"comprises" poems
No no no, this isn’t one of those commendable confessional rants of redounded reality.
We all know where that goes and what it leads to.
This rhetoric comprises solely of the faulty intuitive comprehension and the ******** behaviour people have while under the influence of the poor man’s ****
That could be mistaken for a typo.
Xeno-meph, would be what aliens are called if they did this too.
Extended warranty of your sinus cavity is a must.
And a mouth guard so you don’t churn away at the capricious calcium that are your teeth.
Smoke and dance till lungs and legs collapse.
Talk like you’re the spokesperson for an oil company that’s pillaging life and land.
Change your personality in a minute and become the ****** you always wanted to be.
That smart talking, **** wagging, ***** licking, *** ******* back stabbing, self serving, worthless piece of **** is now you, but it doesn’t feel like that to you.
Rational ******** your only reprieve.
Keep doing the same things over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again hoping the outcome will change.
But you’re cool.
You’ve done this before, it’s solvable.
A break. That’s all there’s to it.
The itch in your nose has stopped. Your jaw doesn’t hurt.
You don’t feel like **** but you know somehow that something is amiss.
Things are not what they seem. Sense doesn’t make itself.
The dark is your sanctum. Fast is your peace.
That’s not a typo.
The world cannot slow down for you.
You have to speed up. Another gram, another line, another lie.
Control is what you say it is.
Handles are what your stomach has.
Fast forward a few months and you don’t have a handle on anything.
You don’t feel down, you feel fine. Nothing’s wrong
But just another fall, and you’re straight out of line.
Justify! Justify! Justify!
Listen, keep listening… Talk! keep talking!
Everything makes sense. Everything is a sense.
The difference is that I’m faster, quicker, sharper.
I’m handicapped.
Leverage is my mind, broken and blind.
I wish that was a typo.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 5:12 AM UTC
inside me are organs
inside my cells are organelles
inside me are organelles
they are mine
they are me
they are composed of atoms
they are composed of protons, neutrons, electrons
protons are mine
they are me
neutrons are mine
they are me
electrons are mine
they too are me
electrons and mitochondria and kidneys
are me
I am me
bone comprises skeleton
marrow comprises bone
bone and skeleton are me
marrow too is me
I feel this in my self
I feel this in my bones
bone feels this in my marrow
bone and I share marrow
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 4:23 PM UTC
I'd last about an hour as a clerk inside a store
invariably I'd shoot my mouth off
about someone's daughter dressing like a *****
or making comments about the dreadful things consumed
which would include a good 99% of the people in the room
I'd eventually end up getting my lights punched out
after ********* someone as a fat *** undiscerning lout
or cracking some aside regarding what comprises that crud
and making faces of revulsion "you'd be better off eating mud"
ewwwww, you really eat that stuff?
this store should be sued for selling such bluff
children with diabetes, a third of adults obese
the courtesy clerk dies a little for lack of surcease
line after line of vapid consumers
mindless knee-jerk impetuosity belay the rumors
what's an adulterant, what's a filler?
propylene glycol alginate, yum yum
sorbitan mono sterate, shut up and eat it, its fun!
I can't even pronounce it, much less do I care
need I be a scientist to enjoyably savor fare
Go ahead and poison yourself
the quirky clerk exclaimed
its ever so clear you're stupid and lame
stay mired in your pig-headed muck of ignorance
you're exactly what they want
another brain dead consumer
a regular culinary savant
stuff your face with no remorse nor heed
no worries, the clerk of little courtesy knows your need
he'll limply wheel out your cart of miserable choices for you
and wise-crack some snarky rejoinder
then promptly get beaten, black and blue
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
I saw a sign that said,
I spent all my money on scotch, women and guitars. The rest I just wasted
My life will probably be the same way
Except knowing my luck I'll **** around and have the strings misplaced
Men never really grow up our toys just get more expensive
As a guy I can attest to this
I went from being content with action figures Legos and my N64
To guitars cars and rollerblading on the Riverwalk under the bridges
It's funny how that happens
How materialism changes how we see the world
But pursuing all the finer things
Wanting champagne wishes and caviar dreams
Makes you forget the madness that truly comprises the earth
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 3:18 PM UTC
People always complain about political correctness
Unless it's something important to them
Then they expect you to use empathetic indirectness
As to not hurt the feelings of men
I'm a homosexual talking to a stranger
They don't detect this
They say ****** and unleash my anger
They don't expect this
They were expecting me to be socially correct
To their bigoted views
They can't handle it when their hatred reflects
And they're given their due
I can't ask for a simple date
Or mention anything about God
I can't ask for their ****** state
That would imply that they're flawed
Yet they say I'm easily offended
But their argument is upended
When there are many topics I must avoid
Or hedge around
Otherwise they will get easily annoyed
And wear a frown
People say Donald Trump is politically incorrect
But that's not true
He's a hateful piece of ****
People confuse that with political incorrectness
But if about half the people who vote are pieces of ****
Can that really be said to be incorrect?
The idea of the president being politically incorrect is absurd
By virtue of being elected his politics are being endorsed
And endorsement is what comprises political correctness
He may know nothing of governance or diplomacy
But he was correct when it came to politics
I live in a country where I can say pretty much whatever I want
And then everyone else can react however they want
To be angry at someone's reaction is its own political correctness
They're just mad it's not their own specific politics being adhered to
So when people mention political correctness I laugh
It's a defensively reflexive path
When they live an unexamined life
But then complain about their plight
They think they're hated because they're white
They think they're hated because they're right
I dislike them because they have low empathy
So I don't want to be near that
Because their hatred starts to enter me
When they call me a queer ***
Then they expect me to love it
But instead I tell them to shove it
They tell me I'm being politically correct
Maybe it's their own lives they should inspect
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 11:31 PM UTC
Addict.
Fly free unwanted conqueror-
I detest you
And your haunting illusion.
Midnight visage-
Encapsulated in wanton peaks
Of redemption.
You who scorched my fields
And ignited my fears,
Laying waste in a furious
Dervish of extrapolated ecstasy.
It might have been over
But in what I was sure
Was my final moment
Your grip became slack,
my conscious lying sputtering
in the destitute mud
That comprises bewilderment ,
And you showed me mercy-
Such bravery in the face of havoc.
And now you gladly accept me,
Embrace me in cold arms,
Wantonly smiling at the distance-
almost, almost imperceptive
But my knowledge trumps mere sense,
With the certainty of a madman.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 2:47 PM UTC
I want to learn everything; everything comprises of everything,
be it the knowledge of the nature or the horizons of the cosmos
I want to canvas over the universe, multiverses;
to paint my reality with a brush of joy.
But, it's tough for me, because I'm dementic
If I decline it while inclining towards a book
Dyslexia obliterates my desires and hurt me badly
If I ignore all this, ADHD comes forward to poke me
with a stick of astounds and pains of eventide
If I cut down the roots of ADHD, S.A.D greets me
and enter to my dark world and enhance its darkness
I'm confused, shattered; directionless in a myopic way
Highly myopic, no direction, but I do have vision
I want to crisscross my myopia to an extent
where it diminishes.
Meningitis, shut up, you *******
Please have mercy on me, I don't deserve U at least,
But do I really need someone to have mercy on me?
I guess no, I can build my own world where
Dementia strengthens my spirits by saying,
Why just Embryology, what secrets do you want to find
Ova is not dependent on a ****** *****
it is a complete YOU.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 7:06 PM UTC
We clocked in
(Punched in the older guys said)
And sat in a circle of orange plastic chairs
Hubbed by a thin morose
Befuddlement of a team lead
“An hour, just what is an hour?” he asked to begin the weekly meeting
I wanted to say, “A unit of temporal measurement that comprises -- or is that composes? -- sixty minutes,”
But held back
Knowing the obviousness of the query had to be a set-up
The befuddlement sighed in frustration
An understudy to my English III instructor
(the one who gave me an F- on the Emily Dickinson test)
Then said, “Okay, just what can be done in an hour?”
Then the youngest kid who always kept quiet
But who had enough scars -- had to toss in a lurid touch didn’t I --
To imply that he might have more experience than the oldest said,
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay, then just what is that contraption on the other side of the bay?”
“An assembly line.”
“And what does it do?”
“It makes a 30centaurpower indivertible that runs on Gila monster spit.”
He nodded.
He considered.
“Okay, then, let’s punch out and come back tomorrow. Maybe then we’ll really have something to do.”
(And - oh yeah -- putting on my hat as a frustrated teleplay writer:
Those scars showed that he could handle himself.)
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 6:34 PM UTC
Today is better than last night for now the delicate cords held within my throat do not refuse air its passage through them for anything more than the oxygen it carries even though all I was wanting to do was scream.
Today is better than last night for now my sight is clear - free of the tears which could not fall due to the dam I built too high and too well who's retribution was to refract my guiding lights into nonsensical shapes which could offer no comfort.
Today is better than last night for now the sharp daggers of keratin are not biting at my skin frantically trying to purify me of this rotting flesh which coats my bones, and my mind is past not being able to wrap its tendrils about the idea of people possibly loving this wretched creature I have become... Or perhaps it did wrap around that fragile concept but instead of absorbing it those vines of the rose garden of my mind stayed true to form and grew thorns to pierce and tear at the idea like my nails once did to this alabaster canvas while holding as tightly as doubt sometimes holds my lungs keeping me from breathing, but this concept is more breakable then my lungs... And so it was crushed into stardust. The same stardust that comprises or bodies because every element of our bodies is created within our guiding lights we wish upon. And I see that sparkle of stardust every day in each of your eyes. I see it in everyone's eyes.. except my own... And it makes me wonder if maybe dad was right and some people are just made of a different type of dust. A dust comprised from the ashes of hell itself which will forever smolder but never more catch aflame... The ashes filed with the agonies of those souls which lost themselves in the madness and feel into the eternal night.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 6:17 PM UTC
This poem,
,
excuse me, ehem
i
doesn't care if you read it to the end
or if you don't like syntax, the grammar,
or
the capitol letters
line spelling
breaks (orspacing)
but perhaps you prefer that it be less...
understandable
Compromising,
that it comprises the
ENTIRETY
of
nature nursing nurture
[aligned to the Left]
That way you walk away feeling like it was something worth your time!
Respectable (as pronounced in the Spanish language).
And yet,
there is a
certain re
-gularity
to time...
like the tick of the clock---------------------------------------------
>>thatmadeyoucringe<<
congratulations-
nobody cared, or ever will--
it's the bread and butter---
Apathy
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 5:38 PM UTC
Yesterday, he came in my dream.
I was sitting at the edge of the cliff,
watching the hills,
the setting sun, the river flowing
when he came close & screamed:
"Hey! Isn't the view spectacular?"
I was taken by surprise. I couldn't react.
I just nodded.
He always loved nature in particular.
He wanted to chit-chat yesterday.
He could see from my eyes that I still love him.
But, he made it obvious by asking me: "Do you?"
I looked at him and replied that it doesn't make much of a difference because you don't.
He smiled.
The broad grin.
The sharp smirk.
I got carried away,
Keeping my inhibitions at bay.
I confessed that I still find him everywhere.
Unlike him, this time he showed interest.
"What all comprises of your everywhere?" He inquired
He raised his eyebrow.
Smirked some more.
Two of his trademark antics I always adored.
With hesitation, I said he is omnipresent.
He is in my breath, my mind, my head.
He is in the view I was watching,
He is in the shadow of the strangers,
He is in the most innate things.
He is in my heart,
He is in my words,
He is in my dreams.
Hearing this, he looked pleased & said:
"I am honored, I want to ask you another thing. Can I go ahead?"
I said sure, at least we are talking.
He then asked me where I don't find him,
don't see him walking?
I stared in his eyes, smiled,
and replied - Kismat!
-- Good Morning. The End --
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 7:37 AM UTC
A house perched
On solid foundation
Provides shelter for a generation.
Homes aren't made of brittle bricks,
Wanning woods or crumbling stones;
You can't raze a well-built home.
A divided house will not stand,
A listing castle on shifting sands.
The peaks, dales and family travails,
At home are not abnormal,
They're common and diurnal;
Yet the undaunted home prevails.
Your house comprises various rooms
For eating, sleeping, and mundane routines.
Homes furnish rooms with smiles and tears,
And gatherings throughout your years,
To be shared or on one's own,
The choice is offered,
You're not alone.
Houses grow proud, though gratifying,
With amenities truly satisfying.
Homes swell with smells of love,
The sounds of children snug above,
A sense that all is safe and sure;
This day has given more than enough.
Houses get tidied, cleaned and aired,
Decorated for special affairs;
Homes are fingers, toes and hair,
Hampers, dishes, and underwear.
Its doors lead to who knows where.
Doors to let you out;
Doors to let me hear
When you're back again;
Welcoming your return.
Homes fill us
With memories
Houses never will.
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 8:14 AM UTC
Why I Like her?
her image resembles
one of my close associates or
one of my relatives or friends or
was like my dream heroine…
Why I Propose her?
coz she matches
the matching come out of my projection
the projection came out of my Inner woman
it comprises of part of dream woman and mostly of my mom
why I Fear her?
when I was close with her
her reality doesn't match my projection
the same is the case for her
we understood our reality mismatch our projection
Why I Divorce or continuing my life ?
When projection not met
absence of children's means this is the stage we depart in
the name of Divorce
If we have children, they become a thread or ******* to continue..
Now, our reality become real and slowly we alter our projections
the alteration continue to happens, till the child take our place
and gradually we loose our identities
Why I Revenge?
When the children grows and move out
Our projection slowly looses our alteration
and the thread become weak
this stage, strong heart look for Affair
again affair was not the solution. finally, live in despair
Why I continue?
weak heart continue with the same partner
Now we feel its too late to regain our self
and experience 'a kind of Death'
Both bring our true reality and revenge like
small fight, small torture, small separation
was done more carefully by holding the thread
that goes on till death
This way of living called as "life"
by our forefathers, I too believe
as a hypocrite…
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 9:27 PM UTC
In the middle of the Milky Way,
darkness overwhelms.
A dark Star grows so powerful
no light escapes its realm .
Gas, in ribbons, flows towards it
in undulating streams.
then vanishes eternally-
at least that’s how it seems.
There, in that sleep of death,
where no dream would intrude.
The matter that comprises Earth
would make one sugar cube.
Perhaps one day, some eons hence,
the dark star will explode
and give this universe new birth
when all the stars grow cold.
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 11:29 PM UTC
So now she stands a beauty,
Average in stature
Yet extraordinary in strength
To find
Within the pores of the fragile bones
Of a sweet youth
The armour, the wisdom,
The experience, the might,
The hurt, the resilience
Of a Spartan soldier
She stands to support
The line she comprises
And will fall down with valor
With a sword towards the sky
Hazel is the eye
Through which she used to
Squint to find
An answer to the unkind
Cards shuffled and dealt
Out to her one at time
Toy with me some more
Mess with my mind
Shake the ground on which I stand
And watch my eyes go blind
Tear the petals one by one,
Ruin the beauty that once stood
Drive me, drive me back,
Watch me, watch me cry,
I knew the rose would blacken
I am taking back what’s mine
For two whole years
An empty vase
Sat impassive,
Barren of dreams
And stripped of passion
Naked was my body,
Open were the wounds,
Fresh was the ****
Slowly healing were tattoos
Depicting a devastating tale of a mother,
A mother who couldn’t find reason,
Simply struggled for the why
Of a life she had constructed over decades
Through a brutal, shattered mind
Watch me laugh
And flash my face up to the light
Of a sweltering day,
Beads of sweat dot my nose
I worry not, just wipe them away
Yet the tears are what
I can’t seem to simply rid myself of
The air is cold,
They freeze and thaw
Mamma listen, I’m in love
I’m perched on the edge
Of something finite,
One wrong move and I can’t defy
The lines traced on the way down,
No ropes or swinging vines
I contemplated moving though,
Maybe I could find you
But I remain standing in this very spot,
I couldn’t jump
Because this spot is all knew
I take the all of what this is
For everything it’s worth
Because I know the answers
To what now means
I don’t know where you are
I’d very much be pleased to venture
But leave now and I know
I’d be mistaken
I’ve got a lot to do,
I may not know it all
But the assignment must be complete
Before I take the fall
For now I live
For now I cry
For now I breathe
And fear and die
For now I sleep
With pictures of you
And I always awake with them too
For now the cerulean dreams
Are posted upon walls,
Like graffiti faded in a day
And I still sit and wonder
Why you got away.
Sep 4, 2011
Sep 4, 2011 at 1:42 AM UTC
Fly free unwanted conqueror
I detest you
And your haunting illusion
Midnight visage
Encapsulated in wanton peaks
of redemption
You who scorched my fields
and ignited my fears
Laying waste in a furious
dervish of extrapolated ecstasy
It might have been over
But in what I was sure
was my final moment
Your grip became slack,
my conscious lying spluttering
in the destitute mud
that comprises bewilderment ,
and you showed me mercy
Such bravery in the face of chaos!
And now you gladly accept me
Embrace me in cold arms
Wantonly smiling at the distance
almost, almost imperceptive
But my knowledge trumps mere sense
With the certainty of a madman
Dec 12, 2010
Dec 12, 2010 at 7:08 PM UTC
Uncontrolled thoughts
Restricted acts
Relatives, family and society
Comprises my identity
who is real me?
I still don’t know
for finding it, need a long way to go
but would I go alone?
Or take those relatives, family and society with me
If I went in a group
would I ever be able to find who is the real me?
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 2:14 AM UTC
Claustrophobic
Cockroaches in corners
Concrete slabs
Clutching, cloaking, choking
Confined and
Constrained of a
Counterfeit life, I was the perfect
Charlatan of my encompassing separation.
Compelled into Self, oh yet
Cumbersome conditioning
Cultivating awareness within
Concentrated compression. I,
Cave!
Capitulation. Cannot withstand these
Currents of clouded
Compensation.
Comfortable in this
Chaos, as I've finally
Concluded: It comprises all of me.
Completely void
Contently
Containing nothing,
Clear from attached perceptions
Captivating Silence.
Come through me
Crawl into my
Caverns
Crash unto my shore
Caressing sensuality
Continuously
Cascading down, down, down
Composing my entirety.
Jul 15, 2020
Jul 15, 2020 at 6:00 AM UTC
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This wedding season, you can adorn yourself with one of Aarong’s festive looks. On November 17, Aarong launched their latest product line – the Wedding Collection.
Aarong has introduced a series of looks and styles to try out this wedding season for brides, the bridal entourage and the wedding attendees. What’s more, they are promoting Jamdani, Muslin and Katan sarees as the choice of outfits to wear for the bride and her close ones.
The line is introducing bridal wear in some uncommon hues, moving away from the routine “red” to peach, pink, purple, blue, green and beige. These unconventional colours can also look grand on the big day, and this is the idea that the creators of Aarong are attempting to establish.
Jamdani saris will be incorporated with remarkable embroidered and printed blouses, helping ladies look regal on their special day. The wedding entourage also has a lot to look forward to. This special compilation includes Katan and Jamdani sarees, paired with embroidered blouses, ideal for any reception soiree. Katan sarees can be worn in bright or bold colours and contrasted with multi-layered pearl jewellery and complementing blouses. Furthermore, the collection also includes Jamdani saris in light shades such as light pink, peach and white, and these can be paired with frilled petticoats or dupattas.
Along with gold, the creators encourage the brides to try out silver jewellery with complementing stones, layered pearl neckpieces and hair ornaments. Hence, the looks are a mix of modern and traditional, and are not only advised for the bride, but also for the close relatives or wedding attendees.
This collection also comprises of saris, appropriate for the bridesmaids, the cousins, the sisters, and even the parents of the to-be-weds. Aarong has prepared similar ‘matching’ attires for the bride and the groom, that are perfect for particular occasions like Holud, Mehendi, Aiburo Bhaat, and so on. For the bridegroom, as well as his family and friends, there is also an exclusive range, that includes Sherwanis and Panjabis. Aarong also provides a variety of gift options such as ceramic dinner set, cushion and bed covers, as well as women’s accessories, such as bags and purses.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/backless-formal-dresses
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 2:00 AM UTC
Invested was what seemed like infinity
There I was peering at such iconic symbolism
Indefinite filaments of unprecedented passion ascend
I battle to suppress said ardor though perpetually it heightens
Each time her face shall in the sanctuary that comprises my reveries
Sacrificed I am to perish within her **** inviting aroma
That illustrates my voracious carnality
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 2:12 AM UTC
Invested was what seemed like infinity
There I was peering at such iconic symbolism
Indefinite filaments of unprecedented passion ascend
I battle to suppress said ardor though perpetually it heightens
Each time her face shall in the sanctuary that comprises my reveries
Sacrificed I am to perish within her **** inviting aroma
That illustrates my voracious carnality
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 2:11 AM UTC
Part One: Wolves and Chokes
Children are such wolves.
A day is a fledgling lamb
That can be crowded, cloistered
And clawed.
I used to speak to you and
Run with you.
You in your red coat
And I with my white throat.
Suspect nothing.
No tooth was fear to me
For a pack does not stack
Its white edges against itself.
Yet still I must have itched
A miracle of irritation
That cannot be ignored.
In the night, my mouth
Is drawn wide.
Like a fetus, I am transparent
And cringing in black situ.
Then a bite, and then a bite.
Then you see what is inside.
A one I love the best of all
Is loath to see me live.
The bitter taste of childhood vow
Comprises all I give.
I’ve broken you, you say.
With a box of fools I never sought,
Always galumphing back to me.
You broke me first, I think.
What posturing, straighten that halo
That chokes me rightfully.
Of course there is no way
To seek out your paradise.
Not if sinners cannot speak.
Part Two: Sebastien
Your hysteria is a fine rope.
My tree stands ready at the dawn,
A line of men and my
Brick wall that chips and splits
When bodies fall.
Even the sun is watching.
No one swats the stinging gaze
Away and no one dares offend.
But I stand.
I shall try to be as salt.
Salt stands even as dust.
Salt sneers at wounds.
Salt loves only the earth.
And the earth will love me soon,
Championing me as her lover
Which is an irony too ghastly to feel.
Rain in the still air, in the sun.
Silence that grinds a heel onto wrists
That steals from me.
A second, then a heartstring.
Thousand and thousands.
Eyes and minutes.
A billion is still only a tenth.
Release.
It is the boundlessness of the sky
And a chorus stabs their shovels,
Stabs the vein with silver mirth.
god touches me.
I am touched by gods.
I am born
And slain by daylight’s pink
Hands.
Every iron finger
Every one a steely tongue
Every cut a golden affair
And the spurns too hot to hold.
I fall and fold and dim.
My hour is burnt
And still your eyes, your teeth
Go with me
To forge both of my decades with
A gilt life of ecstasy I never
Touched but saw.
I saw it in the face of god.
And heard it as a note
That echoed through the days I lived,
And every word I wrote.
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 6:52 PM UTC
Let us burn a lamp of knowledge
for those who are egoist and small,
Small neither in age nor in wage,
But potted & brittle clays those,
who are miles away from the God.
The God who is omnipresent & omniscient,
but, innocent like a nascent child,
In the divinely stretched and limitless sky,
Like an aloof but flying & singing kite.
We are most often fools,
But he is always wise,
He lives close to us
But, unseen and unrealized.
Away from the God, I mean those
who are confined to self & supercilious in this zoo.
The zoo not only of birds and animals
But which comprises all i.e.he, she, me & you.
Let us,
Share our cognizance with them also,
if not the whole then, just a little mole,
As it may facilitate them in achieving MOKSHA( salvation from physical existence)
a long cherised life- goal.
Methinks, then,
It would be the beginning of a new era,
All around people blissful & stout,
The whole world whirling in mirth,
and nothing to be worried about.
Mukesh Kataria
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 1:22 PM UTC