"tempers" poems
Age and Grace
Her steps were always slow;
Even in youth she swayed,
Walked with sultry composure
And seductive flow.
Like a heathen goddess,
She tempers movement with grace.
It was not done out of vanity,
But pleasure in the flowing stream of steps
That mark her pace.
The relaxed fulcrum of her hip
Tilts with undulations in the turf;
Her feet tread lightly with a claim
On the summer fields,
On the bending trees
Where beauty still abounds..
She savors the trailing of her skirt
Through unseen paths in drooping grass.
Until the evening mist accrues
From out the forest paths
Caressing her as she yields,
Until she and it are almost one.
Like Whistler’s “breath on a pane of glass”,
She bargains with nature,
Waning to become an aesthetic phantom.
She stops at a window and watches
With a sad smile, the warm light on life,
The laughter, talk and dancing grace
Of her children, who don’t yet know
The bittersweet taste of withered garlands.
Yet she accepts and passes into the dusk.
Now she executes a careful,
Battement fondu as her hands dip
To reach the soaking pods
Of next year’s summer flowers.
Every move must be planned,
To manage every hour.
For they are as precious now,
As her own days,
Fading into glory and reborn,
Into spring and youth’s careless riot.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 11:19 AM UTC
Shriveled & shrunken.
Intoxicated & drunken.
Hung over & agitated.
Mild to moderate brain activity.
Common sense & basic reason lacks mental ability.
Bad with money & squanders financial stability.
Passing a psychological mental health evaluation not quite.
Kept in a straight jacket & sedated in isolation they do spit & bite.
They go through everyone's trash day & night.
They panhandle at the street lights.
They have tempers & pick fights.
Nothing they do is legal or right.
Slobs with no jobs.
They lack work ethics.
The sight & stench of them is sick.
They're sad story is lies & tricks.
Not a truth that sticks.
They cuss & their pocked face oozes ****
Their frontal lobe is filled with dust.
About telling your teacher the truth they get homicidal & make a fuss.
They drive a piece of **** car consisting of smog & rust.
Getting arrested for 365 × 3 + 2 counts of child **** is never a bust.
Keep your children away from drunks.
Some drunks get violent, beat you & lock you on a trunk.
Most pedofiles & rapists are drinkers.
Not religious or moral thinkers.
With shingles, hpv virus, ****** & boyles.
Zero morals as hideous as an ugly *** gargoyle.
Enjoy arguing, screams & shouts.
Daily drunk driving & behind the wheel blackouts.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 10:51 PM UTC
Under the sheets of emotional armor,
A shy little girl masquerades as a martyr.
She’s the Queen of Deceit with her lies getting smarter,
While every tale told draws her self even farther
From finding out why she’s emotionally bothered
By all of the men in her life: like her father
Who only was trying the best for his daughter
And striving to be something more than a pauper
But coming up short. Who knows how much harder
He’d try if she wasn’t an argument starter?
The guilt and the shame from the family slaughter
Has made her insane and continues to bar her
From finding out just what the world has to offer.
Luckily she won’t have to be here much longer;
In fairy-tale land, there's nothing can harm her.
She suddenly finds herself all alone
With nobody’s thoughts to address but her own.
This is the time when she’d pick up the phone,
Demanding a savior to hear her bemoan
About all the problems that she’s ever known,
But what she doesn’t know is a friend can’t atone
For the lack of a man with his patience to loan
To a lost little girl whose bad temper is known.
All she needs is a strong one that doesn’t condone
All the treacherous lies and the hatred she’s shown.
It’s hard to deny all the reaping she’s sewn.
She’ll have to tread soft lest her cover is blown
And everyone finds out she still hasn’t grown
Through the hundreds of tempers and tantrums she’s thrown.
Hopefully soon she can bury the bone
And calm herself into a nostalgic zone
Where smiles and candles were filling her home
And love and affection were all that was loaned.
Enlightenment comes when you realize you’re prone
To the wrath of the heartache that comes with the throne.
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 8:07 AM UTC
That genuine smile of yours delicate and mild,
Can soothe senses and tempers gone wild.
A raging storm with ease you can calm,
That smile of yours is ever so warm.
It takes you only a few seconds to flex those ****** muscles,
To brighten the days of millions amongst all the hustle, bustle and tussles.
Your smile is so priceless and pure,
For it all pain one can endure.
It’s like the rays from a billion suns shining bright,
Dazzling and sparkling like the brightest light.
It gives that extra glow to your face,
Making everyone’s heart beat race.
It’s like the most pricey jewel one could admire,
Among millions it could spark a burning desire.
Every smile you pass is like a treasure,
Making the few lucky, millionaires for sure.
But when you frown in the saddest of ways,
It’s like the happiness in the world has gone out of gaze.
Dark clouds fill the overhead sky,
Rain starts pouring as the heavens begin to cry.
It’s like the world hits a note so low,
Their happiness takes that heavy blow.
An empty feeling fills the hearts of those,
Who once with your smile happily would rose.
So smile because the world smiles with you,
Cry and the world sobs with you too.
Times may get you down in life,
But don't give up the strife.
Don't let those pearls from your eyes fall,
For someone or something who wasn't worth it after all.
So keep smiling day in and day out,
And brighten the lives of those you move about...
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 12:57 PM UTC
In the question of reassurance.
The single solemn response cannot always end with one that causes
the most anxiety.
The involvement of social media, random dm's, the arrangement of severed ties mended with one thing in mind.
For these reasons insecurity deepens.
Eventually things fall apart.
It's not always about opening your mouth.
There are other ways to be vocal.
Silence becomes deafening.
Defeating the purpose of awareness.
Tempers quickly raise and often the things that aren't meant to be said come out.
Echoing the loudest.
Petty arguments, the excuses that lead us into the messages we're quick to hide.
Despite how much time we've invested, the easiest thing to do is walk away.
Anxiety becoming the fear that pushes us the furthest into ourselves.
It's not always easy.
Opening up,
vocalizing a single woe that begins the journey of a thousand,
if not more.
If forced, we too begin to shut down and contemplate the single best thing.
Being seen as selfish, self-centered.
Quick burst that justifies wrongful intent with one that's right.
It's all about support.
Care & understanding.
The saving grace that bonds the realization that either of us are perfect.
That there are deeper issues at hand that seep far beyond.
the way we see ourselves, whether we are too big.
Too small, the things we find often too late, said behind our back.
outside of everything else do you truly understand the quality of reassurance.
the equivalent to the moment everything seems to come crashing down.
The times any slight movement brings us down the most.
Equally we both seek the same.
The response reflects the moment.
To defy standard and move to something meaningful.
At a point, the question deserves an answer.
Going in one ear, quickly coming out the other.
To vocalize seemingly in one direction unless the role is reversed
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 9:41 AM UTC
Lights will flash
Tempers will stir
Beauty will dance
Days will blur
Until life ends.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
Solitude is a blessing, forced by a changed mind.
Reflection and analysis rule the quiet times, pondering.
The feeling of completeness overwhelming, enjoying.
Disconnected madness from the daily normal grind.
Lost in the maybe, envisioned joy supersedes reality.
Euphoric pleasure tempers the momentous soul.
Searching to re-establish the understanding of clarity.
Heart closes almost reluctantly, unexpected peace returns.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 6:59 PM UTC
Midsummer flutters in on butterfly wings.
Softly landing on the corolla leading to the petals.
Slow motion has been initiated by summer,
people, air, insects and life has slowed.
Summer doesn't rush, summer doesn't push.
Summer lazes in a haze of shimmering heat.
Only tempers get short during long summer nights.
Humid hate filled anger disrupts the slow tempo,
only to quickly dampen in the humid stultifying night heat.
Honeysuckle, jasmine, water lilies and evening primrose,
come out and soothe the moonlit summer night.
A breeze rises and soothes the weary mind.
Summer night blooms, in more ways than one,
moonlight shimmers like gossamer threads
down onto the flower beds, the flower's
fragrance fills the air, soothing, calming,
softly, sweetly filling summertime with cruel kindness.
Cruelty of heat the kindness of sweet flowers.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 9:17 AM UTC
Father is a verb.
- Let me explain:
Father's Day; and
Father Christmas
have tried to convince us,
but don't be fooled:
You can, may or will father,
depending on your mood.
For father is a verb.
It only works in the transitive;
you can't father alone,
only in relationship.
It doesn't resent hospital trips,
and offers wrap-around comfort
when a partnership splits.
It's touch-line volume
drowns out all rivals.
And belly laughs come standard
with jokes on recycle.
[insert joke here]
Yes, father is a verb.
It's something we each do,
despite the hour,
it drives right on through
the night when life’s gone sour.
It'll hammer ten finger nails
to get the job done.
It will dance, heedless of decorum
forgetting reputation.
It turns manliness
into awesome-men-ness,
It tempers strength
with a dose of gentleness, yes
father is a verb.
Be sure, whoever you are,
it works in the singular:
I can father;
You can father
(I'm not talking *** here;
that takes a partner.)
But also,
- it works in the plural -
we can father;
and they can father,
because, you see, in this village
it's an joint activity:
we father (and we mother)
collaboratively.
It works best in the present tense,
happening now, not "LATER!".
It can be said in a gentle voice
or something - even - quieter;
sometimes active:
directive, protecting;
but often responsive:
just sitting, listening;
...holding, and, hugging;
it responds to need, you see,
but works best proactively,
works great
sacrificially.
For example,
though it cost him dearly,
God Fathers us
and through us daily.
And one day, suit pressed,
He'll proudly walk
with the bride of Christ.
And as Father of the bride,
He'll host the party and blow the price;
(- BIGGEST - bar-bill - EVER)
And we'll be sure to save at least one dance
for Father.
Oh yes, you heard,
Father is a verb.
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 2:32 PM UTC
We sat,
******* the shreds
Of chicken
From our teeth,
In a cloud of smoke
From tempers flared
That burned to the quick.
The record spun,
The needle stuck
In the endless
Circle groove
At the disc's
Center, but
Neither of us
Moved.
We didn't change
The record,
We didn't
Shut the
Player off.
We sat,
And watched our
Fingers and toes
Evaporate.
We looked on
As the
Room dissolved,
We made no pleas,
Or any noise at all
As our world
Was erased.
In the eggshell light
Of our rebirth
The seasons passed,
With no attention
Paid, like
Sudanese children,
Left to collect sunlight
In the pores of their flesh,
Are ignored
By their God.
The air was a sea
Of vibrations,
Writhing and alive
In the periphery
Of our perceptions.
Do you remember
How it felt to
Be reconstructed?
Cell by cell
We came together,
Our blood vessels
And lymphatic tunnels
Wove through
Tendrils of bone
And wisps of
***** tissue,
Our nerves snaked
Their way through
The jungle of our
New-found existence,
A supercomputer
Materialized within
Each of us,
And they began
Discovering themselves
And each other.
We had arrived prematurely,
And our flames
Were snuffed out
In the claustrophobic
Incubators.
Here we now sit,
White noise
Filling the void,
Waiting for
Something we'll
Never see
Come to be,
But can't avoid.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 11:54 PM UTC
I
Our ****** dreams, all seedless in the light,
Of light and love the tempers of the heart,
Whack their boys' limbs,
And, winding-footed in their shawl and sheet,
Groom the dark brides, the widows of the night
Fold in their arms.
The shades of girls, all flavoured from their shrouds,
When sunlight goes are sundered from the worm,
The bones of men, the broken in their beds,
By midnight pulleys that unhouse the tomb.
II
In this our age the gunman and his moll
Two one-dimensional ghosts, love on a reel,
Strange to our solid eye,
And speak their midnight nothings as they swell;
When cameras shut they hurry to their hole
down in the yard of day.
They dance between their arclamps and our skull,
Impose their shots, showing the nights away;
We watch the show of shadows kiss or ****
Flavoured of celluloid give love the lie.
III
Which is the world? Of our two sleepings, which
Shall fall awake when cures and their itch
Raise up this red-eyed earth?
Pack off the shapes of daylight and their starch,
The sunny gentlemen, the Welshing rich,
Or drive the night-geared forth.
The photograph is married to the eye,
Grafts on its bride one-sided skins of truth;
The dream has ****** the sleeper of his faith
That shrouded men might marrow as they fly.
IV
This is the world; the lying likeness of
Our strips of stuff that tatter as we move
Loving and being loth;
The dream that kicks the buried from their sack
And lets their trash be honoured as the quick.
This is the world. Have faith.
For we shall be a shouter like the ****
Blowing the old dead back; our shots shall smack
The image from the plates;
And we shall be fit fellows for a life,
And who remains shall flower as they love,
Praise to our faring hearts.
3.7k
In the great scheme of life, many choices you make,
Where to work, who to date, your yard when to rake.
The game of hearts is not quite the same,
Who you love and end up with, is all based on aim.
Yes Cupids aim, is sometimes not good,
Dam arrow it lands, in many a strange hood.
Once per chance the target is hit,
They may be charming, attractive and full of wit.
Only the lucky lovers get this type of win,
The arrow is known to bring pain, shame and sin.
Never knowing what's in store for you,
Loving arms and a partner that’s true,
Or an unfaithful idiot, to make you feel blue.
You may think you scored, they look smokin' hot,
Having *** day and night, you love them a lot.
This sounds pretty awesome, is there a down side?
Not unless you count secrets, and the lovers he hides.
The girl that finds sales, and will spend all your cash,
She goes out on black Friday, doing the fifty yard dash.
Coming home the next day, a smile on her face,
I saved money here, and there, and this place!
What she fails to tell you, is your fresh out of money,
Say something about it, she'll resign as your honey.
The men are no better, their tempers get hot,
Slobs and the lazy, and the ones that smoke ***
One time in the game, Cupid seemed to shoot straight,
He gave me a lover, to see I couldn’t wait.
We had some good times, but the end is the same,
Bad excuses, feelings hurt, another to tame.
Please freakin' Cupid, have a talk with William Tell,
Take an archery lesson, or your bow I will sell.
You keep making me fall, for the wrong type of mate,
Just want a good friend, not a women to hate.
Visit poemsbypaul.com
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
professor Burke and professor Lee
two mathematicians who could not agree
loudly voiced their differences at half past noon
having daily lunch at the Greasy Spoon
the subject on the fateful day was Pi
and they could not see eye to eye
a disagreement on the thousandth digit
had Burke turn red and caused Lee to fidget
said Burke “No you are off by one!”
spat Lee “Your math is poorly done!”
Burke shouted, “Lee, you have gone too far!”
reached toward the counter for a candy jar
but his hand instead encountered pie
a hideous gleam sprang to his eye
he flung the pie with all his might
hit Lee full face, eyes wide with fright
but Lee recovered and found more pies
Boston Creme took Burke between the eyes
apple, custard, lemon, berry
pecan, pumpkin, key lime, cherry
pies of every kind were thrown
plates' radius squared remained unknown
the police arrived to break up the fray
took the two meringued men away
many hours later in the quiet cell
with pie for ink and tempers quelled
the two stood looking at the wall
upon which lay their equation scrawled
said Burke, with both their faces long
“Well, what do you know. We both were wrong.”
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 11:20 PM UTC
Eyes empty as promises
Haunt
Follow
Stalk
Through the rhinestone glamour
And the gleaming twilight.
Predatory desire
Roars
Flickers
Vanishes
Snuffed by fickle hearts
And volatile tempers.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 4:14 PM UTC
Thai China
buzzes
because
we
buzz.
It quiets
because
we
quiet.
I'm at the end of my stamina,
me and you,
we've had a few beers;
got to talking;
and BAM!!!:
WE"RE MOROSE.
The business crowd
goes crazy
for some Thai China.
The tempers
calm
over hot bowls of white rice
(costing $5)
that steam up into
hooked noses.
Our lips,
juicy by now,
are so numb
that
we gave up talking a minute a go.
And got into a ***** male mood.
We just stare at the girls,
the waitresses,
wanting to **** them
in our nasty dreams.
Wanting to stick
our *****
in EVERY HOLE,
but we just get drunker
and drunker
and stir over
our bowls of rice.
The business
of business
commences;
our suppressed urges
and office angers
dull
by the mouthful.
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 10:15 PM UTC
somehow
I managed to cram my ***
into these fashion pants
so I can make it to the days sales meeting
to check my fleeting self esteem
somehow
this all got out of hand
I misunderstand what I misunderstood
this sick trip down
becoming Johnny Hollywood
champagne glasses and next years denim
learning to look just right like them
just to get tight with em
learn right now
that you are small and you can never be like them
so learn to eat everything they're feeding
and pick your teeth clean
with the bones of those you're cheating
this is Hollywood
red carpets and models' stares
This is Hollywood
designer drugs on designer rugs up spiral stairs
this is Hollywood
rich ***** kids with tempers flared
this is the top of the world in your dreams
and no one else really cares
somehow
I managed to fight this depression
looking for a job in a recession
my hair lines recession
partying like it's an obsession
somehow
this rip off called growing up
has me over a toilet throwing up
gagging on everything I misunderstood
becoming Johnny Hollywood
model chicks posing and poser friends
learning to look at them both with the same fake grin
learning right now
that you will live to lie and do it again
you'll bite your tounge to the powers
and when your dream fails
you'll buy new friends
this is Hollywood
******* business cards and winks
this is Hollywood
everyone talks but nobody thinks
this is Hollywood
hit top but beware if you sink
when you're number one everyone loves you and stares
but when you're Johnny Hollywood
nobody else really ******* cares
Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 12:51 PM UTC
*Not everyone has to go through these struggles
Accusations, lies and broken glass rumbles
Tempers that flare
Parts eveywhere
Yelling and banging
The neighbors must stare
They wonder how a girl like me could fall for this trick
The promises have all made me quite sick
Name calling, ranting, interrogations and such
Have left me to feel like O' quite the 'duck'
But it's my history that has left me scarred and flawed
One which has come back and opened a door
A door for a future that is peaceful and sweet
One which I have yet to meet
But I'm on the brink, with the knocker in my hand
Just about ready to take my final stand
Look my history dead in the eye
I'm finally ready to get over this high
"I'm all grown up now can't you see"
Then close the door
"Stop ******* with me"
It's time to stop repeating the mistakes of others
For the love of god I don't want to be my mother*
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 1:30 AM UTC
The wind is clawing the roof again my love,
the screaming passion tearing down the iron,
like nails on sensitive flesh.
the pain is daring and fresh.
Shes pouring under the door now my love,
Shes dancing around your feet,
watching you and touching you,
exciting you and thrilling you.
Grab her in that moment my love,
hold her in her rapture,
held firm in female capture,
embrace your wildest nature,
then swim in tender tempers all through this september.
Aug 24, 2010
Aug 24, 2010 at 5:14 PM UTC
This house is warm as it retains the suns powerful rays of heat.
Seeds germinate and grow with strength,
each planted and nurtured with care from the theraputic gardener within his greenhouse.
But its such a shameful shame,
that we can not all be like the contented gardener.
We throw words around like sharp stones of flint,
when the glass house in which we surround ourselfs to will shatter.
Like shards of fine glass panes our words can not be unspoken ..
Unbroken.
Let positivity bathe you in light from the vast window space,
embrace its warmth, speak only words of kindness and love.
If this proves too difficult to comprend when tempers fray,
then eat your words or leave them unsaid.
For this will cause shards of glass within a quick tongue that can not be unherd.
Think, stop, have a little humility,
we should do unto others as we undo for ourselfs.
So I ask you only this, let your thoughts germinate seeded words of encouragement.
Then you will see them blossom into beautiful colours bathed in the warmth of love.
Let this contagious greenhouse in which you surround yourself, keep you mindful,
enjoy its warming embrace of light.
learn to help others shine, you will then comprehend the power of the greenhouse effect.
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 6:26 AM UTC
We go deeper than we realize
Memory of us bleeding pictures heavy
Endure a number of slices from words
To assure us we are very unsteady
My soul has not stopped shaking since
You set off the earthquake that destroyed
Any defenses in okay shape
Your ripples I tried to avoid
Is it wrong to say I wish we'd never become
Friends so I would not get caught in your net
Let you entice me with flattery
Today my feet aren't getting wet
Crumbling but cannot show cracks
Taking measures so you won't decode
The variety of contradicting statements
I eagerly continue to unload
Leftovers of our romance
Strange and out of place
Feels like we are actors
Or athletes in a race
Despite the villian you see me as
I am hurting beneath my skin
Do what you like with lonely days
Jealousy predestined to creep in
Poetry too honest for you
Been a critic at best
I have found negativity can motivate
Claimed strength put to test
See you and I struggle as well
You run, catch up to my heels
There's no way you can match my pace
Tired, I let you control the steering wheel
Know exactly the right buttons to press
Tempers over edge when we fought
Dream of forgetting your incredible name
In reality mind for some reason will not
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 9:00 PM UTC
Without right and wrong
There is only power
This is how I rule my kingdom
Mortal men are flighty
Their tempers quick to change
The smallest spark ignites their anger
And sends them burning worlds to ashes
His land is mine
His wife is mine
His riches are mine
I teach them how to take
Without bloodlust
There is no power
This is how I rule my men
They bow and pray in temples, but
Their willing sword decides the victor
Where blinding fury reigns the strongest
There, too, you’ll find my favor
O God of War, let me destroy them!
O Ares, Ares, bring me glory!
O Ares, bring me victory!
I teach them how to ****
Without bloodshed
I have no power
This is how I rule my subjects
Bleeding bodies soaking battlefields
All are offerings, sacrifices
Gifts made for my favor
And the glory of my name
I’ll take it all by force of sword
Slash and burn until it’s mine
There’s no mercy from my hands
I teach them how to war
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 4:43 PM UTC
Gluteus Maximus
That Gladiator of Rome
Got into such a rage
That his mouth did foam,
He cursed and snarled
And snarled and cursed,
Yet things didn’t improve
They got much worse;
His fists beat the ground
And he spat into the air,
No one dare come close
When his temper did flare.
Furiously struggling
To undo a knot so big
It wasn’t his strong point,
He couldn’t give a fig!
Unable to get to grips
With his **** leather laces
Those sandals caused such scowls
And grotesque grimaces...
So, aren’t you grateful
That he isn’t alive today?
That bad tempered warrior
Your life he would slay
Just with one of his black looks
Or a growl at your face,
You’d probably explode
With only a trace
Of smoke and shoes
Left where you did stand,
Nothing but grey ashes
On the Coliseum’s red sand!
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 1:42 AM UTC
I just need one simple touch
It doesn’t even have to be much
Something to know that people still care
Something to prove humanity still there.
Is there anything that separates us from animals anymore?
Is compassion becoming a chore?
I think before I act and act before I think but both seem to land me in trouble.
Tension hovering at the surface always.
Float above
as if no harm can come.
Tempers soar,
Voices raise,
Tension increases.
Times goes on,
Memory fades,
Moments never forgotten.
Always at the surface.
Things have been falling apart.
It needs to be said.
It needs to become real, true, manifested deep within our conscious.
It needs to be fixed, it needs to be solved. None of us can handle it.
It is never too late.
But it is time to get started.
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 5:58 PM UTC
Even in the darkest beast, one can find beauty.
If they look through the eyes of love.
Seeking a fading light, just out of reach
as the heavens reign from above.
Too soon, two souls become one,
While two hearts are left longing.
Darkness melds upon two minds
they're chemistry is haunting.
A connection so strong it spans the distance.
Feelings are so real,
one can feel the others touch.
Yet both their hearts will heal.
The realm of desire turns to ash
as the moon sets low upon us.
to need you so bad and not to receive
we both shall turn to dust.
Feeding off the dismal past
true love it will prevail.
two shadow;s dancing in the night
their friendship will not fail.
Tempers flare as longings go unfilled.
Both fighting an attraction that can't be real.
he has instilled a certain reality,
she now begins to feel.
A calmness in the darkness, a silence so surreal.
they dance within the keyboard,
in lacy shades of teal.
They both live in a fantasy...knowing it can't be real.....
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC