"cliffhanger" poems
When I'm at the end of my rope,
You're my only hope, you're my go to- road.
And if I leave you on a cliffhanger, a slippery slope,
Would you still give me hope? Oh darling please, don't go
Oh make a soundtrack for my life,
Make a playlist so good it'll keep me alive,
You're all I've got, all I want, and I'd let go of my alternative world, if I could keep you in this real one here..
Cause when I'm at the end of my rope,
You're my only hope,
You're my go to road.
And sometimes life is a lonely road,
But I'll hold you close, In my heart
You're my favourite poem.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 5:32 PM UTC
I didn’t think I’d lose myself in you
Hesitating to fall,
It was a brave conquest
At the edge of it all
Looking down into a pit
And so I went without looking
Convinced that you’d be at the bottom
To crush my fall
Who knew you were the one to push me.
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 1:35 AM UTC
“When we hand down
This flag to posterity
Paying prices of life
To the country's
Age-old sovereignty
It is with a word of caution
'This generation
Should accord due attention
To handing down
To the coming generation
A new Ethiopia
To fruits of development
A cornucopia!' ”
“Yes, grandpa
Working day and night
We shall take Ethiopia
To a new developmental height!
Once Ethiopia was great
How could we that forget?
The country's renaissance
Firm we shall advance!
For common growth
Resources we
Shall harness,
Allowing the region
Soar with wings of success!”//
I am happy to announce the birth of my poetic drama
In the Vortex of Passion's Wind
By United P.C-publication without risk and quickly (Austria)
ISBN 978-3-7103-2109-2
Release date09092015
GBP14,90
About the book
Shock treatments that attend the wrong turns of life reshape people's mindset anew and nudge them out of their slumbers. On the other hand, as forewarned is forearmed, the sagacious learn from the lapse of the trigger-happy than indulge in the vortex of passion's wind. Miss not this page turner and cliffhanger mainly dealing with HIV/AIDS in a campus of a country worst hit by the pandemic.
Please buy and read the book.You could also get your collection of poems published by www.unitedP.c-publishquickly and without a risk
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
Lately your belly laughs and dry humor are flooding my mind. The only times we make eye contact are over volleyball nets and ice cream sales. Once the most important man in my life, you no longer fill the position. I fired you.
But then again, it’s like you quit. Instead of asking me about my day, you tell me about your new girlfriend. I’m beginning to forget the directions in which the wrinkles around your eyes move. I can’t exactly pinpoint your gray hairs anymore. You once embraced me with a father’s love but now pat your hand on my back.
Despite the frigid weather when you left, it didn’t seem so cold. But nine months has now felt like nine years and the temperature has only declined. It’s no surprise considering communication has never been your strong suit. Every time you speak is a cliffhanger. I am dangling from heights unknown, waiting for an answer that may not come. I want to submerge myself in your company and harmonize our voices in conversation. How are you?
My eyes do not reflect the chocolate brown in yours but instead radiate blue like the ocean. Unfortunately this is not our only contrast. Funny how years ago our faces were so similar but now that things have changed our only mutual feature is our height.
You’re half my original chromosomes but I don’t even know half of your day. Where do you go when it’s dark and the moon is shining down over you? What do you call home? Your absence is a mystery I cannot solve. The position I once promised you has been filled by a more qualified candidate; you wonder why I’m always with my boyfriend.
Although I am angry, I am sure this is unintentional. My hope is that this is only temporary. The only question is, how long will you be gone; when will you re-apply?
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 12:06 PM UTC
I once knew a boy
Who breathed in words like air
We crafted a book together
And selected each sentence with great care
That boy was the best part of every genre
He flowed like sweet poetry,
Kept my thoughts racing like a thriller,
And never gave everything away like all good mysteries
But that boy left cold turkey
Scrawled me a messy ending
He would never bother to rewrite
I guess that he was only pretending
I never thought you
Would pull a Mockingjay on me
Unsatisfied and bitter
Is how I will forever be
Because our love is a cliffhanger
And you pushed me over the edge
The days waiting for you like
The wind carrying ripped pages
It was anticlimactic
No closure in sight
You let go like it was nothing
While I hold on with all my might
And so you will continue
To breathe in hearts
The way you do air
To you, it's become an art
I will carry on
Gripping a jutting branch called hope
I'll pray you give me a sequel
To the romance we wrote
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 8:21 PM UTC
"Ang pagmamahal ko sa iyo ay kasing init ng bawat pagsikat ng araw. Ngunit kapag ako ay iyong sinaktan, asahan **** hindi mo na masisilayan ang paglubog ng araw."
Sa isang sikat na resort sa Laiya, Batangas napagkasunduan ng magkakaibigang sina Adlaw, Bulan, Amihan, Machete, at Tawa-Tawa upang alalahanin at damhin ang buhay probinsiya. Halos limang taon na rin ang nakalipas nang huli silang nakauwi sa kani-kanilang probinsiya.
At dahil sa iisang kompanya lamang sila nagtatrabaho sa Makati ay sa isang lugar na lang din nila napagdesisyunang magliwaliw. Iyon nga lang ay isang araw lang ang common day off na mayroon sila, kaya lulubusin din nila ang isang araw upang magtampisaw sa karagatan.
Nasa iisang kompanya lang sila nagtatrabaho na kung tawagin ay Cliffhanger Outsourcing Center, pero magkakaiba ang araw ng kanilang day off. Sina Adlaw at Bulan ay mag-ka-teammate na kung saan ay miyerkules at huwebes ang araw na wala silang pasok habang ang tatlo na sina Amihan, Machete at Tawa-Tawa ay Huwebes at Biyernes naman ang araw na walang pasok.
Sakay ng isang van na ang may-ari ay si Machete, dere-deretso na silang bumiyahe. Madaling araw pa lang ay agad na silang umalis. Kapag maluwag ang daloy ng trapiko ay aabot lamang ng isang oras at kalahati ang biyahe patungong Laiya, Batangas.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 2:58 AM UTC
thorns in the thicket of thought and
thistles of the heart's crown makes a bitter tea
which she pours thin for her porcelain dolls
with plaster-of-paris cakes 'n' cookies neatly adorned
with christmas colors daintily painted in blood and tears
the bard speaks the rueful tale with cliffhanger pauses
and excited joyous moments enclosed in the
crisp images of winter wonderland
the bard is a figure of such stories
long white beard and eyes that twinkle like stars
but now that the tale is told
the song sung.....
the bard retires his joyful face in his private room
with its smoky mirrors
and clutter of memorials to his younger days
his words once on the powdered lips of elegance
now are the dirt stained humble man's bread and butter
they were grand stories
they were adoration's to velvet goddesses....
but now they are but thorns in the thicket of thought
picturesque visions of nubile nymph's only sadden the old man
the bard packs away his joyful face
it is for the readers whom he loves
the road weary eyes linger upon her lace
she was a beautiful moment of summer in his winter life
she's now a sacred image protected by
thorns in the thicket of thought
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 2:11 PM UTC
**Self analysis?
Or self induced creative paralysis?
There's a fine line
Between correcting, perfecting... and losing your spine
Mine
Is a critical look at what I do
And it's a positive, laid back method too
Go with the flow
Make you read it quicker/faster/sprinting
Michael Johnson... or, slow... mo'
"These new generation poets, they just don't know no more"... They say
The older generation, fail to understand how we play
With words... swim with the sharks
And glide with birds
Dangerous sometimes... poetic cliffhanger
Still stronger
Faith is unbreakable... diamond
lasts longer
You see?
It's 'kicking', like a thousand ninjas...
And Bruce Lee.**
Jun 22, 2010
Jun 22, 2010 at 1:33 PM UTC
The crashing of the waves
Reminds me of my head
Hitting the wall
After I've told myself
A million times
'I can't love you I can't love you'
And the wind
Slapping my face
Reminds me of how I felt
When I watched you walk away
For the last time
And it's your voice
Echoing along the cliff's edge
'Jump jump'.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
We live for the fat free vanilla cream coffee cups on mornings when we wake before the sun is up, and nights when the silence is trickling icy though. We live for Life. Such a small word, yet remains vague and unanswerable to many people.
A word which concurrently brings upon curiosity and fear inside a simple mind that continuously runs wild with questions. A word who’s meaning can only be defined as a never ending cliffhanger, leaving you with the gut aching suspense of a never resolved story.
We are all blinded by the light paved into the road we created ourselves. Some people look at what a flower has brought into their lives and cherish it, while others hide around a dark corner with harsh opinions and rationalizations. Around that corner a cold reality is approaching, causing a cherished life to be cut short.
That life though, it never dies. For before it shriveled up, it did something amazing. After that flower blossomed, a gust of determination carried it’s knowledge throughout the world to be seen as inspiration. Inspiration, and to once again ambitiously sprout.
We live for the little things that make life worth living. The people. The places. The words. The temporary confidence in knowing what comes next. The cliffhanger. The unwritten ending you’re so eager to place punctuation.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
I think of all the things in the world,
The future is the hardest thing
To hold onto.
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 12:47 PM UTC
You know, sometimes people who don't deserve your thoughts come to mind. And you are one of those.
Maybe that is why it is dangerous to let your mind wander. Every wanderer needs a lodging for the night, and you so happened to be that old, tattered shelter in sight.
Some hate rhymes- it's juvenile, for the imbecile.
Some seem to find comfort in it- like the hem of her dress she fiddles with; like the feeling of his teeth, against teeth. It's like seeing old paths in the woods, as though you will never lose your way.
The idea of you was so easily uprooted with even the slightest winds. Fancy naming someone after a hurricane. I wasn't sure if that was heartbreak. After all, you never held it. It slid right out my throat along with the words I said to you. And I wish I could take them back.
I am over you, really. But I can't help that the thought of you always hits home. After all, you were a place I dwelled in for such a long time. Even after you were long gone.
Fill this tastevin with something- anything. Your unsaid words tasted foul. And I just want any trace of you to be removed from the tip of my tongue.
For you were a cliffhanger; and I was hanged.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC
inhale, breathe,
let it go....
strike a match,
let it flow...
give it air, space,
give it something sweet to taste...
feeling the air, humidity,
sticky moments here with me...
shadows looming, pouring like rain
effort put forth [again and again]
inhale-- breathe... let it go...
my feelings, my therapy,
ALL in what i see.
rise, fall-- shadows looming
flowing in awe, giving the air that sweet taste--
of the sweet serum on my face...
eyes open wide, full of suprise....
so strike a match, let it flow,
give it air, have a taste,
oh-- i can imagine the look on your face.
speaking of memories--
happy, sad, a few inbetween
its always interesting-- what they do to me.
shadows calling, continuing--
cliffhanger, devour me!
humid, hot, sticky--
fresh, clever--
enveloped in my senses
caught in delight..
just--
watching...
Apr 7, 2012
Apr 7, 2012 at 12:40 AM UTC
Everyday we go through
Heaven and Hell.
It's a constant battle:
Good versus Evil.
We go through so much
Pain and Heartbreak,
Joy and Excitement
But we're overwhelmed.
For every positive feeling,
There's a negative feeling.
For some of us, that
Negative becomes too powerful.
We become flooded by all
The could've, should've, would've,
The maybes and what ifs.
We forget the little things.
We lose our friends, but
Depression and Anxiety.
We feel dark and cold inside
And we isolate ourselves.
Don't get too close to us
Because we're contagious!
Every second we fade
Deeper into our minds.
We want the world to
Stop so we can relax
And clear our minds
But it just spins faster.
We become so overwhelmed
By negativity that we push
Those close to us further
Because we don't want to hurt them.
Our minds become a whirlpool,
A black hole, pulling us
Down faster and further
And there is no escape.
The only way to stop this,
In our heads, is to say
"The end"
Maybe then it will end.
But it doesn't have to end.
As writers of our lives,
We can end it
Or we can pause.
We can end it with
An "!", "?", or "."
But instead let's pause with
A semicolon.
A semicolon let us
Breathe and gather our thoughts.
It tells everyone that
It's not over yet; just paused.
As writers of our lives,
Pause and rethink our decision
Because our stories are not over yet;
There's so much more left.
Regret nothing from our past.
Rethink no decisions made
Or decisions that we didn't make.
Live in the now and for the future.
We owe it to our friends,
To our families, and
Most importantly to ourselves
To not end but pause.
We all crash and burn, and
That could be the end but
We can be the Phoenix and rise
From the ashes stronger and better.
There are times when I
Felt like giving up and saying
The end, but I remember
My friends and family and the good times.
I could've ended my story
Making it into a tragedy
But instead of ending every sentence,
I paused and carried on.
My story isn't over yet
Because there are no much
That I want to do in life:
Medical school, marriage, kids.
My story is not complete
And I don't want to
Leave a cliffhanger for
My friends, family, everyone.
Out stories are not over yet.
We have so much to live for.
We have so many goals:
Graduation, Job, Love.
Insp;re each other and
Everyone going through the same thing.
Be the warr;ors we are determined to be
And f;ght hard like your life depends on it.
**Insp;re!
Be a warr;or!
F;ght on!**
Our stories are not over yet.
Robert Frost said,
"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood."
We have two choices.
Pick carefully; it'll make all the difference.
Pick left and end your story
With an "!", "?", or "."
Or pick right and pause
Your story with a semicolon.
**Insp;re!
Be a warr;or!
F;ght on!
Our stories are not over yet;**
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 9:55 PM UTC
I was never superstitious
but if incarnation would be true
let me live a thousand more lives
condensed and liquified
as an ink to your mind's pen,
as words to your drunken poetry.
Let each stroke embody
every curve of my body
that your hands have ever held
so long.
Cross your t's
telling the story of our love
how one point was met
with another with a line,
replacing what once
was empty space.
And dot your i's
with the periods of our story;
from our book's first sentence
in the introductory
to the last sentence
of our cliffhanger.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 9:51 AM UTC
Life. Such a small word, yet remains vague and unanswerable to many people. A word which concurrently breeds curiosity and fear inside a simple mind that continuously runs wild with questions. A word who’s meaning can only be defined as a never ending cliffhanger, leaving you with the gut aching suspense of a never resolved story. Controlling our lives like a marionette puppet with the strings being attached to the four characters L, I, F, and E. But alas, we are all blinded by the light paved into the road we created ourselves. A cracked road filled with the seeds of our generation, aided in growth from our blinded light with ambitions of reaching the sun. We give our seeds a warm reality, which sparks the blossom it’s wanted to expose to the world, the reason it was given a chance as a seed to begin with. Some people look at what that flower has to brought into their lives and cherish it, while others hide around a dark corner with harsh opinions and rationalizations. Around that corner a cold reality is approaching, causing a cherished life to be cut short. That life though, it never dies. For before it shriveled up, it did something amazing. After that flower blossomed, a gust of determination carried the seeds of it’s knowledge throughout the world to be seen as inspiration. Inspiration, and to once again ambitiously sprout from the crack in the road we’ve so blindly created.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 8:30 PM UTC
it'll get bad reviews, we should scrap the project before it breaks the budget
we sit and talk
art and beauty, love and fear
my heart cracking open,
and you, rushing in.
we sit and talk,
play at the deadly game
ignore the consequences
shun the inconsistencies.
the words, words, words
they swirl,
and we slip, we slip, we slip
--its a real cliffhanger
hearts on sleeves
music weaves
stories come to light
secrets, oozing out between
the well crafted lines of
our carefully scripted plot
we sit and talk circles around
the herds of white elephants
that come to watch the show.
mocking us, they laugh
as we tiptoe through
fields of daffodils
under dark skies
with rainbows.
(scene change now)
in dark of night
i squeeze out hope
from my heart.
god ****** hope
twists up and knifes
me in the side, leaves
me bleeding on the floor.
and you, fool you are
rush to my aid.
if you're saving me,
who's saving you?
you with your secret
decoder ring from your
box of caramel corn.
cracking my heart,
you peel my layers.
your questions run deep
but your feet will run faster,
and i'll fall, i'll fall, i'll fall.
gravity's a real drag,
i've felt it's pull before.
me with my third eye
see the pan and play.
this show will end
leaving us all sitting
in our seats wanting
another thirty minutes,
a tidier ending.
this ain't Disney.
we'll feel like we've been
ripped, ripped, ripped
no refunds here,
go file your complaint
with the man upstairs.
the audience stands,
turns to go.
white elephants know there's
no silver lining, no *** of gold.
they threw popcorn at the screen
but you didn't notice.
i always hated white elephants;
i thought you did too.
who invited them to the show?
we step outside,
no curtain call,
no applause
this hail falls down
on a sunny blue day.
afraid to touch you, but
i want to catch you in my mouth.
would you please
just go away
before i end up with lumps
on my head, in my throat?
my eyes blinded by the sun,
the hail, this ill fated show
--bruised orange
Oct 3, 2011
Oct 3, 2011 at 1:37 AM UTC
Humanity is on the rocks
And we are nearing the edge too quickly
Pollution and overpopulation have filled the fallen forests
Popularity is all that matters now
Yet to care about your appearance is vain
Death is glorified to look like a romantic gesture
The world can’t continue like this
We can’t continue like this
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 9:05 AM UTC
He pondered over the note he wrote,
Sat hunched and cold in his chair,
He nodded once as he read it then
And signed the bottom with flair,
The house was not even stirring then
As he rose, looked out at the sea,
It said, ‘By the time you see this, Jen,
I’ll be hanging from some old tree.’
Then he slipped on out to the breaking day
As the dawn was beginning to spread,
He should have been further along than this,
By now, he should have been dead.
He’d heard them stir in the attic room
When he’d come in late from the bay,
His wife and a lifelong friend of his
Who’d thought he was still away.
He’d heard the sound of them making love
As he crept to the attic door,
His face turned white in the passage light
As he sank to the passage floor.
The tears had welled at his eyes at last
As he crept back down the stairs,
He’d lost a friend and his woman, Jen,
And the love that he thought was theirs.
He wandered over the grassland there
To the woods at the edge of the cliff,
But not forgetting to take the coil
Of rope, he held at his hip.
He wondered how many times they’d met
While he was away at sea,
And laughed, the minute his back was turned
To leave him no dignity.
Then pictures rose in his troubled mind
That he shouldn’t have had to think,
He cursed himself, for he must be blind
When his friend had tipped her a wink,
The pain was really too much to bear
For he’d lost not one, but two,
He’d loved them both, she’d broken her oath
And his friend had betrayed him too.
He found a tree, hung over the cliff
That was old and gnarled and bent,
With a sturdy branch that would do the trick,
It was too late to relent.
He flung the rope and he made it fast
Then fashioned the hangman’s knot,
It would swing him out and over the sea
And send him where time forgot.
He tugged on the rope to test the branch
To see if it took his weight,
Dropped the loop down over his head
When a voice cried out, ‘Just wait!’
He turned to see his Jen on the path
That ran alongside the cliff,
‘What are you doing, my love, my love,
Is my love worth less than this?’
She said she’d gone for a walk that night,
Hadn’t been able to sleep,
‘Your friend is up in the attic room
With a woman from Warley Heath.
He only met her a week ago,’
She said, ‘and borrowed the bed.
He said that you wouldn’t mind, but I
Wasn’t impressed,’ she said.
He pulled the rope from over his head
And he hugged his woman tight,
‘I’m such a fool, but I thought that you
And he… It was such a fright!’
The sun beamed down and it seemed to say
That a love so strong was rare,
While a gnarled old tree drooped over the sea
With its rope, still hanging there.
David Lewis Paget
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 1:58 PM UTC
Stay holding on to the mountain cliff!
For deep down below all you will find is grief.
You have come too far above touching the sky
Imagine about all you have tolerated to come this high.
You may cry and you possibly will suffer.
But retreat is not your word, for you are a cliffhanger.
An accomplishment never comes too easy.
It’s long twisted road full of obstacles and too messy.
Let your hands sore; Let your legs be numb.
But do not be all gloomy then succumb.
Believe yourself and you can accomplish wonders.
Prove yourself mighty, for you are a cliffhanger.
You will initiate your journey as an unknown.
People will mock at you and you will be thrown.
Don’t listen to them and continue your journey
For there will be a time when you will have glee.
Life will show you the best and worst it can offer.
Pull yourself up and reach the peak, for you are a cliffhanger.
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 12:58 AM UTC
A story isn’t a story without the beginning.
A beginning that told us from the start that there was an end,
An end so near that we were not ready.
I was afraid of the cliffhanger that approached quicker than a rolling thunderstorm,
A storm that looked only of dark skies with hopes of a drizzle,
Not a flood.
Our passion died like the fire within that storm,
The drizzle that turned from a downpour into a flood warning into a whirling tornado of unhappiness.
My dear, I wish I could say we were the storm but I was the rain and you were the fire but the thing was,
You saw me coming.
You saw the storm and the rain yet you lit yourself upon a dry Sahara of promises and the secret I do’s we whispered to each other during the night.
That dry, crackled earth turned soft and squishy from the waves of turmoil that rained down onto the surface,
The fire doused with remorse over a lost lover.
You weren’t dead,
You just left without saying goodbye.
The ****** was nothing of a ****** but a steady decline of I love you’s to, “Have a good life,”
To barely talking,
To trailing down a hill to the very end of our story,
Regret.
I regret everything but you, my darling.
The damp earth will grow again and while I may remember the dry Sahara,
I will grow a rainforest of color without you in it.
Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 2:08 AM UTC
Caught in a bind
The girl wish she could rewind
Coming to this Crazy Cool world
But the thoughts of them ran through her mind
She was so intrigued by the author for his creativity
Yet she's smitten by the town's sheriff she wants to indulge on her naivety
She had been coming and going so much that she lost a sense of what was real and what was fake
The more time she spent in this fantasy world the more she could relate
The more she fell in love
The more she felt torn
Finally the two of them gave her an ultimatum
"Listen to my heart" said the author verbatim
I was drawn to you before and after bringing you to this world
I only wanted you to be my one and only girl
So would you please give me a chance
At your heart and give in to true love's romance
"Listen to my soul" the sheriff said with a gaze. It's been but a moment, but I've loved you for days. I see it in your eyes that you see the magic in this world. So stand by my side and be my Crazy Cool girl."
Time stood still as they waited for her decision
What is she going to do?
"I choose...."
Gonna have to wait for installment 2
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
One day
I am going to look out my bedroom window and say
It’s a nice day outside
One day
I will learn to love the heat and not the cold cushion of my bed
I will love the sand under my feet
And I will not be afraid to get wet
Run face first and dive into the hissing water
And say
**** my phone
I don’t need it anymore
Let it soak
Because if you’re not here with me now
You’re probably ******* your computer with your fingertips
What’s my status?
Alive ************ and not at home
I never will be again
I have seen one too many earthquakes
From behind the white walls of this house
Wondered too many times
what a mountain tastes like
Blood and teeth I bet
What a river feels like
Rushing white and rapid beneath me
What adrenalin feels like when I have to catch myself from falling
Rather than catch my breath from watching
Another bomb explode in some cliffhanger I am not hanging from
Here is your noose
Made of zipties and wires
The day I die
I will greet god
diving into a valley of his own creation
Rather than in a place of mine
The last thing I will ever text
I am not here
And if you are not with me
You are reading this
************* your phone somewhere
You had your chance
I got mine
And I’m taking it
Dec 23, 2010
Dec 23, 2010 at 12:45 PM UTC
I still remember when you first aired
your series premiere. I quickly fell in love
and tuned in every night. I certainly had
no need to record the action,
the comedy, the drama.
Reruns were nostalgic memories
of the new episodes that I never missed.
You couldn’t find the right time slot for me
and we grew apart. It wasn’t the same.
You seldom aired until you stopped airing altogether.
How do you feel knowing that you are my cliffhanger
ending to a canceled show? I could shy away
from television altogether or find a new favorite show
and appreciate what you had to offer when you were around.
Maybe I’ll read a book instead.
I am walking away from the static
rain on the screen. I still remember
the series premiere when you first aired.
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 5:02 PM UTC