"governors" poems
i do not sing the storm. i do not sing rage, wrath
the lightning bolt, the scream. Despair i do not sing
i do not sing struggle–revenge poisonous blast–
the hurricane, the quake that tears the city of peace
i do not sing no border. i do not sing no flag
i do not sing no warrior but she that fights all fear
Poverty & sickness-night, the blade, the club, the trap
blows, wounds, cries, lies, bursts & war-blood i do not sing
i do not sing despise for any thing or being
i do not praise no richness no governors, no kings
From all this flower-garden i pick one single rose:
creation is just dew upon the rose of love
i celebrate one flame. i only sing one blues:
the flame of endless loving with you & only you
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 8:28 PM UTC
I am somebody
Shot in the Head...
Found the bullets.
Coroner Said.
A child of God struck dead.
Gang related disputing Fools.
Aiming cowardly bullets right at you.
I guess praying prayers just won't do.
There is no safe in these hard knocks realities' Truths.
Our Sista child!
Our mother child!
All the while the bodies pile.
Her body now adds to that 'the shootings aren't as bad as last year' body count.
Can't even stand anywhere in your city NOW?
Something has to truly give.
There's a plague of rigid legalities, relaxed moralities, and political realities stealing the 'safe' from our dying breed.
The Black man withering away in siphoning inequalities.
Doubling unemployment stretches outward like a statistical wild fire....
Our present fact.
There is a genocidal component to these criminal acts.
Copyrighted (C)
Published in the 2018 Edition of the Reconstructed Literary and Visual Journal at Governors State University.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 11:30 AM UTC
**IMMEDIATELY PLEASE REMOVE ALL OF MY INFORMATION FROM YOUR DATA BASE FORTHWITH. ALSO,
ADVISE ANY AND ALL CONTRACTORS, SUB-CONTRACTORS, AGENTS, SUB-AGENTS, AFFILIATES, PARTNERS, COLLEAGUES, ASSOCIATES, CLIENTS, WEBMASTERS, WEB BASED LINKS, WINKS, TWINKS, COLONEL CLINCKS, BOSSES, CO-WORKERS, EMPLOYEES, VENDORS, SUPPLIERS, SALESMEN, ASCCOUNT REPS/EXCS, ACCOUNTANTS, BROKERS, CO-BROKERS, HACKERS, SLACKERS, WHACKERS, JERKS, PIMPS, HOES, HOBOS, BUMS, DERELICTS, DEGENERATES, DOPERS, DEALERS, TWEEKERS, GAMBLERS, RAMBLERS, SOLICITORS, SIDEKICKS, COHORTS, WINGMEN, WHEELMEN, LOOKOUTS, OUTLAWS, IN-LAWS, RELATIVES, FIANCES, GIRLFRIENDS, BOYFRIENDS, FAMILY, FRIENDS, ENEMIES, EVIL NEMISIS', CANVASSERS, INQUIRERS, QUEERS, QUEENS, COWBOYS, KINGS, **** DRAGS, HAGS, HETEROS, HOMOS, TONY ROMOS, FEMALE IMPERSONATORS, (PRE OR POST) MALE IMPERSONATORS, ***** ***** VAN ***** **** VAN **** LESBIANS, LIARS, BUYERS, CRYERS, CIGAR SMOKERS, CARPET MUNCHERS, RUG RATS, TODDLERS, TEENAGERS, YOUNGSTERS, SENIORS, SUCKERS, TRUCKERS, MOTHER shut yer mouth, LAW MAKERS, LAWYERS, ATTORNEYS, JUDGES, POLITICIANS, PECKERWOODS, LEADERS, FOLLOWERS, DISCIPLES, PROPHETS, EVANGELISTS, SAVIORS, SINNERS, SAINTS, SOOTHSAYERS, MEDICINE MEN, GYPSYS, TRAMPS, AND THIEVES, WITCHES, WARLOCKS, VAMPIRES, LYCANS, ZOMBIES, WAR MONGERS, PROTESTERS, SOLIDERS, GENERALS, GOVERNORS, PRESIDENTS, PATRIOTS, PACKERS, LIONS, BEARS, BROWNS, BLACKHAWKS, REDWINGS, RIGHT WING, LIBERALS, OR LAW BIDING CITIZENS, THEY ARE NOT TO CONTACT ME AND LOOSE MY NUMBER.
BUT IF YOU SEE MY MOM, TELL HER TO CALL ME.
........................................................................BA-ZING....................................................................**
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
I look forward to the re-enactments of historic moments in the pageant of The United States of America. [sic]
Gettysburg, Crossing the Delaware, The Moon Landing, Paul Revere's Ride, The March on Washington, The Storming of the Capital, The Clearing of Lafayette Plaza, The George Floyd ****** The Separation of Families, The Arizona Re-count, The Plot to Assassinate Democratic Governors, The Imprisonment of: Jared, Donny, Eric, Ivanka, Don, Carlson, Greene, Gaetz, Guilianni, Hannity, Conway, McVeigh, Barr [sic] (just to mention a few of the Founding Fuck-Ups.), the death of 650,000 people (the vast majority being innocent), The Pandemic of the Unvaxxed [sic]
After July 4, 2024, History may never be the same. See it now!
Jul 22, 2021
Jul 22, 2021 at 3:39 PM UTC
Governors,
Mayors,
Policemen,
Night keepers,
Men folk and all of you
On the crest of powers that be
Don’t brutalize prostitutes,
Nor mishandle ******
Or terrorize harlots,
They were born natural
Innocent and callow
With plain white brains
Not tainted with any miss-morals,
Genuine in hearts
And humane in the genesis,
Until they grew up
Beyond father and mother
Clan and relatives,
Into the realm of money civilizations,
Where man and woman,
Must sell to survive,
Sell the wares of trade,
Commodities and tools of work,
Where men sell labour of their arms
To those crafty buyers,
And women sell smiles,
And the ******** of their *****
To serve vice of man
In the glory of warped thought,
Prostitutes have no tribe,
Neither class nor race,
They have no permanent foe
Nor permanent friend,
They have no permanent memory,
Their love is devoid of logic,
They love most but fickle,
Where they make no money
And love least but with nostalgia
where they make money,
So don’t brutalize them,
Only love them,
Pay them,
Kiss them fondly
And sing to them,
Lyrical songs of love,
Sent them to lull and slumber
With your sensuous ******
Of their ******** fountains,
Both male and female
****** of your rendezvous.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 6:46 AM UTC
Chaos, demolition, destruction
controlled through supervised instruction
no end to slaughter, no reduction
have their own ways of seduction
On that throne, they sit and stare
The one which is called the 'chair'
Nation's green honour gone abrupt
you say, you're still not corrupt?
no one points at you, while you deduct
waiting for the world to erupt
Just about everything, you'll see here
Roots all clung to the evil chair
In which those so called governors sit
organisers, runners of this lovely bit
performing tricks for the show to lit
prepared for them is a special pit
Looters and criminals, all have a pair
Of gloves to keep stain off their chair
Don't believe their words, bark whatever
bamboozle us, truth from our eyes they sever
residing in those large structures like hever
could write three books upon their clever
Dreadful reality transferred heir upon heir
Criminals need not legitimate relations, just their ****** chair!
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 7:14 AM UTC
When he was a youth of fifteen or twenty,
He chased a wild horse, he caught him and rode him,
He shot the white-browed mountain tiger,
He defied the yellow-bristled Horseman of Ye.
Fighting single- handed for a thousand miles,
With his naked dagger he could hold a multitude.
...Granted that the troops of China were as swift as heaven's thunder
And that Tartar soldiers perished in pitfalls fanged with iron,
General Wei Qing's victory was only a thing of chance.
And General Li Guang's thwarted effort was his fate, not his fault.
Since this man's retirement he is looking old and worn:
Experience of the world has hastened his white hairs.
Though once his quick dart never missed the right eye of a bird,
Now knotted veins and tendons make his left arm like an osier.
He is sometimes at the road-side selling melons from his garden,
He is sometimes planting willows round his hermitage.
His lonely lane is shut away by a dense grove,
His vacant window looks upon the far cold mountains
But, if he prayed, the waters would come gushing for his men
And never would he wanton his cause away with wine.
...War-clouds are spreading, under the Helan Range;
Back and forth, day and night, go feathered messages;
In the three River Provinces, the governors call young men --
And five imperial edicts have summoned the old general.
So he dusts his iron coat and shines it like snow-
Waves his dagger from its jade hilt in a dance of starry steel.
He is ready with his strong northern bow to smite the Tartar chieftain --
That never a foreign war-dress may affront the Emperor.
...There once was an aged Prefect, forgotten and far away,
Who still could manage triumph with a single stroke.
2.3k
Blood splatters
White devil
Black angel
Killed by the devil
Debatable sentence
Death sentence or a couple of years?
Killed a brother
But it's debatable
If our brother got a death sentence and 8 shots in the back
It's only right if you get a death sentence
Can the government protect our brothers and our sisters?
AmeriKKKa government can not protect us because it was not made for us
But we can change that
We have to keep on fighting
We have to keep on protesting
We have to keep on studying
We have to get in the office
We have to get these law degrees
We have to become governors
We have to win
Because we've been losing
We've gotten so far
But not that far
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 10:25 PM UTC
anthems sweet as honey
a cup overflowing
break the power of money
it is now or never
a short life i have
the width of my hand
oh YHVH save this land
from now until forever
drag the thorns from our flesh
make us whole
our parched souls now fresh
our governors hunger for power
they mimic mammon
but the Lord our satisfying Power
bring my heart to tears
make it after Your own
a love that tears all fears
to save the lost at any cost
bless those spiritually in arrears
oh YHVH, i beseech Thee
you have been so good to me
parch our land from greed
that we may wealthily drink from Thee
may this psalm that leaked from my hand
bring praise to YHVH in every land
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 3:39 AM UTC
i am proud to be will maybe do a poem about it as well let me know?
btw how many of my dear friends here pn HP are Leo's? if ur not let me pls know what sign you are! thanks........
Leo - The Sign of the Lion
The people of this sign are natural leaders and chiefs. In reality the supervising position is what the majority of people born under the sign of Lion aspires to. They are really intelligent and magnetic people. That fact attracts others, but they should not try to dominate everyone. Lion frequently called "The sign of the kings" according to his intelligence and graceful manners. Their astrological symbol " Lion" is considered to be the king of animals. But, as well as all governors, that people should learn to wear the crown modestly. They should remember their large sin - vanity.
Friends
It isn't always easy to be friends with a these people. They are best in a one-to-one friendship where their ego is less likely to intrude upon the relationship. These people can find their most lasting friendships with people born in their own period or from March 21 to April 19-27 and, strange to say, all those people who were born on the 1st, 10th, 19th, or 28th of any month, for the reason that these numbers accord and have a sympathetic attraction to the number of the Sun which is the number of this period.
Health
People born in this period should have more time to sleep than almost anyone else. They usually overwork their brains, and are inclined to suffer from headache, trouble with the eyes and other things concerned the head. And they are liable to get cuts and wounds in the head, and they usually run danger from fire. Such people usually demand a constant medical attention.
Color
Their most suitable colors are all shades of yellow, orange, pale green, and white.(PURPLE)
Stones
The birth stones for this period are topazes, amber, and rubies.
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 12:07 PM UTC
Eleven to you
Star-crust in de stijl courts
Silhouettes and shadows
Speed boats race around the lake
On and on and on and on and
Guilty pleasures and guilty moldy blues
Sandwiches on the weekends
Pasta and pesto or gnocchi every other day too
Common mysteries follow the bayou
Heavy heads laden in niello swamps
Does acrostics in the daytime
Pleasures herself with crosswords on her days off
Sacks of coffee, potatoes and ivory- beer at 5am
Three fingers lay across the stitch
This needlepoint is something good
No one died but someone could
Heavy on the hops, melancholy Wednesday's
Miracles in wrestling Russian masters
Thwarting automobiles without their governors
Faster and faster they go
Growing faster and faster they show
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 8:46 AM UTC
Sound of a pen clattering
Admonishing beauty of arts rendering
Lines of rhyme rhyming
Mixed with rhythm rhythming
Like a poem life flowing
Like a drama life pushing
Like a prose life rushing
And then comes representing
Unrepentant life projectoring
The literati's lyrical lyricalling
Recalling the gods of writing
With written words calling
Calling calling calling coming
And hence societal ills hiding
Bad leaders, leadership running
Disillusioned souls troubling
Marginalised masses crying
And crime rate like jet flying
Bombs like pure water exploding
Politicians still stealing and looting yet fearing
Fear! phobia! fear embracing
Minimum wage hurting Governors like bee stinging
Unemployment destroying like earthquaking
Half baked graduate graduating
Our education unseriously provoking
Undefined boundaries exposing
Immigrants immigrating
Police, Soldiers, customs, Road safety, etc all corrupting like they feeding...
Inec election in chaos resulting
Nigeria a name of peoples's confusing
NEPA, WATER, ROAD, HOSPITAL unrealistic absurding...
Corruption! corrupting!! corruptioning!!! Are we starting or finishing? Building or destroying?
The lyric of the literati busy deconstructing...
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
The banker sits for his lunch. He sits with his superiors. They ask, “how do you?” He replies, “Good, and you sir?” After pleasantries comes food. Everyone ordered a salad. Food is picked at with dashes of chatter. After food comes business. Business among superiors. The banker sits quietly using his wasted acting talents on feigning interest. He twiddles thumbs, smacks gums, and adjusts weight from one flank to the other.
The bored banker nods conformatively. When addressed, his name varies from Tim to Tom to Jack. They were close it was Al. He fills in facts and numbers the optimates don’t care to recall themselves. It’s the only use he has at lunch. Those superior to the banker could have brought his report he made up for this occasion. But, there is an air of aristocracy when one has a serf accompany his master to a meeting of patricians. Like all courtly meetings, the barons and governors hide slights in compliments, cloak ambition in kindness. Use pens as daggers, dried ink as poison.
It’s not the banker’s place to notice such things, it is place to serve those who deserve his servitude. Every time he services his lordships, his tie gets tighter, his skin looser, and his bald spot increase its diameter.
The bored and defeated banker rises with the Bourgeoisie, clings to their heels, and gets the door. His lunch is over. His break is done. Back to his desk he retreats. Back to work. His time as a squire is done. Until his masters call upon him again. For lunch.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 3:57 PM UTC
#Not My President.
But he is. Let him live.
He and his minions
Are like the poor;
They will always be with us.
But north of you,
We have a Queen.
#Not My Royal Family.
They're needy and expensive,
Spoiled and enfranchised.
An extended, big family
Who gets free rides at Canada's Wonderland,
Best seats at hockey games... all games
For Lieutenants-Governor,
Governors-General,
And all the wee princesses and princes.
Rideau Hall is the official residence
The White House pales beside,
Sussex Drive fades beside its oppulence.
Celebrities and histories have planted trees there.
Jack, Marilyn, Nelson, Martin and all the heavenly host
Have approached those gilded doors,
Pretending to bow and curtsy to an absent Queen.
Back to #Not My Royal Family.
I didn't get a vote.
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 10:08 AM UTC
My group therapy ended today
Termination is such a violent word
For such a soft thing
Termination is harsh
Reminiscent of layoffs
And Austrian-born California governors
No. This wasn’t a firing.
It was a funeral.
Round robin reflection at a somber dinner table
An exchange of platitudes and promises
To stay in contact, to be available
And we all meant it. Every word.
But no.
We were demented sorcerers,
Holding tightly to fading magics
Ex-lovers
Trying to be friends
Though it was, ironically, a machine that once said.
“A thing is not beautiful because it lasts.”
And every part of me I found in them
Now is a part of them found in me
Carried in my self-revelations
In strides straight and confident as an honest Keyser Soze.
And though I am a penny none the richer
Today I am indigo.
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 6:21 AM UTC
I'm sure the teachers concerned
and especially the Head and
The Chairman of Governors
whose Mayor-making I went
to on behalf of school would
hope it is my learning to read
and write well enough to win
handwriting competitions as
well as pass public exams that
occupies my brain and heart, but
what sticks, really sticks to prompt
a torrent of recollections is the
reek of soap in the washrooms:
'twas a Carbolic Childhood mine.
(c) C J Heyworth September 2014
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
On October 17, 2006, President Bush signed into law, the John Warner Defense Authorization Act. The law allows the President to declare a “public emergency” at his own discretion, and place federal troops anywhere throughout the United States. Under this law, the President also now has the authority to federalize National Guard troops without the consent of Governors, in order to restore “public order.” The President can now deploy federal troops to U.S. cities, at will, which eliminates the 1878 Posse Comitatus Act.
This means the president holding office will control everything, including the arrest of whomever he deems threatening. All communications are controlled, all media is controlled and now the president controls DHS, the military and police.
All the joint training we are seeing between the military and police leading up to Jade Helm, it's a qualification, the police and sheriff departments are being qualified for federalization. Personnel have to be qualified first, before they can participate in joint operations (signed off). This is how the system works.
Also, the other reason for this is for tracking and supply. The government uses specific forms that are entered into the logistics and supply system. If everyone is federalized, the system runs smoothly, because everyone is government document/program number approved and recognized by the same system, not an off shoot agency that require more work to track and less benefits when supplying personnel and units.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 7:03 PM UTC
Though like the kings and queens was she
Born who in lordly bricks palatially dwell,
And like the presidents that rule by majority
Votes the Republic, and like the verily well-
Pruned governors and mayors of states and cities
That live by the plough of the citizenry,
And like those folks of noble duties
Who delicately deck and behave benighly;
Yet this live in inclement circumstances, a
Woman nuts and partly **** The round-
About her abode hath been and there the sheila--
Come rain, come shine--is lugubriously found.
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 6:15 AM UTC
Love is not the scrawl of notes
left on the bedside, whilst
the alarm clock suffers to clouts
and rings, awakening her.
Neither is love the aperture
between silhouettes
as they embrace so readily
against the walls. Some clinch
of absence, the antiptosis
of the you and I.
Love is not the spaces between
the ‘I miss you’s’ and the
‘here we are once more’s.’
Neither is love the separation
between our wants and needs,
to the disparities in the world.
It is not the defiance of obligation,
nor some holy rest-house
to the ills of the modern world.
Love is not some shared novel,
a story born out over a communal
conjecture of where humanity shall
rest upon the end of everything.
Neither is love the offering of a rose,
or any other bouquet of severed
life, strangled for the nourishment
of her; the justification of your
placement in her life. These are just
condescending gestures,
weak offerings to the Lord
of all you claim to be divine.
Love is not a life to be feasted upon,
nor is it the self-satisfied glance
in the mirror, as you finally decide
on your definition of ‘I’.
Neither is love this malformation
of words, this attempt of veritas,
this hollowed pursuit of whiskey-fuelled
longing, longing, longing for
some great hand to deliver life
upon my doorstep, upon our’s.
Love is simply the eternal rite
of Gaia; the motes of existence
that tumble with great devotion
and all-cause to their eventual demise,
their inevitable return
to the spiral that created them.
Love is the spaces between my breath,
between your’s.
Those pockets of meditation,
and the realisation of union
between all that was,
and ever will be.
Love is the acknowledgement
of power between us. Our previous
lives, blades of grass wilting together
under the footfalls of the now-trees,
the now-governors of our lives.
Love is in the ‘I know you’s’
and the ‘what would I do
without you’s’ that we have so struggled
to forsake in the day-to-day
tumble of our lives.
And to this, I say, that love is
these spaces that you may
no longer occupy. The barren stretches
of grey matter that no being either
mortal or otherwise,
could ever reclaim.
Love is the birth of bespoke experience,
and the knowledge
that nothing can erase us
from the archives of
everything that should ever matter.
Love is us.
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 8:57 PM UTC
Countries fabricated
by roaming people drawing
borders behind them,
trails of hostility
to select those who would cross
rims after them, to keep
resources to themselves,
lands of prosperity
on which to build, greed
homes to shield,
newly engendered families
xenophobes,
induced to believe
by governors they are different,
they are better, superior
and ultimately worth
much more, than any stranger
standing on the other side
of imaginary lines, they are barbarians,
unbelonging
to great civilisations, against whom
we need protection,
stealing scientists
left right and centre,
research peddled as development
promising a high from nuclear weapons,
bombs called mothers to adore
campaigning over a grand potency
participating in, an international
mallet-measuring contest
whilst signing accords,
for those who have to keep
and those who don’t
not to aspire, to acquire,
a prize for populations
who have successfully or can
destroy approaching aliens
simply by, pressing the right button
on a joystick suitable for games,
of mass destruction
ten thousand nuclear warheads
ready for use.
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 6:55 AM UTC
I once read a riddle about an egg,
but I was into geology. I was sure the answer had something to do with a calcite cave.
I don't like surprises. Recently I attended a surprise lingerie party and brought jello cubes. Now
a stranger is burning his fingerprints in my bedroom. He wants to steal our governors identity. He likes the job he's doing.
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 9:22 PM UTC
Endless dreaming wide brown land
Floods and droughts in cycles come
Long parched deserts they abound
Along the shoreline civilizations found
In horse and dray explorers roamed
Harsh bushland coastal open plains
Then the goldfields and coal seams
Steamers plied their river trade
Convict labour enshrined in chains
Bushrangers encased in metal mail
Laws and rules made across the sea
So many generations that set us free
Governors harsh like Macquarie
The common people did not see
On the sheep’s back we once did ride
Gone now that Australian way
Gone now our once countries pride
Again owned and at outsiders behest
Country strip mined foreign owned
Where now the old call of mateship true
Again the land owned and at outsiders behest
Country strip mined and foreign owned
Where again now the call of mateship true
Could our cultures time truly be through
Again the stain of religions from across the sea
Creeping forcing change from deep inside within
Even now words written such as these
They use our very laws to gag and choke
(If this offends anybody glad it served the purpose for which I wrote it )
(GE2014)
https://www.facebook.com/SilmarilliansPoetry
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 7:13 AM UTC
The beak's vessel plunders
the death of Queen Anne's
twisted, soft scent often. Convenience stores
serve war in boxes.
A red giant's dimming
wit, a devil in your balloon. The old governors burn their clothes
at four,
four flags,
free, fly
into home
where the birds die.
My half-century railroads heard the forest is green
when the trees are brown and burning
and the foliage is just a dream
from the quick,
the blind,
and the ***** that can't dance with the sun like the others.
Water running at the end
of predestination of an unborn's underbelly.
Say out to the head board
begging for attention
--rather be a bridge
worn and bruised, understood and here. The night is here also,
not alone, but no words shared. I rather wait for the walker
who can't sleep
to stare at water underneath
and feel warm from its reflection
--and can't sleep the entire night.
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
We’ll steal their pensions and their land
Won’t that be amazing and grand?
And there’s not a stinking thing they can do.
We’ll blame it all on the opposition
Then take an outraged position.
They’ll elect our congress and governors too.
USA, USA
How many brown people
Did you **** today?
GOP, GOP
Which of your promises
Did you break today?
We’ll concoct a bunch of lies
And convince all the unwise
That everything we say is the truth.
We’ll fool the older Republicans
And win some undecided fans
Everything but the clever and the youth.
In no time at all, we’ll succeed
And underscored with greed
We’ll take this gullible country back.
The Democrats will help us to
Do everything we plan to do
Because the dummies chose to elect a black.
USA, USA
How many brown people
Did you **** today?
GOP, GOP
Which of your promises
Did you break today?
Our war against intelligence
Is really making a difference
In getting voters to not smell a rat.
The richest civilians are helping
With the lobbyists they’re buying
And we gratefully tip our MAGA hat.
They are letting us make laws
That defy any philanthropic cause
Except when we get our hefty share.
We deny them their health and aid
And needn’t be the least bit afraid
Republicans will ever become aware.
USA, USA
How many brown people
Did you **** today?
GOP, GOP
Which of your promises
Did you break today?
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 8:25 PM UTC