"sheol" poems
Like a male monkey you rises up
And thumps hard your chest-it is you and you only!
O Man! You forgets, who you are and what you are is Nature’s
She generously gives and she avariciously takes-
Just a few chances she is giving you to repent before she ruthlessly returns
She is a sharp, doubled edged sword-merciful and merciless!
Man, Humanity is not hostility: Humanity is humility!
Like Sheol that is never satisfied you want to swallow the whole world
Like death you want to take everything, big-small-you want to stomach all
Everything you want to keep to yourself, to be to your entitlements
You take and leave nothing at all for the harmless hopeless-the voiceless
Yet you easily forgets, when the angel of death calls it’s only you and your soul in burials
Your ill amassed pride, wealth and health is not with you anywhere in this your brutal trials
Man, Humanity is not gullibility: Humanity is generosity!
O man! O man! You fills the whole world with mortality
You have killed the sole essence of the soul’s endless immortality
With your undignified dishonesty, your free-will to filthy immorality
War you begins wealthy to get-war is a supernormal profiting business
Man, Humanity souls has never been subjects to severity but sanctity!
Innocent-as little as little children-you murders-they were inevitable!
Common civilians’ deaths are collateral damages-inescapable!
You forgets who you are-you are a little loaned, little you returns for judgment
Here no allies to look after your backs, no cracks to corruption kickbacks-
It is the fairest of all hearings, a ***** for a ***** it is not for a big spoon!
Man, Humanity is not ignobility: Humanity is dignity!
What you are given to govern you governs not
What you are given to take care of you pilfers all
For you and your lineages eternal legacies-the richest ever to have graced the earth!
Yet you forgets, Master a little while returns to put you to a rigorous account
And whoever much is given-that much is also expected, what will be your report?
Man, Humanity is not royalty: Humanity is loyalty!
Humanity is a community, not a sorority of individuality!
Humanity is not infidelity: Humanity is honesty
Humanity is not how wealthy: Humanity is how a loyal legacy
Humanity is not how large is your multinationals entity:
Humanity is how huge is your small heart-its hospitality
Humanity is a humble history, a saintly story!
© Kìùra Kabiri. All rights reserved.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 1:23 AM UTC
At the money table, Cain and Abel, Abraham and Isaac,
And neither one cares how you’ll pay as long as it is not a check,
Brassy appendages obversely curl to abruptly angular truncated legs-upon-his-lek,
And the proof of who he represents hangs weightily about his Plouton neck,
See the cotton-wafer stacks shuffled as bricks in rows to the translucent deck,
The waiver now giving its woe whence once wished-for upon the Great Molech?
Mr. crooked hook-nose at his compose will take on any bet,
As Sheol will have it, many lament, being in his debt,
A Canaan cursed and tribal descendant, the relative of Set.
For with misery and suffering well you get what you beget!
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 3:42 PM UTC
Taking place where you calumniate
with hidden mask behind interface
An embolism hidden behind your lines
Where a falsetto lies your charm
How you create isobaric pressure degradation between your monodical screaming mee-mee's
Creator of sheol , abode of the dead poets
So supine in way and thought
Where will your Valhalla be
You valetudinarian
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Caluminate - to utter maliciously false statements .
Interface - a shared boundary across
embolism - a swelling of a blood vessel due to blockage
isobaric pressure degradation - lines drawn on a weather map marking increasing or decreasing air pressure
Sheol - the place of the dead
supine - failure to act due to moral weakness
Valhalla - Norse hall of God's where slain hero's are received
valetudinarian - one who shows unduly concern for their health
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
Confessing to God I am a sinner
LORD, every steps I take, I commit a sin.
Every word I speak, I commit a sin.
Every thoughts in my mind, I commit a sin.
I repent, I sin again.
A thousand times I have failed
Yet, so merciful is The Lord,
*“ For great is Your mercy towards me,
And You have delivered my soul from the depths of Sheol”*
Each steps I take, i commit a sin.
I am so weak, still Jesus loves me.
*“For sin shall not have dominion over you,
For you are not under law but under grace.”*
Each word I speak, i commit a sin.
I am so weak, still Jesus loves me.
*“For when we were still without strength,
In due time Christ died for the ungodly.”*
So now, I take an oath.
*“Surely my lips shall not speak unrighteousness,
Neither shall my tongue utter deceit.”*
*“Therefore my heart rejoiced,
And my tongue was glad;”*
Each thoughts in my mind, i commit a sin.
I am so weak, still Jesus loves me.
I kneel before You and praise You,
*"For we know that the law is spiritual,
but i am carnal, sold under sin."*
Confessing to the Lord I am a sinner.
“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”
But now I am saved through Christ our Lord.
For “whoever calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.”
*“Blessed is the man who trusts in You!”
“Blessed be the Lord forevermore!
Amen and Amen”*
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 7:27 AM UTC
Muggy murky dawn clogged with gloom the abbey
Where his grampy sleeps ,
Through
the drizzles fizzle
As native orchids embosoms and blossoms in his lost vault.
like a curfew drawn in the church
The pew lost its crowd
With the paws of time.
Lone man sleep
In deep latin chants they petrify you
Before sheol purifies you
And litany literature lecture limbs you
When in overprotected embankments of battlements
They dry their garbs
Where your lore forayed growth
And sweat smeared smelt breathed wealth
Chagrin dreams washed ashore
lay as upon a cold mornings recollection on a tabloids sold column
which drew your freckles bolder
In a savour of remembrance
For your zealous zealots
Who on an another 'all souls day' reoccur revisiting
the truth of their establishment
in prayers
The good Lord adorn you
Let Lekker dreams cradle you
Your consorts concert never consume you
And earth never haunt you
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 1:47 AM UTC
Reflective intercessions
With my Rabbi teaching me lessons.
Thinking about my undeserved blessings
How at times I stumble
And is it not humble .
When I think my living is impressive
Ponder my past push play in my perspective
How can I see a mirror and just be partially reflective.
Guess its the fact that I see my body and think I have grown.
I should look into my optics..
The windows to my soul.
There are only two options
Serve God or Sheol
Deep down I know..
Life and death.
The truth is real don't suppress it
Now check the lyrical expression..
Satan is waiting
Anxiously anticipating
For me to fall he loves corrupting Gods creation..
He wants me big headed feeling myself like ************
While he eating my soul, mastication
But to Jesus my life shows dedication
Walking with God I don't identify with procrastination..
Yet time passes...
And how do I hold God close..
Attacked by worldly passions
Time is hand and hand with deaths approach..
Control fate like when we crush crawling a roach
Its cool to be a man's man
But if Christ was one, would there have been holes in his hands
Cause clearly it was in line with Gods plan..
Holding on to what is cool its like holding on to sand ....
Pointless ...
Nevertheless..
I am giving it my best...
Reflective moments only partial when I am looking at flesh
God is using me
Satan wants to abuse me..
Entice me with demonic opportunities
Like have *** with that chick with the big *****
Challenges but I am not stupid
No I am not stooping
To a level below Gods standard
Reflective to see if I'm walking in Gods planning
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 10:32 AM UTC
Sheol (/ˈʃiːoʊl/ SHEE-ohl, /-əl/; Hebrew: שְׁאוֹל Šəʾōl) in the Hebrew Bible, is a place of darkness to which all the dead go, both the righteous and the unrighteous, regardless of the moral choices made in life, a place of stillness and darkness cut off from life and from God.[1] The inhabitants of Sheol are the "shades" (rephaim), entities without personality or strength.
Dec 13, 2021
Dec 13, 2021 at 4:55 AM UTC
The good verb “conn”
supersedes nounsies that say much the same
they leave their mark
and their stain.
organelles are found in living cells
but bacteria is barely surviving -
gasping, respire, respiring
god will swallow death as sure as sheol
still,
the microbes must thrive
one sloppy, the other ill
a slender hand of steel
excites it,
like the splendor of redwood mounted on peach
a cleavage emerges (causing a **** to swell)
increasing her capacity for desire
a seeker of truth now bound for duluth?
caught in an ice floe
preoccupied by the last degree
pulling shoals
of distance below,
the south pole is now our goal,
we land on land beyond sea
and space
where a wise man plays fool
to a young girl's angel face -
as an aside: he likes her
but she is not attracted to men or goys,
scattering the cremains
of
a nobody's boy
(a boy we tried to revive many a time)
into a river where the river never ends
he remains
sinking into darkness,
adrift in a pit
of lips of labrum
down the chosen depths
of the frozen abyss of Tehom
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 9:30 PM UTC
Devious legions lurking in broad daylight,
fiercely wandering like they always do;
preying on willing souls for centuries,
luring them by offering fantasies
But ****** are they—young Wormwood and Screwtape—
until men start slaughtering each other
for tacos; flesh and blood jump to Sheol.
Apr 12, 2022
Apr 12, 2022 at 8:32 PM UTC
Fashioned by grace amazing and mercy
Divine. Wrought by his unparalleled Passion:
His suffering, death and resurrection--
The cross of Christ in Calvary
Is the lone bridge, the only ladder
That reconnects man to his Maker.
No one who has traversed
That Golgotha-link hath ever
Fall'n into the deep r'ver
Of hell 'neath, nor by damnation
Touched in Satan's condemnation.
"Hey, what about so-and-so prophet,"
Said one, "and such-and-such sect?"
I do not, sir, over religion quibble.
Compare to grave matters--trifle.
Get books and the Bible. It's futile,
Argument, making a sage an imbecile.
And why lose friends to gain foes,
Multiplying instead one's woes?
God doth not any man in life compel.
Each soul chooses 'tween heaven and hell.
Yet his love daily he whispers to you
And i. College cobber, that is true.
"Oh, you are just a pedestrian
Writer, without wits and sans brain,
Like an *Onitsha-market author."
"Thou art also a paltry poet, a bad bard.
Folks should simply thy collections discard.
For i can nought make of thy poetry ethos.
Your works wherefore are but bathos."
Hallelujah!!
Praise i Jehovah!
"Hell. Away now thou pedantry."
Thanks for your commentary--
It's heavenly--erudite Professor.
Faith ferments finer than wine.
Thy decision it is with whom to dine.
The self-righteous, the holier-than-
Thou art, who prefers to leap
Over to God on his on major merit
Will always go under the heap--
Thinking he can close the chasm
Created by sin,
And cover the gulf caused by transgression
By ritualistic rules and doctrinal devotion,
But ends up in some bedlam--
In Sheol's loony bin.
Broad are the twain heaven's arms
Filled with warmth and soothing balm
Often open to embrace prodigal souls.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
On a special night,
your vocal cords held tight
by my steady thumbs.
White to pink
pink to blood red roses
with cruel black spider stems.
Fair princess pinned
beneath my weight,
god-snap rage
flickering flame
darkness regained.
A restless hateful kiss.
Thorn adorned displeasure.
My love is
your shredded flesh.
Love me like you should,
beauty filled morbid beast.
With honey
from the dragon’s skull
I cover your ******
Let’s attend to death’s
cruel whisper
in the valley of Sheol.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 3:11 PM UTC
i.
In sheol, I lifted mine view atop me; wherein the cave was a dreary scene, fixture's and antique beam's screamed of the hopelessness in this sump.
ii.
A preternatural shimmer, bursted this chthonic picture; the demon's betwixt me and her hunched. Her brigandine of Filipino shine, yoked into mine synapse.
iii.
Mine carrion shook, into the nook's, she slipped me through sheol's crack's. The earth above, I was taken up to, seeing all, I felt a calm, from this seraphim of tribal awe.
iv.
She saidst " Brandon ive come, to giveth thee mine protection " I felt a rush of her touch; direct ressurection. I healed instantaneously, as mine soul finally found it's other half.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication/Filipino rose
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 5:58 PM UTC
Secrets of Wysteria flow in the vessels of my brain
And so I do not hear, nor comprehend the calling of my thought’s train
Vowing to never be held again in constrain
Eradicating the rotten fingers pointing to my disdain
Muses of bruises, callouses, and roses
Excuses the clueless, hung in ruin’s nooses
Flagitious tongue sharpens itself with sprawling centipedes
Rusted teeth from perilous mandibles bleed as it feeds
On the oozing, ****** veins of the wicked ****** as it pleads
Maybe these are too much for one’s avaricious needs?
Mindful, careful, piercing the syringe of refrain on plump flesh
Yeuking as the substance flows on blood so raw and fresh
Amid all, the past and future gather in Sheol’s pavilion
But missing is the presence of present in emblazing vermillion
Yet fleetly missed as the siren descanted her composition
Somber statues of ivory pretense witness with volition
Saints and snakes tear each other’s throats in a languish cotillion.
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 8:15 AM UTC
I am nothing but a silent darkness,
Unheard and unseen, I wish to never return
Even when I leave, there's nothing to feel
Even then, I leave with no joy or glee;
I've been existing in Sheol alone,
The place of unjudged and abandoned,
Even God doesn't shine his light here,
I have been praying into the void;
No matter how or why I move,
I'm always where I was,
I am both Sisyphus and Hades,
The condemned and the executioner;
One fine day, the weight will do it's duty,
The human form is delightfully mortal,
The comedy finally completed,
Sheol will be empty and judged.
Jan 16, 2024
Jan 16, 2024 at 8:48 AM UTC
On a Sunday morn he by the
Holy Ghost power arose, the third
day from the merciless Sheol--
the Saint who for the sinners died,
when he was cruelly crucified,
that Friday noon on Calvary's cross,
to redeem many a perishing soul.
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 7:56 AM UTC
Shh, hush my love let your heart be calm, your troubles lay at my door,
I'll pick them up and carry them a while and let you dream once more.
Close your eyes my blessed one, rest your troubled soul, for the morrow comes 'ere we know and I am bound for Sheol.
I'll need your strength, and your sweet caress, your love and hope and smile.
So rest your troubled heaving breast, and let me walk this mile.
You've tarried long in this task assumed blithely to be your labor,
Unknown to most a burden such they'd not carry for life nor favor,
Yet stand I ready to assume the task, at least to help yield the Axe, and,
Send those tormenting souls to Perdition's shore.
I'll need your strength, and your sweet caress, your love and hope and smile.
So rest your troubled vacant breast, and let me walk this mile.
Like rivers deep with hidden tides, currents of pain and woe, flow on in life and bring new strife for those who do not know.
Yet in their midst we walk aside the filthy and fetid sots
who spew forth words without a clue why on the floor see dark spots.
Yes our blood runs hot coursing through our veins, our fists like Gordian knots
(a stab a slice, the pain focuses - feels nice).
I'll need your strength, and your sweet caress, your love and hope and smile.
So rest your troubled wounded breast, and let me walk this mile.
We raise our arm, Claymores held high, as if to claim our right - but yet, it is for naught,
For our lives once thought to our own are wrought as though they're one.
And though we're tossed into the night that brings a chill unto the soul,
We sing our song of hope and praise like Silas, Paul, of old -
and watch;
As shackles cold as the hearts of men - fall like dust onto the dung below.
I'll need your strength, and your sweet caress, your love and hope and smile.
So rest your troubled wearied breast, and let me walk this mile.
We rise from ashes like that gilded bird aflame with an heavenly fire
and surrounded by a host of wings, lay down our swords of ire.
For peace, like dew from the God above is sent to quench our thirst,
a word is given that fills our souls as if they could burst!
Yea love unfettered, unbound and unknown - for us and all who hear.
Love, given freely now, peace...no more tears.
Yes, I need your strength, your sweet caress, your love and hope and smile.
Now rest, my love, your nurturing breast, and let me walk this mile.
All rights reserved-Copyright 2014 Gerald T. Hollingsworth
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
When creating masterpieces,
artists do not hesitate
to smear their bodies
with paint and clay.
So also God,
when He had decided to make me
stooped to the ground He had made
and smeared Himself
with clay.
Same God,
when I bowed to corruption,
stooped to the ground,
and smeared Himself
with blood.
Oh how could the Immortal
put on mortality for my sake and yours?
how could the All Powerful,
for a man so little
humble Himself so much?
But He would not forbear
to see His child in Sheol
And He would not suffer
His holy one to see corruption.
He smeared Himself with clay-- my weakness,
that I may put on His Strength.
And He smeared Himself with blood -- my sin,
that I may become His Righteousness.
He broke the bars of death
that I may be delivered from the grave:
This is My God!
And He is Mighty to Save.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 5:59 PM UTC
Myths die in the mist of time
a legend will be lost within ancient script
parchments will no longer hold it's name
written in a forgotten tongue
so many jars filled with sand
grains without number
are as the centuries that will pass
before it has a remembering.
Memories of it's misfortune will be as a fleeting dream
the myth rose from the barren mute land
bleeding out a fiery history
telling the death of the innocents
and as it finally takes to the earth
and eon will pass for the blind land
it's last breath is death itself.
Sheol is where it resides
and in hades it finds it's resting place
no grass will take root nor tendril will take hold
the air a noxious fume
barren blind mute wastelands
there will be no consolation or solace
for the ground
for it will suffer along with its residents evil.
And as the centuries pass
a time will unfold
where all that have lived
will have been lost
and an unlikely soul will whisper
his eyes alight
*"Let this time be past
let this be a time for all that find need
for all that have want
to rejoice
the time is now
for a new remembering"*
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 5:54 AM UTC
Try along these sacks for proof of feral merriment,
in stilled eyes and on carnal graves. All whose rotting
limbs are well studied in 'ologies of human squander-
Red with laughter, plucked with all caving souls and
anger. Gasping, so, with lewd amusement of the dead
in jest.
Muspelhiem froths forth with cold hearts, lusting of
mortal slaughter. I've seen the men whose vial looks a
barrel‒ whose foaming mouths, birthed-stillborn of
Sheol and all it's unebbing horrors, can't restrain the
joy of culling. Hate creation‒ worship crude insemination,
ravished toward the making of wilful immolation.
But what casket of pleasant delirium, brings deaths to
child's eyes‒ no wars of misfortune must be ******
of a playful kind. Hecatombs, artistic as day‒ homes
like Tophet for children to play. But whose poison
to **** me sooner, under Black Suns and darkened
hearts, as Lucifer capers down the burrow.
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 4:32 PM UTC
Seven is the sum, of the Seals upon a Scroll [1]
First one's about to break...comes a rider from Sheol [2]
-
On a white horse he does ride, conquering the world
Round about him shines a bow [2], and his flag of "peace" unfurled [3]
-
A grievous wound unto his head, he had in days gone by [4]
The grievous wound is healed [5], but he is blind in his right eye [6]
-
Ten Kings arise to follow him, but only for one hour [7]
They give their strength unto the Beast, all their strength and all their power
-
Forty months plus two, the Beast will have his way [8]
Unto his image you must bow...many many he will slay [9]
-
Another Rider on horse, on a horse that's VERY white [10]
Comes with all his Army, with the Beast they're going to fight
-
The Beast is thrown alive, into a Lake of Fire [11]
Forever there he'll burn, with every other liar
[1] Rev 5:1
[2] Rev 6:2
[3] Dan 8:25
[4] Nov 22, 63
[5] Rev 13:3
[6] Zech 11:17
[7] Rev 17:12
[8] Rev 13:5
[9] Rev 6:9
[10] Rev 19:11
[11] Rev 19:20
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC
Silhouettes and shadows
live in your mind
there is no colour
just porous charcoals
swallowed into the void
where the darkness seeps inside
the night is long and dark
and the silence stretches on
for an eternity
Corridors of sorrow
each door opens to the next
closets wide and full
where your misery hangs
a new suit for everyday
you talk in an undertone
muting all supplication
whispering no forgiveness
I am forever in torment
And here lies the devastation
from a time long past
and there is blood on the walls
blood on your hands
you enjoy it's colour
holding it up to the light
it tastes like mine
screams of sadness
echos of tears
shadows of time
if you would only but abandon me
for I am not here
and the shadows..
they are not mine
not mine I tell you
not my shadows
not my blood
please.. don't let them be mine
they cannot be mine...
but they are
I beg of you
let me be
unbind me from your dreams
open your eyes
and see
So silently I lay
among the eggshells
the barbed wire
and the books of memories
but I beg of you
if you would only but unwrite me
then I will be on my way
I will never look back..
I promise
Searching for a way out
I know that I have died
I know it now
I feel my death
it is in the air
my love
but a festering corpse
my laughter
tolls the end of time
my happiness
an unmarked grave
I lay in Sheol
and in hades you have lain me
but I do not sleep
This is where I reside
and I cannot escape your oblivion
the cage of torment
that you keep me in
you are easily amused
please hear me
just one more time
if you would only but forget me
and let me truly be dead
please
just let me be
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 7:40 AM UTC
How.. Do I reciprocate
your efforts to delineate
my weakness, when you,
time and time again,
pretend to
arbitrate?
Remember?
December drove me deftly down destruction's path.
The hours passed.
Unfeeling recollection would sustain my wrath
again.
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 12:47 AM UTC
Things that worry me
Is my vision steadily deteriorating?
I look at the iPhone screen in the dark with my glasses off
Is that enough?
Or must I factor in the harsh light from my lap top screen
And the screen on my Kindle HD-X
I will even on occasion watch the television screen
And a movie once every two or three months
But all those I wear my glasses for
It's mainly the iPhone at night I am concerned about
Like I'm doing right now
Let me tell you the truth
My cynicism has evolved into a meaner beast
There aren't too many people I want to get to know past "thanks for the money
God bless" and if you think I really care if God blesses you why then you haven't been paying attention
I can't seem to muster up a smidgen of compassion for anyone
It's been so long since I felt that special kind of affection for anyone
And though it's true that people are typically getting dumber much faster than they're wising up
I'd say it's a wonder we worry about it at all
Or is it all in my head?
Is the Ambien invading entire sections of my brain, one by one, the ones not totally massacred and eradicated by the last ten years onslaught with marijuana of various properties and potencies
I suppose I should level a fare share of the blame on the Great Communicator THC
BUT I'm not a lost cause
Not yet
Not today, I made it through the day
Tomorrow isn't quaranteed
And as far as you know
I'm just the quiet guy in the market
Not a word for anyone he runs into
Nope
Not a word
Thank God for the self -checkout
I may ***** you, it's true
But I'm harmless
Unless attacked
Then I'm a ******* raging inferno
Blessed with precision
I will drag you into my hell
And you will know what it's like to be me
Walking cloud nine in the pits of Sheol
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 1:21 AM UTC
I've mud on my face,
Dripping from my eyes,
The tears of the Earth,
Shed as the Earth dies.
I've fire on my cheeks,
Burning off my skin,
I've become the flames,
Of the Hell we're in.
Aug 12, 2021
Aug 12, 2021 at 10:51 AM UTC
In particular, we know that in the early morning hours,
there were breakfast, especially in the early hours
of the American Sheol, Hell, July, and Blue. Women are a gate
and star it. George Kaff Cake in Africa. A whirlwind
from the wall and Elijah's breeze to walk. People
are limiting the genes if they do not want to learn.
Music and Asia, Barbie's Unknown Song of Peace
Jelly & Security, Amelia Jack Vednian's Language
A Woman's Name, A Nightclub In the course of a bedtime,
Electus Brain and decision's image reading Into babies,
angels, fields, Mexican love, and the business can open In the West, particularly in New Warning and Red Colors or the BEAC,
in contrast to Satan's universal method of spreading,
it is possible to understand, understand, and understand
the concept of war once and for all. And is the capital city
and the ashes of a pure and clean soil. Extremely intense heat.
The revolution is deadly and does not have a license.
It is at least two in the world who is the sun,
most of all in Australia. NSIVM Royale, Lauren (Spain)
for gifts, Tahanan are good for their nets Oora (Patricia
Casa Blanca,
100-100 Brazil, Lauren) - 100; Angola, Brazil,
Japan Loren From France, Chavchavadze, Patrick Hill,
and Los Angeles Leader Refugees: Australia, Japan, |
Hong Kong, Paris, Brazil, Canada, Brazil, France,
Egypt, USA, Canada, Italy, Taiwan, Australia
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 2:47 PM UTC