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"disengaged" poems
walking through the woods i was surrounded by a plethora of golden bronze amber leaves tumbling in the wind sparkling with a star fire that evanesced from their jagged edges upon their descent.  i stood entranced, mesmerized, utterly hypnotized by their glorious magnificence.  i observed with intensity as a golden bronze amber leaf never having been attached to the majestic tree had no need to let go but gently released.  feeling no trepidation it wholly lacked desire for manipulation to control the forces of the wind.  i watched in awe and wonder realizing that it never disengaged from the tree knowing that separation is an illusion; it simply became the wind.  whirling it shimmered in the autumn sun as it wafted with no need for reins allowing its destination to unfold.  gingerly cascading it settled tenderly on the ground resting comfortably in ambivalence.  i sensed it did not cringe when it was picked up by an unsuspecting boot but intuitively knew immediately that it was being carried and dropped off serendipitously at an auspicious location.  i listened to it intently and drank in its essence as it simply lay in being not obsessing over what would happen consequent but sat in sheer stillness seemingly encompassing all totality.  i was stunned to see that it lingered without judgment in undivided clarity for what wild synchronicity would come.  it quenched its thirst in mystery while being completely at home in uncertainty.  the golden bronze amber leaf seemed one with all that is while simultaneously retaining awareness of self-perception.  as a gentle gust of wind coalesced with the beige fall sky it literally merged with the momentum enjoying the ride to its perfect destination.  with delicacy it rested cozily in ambiguity whispering to me that heaven is a state and not a place.  i vow surrender to black and white existence pledging fearlessly to climb higher creating life with vivid vibrancy adding golden bronze amber to my palette of colors with which i’ll paint. ©2016 janetaylor
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May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 5:37 PM UTC
golden bronze amber
walking through the woods i was surrounded by a plethora of golden bronze amber leaves tumbling in the wind sparkling with a star fire that evanesced from their jagged edges upon their descent.  i stood entranced, mesmerized, utterly hypnotized by their glorious magnificence.  i observed with intensity as a golden bronze amber leaf never having been attached to the majestic tree had no need to let go but gently released.  feeling no trepidation it wholly lacked desire for manipulation to control the forces of the wind.  i watched in awe and wonder realizing that it never disengaged from the tree knowing that separation is an illusion; it simply became the wind.  whirling it shimmered in the autumn sun as it wafted with no need for reins allowing its destination to unfold.  gingerly cascading it settled tenderly on the ground resting comfortably in ambivalence.  i sensed it did not cringe when it was picked up by an unsuspecting boot but intuitively knew immediately that it was being carried and dropped off serendipitously at an auspicious location.  i listened to it intently and drank in its essence as it simply lay in being not obsessing over what would happen consequent but sat in sheer stillness seemingly encompassing all totality.  i was stunned to see that it lingered without judgment in undivided clarity for what wild synchronicity would come.  it quenched its thirst in mystery while being completely at home in uncertainty.  the golden bronze amber leaf seemed one with all that is while simultaneously retaining awareness of self-perception.  as a gentle gust of wind coalesced with the beige fall sky it literally merged with the momentum enjoying the ride to its perfect destination.  with delicacy it rested cozily in ambiguity whispering to me that heaven is a state and not a place.  i vow surrender to black and white existence pledging fearlessly to climb higher creating life with vivid vibrancy adding golden bronze amber to my palette of colors with which i’ll paint. ©2016 janetaylor
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2
The weathermen were not prepared, the storm turned West towards the shore For eighteen hours it came down in blinding sheets three feet and more. It buried cars, it covered streets It weighted down branches on the trees, it dusted roofs It snarled the roads, The winter storm did as it pleased When it was done, the air was calm a cold serene and peaceful scene. The snow in drifts lay on the ground as I looked upon what once was green. Then, as whiteness overawed the earth A single red snowdrop appeared. It briefly touched the snow draped earth then rose again towards heaven's sphere then one by one, here and there flakes disengaged and rose on high until all the snow that was earthbound in blinding flight had disappeared. In a flash, the snow was gone The fields of earth once more were green No traces of the storm remained like a half remembered dream.
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Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 10:58 PM UTC
The Blizzard
Ive let myself believe for so long that you had broken me. Because I loved you. But I know that I am not broken, just so disappointed in myself for forgetting for so long that love does not apply to me not your kind of love anyways. I came into your life, to build you into the man you needed to be. and when that task was finished, you were finished with me. This is what I came to do but I forgot to stay disengaged. and I am ashamed. so I will move on to the next broken man who needs a little help from a strange soul.
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Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 3:13 AM UTC
Strange Soul
wreaths: hand in my lap back to the precious fears we thought we stored so far from here grit my teeth punch the wreath it falls and leaves scatter across the floor i wonder if this is a metaphor i smirk and slam the door as more begins to fall, it is leaves galore get a broom to sweep the mess when suddenly i must confess its too much of a hassle to rearrange the disengaged let it fend for itself, not much to do for such state of health not even a reboot could contribute gems and jewels, they too shall be tools for the wealthy doesn't feel such grief as do these cheap wreaths attached upon a staple-piece that was never meant to be combined, we all will know it in time.
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Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
wreaths
I stared out the window My brain, completely disengaged No thoughts, no emotions But a war was being waged I could not move or even think Stood lifeless, as I gazed But, inside my brain This awful darkness blazed Outside the window, light It seemed so warm and pure Still, inside my head A madness did me lure I could not raise my voice Could not, say a word That evil’s lock on me Seemed to be assured But then an angel’s voice So sweetly to me said Come with me my dear And let us go to bed BOEMS BY JA 583 FOR MY WIFE
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Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 9:59 AM UTC
SAVED
I was walking through the grey rainy streets, another melancholic day. Proud English flags hung up in the windows of council houses. What are we so proud of anyway? A country run on ignorance and blaming the minority, the government wonders why we have a problem with authority? So we will focus on the youth that are disengaged and abstaining from voting.  Don't mention those who are hungry, unemployed and hurting. Ssh, if we keep it quiet then maybe nobody will notice. Close your eyes while the darkness approaches.
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May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
The darkness approaches
He turns the page Of old age For what was once the rage Now sits in his cage It's been a war to wage This, life's final stage The pressure gauge Ticking on so outrage Ticking by in ménage For his book's cleavage Untouched and derange Year's wasted and disengaged If only there was no leakage Or ever such seepage Life on his barren range With no panacea to assuage No wife ever, no cat, no life to engage Nothing but red read rage Now in his final chapter, this cage This cage, death does he part this rampage A life perched without marriage For he married to himself backstage Where his curtain veiled fruitage In lieu of looking at the skies for dosage He fell hostage to his hermitage Yet this, his bottled pilgrimage Sinking now in raging montage He does sit beseeched in his passage And hopes someday to bid bon voyage With direr hopes of  turning a better page Logan Robertson 9/27/2018
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Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 5:57 AM UTC
His Book of Life Lacks Words
Who was I to think we had something worth keeping? Certainly not you. But why. We played the game. I thought I understood the rules. I thought you were trying to break through. My walls oh so high They hid the sun from you And you saw my darkness. In the dark you found truth. Unable to understand it, you ran from it's grip. Too tight around you, the darkness is unwelcoming. If only you knew that if you held on a little longer, the sun was to rise and from truth love were to arise. But you disengaged. Saw the truth and convoluted them into lies. Now nothing. But a heartbroken metaphor for I think I miss you more. You've moved on, naturally and genuinely. I sat here, stupidly.
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Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC
"You're so mellow dramatic Genevieve."
A jaundiced adaptation     of fillers raucous threats attempts obsolete mimicking    in a conspicuous pomposity      of disfigured reckonings   slipped us the tongue of your     ostentatious audacity mid judgmental manifestations Disengaged, as our eyes grew dim      ' neath the masquerade             of multiplex duplicity **who the ****** hell do you think you are?**
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Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 7:03 AM UTC
Conspicuous pomposity
Contentment reigns in the freedom from restraint In your radiant, creative light Warmth rushes in as you achieve what you hope for Upon this wondrous night You have so cleverly withdrawn to fight another day Disengaged and retained your hope Turned the pages and the tide in your own favor Along the way, you have learned to cope Confusion once lead you to feel a powerlessness A bitter sorrow for your past Now you have learned to focus on the bottom line Gaining a strength inside to last Irresponsibility and indecision you have laid to rest Along with frustration and inner strife As you release the hold of all the gray skies Shadowing the light in your life Wonderful surges of vitality, wash throughout your soul Heralding a new day to begin You have found your inner spirits, truth and balance The gray skies hold, has come, to an end
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Aug 5, 2010
Aug 5, 2010 at 8:10 PM UTC
No Gray Skies
Separation That appears to be part and parcel with this human incarnation My ego cuts ME off with no oxygen I? Flail and wail like a child whose lost his mother A fish in a world meant for another species entirely I dissolve, evolve and transcend my shape to embrace Not only you but the I in you and the you in me and the never-ending connectivity of human consciousness. Awaken and its as if I've fallen into a nightmare, a terror so vivid More real than reality. Alas it is reality and I am awake and dead And so are you. Though still alive, ironically in loss of a body I feel my connection, my mother, my father, my familia in the plants. With the animals. With the humans and their complex struggle Divided always , but entirely one within themselves Union The world at large When disengaged from ego, re-engaged with the World Soul The loving awareness that you really are Always was and will always be Forever and ever Completely not reliant on any outside forces. In the sense of the verb as well as the noun. I AM LOVING AWARENESS. When disengaged from ego, re-engaged with the World Soul.
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Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 3:07 PM UTC
Thank you Ram Dass
I've fallen into a torpor pit swirling blackness seals my lips I close my eyes but all I see is me, Disengaged Deranged there is no reason for this smothering gray. I feel your hands but they don't penetrate, Your breath is sweet upon my face, laughter comes from another place, this silence remains my only respite, My words are stifled in my chest, My poetry shoots blanks where ever I tread. Motivation is a thing of the past, Desire's gone at last, Being is all that's left within my grasp. Lavender love in technicolor plays out on a screen, Life travels on the wisps of Monarch wings - Breathe heavy and hot, Breathe light and cold, My words they freeze when they hit the snow. I know dances unfold, But no dance partner knows the darkness that's become my trembling soul. It is to this enclave I go from time to time, the winds outside still howl my name, While demons bang on the walls of my shame. Call it a mood, Call it a funk, Call it the blues, Sometimes these holes just open, Inside I go, No ladder only a shovel wouldn't you know. Doors without keys, Echoes without sounds, And all there is is the darkness I have constructed all around.
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Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
The mirror is painted black,
The yonder above is forever bruised and opaque Reigning over glum faces Complexions washed with a bloodless shade of dispassion Robotic, disengaged. Material desires are quenched with vast shopping centres Credit Cards hold on for dear live As every last drop of sweet money is rinsed from that plastic rectangle. Living beyond our means Whilst simultaneously refusing to give up on Sky TV box sets and liquid lunches. Hooked to our phones, but not for telephone communication Rather, for self validation Defined by the click of a heart or pathetic thumb. The once friendly communities With blood coursing through their veins Are husks of their previous life form, gentrified beyond recognition. Filtered faces with protruding spines and modified features Infiltrate mass media Corrupting the definitions of success and beauty. Plastic personalities reign supreme Vacuous minded socialites profess women’s empowerment begins with the flaunting of skin Rather than the possession of a strong mind. Many bury their heads in the sand Residing in ignorance As mass genocides and civil wars manifest every second. Or worse, they read the TORYgraph and THE ****   Believing immigrants spawn white genocide And white conservatives suffer oppression. Pffft! I have deep contempt for those behind these ***** tabloids Murdoch and his monsters Orchestrating lies and bile Destroying lives or scaremongering the impressionable Committing the most savage, sycophantic crimes In order to extract Monday’s headline. I do not suffer fools Especially those who make up the tapestry of dystopia A failing age of doom.
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Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 12:00 PM UTC
Dystopia and Her Tragic Tapestry
The yonder above is forever bruised and opaque Reigning over glum faces Complexions washed with a bloodless shade of dispassion Robotic, disengaged. Material desires are quenched with vast shopping centres Credit Cards hold on for dear live As every last drop of sweet money is rinsed from that plastic rectangle. Living beyond our means Whilst simultaneously refusing to give up on Sky TV box sets and liquid lunches. Hooked to our phones, but not for telephone communication Rather, for self validation Defined by the click of a heart or pathetic thumb. The once friendly communities With blood coursing through their veins Are husks of their previous life form, gentrified beyond recognition. Filtered faces with protruding spines and modified features Infiltrate mass media Corrupting the definitions of success and beauty. Plastic personalities reign supreme Vacuous minded socialites profess women’s empowerment begins with the flaunting of skin Rather than the possession of a strong mind. Many bury their heads in the sand Residing in ignorance As mass genocides and civil wars manifest every second. Or worse, they read the TORYgraph and THE ****   Believing immigrants spawn white genocide And white conservatives suffer oppression. Pffft! I have deep contempt for those behind these ***** tabloids Murdoch and his monsters Orchestrating lies and bile Destroying lives or scaremongering the impressionable Committing the most savage, sycophantic crimes In order to extract Monday’s headline. I do not suffer fools Especially those who make up the tapestry of dystopia A failing age of doom.
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37
mark of cain in my hemoglobin, i'm more open to repast on brains. to dine on flesh enmeshed in baseball parks and homes restrained by greed of the same. and the cry of the people takes great pains to refine the message of a blank stare. a blemish, stark with catacombs disarranged in harm honey. the ogre of pine. the amber pane where we bleed. we name nameless, by the by, to the finish. but not alone. up your petticoat with my blind cleaver. my Occam razor to your stain. a fine mess express in hateful art and boneless jade we feed on the frame of our reference. skylarking harmonious curves dismayed by their own mind. they confess it. at the statefair. replenished, they knish in falderal disengaged from honesty. the poker blind. where the eye staid. where we need. we need most ... tell ya why..... to diminish but not atone. and so it goes. i erode the continent. sneaky pete in the crease of all strange. itchy feet. maimed in false lies of the ripple. made fake to real love. unclaimed. a gangly part of broken promises made we retreat at last. with our last mimes. we undress. with savoir faire. distinguished in our dashery ill fated. calamity's bark. hard to define. where the mind misbehaved. we're complete most where the hole resides... to imprison but not hold.
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Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 10:29 AM UTC
I'll be the only ******* zombie, slaying zombies !
The corner street awaits with pride Raise the palm and wave me hello As the eyes melt reveal your heart The smile is the manipulating trap A stance you gaze magnifies my life Stay in the zone oozing not snoozing Disengaged in bases of sinking shells Float on the wavy stretchy topography   Claim my proponent inside the rigid iris The splash of the canvas sprays attraction Alternate the kaleidoscope fluid flashes A slash, smashing my scepticism cynism Untitled spiking depths and radiant flames Erode past the sizzling chargrilled grins It's in my eyes, my very soul sits and shines
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Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 12:26 PM UTC
Iridology Topography
Quieter days stand before me as if they are trying to tell me    that the answer lies   perhaps there is more than one perhaps there is none What was it that should’ve been done I catch her staring off into space Then closes her eyes for an instant, expressionless face contagiously gleaming then opens her eyes I find her worries to be uninviting Do not dare to come near casting a spell is intertwined With aftermath that must be endured Immediately raising her voice but not raising words cannot find the right choice resorting into vanity Quiet days stand before me as if they are trying to tell me that the question divides perhaps there is more than one perhaps there is none What was it that could’ve been undone I catch them gazing into place then close my eyes for an instant, enthusiastic face contagiously beaming Then open my eyes Disengaged with comfort of my own Do not dare to come near breaking a spell is defined with progress that must be lured Effortlessly blending her dreams but not blending thoughts can find the right choice morphing into sanity
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Jul 6, 2017
Jul 6, 2017 at 10:00 AM UTC
The scenes
First kiss New bliss I never knew thirst Till we disengaged Till we reconnect My lips are the Mojave in summer -JCM-
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May 9, 2019
May 9, 2019 at 2:12 AM UTC
Thirst
When I die alone When you finally come home There will be no point (Us) We'll be long gone As kids we thought we could So we left each other behind Surely someone else would enter our mind The pain we've pinned to the wall But our love we said it wasn't real, we let it fall Cowardly, debased we withdrew All the while salvation we knew, not Disappearing from each other Can we alone hold over? When I die alone When you finally come home There will be no point (Us) We'll be long gone Emaciated by our hunger and our fear We forgot how to bare, how to fight How to fly in love not in fear Our gears were disengaged When we lost our mind Our lovely thoughts were caged Moving froward, our past is lost How much did our insecurities cost? When my love has lost its host And your mind, my heart's trust Then I will die alone When you finally come home There will be no point (Us) We'll be long gone
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Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
(Us) We'll Be Long Gone
Shrouded in righteousness Cloaked in superiority I sit Alone In a dimly lit room Arms neatly folded Back stretched high Brow raised Lips slightly smirked I look down Proud Of my disengaged Perfection © Tina Thompson
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Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 9:01 AM UTC
Solitude Delusions
I had to smother this lust and aggression But I found my enemy was my mode of repression. Suppressed, depressed I watch them dance around Regressing, listening to the music’s throbbing sound I find myself sitting here in a lonely stupor Disengaged languishing in this torpor The sound of pouring: a dreadful mass But I still won’t fail to drain my glass!
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Oct 13, 2011
Oct 13, 2011 at 10:13 AM UTC
Let’s Have Another Drink! Shall We?
Mark of Cain in my hemoglobin, i'm more open to repast on brains. to dine on flesh enmeshed in baseball parks and homes restrained by greed of the same. and the cry of the people takes great pains to refine the message of a blank stare. a blemish, stark with catacombs disarranged in harm honey. the ogre of pine. the amber pane where we bleed. we name nameless, by the by, to the finish. but not alone. up your petticoat with my blind cleaver. my Occam razor to your stain. a fine mess express in hateful art and boneless jade we feed on the frame of our reference. skylarking harmonious curves dismayed by their own mind. they confess it. at the statefair. replenished, they knish in falderal disengaged from honesty. the poker blind. where the eye staid. where we need. we need most ... tell ya why..... to diminish but not atone. and so it goes. i erode the continent. sneaky pete in the crease of all strange. itchy feet. maimed in false lies of the ripple. made fake to real love. unclaimed. a gangly part of broken promises made we retreat at last. with our last mimes. we undress. with savoir faire. distinguished in our dashery ill fated. calamity's bark. hard to define. where the mind misbehaved. we're complete most where the hole resides... to imprison but not hold.
0
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 2:32 PM UTC
I'll Be The Only ******* Zombie, Slaying Zombies !
I got a job at the Carnival, All the fun of the fair, With its Carousels and its Wishing Wells And The Ferris wheel up there, With a Gyro Tower and a Gravitron You could hear the squeals of glee, As they whirled about, and one fell out, Nothing to do with me! My only job was to strap them in And I went from ride to ride, They told me to familiarise Myself with every side, I loved the whirling Octopus And the Swinging Pirate Ship, But of them all, the Matterhorn Was the one I found most hip. I ended up on the Enterprise At the closing of the night, ‘Just two more rides,’ the man announced, ‘For a journey into fright!’ I strapped them into each Gondola As the twenty patrons paid, And heard their screams as they soared aloft, I could tell they were dismayed. The ride came down with a grinding halt And I went to let them out, But no-one sat in the Gondola’s Then I heard the Barker shout, ‘Last ride, last ride in the Enterprise,’ And the twenty folk got in, I said, ‘What happened to all the rest?’ But he cried, ‘Don’t fuss now, Tim.’ The Enterprise had begun to spin And carry them all aloft, Then disengaged from its base and floated Over a farmer’s croft, The sky was an inky black that night And dotted with glittering stars, And I swear today, I heard him say: ‘They’re heading on up to Mars!’ David Lewis Paget
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Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 7:45 PM UTC
The Carnival Enterprise
According to Plato, humans were created with 4 arms and 4 legs Two souls disengaged, but destined for one another because together, their power is boundless Since I have met you, I have learned to be bold Plato stated that once the souls unify, the pair are lost in amazement and one will not be out of the other's sight I can confirm that you are everywhere, even when you are not I see you while singing my favorite song I see you in the baking aisle, wondering what we will make together next I see you as I study my homework, wanting to impress you with my grades I see you when I'm sad, as a reminder of all that I do have You make me admit, in spite of my stubbornness, I am more than I think I am My body has always been the most vile essence I know For I have bruised it too many times that I could never deem it as beautiful, but you show me I am not represented to you, as I am to me
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Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 10:46 PM UTC
mythology
As the rain persisted the waters soon rose never so much fallen before. No records showed that much flowed penetrating the deep caverns. Disturbing what should be left in the dark the outcome would be stark! *********** of the deepest levels went critical awakening creatures from sleep. Pressure pushing them into the underground rivers guiding them ever upwards. Wakening from their long forced hibernation this deeply buried alien creation! Fearsome! ****** into our world by the floods able to swim to catch their prey! The torrential rains causing such destruction would be facing a new predator! But for the rain would not have been freed allowing the slaughter to proceed! What would be discovered in the coming days they were robotic beings! Indestructible an advanced force that crashed into deep caverns millenniums ago! Their functions disengaged until the floods came reactivated our destruction their aim! Decimated by natures fury resistance was zero those not drowned or starved. Were obliterated by these mechanical marauders their civilisation no longer existed. They were the last of their immense soulless kind our fates to the end entwined! That day the rain and floods came! The Foureyed Poet.
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Jul 1, 2012
Jul 1, 2012 at 12:02 AM UTC
The Rain Persisted