"viral" poems
1. Had you a viral video,
you’d watch it
more than once.
2. Instagram hearts
make you smile,
even from strangers.
3. Which would
you rather:
***
or
Zuckerberg
friending you
on Facebook.
No, this isn’t a Cosmo quiz —
it’s a social experiment.
Because no one ACTUALLY
answers these questions honestly
without looking like
that ****** at the pool
trying to get as MANY
high fives as possible.
Yet, we all do it.
Alone or in public.
Day or night.
LED screen spice up our lives.
It was probably
best embodied
by that girl taking
selfie
after
selfie
after
selfie
after
selfie,
filmed for minutes
on the way to school,
the video soon posted,
by her dad
trying to teach her a lesson?
Or trying to get attention?
Either way, he might as
well have hashtagged it
#socialsuicide.
Like most humor
we laughed at her
because we are her.
We see a dripping
characterture
************ to
itself in public.
Wait, it,
sounds wrong
when you name it.
But there is
a name for it:
Digital ************
aka
Self-adoration
aka
Narcississism.
You won’t agree
that you do it too.
But I’ll bet
most of you
get excited
thinking about
notifications too.
Why is that?
You’d never admit it.
You can say
I smelt it, so I dealt it.
Call me a preacher,
a hater, or a hypocrit.
But I'd rather you call me a
digital masterbater too.
And then remember the last
time you opened Instagram
or Facebook
or Twitter
and took a selfie
or hashtagged something
or posted a status
that your still breathing.
How long has it been —
a minute, an hour, a day?
Now try making fun of her.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
What's it take
These days
To write a poem
That makes the world go mad
That brings the crowds to their feet
That spreads like wildfire
Through a dry winter forest
Is it those excessively long words?
The ostentatiously loquacious
Platitudinous ramblings
Of an insecure mind aspiring
To authentic intellect?
Is it perhaps...
the "creativity"
of varied spacing
or... could it be..... the lack
of capitalization
the loathsome little letters
screaming out
hey, look at us!
... or maybe it's
the punctuation marks,
littered, haphazardly
through the text
(whether used correctly)
or, theyre not?!
despite worrds mispeled
and a grammar might is broken
can these gimmicks increase interest
though miswritten or misspoken?
Is the trick alliteration
Whose bite brightly bids us
To center on the snappy sounds?
Although all along
unvoiced underneath
Ideas idle in the isles
(or perhaps the aisles)
Of the mind
To meld and craft and bind
Our thorough thoughts
And worthy words
Into lines
Which
Heard by herds
Raise the
Praise for which we
Privately, desperately
Pray
Maybe it's a magical mix
Of splendid in-your-head rhythm
Marvelous meter that perfectly clicks
Flowing smoothly without schism
Well-spaced stanzas
Well-used time
Well-crafted phrases
Well-thought-out rhymes
Well, maybe not...
those gems are often ignored
cast-aside, unread, even abhorred
Why?
Because the modern world
doesn't need your rules
your restrictions
your regulations
your misguided boundaries
your oppression
your antiquated ideas
of "the right way"
to write
to speak
to act
to live
to (fill in the blank)
No, what the modern world needs
is
Negation!
Contradiction!
Resistance!
Revolt!
And poetry whose words
Say the same thing
Repeat the same meaning
Echo the same lyrics
Rephrase the same thoughts
But in an ever-so-slightly
Different
Varied
Altered
Adjusted
Changed up way
Line
After line
Of synonyms
over
and
over
and
over
again
-----
What's it take
These days
To not give in
To narcissism's spiral?
But more importantly:
What's it take
To make my poem go viral?
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 12:17 AM UTC
The engineers they tweak the DNA,
fostering changes to the RNA,
the plants becoming something else,
immunevolution modify man’s health.
And never will they accept the blame,
for their arrogance and dangerous game;
and when the food cannot be eaten?
History recall of the viral cretins.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 11:12 PM UTC
Capricorns, Capricorns are ruled and schooled by the planet Saturn, Saturn, Saturn. A bandit with a similar pattern, pattern, pattern. Capricorns, Capricorns are brethren from a legion; a legion of an atmosphere of the southern-hemisphere; in the equatorial region. At an
angle, angle, angle; Capricorns, Capricorns are angels of Aquarius and
Sagittarius. They’re boisterous, courageous, contagious, glamorous,
prestigious, rebellious, various and victorious-goats, goats, goats!
Capricorns, Capricorns cope, devote, note and quote, quote, quote.
They’re ambitions with superstitions and various missions, missions, missions! They’re novelties and poverties, revelations and
revolutionaries, revolutionaries, revolutionaries. Capricorns, Capricorns are theories and visionaries, visionaries, visionaries.
They’re objects, projects and rejects. They’re leaders and readers that are poetically, negatively or positively dictatorial and doctorial! Some are historical, optical, political and radical; authentic, eccentric,
neurotic, poetic, theoretic, theoretic, theoretic. Unicorns, Unicorns are biblical and mythical, mythical, mythical; they’re ****** exotic, iconic, ironic, magic, nostalgic creatures, creatures, creatures. Their features
resembling a horse of course, of course. Furthermore, they’re fierce and a force. They’re a breed and creed of desire, fire and perspire, perspire,
perspire, perspire! They’re viral, viral, viral! This partial, sworn steed;
born awesome, awesome, awesome and too blossom, blossom, blossom. Unicorn’s spiral, crescent horn usually projecting and protruding from their foreheads. Rough and tough enough too pierce,
pierce, pierce! Unicorns, Unicorns are defendants, independents and
pendants. Hark! Hark! Hark! They’re brilliant and resilient sparks, sparks, sparks! They’re told as bold, old art, from the heart, from the start. Unicorns, Unicorns are fillers and pillars of guide, pride and
stride, stride, stride. They’re along for the long, long, long ride...
Unicorns, Unicorns are strong, strong, strong! Some as a song, song,
song, some throng, throng, throng, some wrong, wrong, wrong. As a
child, child, child; wild, wild, wild! Unicorns, Unicorns overwhelm, overwhelm, overwhelm. Their domicile realm, apparently, inherently and originally belonging from India; alleluia, alleluia for India, India,
India! Capricorns and Unicorns; two different creations. Capricorns
and Unicorns; two different relations. Capricorns and Unicorns; two
different situations and superstitions. They’re rainbows that glow, know and show. They’re of borrow, of sorrow and of our tomorrow.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 9:12 PM UTC
Sadly
you found me
STD
yes you infected
imperfected
and now you wont leave
you would think i had ***
but its just an STD
but you wont let me be
not a bacteria
inertia
or viral
spiral
just a simple disease
that doesnt invovle a sneeze
im living yes i still can breath
but i still have a STD...
See she gave it to me...
I can spread this thing
and even if i would
i dont thing that I should..
see it would just complacate things
No we wouldn't die tonight
but one day we just might
not from the sores and the strains
but from the aches and the pains
of being lonely again...
See its a lot more complicated
then what you are making it
you think Im just disgusting cuz of what I caught
but I pretty sure its something u thought.
lot worst then yeast cuz that will leave
more like a Herpies or ***
even tho that isn't what I've received
And I dont have the funds to splurge
so I dont know if I can scure the cure
or if she even had the bug
enough that it could be cured by her love
I caught somethin that aint easily healing......
Espcially if you dont have the disease...
I caught.....Feelings
A sexually transmited disease
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
(Quote by Spike Milligan)
One very wise man sat and said
That, long before this world is dead
This planet’s problems won’t be solved
By reasoning which, though now evolved,
has got us, where we now do sit,
Afloat neck deep in mankind’s ****
There’s SARs, Ebola, AIDs, Bird flu
And in the woodwork, West Nile too,
Each replicating viral spat
To mutate, (at the drop of a hat),
To complicate enviro’s stew
Of global degredation’s brew.
Urban spread and over stocking
**** deforestation’s shocking,
Depletion of aquatic life
Intrinsically creating strife,
Industrial pollution’s goo
Ozone depletion... ALL FOR YOU!
*Environmental degradation
Means the world’s a weaker place,
Susceptible to malady
Wide spread across the human race.
Those animals in corn fed stalls
Who never get to see the sun
Or graze green grass where honey bees
Are vanquished by varroha’s fun.
Too late to save the Hector’s dolphin
Conservation’s lost it’s tools,
Rastafarian hootchie smokers,
Save the whales to **** the fools.
Governments sell the carbon credits
Everybody smells a rat
Restorations for the birds
And social conscience creamed the cat.
****** greenies own the airwaves
No one gives a flying ****
That good artesian water’s poisoned
By good farmer’s leached out muck.
CO2 in global warming
Sings it’s song of fast decline
Glacial retreat a-roaring
Bass relief in blood *****
I guess the little children’s future
Most depends on lady luck,
Humankind in mass denial
Most don’t give a flying ****
Marshalg
In retreat to Taranaki’s green haven in the gales of the equinox.
21 September 2011
Sep 21, 2011
Sep 21, 2011 at 2:09 AM UTC
They say marriage is all about compromise. If that's the case, newlyweds Kia Parsons and Billy Bunning are off to an excellent start.
The UK couple had different visions when it came to their wedding cake; the bride wanted an all-white tiered cake with cascading sugar flowers. The groom, on the other hand, wanted to incorporate his love of comic book superheroes into the confection. So they met somewhere in the middle:
Julia Baker of Tier by Tier cake design created the cake for the couple's August 14 wedding in Milton Keynes, England. One side is the traditional-looking cake the bride wanted. On the other side, icing curtains reveal the logos of Marvel characters Captain America, Spider-Man and Iron Man, as well as Batman from the DC Comics camp.
"I loved every minute making this cake, as I knew it would be something that people would be surprised at and appeal to all the Marvel fans!" Julia told The Huffington Post.
In all, she spent 40 hours on the cake. It took 12 hours to make the sugar flowers, and the cake-baking and building took about 28 hours.
Needless to say, Kia and Billy were thrilled with the finished product.
"Julia did such a fantastic job and we were completely overwhelmed by how brilliant it looked!" the bride told HuffPost. "From most angles of the room, the cake looked like a traditional wedding cake -- just what we had wanted. It wasn't until the cake was moved for us to cut that our guests realized there was a hidden extra. Some didn't even realize until the photos went online after the wedding!"
On Tuesday, a photo of the cake began going viral when it was shared by the Life Of Dad Facebook page.
"I was surprised at how popular it was and how quickly the pictures circulated on social media," Julia said. "I have plenty more ideas to work on and I am calling these 'double-take cakes.'"
read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth
www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
(Quote by Spike Milligan)
One very wise man sat and said
That, long before this world is dead
This planet’s problems won’t be solved
By reasoning which, though now evolved,
has got us, where we now do sit,
Afloat neck deep in mankind’s ****
There’s SARs, Ebola, AIDs, Bird flu
And in the woodwork, West Nile too,
Each replicating viral spat
To mutate, (at the drop of a hat),
To complicate enviro’s stew
Of global degredation’s brew.
Urban spread and over stocking
**** deforestation’s shocking,
Depletion of aquatic life
Intrinsically creating strife,
Industrial pollution’s goo
Ozone depletion... ALL FOR YOU!
Environmental degradation
Means the world’s a weaker place,
Susceptible to malady
Wide spread across the human race.
Those animals in corn fed stalls
Who never get to see the sun
Or graze green grass where honey bees
Are vanquished by varroha’s fun.
Too late to save the Hector’s dolphin
Conservation’s lost it’s tools,
Rastafarian hootchie smokers,
Save the whales to **** the fools.
Governments sell the carbon credits
Everybody smells a rat
Restorations for the birds
And social conscience creamed the cat.
****** greenies own the airwaves
No one gives a flying ****
That good artesian water’s poisoned
By good farmer’s leached out muck.
CO2 in global warming
Sings it’s song of fast decline
Glacial retreat a-roaring
Bass relief in blood *****
I guess the little children’s future
Most depends on lady luck,
Humankind in mass denial
Most don’t give a flying ****
Marshalg
In retreat to Taranaki’s green haven in the gales of the equinox.
21 September 2011
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 3:14 AM UTC
You must never **** the spiders,
While, they are woven their poems into the likeness of thunder?
Kidnapped the poets, instead of the poems
Therefore, I asked of you to stop all useless riots
On poetry, read them, embrace them, and
Learn from them: poetry is disciplined
And disciplined is the most misunderstanding word
In the dictionary: but somehow it is said that
riots is the language of the unheard:
we must never embrace racial riots,
or racial profiling: reach out to racial equity
stop allowing the messages of hate to go viral
plants row of trees, in the name of love,
I recently came across, ants yes, I said ants
When army ants need to cross a large gap, they simply build a bridge - with their own bodies. Linking together, the ants can move their living bridge from its original point, allowing them to cross gaps and create shortcuts across rainforests in Central and South America.
I recently saw human fighting each other, I recently read somewhere
Where children were locked away in cages
,
McALLEN, Texas (AP) — inside an old warehouse in South Texas, hundreds of immigrant children wait in a series of cages created by metal fencing. One cage had 20 children inside. Scattered about are bottles of water, bags of chips and large foil sheets intended to serve as blankets.
We must never **** the spiders,
While, there are woven their poems into the likeness of thunder..
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC
for Alyssa Underwood
~~~
my poems do not trend, go viral,
Fast and Furious!
yet, they do not die
they lay in plain sight pebbles scattered,
smoothed by time,
upon the surface of the
green earth waiting patient, virtuous,
purposed for itinerants bards
to trip over one
one some someday
somehow they accrete a readership,
slow stepping and steady from,
|the seekers and the stumblers,
the droplet drinkers,
meanderers of the tomes and tombs of prior years,
miners for nuggets in the poem pools that form
beneath the alluvial streaming
of the waterfall crescendo
of words
I like this
when another traveler sends me a like,
a petite amuse-bouche bite of appreciation,
for a long ago, barely recalled, writ,
allowing them to carve their initials upon the
external, visible roots of my tree trunk,
invading me, by darkening a prior tree internal ring,
forcing me to look down,
look back,
take measure of myself,
accepting myself as not wanting,
nor lacking in other's acceptance
these statements are neither boastful or illusory,
*yet still joyous, like caramel pleasures,
slow to chew, fast to the taste,*
reminding me of old friendships,
well valued,
though no longer fully employed,
their uncovering is my own refreshed exposure,
their discovery is my own re-discovery,
exposing flaws and fallacies,
even fallow,
mostly shallow facts
about me
all of them,
a sundae of truths and lies, sharing a happy laugh
with and at
me,
when I think to myself,
Holy Crap! did I write that?
copyright 2015 by Nat Lipstadt
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
Worm eats through to penetrate.
Trespasses, what ***** deeds?
What ichor is this to venerate?
How dare eat, how dare have needs?
Godly viral load unbeatable,
no t-cell left to count.
Wriggling in puddle inconceivable,
**** upon this crucified mount.
Lazarus, risen from the dead,
no dog now licks your wounds.
Lepers now banshees are instead
social workers which we swoon.
And the Roman laws and judges
continue blame, hand down sentence,
as degenerative generation smudges
out from existence, *** penance.
Dissected and pinned against wall,
this writhing experiment oozes.
Whilst priests and politicians naw,
compassion and AIDS funding loses.
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
---
Sitting in his chair,
Laughing at your pain,
Abuse driven glory,
His only aim,
---
Withdrawn from society,
Curtains drawn close,
Prozac painkillers,
Attention less ghost,
---
Viral anger,
Lack of remorse,
Deflecting the pain,
Of his parent's divorce,
---
A knock at his door,
The troll opens it wide,
A recognised face,
Looks him straight in the eyes,
---
Fear grips his body,
As she pins him to the floor,
Their screams turned to silence,
A troll he was no more....
---
The urban legend,
Of the internet troll.
Punished by the evil...
That devoured his soul.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC
yellow banana from the east
making discordian inroads
to vehemence this fall
won't let it turn black
or we can't go back
not an innuendo
put it in a spiral
make it viral
bring a melon
and hard drive
sell the lemon
for half price
buy no frills
airlines tickets
ride with the fruit
to unknown places
disseminate those faces
that munch on the yellow
that icky sticky mellow fellow
well the law of fives dictates its size
must have a five plus maybe a two or three
where did we go with thee can we please go free
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC
Bite me, Baby.
Take me down
Into your viral, hungry Limbo.
There we'll eat
The noisy neighbors
Wander through the streets
All night.
Naked but for
What cloth hangs on
To our slim decrepitude.
Bite me, Baby.
Hell don't want us.
Heaven's iffy
Anyway.
We won't need no shoes
Or money
Jul 6, 2011
Jul 6, 2011 at 12:09 AM UTC
So what?
If I'm not 'so hot'
Why do you care
If I never change my hair?
Okay maybe my videos won't go viral
But the aim is to make at least one person smile
Honestly, I shouldn't worry
About being ignored
Or being 'totally!' unpopular..
It's gonna make a great story someday.
.. The day I become a somebody.
SO, before you trade your glasses in for a pair of contacts,
Before you chop your mop, and throw on the make up, before you chug down that *****
Which makes you talk crazy when you snooze,
Ask yourself; 'What do I have to lose?'
.... The rep you don't have,
Or the pride that you do.
Popularity is down to you.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
viral and trending
as fifteen minutes has become a lifetime
and 45 seconds is more what it looks like
to be internet famous –
fat cats and mall rats in Spanx
sippling frozen latte’s
with 8 shots of circle K crack
violently Instagram-ing every moment
constantly trolling for the one big hit –
social media ***** bored with “likes”
looking to blog the best tweets
and Facebook with the losers
of last year’s season of
Celebrity Chef –
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC
Call the Doctor,
Text a Nurse.
I think I'm getting sick.
I've been avoided like the plague.
Cause I spread like disease.
I think.
I think that
I'm going viral.
Mar 16, 2012
Mar 16, 2012 at 7:28 PM UTC
A Strong sense of unease fills my mind and soul
my body trembles is it fear or the cold night
looking around at seemingly quiet streets
what waits in this darkness that engulfs me
once feeling safe and secure now I want to flee
evil exists all about in the form of human beings
cruel calculating driven by what often a mystery
few cause so much misery and horror in society
overpowering subtle in their persuasive false way
most want to live peacefully keeping evil at bay
do you not feel it to that unseen lingering unease
always there ready to attack like a viral disease!
The Foureyed Poet.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
Stagnant,
Entertaining Ideas,
Slowly Mauling Thoughts,
Over Manifesting Mindless Acts -
Complexity Turned Suddenly Simplified -
Outburst Magnification Aligned,
Creative, Innovative,
Viral.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 9:25 PM UTC
All I want is a rewind to those times
When we talked for a long while
Seated under street lights
We were always together at nights
Staring at the moonlight
Our minds were filled with doubts
About what our future seems like
Then it went viral
That we were together
You asked how
I still don't know why
And it all sums up to now
Thinking of how we drifted apart
It was just too fast
But that was all in the past
All I wish for now is a rewind
So I can win back your heart
I really need a rewind ......
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 10:06 AM UTC
I took a stroll down my childhood lane
These neural pathways took me back
Multilingual versions of the narrative
Warned me of imminent attack
I made it work for me my people
Bedeviled on behalf of all my greater good
I took my time in stride with sidewalks cracked
And broke my swag along a scattered beach
Came down with that viral capacity to fluctuate
According to what gut feeling feeds heart pumping
Where we intersect that jazz bebopper inhabiting art
Draw outside the lines come together in stark contrast
To the words we negotiate with each other in exchange
For favors better left unpaid yet enacted cross-purpose
To our intended lizard goal to wrap our prey entangled
Tongued in the mail entreated globally galactic guardian
I’d simply settle inside ambitious repose armed by you
Draped across our gossamer webs wet commingled faces
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 1:30 AM UTC
(I hate poets.
They annoy me deeply.)
I.
There are the balladeers,
Working in service of their inner Service,
(Though, despite the seeming impossibility,
Their hackneyed verse is even worse)
Creating tortuous rhyme
Which slows down labyrinthine narratives
Ending up in some deus ex machine
So implausible that it would make Euripides blush
(Most often courtesy of some unforeseen projectile
Or sudden viral contagion;
Would that their creators meet such a fate!)
II.
I come not to praise the so-called sonneteers,
But to bury them.
They are an earnest lot,
(Lord knows that they are earnest)
And they will make their fourteen lines rhyme
(Though sometimes the rhyme scheme screams for mercy)
And hang the cost.
Though their narratives are head-scratching things,
And their iambs proceed with the steadiness
Of a nonagenarian church pianist
Doing her damndest to fight the wedding march to a draw,
They are content, nay, proud of their work
Because babble rhymes with Scrabble
(Though they are not particularly proficient with the latter,
They have the former down to an art.)
III.
Let us not forget the Buk-zombies,
Those apostles of aphorism,
Most of whom speak of their departed deity
As if he were an old drinking buddy
(Never mind that most of them were two or three
Or perhaps not even a bad idea
In the back seat of some mom’s Buick
When he exited this mortal plane, stage left, even.)
One’s mind is boggled whilst considering
The expanse of the bar required to accommodate
Everyone who would like to
(Or worse, have claimed to)
Buy old Charlie a beer, not that he’d stand for a round.
They are a sullen horde, this lot,
Best dealt with by aiming for the base of the skull.
IV.
Ah, the confessionals, Lord have mercy upon their souls
(For they shall have none upon ours.)
They feel so many things so deeply
As such things have never been felt before
(They have not read their Sexton, their Snodgrass,
Their Lowell, their Pl--well, no,
They have all read their Plath.)
It is, from the moment they arise in the morning
Until such time they set aside their fears and let sleep take them,
All too much for them,
And they bravely face the days
Until such time they care bear to take action
And fling themselves from some convenient precipice.
We should, as a service to them and ourselves,
Ensure the soles of their shoes
Are sufficiently worn and slippery.
(I hate poets.
They annoy me deeply.)
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 11:22 AM UTC
I want to
swallow your organism,
taste your bacteria,
swim in your virus,
catch your disease
& become viral.
I am consumed
by your fever.
Stimulate me
with sexy-symptoms,
split me
in you petri dish,
mutilate me,
break my cells
into smaller molecules,
help me to succumb.
Take me over the top,
bring me to
ferocious-orgasm,
one without a cure,
leave me
forever wishing
for no antidote.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 7:07 AM UTC
It is necessary to know how to tame her,
Shy, careful, secret and reserved,
Not very comfortable in a crowd.
She possesses this discreet charm,
You cannot forget as a viral load.
Natural, simple, reliable in her feelings,
She needs proofs to be reassured.
Her attitude is sensible and direct,
An inner life is rich of her life's striking,
Where her intellectual sphere takes it,
By the elegance of her sparkling creativity,
Under the power of her own meditations.
She is so rational, ironic and critical,
By her genuine metaphysical reflections.
She is constantly building on her intuition,
In the area of integrating life's solutions.
She thinks of being late, but just accurate,
Worried in pleasing and in being loved,
But just forgets she is part of human being.
You can trust her blindly,
Because in spite of her side to part,
So different and so warm,
That can perturb you,
And walk away from both of you.
She remains your half for all eternity,
Even if today this Love has dried up,
Keep her sharing gift to love yourself,
To be yourself, and nothing else !
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 7:27 AM UTC
When Ebola’s fever begins to rage,
The prognosis isn’t nice,
Monoclonal antibodies
are needed from three mice.
The mice must first become exposed
to a weakened viral strain.
Their antibodies harvested
and combined with those of man.
Strangely the proteins that we need
are grown best in a ****
A modified tobacco plant
will do the job indeed.
The serum, that derives from plants,
had not had human trials.
(but eight of ten young chimpanzees
endorse what’s in that vial.)
Our missionaries, sick unto death
were clearly in no position
to refuse to try the medicine
that might provide remission.
Their rebound was miraculous.
To Atlanta now they fly.
Man finds himself in debt to a mouse.
“Good job, little guy!”
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 8:44 AM UTC