Apr 14, 2012
Apr 14, 2012 at 9:36 PM UTC
I've traveled for an eternity searching for the light that I have lost many years ago, stumbling and crawling within the escapees of darkness I've learned that the my essence of purity has always been close by but as my blindness of acceptance caresses me I find it difficult to maintain what was once my light.
I stand beside you and continually ask of you to answer me as I wonder how you are able to love through all your past turmoil.
Can you be so kind to offer up to me an explanation of my departing beauty, why do I feel so alone when I am surrounded by hearts that can still display their elegance of life, why do you turn away from me what have I done.
This is how I'll now become my secluded misfortune.
The emancipation of my bottled up wretchedness will soon prove to mankind that all I have ever been is the guide for all to enter the light but as of now I will patiently pace the floor of the world.
I am now a guest in your arms.
Written By: Christopher M. Schultz
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC
I can sing The Animals poorly to my son a million times and he will never understand what that song does to my heart
I wrote a song once he calls it The Ocean Takes Her and loves it
Asks me to sing it **** near every night
Nothing like making your son smile with the memory of your great heart break
It’s strange to make up meanings to my tattoos when customers ask why I have them
The boss says I can’t tell people about my depression and familial disappointment
So I make up stories about this one time I met Charles Schultz’s wife
People seem satisfied with my made up answer to their polite conversation question
I have lost lovers
To this day I still can’t figure out where I put them
I mean I’ve checked under all the couch cushions
My door is never locked
I know she knows where I live
It’s just that she left her key on the counter
And I don’t want a locked door to be the reason
I mean aside from the whole other life she’s living now
I spend hours watching compilation YouTube videos of the best The Voice Blind Auditions for other countries
You know, The Voice UK, The Voice Thailand, The Voice Sweden
I do this exclusively when I should sleeping
like the 2-4 o’clock hours of the still last nights
I can’t tell if I really like them
Or if they are just entertaining enough to keep my mind occupied
I guess if I make it through the night it doesn’t matter which
The older I get the more I relate to Charles Bukowski
Not the poet, of course, the man
The broken
The bitter
The lost
The never found
I could never write a poem gritty enough for the punk rock crowd
My sadness isn’t gritty
It’s sad
My stomach is 73% beer at this point
But I don’t often get drunk any more
I just forget to *** in the mornings
I really should clean this house
There’s no telling when she might get here
But before I let you go
I can never really tell if the her in my poems
Is one of the ones that have already broken my heart
Or the one I’m still searching for
Sometimes I give you too much credit
But I always know when it’s you,
You’re the only one I call you
The rest are just her
Bye now
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 3:19 AM UTC
schulz' gang
spins klutzy comical
situations, worthy
of syndication
for its contribution
in the funnies section
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 10:47 PM UTC
The emotions that were created to please have taken a plunge into the misinformed vision, you have become drained as your actions have placed a negative perception on who you are and what you show, displacing the strategy of your intentions on the light somehow became dark after your selfish temptation started taking control, now the abandonment of love crushes the very dream you had wished for.
Within the time of this creation of false reality you have become blind to what is true, now all you can do is focus on the path in which you have traveled, with this hellish outcome in the open I have come crawling on my knees begging myself for an explanation of why I embraced the fool within, I have taken in the pain, yes the feeling is of being lost inside.
No one to turn to
No one to run to
No one to hold on to when times of penetrating caress form within you.
I despise these decisions.
The one of destruction took away from you, the one thing that would keep you wrapped up inside the arms of security.
Change has to come, indefinitely, this decision will overrule the wrong.
The torture makes no sense.
I lower my head in disbelief.
Written By: Christopher M. Schultz
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 1:01 PM UTC
Remembering
Drive-in
Take a dive
Bungee
jumping
Marathon Race or
Dodge me poker face
Jerry Lewis
all laughs Wild cheeks
Her homemade fudge
Can pick up
anyone's desire weeks
The dodge brake
Oh! Please me
For Heaven sake
A love big mistake
Reincarnation______*
Dodge leaks life stinks
Hail the plumber
As fast as Mary blinks
Jim Carey on
dumber To abuse the
Hummer
BMW the beamer
Rejoice
The car oil
leaks purple
((That Dodge Divorce))
Here's Joyce
to drink Saturday
Night Johnny
Drenched her thirst
((Snapple))
Tire flat as a
Pancakes
I Hop mouth racer
A-D-D American
Donald Duck
Starbucks any luck
Robin knew
the CEO
Howard Schultz
in Canarsie
Babalu skip (LOU)
Dodge Star dipper
car racer (D) cup
Flags her down
Like a homemade fudge
The 50's antique cars
The Preacher can melt
your brain
The homemade fudge
Was dripping
He auctions car collection
Affection her imported cars
with fudge ice cream
the seventies
Disco All straight long hair
In the middle
His beard so gritty
Topsy car Turvy
Curve your car
Enthusiasm
Cars and Coffee
The Comedians
Became naughty
Mothers beach house
Homemade
fudge
Could win
over
and melt
any Judge
Dante' Dodge battery
Mesmerized switch
Her eyes like fudge
Regardless
the forties
or fifties
Sorority college
Dodge authority
the twenties is not
a Priority yippee
We can do what we want
The computer Hippie
Emails hot fudge
((Those Viruses
Minds))
Whatsoever
Please with a
but in between
Innocently
sweet
Alabama
Miss Charlotte
Sweet Carolina
What could
ever be finer
Then molasses
Then we age we
are linked
into chains
on our neck
with glasses
The competition
Move quickly
the dodge right in
Time for the fifties
roller skating
My Prospect Park
me ice-skating
Too many people
heavily mating
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 3:18 PM UTC
Squandering the touch of blind innocence, the irrational yet captivating sight of knowledge will now lay within your hands, please do not punish for she is all I have, the stain of torturous emotions have covered her mind and body in scars unseen, will you finally replace the one whom is its creator.
I find myself wanting to disappear as these visions embrace me so, the unknown has become quite clear to me, they will only leave upon death, apologies have went disregarded, as they have experienced those words before, actions become faint.
I see that I have drove you mad, communication has been deflected, now I will take the wheel to your soul, tears, tears, tears, in the hollowness of your hiding spaces I will be there to catch you, once more the flames will rise, the chosen side is wanting you.
I turn my head as they stare and mock me, their eyes are to piercing for my look any further, their movement, empty.
Considering all that is lost and forgotten I will try not to fall without finding someone to please.
Written By: Christopher M. Schultz
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 12:09 PM UTC
As the unveiling rivalry of our souls naked collision commences we will surely admit to one another that this is where we belong, a marvelous existence we are as we enter into harmony and join together as one grand explosion, the ones watching will feel envy but they will also know that the potential they poses is just as ours.
It sure is stunning isn't it this beauty I have announced, now I will direct you into the fire but I will be there with you, punishment can not be hidden, the explanation of your beliefs are now evaporated.
You have guessed it my friend, you are no different then I.
I am your fear.
I am your heart.
I am your love.
I am your exit.
I will be patiently waiting in the dark as I conceal my light.
You may not find me because you are me.
Written By: Christopher M. Schultz
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 9:49 AM UTC
The struggle and defeat of our unimaginable obstacles, on many level intolerable as others will never understand, for our union can only be explained by this all consuming reunion of souls in love.
You have been touched by the light that you have selfishly ignored for far to long now, compromise is a necessity no more, purity is the only path needed to follow, it is now time for you to prepare for your homecoming.
As the silver lining is described formalities are laid to rest, rest in peace darkness my old unfaithful friend, the scapegoat is released from its cage, watch now as I perform a miracle.
I am me.
The show is over.
A fictional existence is a spiritual death.
Written By: Christopher M. Schultz
I live on.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC
Horrendous failure will only occur if I turn my back on the reasoning of wanting to show you euphoria, you've not become evacuated from my mecca of creation.
I've only come to show you that my willingness to learn who you are is forever a drive that will never vanish from my heart, you've been pronounced my friend of travel.
So closely we've balanced our happiness on the line of capture, no more will the company of exposure advance our purity into the aphotic of our entity, soaring doubtlessly.
Written by: Christopher M. Schultz
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC
Sergeant Schultz Saw Everything
This sad world needs another Sergeant Schultz
That merry miles ponderosus who
Carried his rifle like a walking stick
And celebrated strudel instead of glory
His innocent joy repudiated
The burning-soul *********** of war
In seeing nothing he saw everything
Through ordinary men living in hope
The liturgy of daily happiness -
This sad world needs another Sergeant Schultz
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 8:03 PM UTC
Turn the page, can you see that the pages have been erased, my shivering turns into screams, my heart pounds for instant gratification, I've found the lonely, I've found the love, instantaneously I fall to my knees.
Confrontation in front of my mere reflections, yes the faces are many, entertainment has rediscovered the hollow.
The weight of disorganization, I follow you as I catch a fading smile, don't turn to me wanting comfort, an execution of inheritance is long overdue.
Drifting into a flurry of cascading thoughts, my unsung influence is closely analyzed but you will be the one witnessing the unfortunate, establishing the quest is the ending to mistreatment.
Now back into the tunnel, a constant visual of the agony of my children, the purity of spirituality begins to cry.
Talent is not a description, the true pain of it all is feeling it all.
Written By: Christopher M. Schultz
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
Excuse me as I lift your brow….
The stairs in front of me beckon me so persuasively to travel them and to follow them down to where they will lead me to the enviable, but I stay silent and motionless knowing of what I have selfishly created, for my surprise arrival they will impatiently wait to embrace.
The oddly welcoming gates to the hellish arena are opened, only now will I truly be revealed to thyself, the spoiling of a warrior is over, now you stand tall and alone as I watch over you with a slouched posture of overwhelming weight, the guardians I sent to you as gifts you have abused, you have become weakened with each failed acknowledgement of love.
Playtime is over, your earthly experience is soon be closed off to you, and you thought humanity was painful my child, you will now see karmas reflection while the pain you carry into battle is of the wounded ones you have so blindingly hurt, spiritually crushing is watching you create your own ending.
Denial of your reason will destroy your moment in the outcome.
Written By: Christopher M. Schultz
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC
Searching the valleys and peaks of this world, I've come across a vision so pure and yet so passive that the love streams from every pore of my being, can you embrace the positive as I close in to welcome you to my heart, feeling faint and cluttered with compassionate togetherness, I feel myself becoming more open to accepting the journey of love.
Empowering the foundation that holds steady before us we begin to open one an-others eyes, for this is why my tears of happiness continues to tare down the walls of my own disguise, involving the purification of combining those who can hold onto the light is an experience that I've once grasped.
Now and forever, I feel home again.
Without darkness
Without deception
Within my spirit, my wings are soon to spread.
Written By: Christopher M. Schultz
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 7:46 PM UTC
So my Lawnmower Repair Guy...
The wind that blows
Is all that anyone knows
-Henry David Thoreau
And is the man all right? Nobody knows
And my lawnmower is hidden behind a fence
A chain-link fence, among mowers in rows
The owner lost a gunfight; he was taken hence
And what about the mowers? Nobody knows
And is the man all right? Nobody knows
UPS has left notes; the door is locked
There is no sound of man or machine
No one has answered when customers knocked
Only the guard-dogs (yep, they’re really mean)
And is the man all right? Nobody knows
Sergeant Schultz at the cop-shop - she knows nothink
She’s busy with her personal smartphone
Her eyes are fixed; they do not move or blink
And I am all alone in The Twilight Zone
And is the man all right? Nobody knows
So what really happened? Nobody knows
And is the man all right? Nobody knows
So who can I contact? Nobody knows
And is the man all right? Nobody knows
Only the wind...
Aug 14, 2019
Aug 14, 2019 at 3:54 PM UTC
My posture offers security, looking into your experience I begin fearing the tears becoming formed, I do know now that I must evacuate the sorrow from our souls, I am not the creation of beauty, mercy is forgotten, will you trust me, not to fumble the importance of our desired conception, I will survey what has been promised.
Did you really think you could slip on by, oh no my blinded fool, now let me introduce to you the law of unattainable knowledge.
I can dance with your fear.
Watch me and I will show the you all an amazingly enlightening moment of a substantial dream.
Umm, I must tell you that I am no longer the one of pain, don't dismiss the feeling your having right now, I have begun the forgiveness of my journey, the moisture of a fluttering eye, yes this is me.
I am forgiven by the unknown, but I will I ever wake from this one of jailed souls.
I will release you as I fall.
The visitation of hell has been written
My spirit aches, you the one of fallen tears I must turn away from but always understand that all of our tribulations are required for our source of grief.
You will now embrace your greatness.
Written By: Christopher M. Schultz
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 10:49 AM UTC
Time is winding down, all excuses are laughed at and as we try to stand and relieve ourselves from our faulty ways the whip once again is cracked, you created the hurting heart and yet you insist at unrealistically showing anger, now as you drown in your on mistakes it seems that change will always go unnoticed, you followed the false, I sit back and giggle at your misfortune, the pawn you are.
Show to me the blank page I seek, I must rewrite the past for I will always shed the blood of the innocent if I continue to lower my head in shame, how will time exist if I can only dwell on my negligence to conform to the beauty of love.
My eyes fill with the disappointment.
My heart beats uncontrollably with every action of pain.
My soul has become hidden as these moments are cast upon me.
Self-destruction is my own.
Will I ever emerge from this shallow shell of pity.
Don't come to me wanting me to fix your deceptions and hatred, I for once will stand back and let you fall, now as I extend my hand out to you know that the willing can be drawn back to the hollow if your heart remains locked away.
Watching you fail to recognize the purity shows to me that my purpose is coming to a close.
An infant spirit can be cunning but at the same time can also be controlled and manipulated quite easily if it is allowed to do so, the smell of fire is always evident that you are near me.
I shiver alone in the occupied darkness and announce to all that yes I am afraid.
Written By: Christopher M. Schultz
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 2:06 PM UTC
The path becomes clear but as it comes more into focus I see myself fighting a refugee of time, watch me as I come as close as I can to the forces that enjoying winking at me, hello beautiful one come on in and have yourself a pleasant time with us for we have brought with us many teary eyed moments that will collapse around themselves, succulently sufficient are the words that are being pulled from my mouth, I am no longer in control of this oblivious carnival, how do I begin to escape without unleashing more madness, the hollowed space which beckons me to stay I can not avoid for to long.
Step one, walk slowly into the shadows of love.
Step two, find your way through the unforgiving stares of blame.
Step three, release the mercy which you seek for yourself.
There is now enough time to run with no consequence but always be aware of the ones unseen, you know whom I speak of.
Following the steps provide will only lead you to the door that begs for your attention, will you reach out to open it or will you stand by its coldness, the choice however is not yours, hold close to your purity as I shove you into the blackened of separation, did I not tell you to be cautious, again your comprehension is short lived, I must now take full advantage of your missed opportunity to choose the light, the monster inside you has awoken, your ignorance of the purpose will now shift to a blind preparation that unfortunately for you comes to a halt.
The trusted of beauty has vanished.
The honorable souls are reclaimed as my own, they cannot be taken from me again, my army grows and grows therefore I offer you many thanks, you have provided me great assistance, and just imagine this, you never even knew what you were doing, deception of happiness was my only source to be the conqueror of what is called insanity by humanity, such an astonishing creation wouldn't you agree, the laughter becomes deafening.
I am ready to leave now.
Written By: Christopher M. Schultz
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 1:33 PM UTC
His back was slightly hunched, but not to the extent that a stranger would notice. His lip jutted forward, like an animal edging towards a precipice. He used his voice instrumentally. His clothes were generic. People would not remember him after a fleeting meeting, he was not regarded as a charismatic man. He was born in Gateshead, England, although his name was Schultz.
He entered the hotel with minimal fuss, neutrally. Schultz did everything with the air of a man who wished to leave no trace after him, unaware that he was being pursued and plans were in place to put an end to his existence. The youth at the reception desk, looked out of place, exceedingly handsome but in an androgynous way. It was very difficult to read the youth. He was all function. 'I have a reservation'' the youth opened his mouth to respond as the chandelier fell. The impact was fatal. A noteworthy end to a monotone man.
Nov 12, 2019
Nov 12, 2019 at 5:50 AM UTC
I notice that you are in the corner hidden from yourself, for I do not understand but I will direct you back into the comfort of your own beauty once again, suppressing yourself is no longer a burden, we'll become to form a spiritual rescue as your eyes are now forever closed.
This passionate figure whom has struggled as well will always produce the light in which you will follow, pain is nonexistent.
Our together gaze of one another's soul seems like something unlikely to be comprehended but with my pleasure I will take you under my wings and show you an eternal dance of immortality.
Ourselves hidden becomes us from now on, vanished.
Written By: Christopher M. Schultz
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 8:24 AM UTC
Do you believe those words that are presented to you or are you so clouded within the plot of mankind that your heart feels as if they have stolen it away, you are now allowed to cry but I promise this will be the last time, no more ruining of the reason of us all.
Have not we seen the children of prosperity cry long enough, you I cannot change but I am willing to offer you the light, the choice is yours my youth of time.
I am here for no particular reason.
I am here to close your hearts of humanity and to open the vessel of compassionate oneness.
There is a leader in us all, will you be my savior.
Written By: Christopher M. Schultz
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
The climatic revolt of this human cage is slowly disposed of as the gates are slowly opened, with my eyes sewn shut and my heart numb a new vision of supremacy is achieved, do not doubt its substance for in this moment you are saved.
Dramatically inherited are our misconstrued ways of approaching the disguised, in this circle of completion our souls become abundantly closer to where they began and as all words come forth in silence we will no more find discomfort in the brushing of emotions, you have found the disposal of filth.
I rely on the gasp of your last breath.
I rely on the delight of knowing that we will once again reunite.
The unknown and willing have suddenly become swathe together, you I will see the fear striking at a moments notice, but do not turn and walk away for if this is your choice you will have to travel this darkened path alone, I will look down upon you as your tears of regret begin pounding the ground below.
Your feet, consumed by sores.
Your heart, consumed by suspicion.
Your soul, ushered into the flames, this is when I am needed most.
Forsaken are the ways of a coward, you have now begun your decent into your own self-loathing, the steps to freedom are but a change of heart away.
You are welcome to rejuvenate your compassion.
Written By: Christopher M. Schultz
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 12:33 PM UTC