"durability" poems
A head, gnashing and screaming
Forgiving my unknown hospitality
Pretty is weakening
I'm a fatality deemed
Obnoxious is my scene
The mocking and mimicking comes easy for me
No secret, I envy the earth's energy
Depressed, sitting in my fancy dress
Shoving and tugging with desirable credibility
I ravish my personality
Amused?
As I show my tender meat bleeding
Kissing, authentic generosity
A bit suggestive
Confidence in deranged descriptions making others nervous
Excuse me, I must leave my head is blistering,
Popping,
Gushing and oozing profanities
Dented durability, consume me
I love the fact I'm lacking
Becoming one with the barbaric queen
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 1:06 AM UTC
"I", said the apple, "am the body of temptation."
Blood red poison, source of expulsion!
"Oh", the strawberry cried,"And I, infatuation."
Bright ***** pink, I am compulsion.
And so every food clamored to make a claim.
All but the quiet brown staple stone.
The little potato wept in his bitter, cold shame.
"I am useless, unloved, quite alone..."
Ah, but fear not, although you are quite plain,
You are durability, crucial, the go-to.
You are esteemed, and rather good for the brain,
So don't worry, I love you, little potato.
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 4:31 PM UTC
I'm In Survival mode
Survival mode,
Trying to thrive in a world
Where many men struggle to live
The Coldness is unforgiven,
Fridgit and Focused
I'm in survival mode
Sometimes your only option is to be strong look around if there's no cavalry for you in your current perdicliment it's time to tap into survival mode, to Muster up strength to take the blows of life Wicked hands, durability in many circumstance here I stand a man on mission, this can't beat me This can't be how I end, I have too much dignity to be broken down so easily,
Built from material of life lessons not a weaken man my mindframe beefeed up, swallow my blood before let go my pride I'm unfraid to die I'm in the grind for mine I'll be fine, beliefs embodied by courage of path pavements trails of effort I'm a hungry beast prowling for Legacy to feast
Entering into my Predator mode a state where easy success chances are slim no room to pity in defeat, no matter how disappointed, frustrated, exhausted, I may be if I'm still able to breath and hold my own I Gotta keep fighting I have to tough through it ignore the fact I'm Hurting what I want out of life is worth it, my faith in GOD even when things ain't perfect patient for a victory that's well desrevant, that if I shall fail then I parish on my own terms facing these harsh conditions
I'm In Survival mode
Survival mode,
Trying to thrive in a world
Where many men struggle to live
The Coldness is unforgiven,
Fridgit and Focused
I'm in survival mode
© Copyright Reserved 2019 by ED RJ.
Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 3:56 AM UTC
I'm In Survival mode
Survival mode,
Trying to thrive in a world
Where many men struggle to live
The Coldness is unforgiven,
Fridgit and Focused
I'm in survival mode
Sometimes your only option is to be strong look around if there's no calvery for you in your current perdicliment it's time to tape into survival mode, to Muster up strength to take the blows of life Wicked hands, durability in many circumstance here I stand a man on mission, this can't beat me This can't be how I end, I have too much dignity to be broken down so easily,
Built from material of life lessons not a weaken man my mindframe beefeed up, swallow my blood before let go my pride I'm unfraid to die I'm in the grind for mine I'll be fine, beliefs embodied by courage of path pavements trails of effort I'm a hungry beast prowling for Legacy to feast
Entering into my Predator mode a state where easy success chances are slim no room to pity in defeat, no matter how disappointed, frustrated, exhausted, I may be if I'm still able to breath and hold my own I Gotta keep fighting I have to tough through it ignore the fact I'm Hurting what I want out of life is worth it, my faith in GOD even when things ain't perfect patient for a victory that's well desrevant, that if I shall fail then I parish on my own terms facing these harsh conditions
I'm In Survival mode
Survival mode,
Trying to thrive in a world
Where many men struggle to live
The Coldness is unforgiven,
Fridgit and Focused
I'm in survival mode
© Copyright Reserved 2019 by ED RJ.
Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 3:56 AM UTC
What hides beneath my breath,
lies dormant just beneath,
vows about forever,
imprisoned behind my teeth.
A life of bread and roses,
a steady hand to weather the storm.
It's hardly an open secret,
I want you to carry my first born.
After years of trial and error,
sands pass through the hands of time.
Casting off the forlorn darkness,
one sublime kiss at a time.
I met you in the winter;
and we'll weather every season.
I'll never let you go,
not for any reason.
Take my hand for now,
love me without reason.
Grueling days and restless nights,
are the price we have to pay.
We toil in the sun of now,
to lie in tomorrow's shade.
You're worth every hardship,
just to have you by my side.
It's hardly an open secret,
I want you as my bride.
Because you're worth every effort,
and ounce of sacrifice,
it's hardly an open secret,
I want you as my wife.
It's hardly an open secret,
I'll love you til I die.
If you ever forget the reasons,
let my poems remind you why.
Take this ring as a token,
of the durability of love.
Say yes to my proposal,
make my heart lighter than a dove.
Oct 3, 2019
Oct 3, 2019 at 5:13 PM UTC
Her words stabbed me,
her shivery frosted words,
gouged my eyes out,
scooped them out with the grace of
an armless ***** on steroids and
spilled my guts on the ground.
Then she left me to die in the desert of forgottenness.Where the scavengers stripped me to the bone
and the sun bleached moon, gazed upon my essence then drank deep and loud.
My mind is now vulcanized.
my mind has been treated with sulfur to enhance it's durability.
So, you can stretch it,
and say what you want baby
cos I don't give a ****
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
I think that I shall never know
Why I am thus, and I am so.
Around me, other girls inspire
In men the rush and roar of fire,
The sweet transparency of glass,
The tenderness of April grass,
The durability of granite;
But me--I don't know how to plan it.
The lads I've met in Cupid's deadlock
Were--shall we say?--born out of wedlock.
They broke my heart, they stilled my song,
And said they had to run along,
Explaining, so to sop my tears,
First came their parents or careers.
But ever does experience
Deny me wisdom, calm, and sense!
Though she's a fool who seeks to capture
The twenty-first fine, careless rapture,
I must go on, till ends my rope,
Who from my birth was cursed with hope.
A heart in half is chaste, archaic;
But mine resembles a mosaic-
The thing's become ridiculous!
Why am I so? Why am I thus?
1.7k
There are buckets made of plastic
There are buckets made of wood
The former are fantastic
The latter not so good.
There are buckets made of metal
And canvas buckets too
But metal for durability
I'd choose if I were you.
There's a bucket on a digger
And buckets made of leather
The former are the bigger
And the latter not so clever.
There are buckets made of tin
And with a little ***** in hand
Kids can build sand castles
When playing on the sand.
There are buckets made of rubber
Or with a wringer for a mop
And some in white enamel
With a blue ring round the top.
There are so many buckets
And some I may have missed
But if anyone should ask me
That's my bucket list.
Dec 7, 2022
Dec 7, 2022 at 2:27 AM UTC
Grimly smiling
At this leg of the race how'd you think I got it made
Done had me some power but never got paid
I volunteered my hours while being mentally slayed
Brain slashed so I lashed out by never sleeping though life always layed me out
Knocked down, ears ringing
Is this my calling?
To stand up taller, am I meant to be a crawler?
I'm not a zombie, I'm just hurt
That you'd think I can't escape the fate set on me, I don't live in hell but I feel burnt
I don't watch burnt movies on the disc though, wouldn't fit in at the disco
I stream em online, I want to get fit but I'm too busy waiting for the video to load
Then the **** thing lags, maybe it's a sign
To use my legs and get buffer
But I didn't brace myself to be cast in this role
Done capped my knees durability and out came my knee cap
Then people finally noticed that I was hurt, but it wasn't my limb they should've been concerned about
But I'm not here to pout, hell I'm getting help
I'm just here to say
When you're ready to give up
Life hits you even harder
To remind you that you're tougher than any doubt you've ever had
You can handle more than even a hurt body, brain, or mind
You ain't dead till you die
You ain't high till you fly
You ain't ahead until you try
It's a lot like rugby, even when the magic rug be out of reach
You can still be a-lad-in joy
There's something about dodging and taking hits that's enthralling
Chaos is beauty
If you don't just let it be but let yourself succeed
A little sweat and blood to get the lead
In the rain wet and loud, passions what I bleed
And obstacles are what my slightly enlarged heart pumps, what it beats
But sometimes I'm choking on led
My lungs are the weapon that gave me a shot, and onlookers say "You're rhymes have no pattern B, so the way you write things is awk, see?
How's this for an ox-c *****
I'm suffocating on oxygen
Asthma attack at nine months old didn't stop me, a close call they said
But more like a call received
Because looking back now I know my purpose
Is to breathe
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
This home is becoming
Like a weathermast of the soul
Beaten into responding silence.
To awaken here again
And to only wear this armour
As a riposte sufficient to self-assurance
And to rise, out of lazy eyelids and
Consider the opposing wind turrets
Laid as the proposition
All slack and starkly
Poised on the trapeze
The wallpaper durability of family headaches ;
The spurned lover's recurring luminosity
The marked and re-imagined lists
Detailing personal no-shows and defeats
Bookended by
The passing on of friendly eyes.
Assuming the universal, and in doing so, blindly holding out for the miracle :
For falling out of love is completely plausible
Whereas letting go of shame is mostly incomprehensible
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
You look to me with such clarity.
A sense of durability,
with a dash of humility.
The impossibility, of the greatest infallibility.
Leaves me quaking from your all desirabilitys.
Tranquility, before the fall.
White hot, rush,
over the wailing-wall.
The infamous red curtain-call.
Entering the entrance hall:
urban sprawl, to reinstall
the purpose to this circus for all.
"I love you."
There I said it,
removing my bulletproof-vest.
What a relief,
from upon my chest.
Undressed flesh of my *******
the indirect test, to attest your barest of virtue.
It's your turn, my love...
To return the favor.
Speak the words,
I know I'll savor.
"I love you.", say it with meaning.
"I love you.", prey for it while you're sleeping.
"I love you.", lay with it while dreaming.
Know: I saw you trip and fall...
as if it was a variety show.
Even though, the desire to know, was still there.
I wanted you...
Nay,
I want you...
I wanted you,
to know,
I saw you take the fall.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC
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Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 5:42 AM UTC
i have survived
storms.
i have survived a father's voice like thunder;
handprint lightning flowers petal over my skin
like i am a garden to sinners-
adam and eve call my grassroots their home and hum lullabies-
i have survived
anger.
pros and cons of
clock-ticking therapy sessions where money is thrown at my gaze,
fixed on the wall,
dollar-a-second drumming fingers
screaming so loud that heaven shuts the blinds and hangs a "closed" sign on the door.
pros and cons of
stumbling home,
under a murky peerless crowd of smoke,
slurring words trail around and behind me like moths to a porchlight.
morning headaches,
angry adults
damaging drywall and breaking family portraits
exhausting search for answers
exhausting search in a silence that lengthens the disconnect from child to mother
where your mind goes red and the honest truth that stays stuck to the roof of your mouth falls out
where you become an overflowing mailbox and your hands shake
the absence of parents who never taught you to hold your tongue
i have survived
hurt.
i have survived the specific type of loss that you feel in the pit of your stomach
the one that lies next to you
when you stare at the ceiling and your face hurts from crying
tears scrub your eyelids raw and you promise,
"if i ever make it through this,
i will never be here again."
i have survived giving up,
taking it all back, throwing it all away,
parallel structures of contemplation and decision
i have survived
lonely.
angry storms of abandonment, melodies of the lonely and the hurt
i reprise to the ones that add injury to insult,
you are not the worst thing that has ever happened to me.
i echo choruses to the people that force me to grow up at sixteen
i have destruction embedded into my neurotransmitters
i have shooting post-traumatic pain in my memories
i have survived
a hell that your hands are not stained enough to touch.
i assure you,
my love,
i will survive
you as well
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC
You are searching for stability,
As the ground starts to shake violently,
To settle down,
You hold on firmly to your base,
Burying maternal strength, like a ship striking its anchor.
Ignorance sought for what has been anchored, for centuries only to be obscured.
In the eye of the hurricane,
I stand with you,
Estranged from one another,
Yet having the same escutcheon; أمي.
It is she who taught us how to lace our shoes,
Who taught us how to walk,
Using the heart as our ultimate compass.
Ignorance transfixed the compasses of our brothers and sisters,
in order to make us wander off.
Don't they know?
We shared the same womb,
Even if we don't share the same name.
It is our vision,
With which we maintain our reverberation.
His ignorance did not recall the ground on which he tried to march.
Nor was he able to understand that her compass was not born,
To be destroyed.
Like an unbreakable ship,
She is equipped with unprecedented durability.
Once again,
Not to be destroyed.
Apr 27, 2021
Apr 27, 2021 at 4:23 PM UTC
Wind is showing its strength outside.
Hither and thither blowing things away.
Humans and animals run for refuge.
Large trees wildly shake and sway.
Streets filled with rubble and grunge.
Grim warning is echoed with each gust.
Durability of properties and souls on test.
How long will they stand fierce ******
Here inside exists stillness and calm.
Outside irate wind continues to deform.
Though I am safe in this house firm;
But my frail soul is outside in the storm.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 7:54 AM UTC
We wore these SADDLE OXFORDS until our feet grew long.
They'd be passed down..and they were exceptionally strong.
Never has another shoe ever lasted so long.
Cannot wait til "Easter" to get new ones black and shiny
With buttons or a buckle, or a cute little bow.
By xmas a nice pair of boots were good to go.
Durability and warmth were the style you would get.
Cry all you want - Santa was not kidding.
Said: " all you get are those boots,because all year you've been fibbing".
- That's the day I Kicked Santa to the curb.
Started selling"GREETING CARDS" I was not perturbed.
Bought my own shoes, never again to be disturbed.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 1:22 AM UTC
Snort repticalc and mashed up altoid
Have fun with some friends in God’s portwine stained forehead wrinkle
Imaginary time and poison thumb I like
Natalie rips some Earth nuts from soil
Ripping out the toxins and crackin it open with your her teeth
Clapping laughing and crackin nuts and cookin crumbs in pressure cooker
Bad dreams in your frozen water bed
Damp in the ceiling drip and trickle onto papas
bald spots, plastic mickey mouse cup collecting
ceiling leakage
peanuts and marmite froze over lickin frost
***** wrist grunk trash youre rubbing frolicly on the placid table
I cant believe the glass aint clean
Looking not out a window
But a piece of glass reflecting the city behind me
And my band fall out of place
When the old man sneezes
I get pushed aside because the marching band needs me to move and
Im only so talented
dead Chihuahua smell coming from the basement
a parallel universe where there’s one extra atom
with lana del rey on repeat
and jesus was a comic book character too
knuckles breathing fight stance
contraposto counter position backwards and
upside down rubber band army march
a thin breathing kettle with 0 durability
and a plastic bent tight so it’s white, pink, spotted
palamino dress and champagne skin
the damp gets to me
again again again
fingerless gloves for fingerless tom
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 3:50 PM UTC
Should I speak with velocity
As I claim to leak veracity?
Share a fair stare leads to “harassing me”
Silence holds a gold ferocity
But platinum resides inside a travesty
Yet the origins of this casualty
Was not the first fatality
It's birth was an idea, you see?
Are you sick of this this hostility?
Is your health a grim variety?
Failed to conform to propriety?
Here's an inferno “Oh no, a monstrosity!”
So why chastise my morality?
Must I despise and note your deformity?
Lead covered gold is not a new novelty
But somehow chaos seems so orderly
Cheat on Death with Immortality
Sleep with Lust for chastity
Uniqueness is another banality
Copy/pasted originality
Experience this eternal finality
Our follies are a great mentality
Your demise is your vitality
Real life is surreality
Feign the truth with validity
Pride upon your humility
Rust brags of lost durability
Insomniacs thrive restlessly
If you engage in logomachy
Then you'll love this: sophomachy
“Who's more manly?” Phallomachy
“Let's do what's right!” Hypocrisy
We act like we have modesty
But we boast of prowess internally
“Maybe if I work with integrity,
They might notice, and appreciate me”
Work too hard? Liability
Conned her heart? Lie-ability
Honesty at start? Futility
Torn apart? Utilize utility
Day dream REM stage: Insanity
Sanitize with rage: Calamity
Perhaps it's a phase: Therapy
Live like “good ol' days” regretfully
Raze a raised loving family
Tame their ways with amnesty
And watch them break their identity
Of perfection tainted in fidelity
Are our minds just a cavity?
Uprising against the gravity
Speak high of low society
Think I'm crazy? Analyze me
A grave cradling a memory
Of each ill-fated ideology
We die for our biology
Pyromania is the new cryology
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
Starry-eyed, I peeked at you through the shop window
The salesman’s toothy smile was nothing to your new-polished glow.
Your fake leather belts and stiff rubber soles
Made me dream of journeys sans mud, debris, and potholes.
The salesman whispered the ‘discounted rate’ delicately into my ears,
I glanced down at my slender wallet and blinked back my tears.
My feet slid into your gentle folds, a warrior coming home,
I was fifty short but in your embrace, the world I wished to roam.
Your beauty was unsurpassed, though the insoles did itch,
And your buckles gleamed like fairy dust, when the toe-cap pulled a stitch.
You helped me traverse wet sand heaps on under-construction roads
You stood with me on the roller-coaster of rush-hour public transport.
You were with me through the muddy puddles, of early monsoon
Caked with dirt, you stayed alert, through alleys litter-strewn.
You held me in your hard embrace on broken footpaths
Helped me slink through curfew gates not even the cat could surpass.
And I should have known, you were too good for this town
My fake leather sandals with the rubber soles of brown.
As I hung off the bottom step of the spasmodic minibus
Beneath me the buckles ripped, the outsoles gave up.
And I know that over the months, we’ve had our fights
And I’ve said more than once that you were overpriced.
Though it’s true that I think you could have done with a discount
Never let them tell you, our bond wasn’t profound.
All my neighbors know of your tales of valor
What you lacked in durability, you made up for in glamor.
So what if the heels were rickety and the insoles tickled?
The road to affordable beauty with potholes is riddled!
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 2:36 AM UTC
you kissed me and all i could think was i can’t believe the universe finally brought me back into your arms, your face shifted into a phrase and your eyes morphed into LED lights displaying the words “i’m in love with you” over and over like a conveyer belt of my introspection
you asked “why do you keep looking at me like that?” and i replied with an enigmatic giggle,
i remember thinking to myself “how could i not?”
lying next to you the only thoughts transmitted through the waves in my brain were lines of poems written with words i didn’t even know i knew, words that fully illustrated the beautiful way your head caressed the pillow and your eyelashes tickled my cheeks, the way the moment felt like an everlasting, indestructible photograph
i couldn’t believe it, i still can’t fathom i was lucky enough to float down from the clouds i laid on, hoping for a second chance, an escape from the perpetual wishing and wanting to stand on the ground next to you
i’m looking at you, and although i could never gather these thoughts with enough durability to communicate them to you whole-heartedly, and without them shattering from my lips, fracturing each letter, and smashing the essence
these pages will remember how i felt about you forever
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 12:27 AM UTC
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Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
Stories of hope series #4
The elder
His wife died fifteen years past, and he knew
Living with his children would not last.
They would want to put him in a assisted living home
Just so that they could be left alone.
They could not foresee that one day they would be elderly.
They joked about him becoming senile
But he knew that would not happen for quite a while.
He was only sixty two with so much more living to do.
He knew the only thing he had left was HOPE.
And with life’s burdens he would have to cope.
So he decided to go back to school
And learn a new trade, and show his family
that he could make the grade.
He learned carpentry, and bought all the necessary tools
And what he couldn’t get , he borrowed from the school.
He already had in his mind of what he’d like to make.
And he knew that a long time it would take.
He decided to get the WESTERN RED CEDAR
For its softness and durability, and aromatic smell
This wood he knew would work quite well.
He found the perfect picture of what he had in mind
And viewed every detail and every line.
He wanted it to be about three feet tall
And two feet wide because that size would be just fine.
He started off very slowly, just chiseling away.
And sanding it down perfectly
For that’s the way it had to be.
He used each and every sculpting blade he could find
To define each and every line.
He did each part with delicate care
For with this piece there was a love he shared.
Slowly but surely it started to take shape
He was impatient, he could not wait.
But he knew that this was the way it was meant to be
So that everyone could see the beauty that had to be.
He worked on it every day, and his worries
Seemed to slip away.
Being put in a home was no longer his concern
And that his children would have to learn
That as long as he could breathe and walk
All of this was just talk.
This sculpture became his obsession
and his passion and made him grow strong
And doing this is where he belonged.
His teachers were very impressed and said
He was the best student yet.
They said that this was a work of art and of beauty
And should be put on display
And that for this the public would gladly pay.
He knew there was something missing
And that it was not complete,
and this problem he would defeat.
Then it dawned on him that it was needing color.
He needed the darkest blue and the deepest brown
And went about painting it without making a sound.
The darkest blue was for the piercing eyes
And the brown for the shoulder length hair
This was the perfect pair.
For three months he had toiled with perfection
For this was of the LORD and his resurrection.
And this was how it came to be
That this elder found harmony
HOPE IS THE KEY TO SET OURSELVES FREE
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 2:28 PM UTC
paper boy.
write the words you want to read on my surface
turn me into the novel you want to lose yourself in
write your prayers in cursive and have me wearing my praise for you,
wearing my faith in you,
my heart on my envelope sleeve.
my absolute trust
that you will not rip me into pieces and scatter me on a parting wind;
if you burn me, please remember to blow me out.
paper boy, paper boy.
i'm not strong enough to last for very long
you can see all of my creases, my ripped edges, my stains;
but i can keep your secrets folded into myself
and i promise you, your words will remain
just try to keep my dry
my inky blackness tends to spill when my eyes are leaking
paper boy.
if you want to upgrade to something with a metal spine
more hard drive, durability
i'll understand
you only have to write your breakup songs upon my chest
and i'll take those lyrics to the grave with me
when you lay my tattered shreds to rest
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
antagonized, sullen, and unshakeable,
I rest under the shade of a heavy tree,
a crepuscular creature who lives most
at edged breaks of sun, dusk and dawn
my stamina grows in strength, as does my patience and durability,
but I know my insatiable pursuits will fade, or they'll be yielding;
if I want things, I will get them, I will have them, and they are mine
I look over, past the horizontal thing, "edge"
with all the weariness of a battle-scarred lion,
silver-striped with the accumulated congealed
****** flesh of foes under my scuttling claws
that scamper down the ridges of the slower,
quieter animals that I have singled out as mine,
until I am done with games and rip out spines
I am not long in tooth, but I am experienced enough,
to the point, where I do not want to fight very long
for what I have earned, and for what is entitled to me,
and if I must fight long, afterwards, I am vindictive
I look at the horizon, with all the prowess possessed
in my being, in my breeding, ingrained in my bones
I have a greater strength than I have even begun to
even actualize, and I just only started flexing, slowly
I am greedy for the world, every bad beast and cur,
with marrow in their bones, I wish to tussle with,
I will be ready for you, I await you with a sly grin,
come call me at home, for I will be biding, till then
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 12:58 AM UTC
I want to test the structural durability of my body
See the strength of my skin
Bite and break my bones
Shed and finger paint with my blood
At least then I could finally make a mess
My OCD clean up everything mentality
Thrown to the wind blowing and
Yet again bending backwards
With a cut throat slit neck decision
A split second mind numbing category
Of guess which allegory I'll use next
A fixed gear fear with one pedal
Driving the next one ahead of the other
Unable to feel the free wheel coast through life I desire
So I say I again
I need to know how strong I am
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 8:35 PM UTC