"hieroglyph" poems
#there are the ones
that feel it climb up
the shadow towards the light,
hesitation on every rung,
each wave of the arising
overwhelms unabated ―
and woe betides those
who are on the run
from a storm's deluge
A rousing ocean breeze
stirs inside the memory
of an unframed seashell
lying on the hearth mantel;
heightened sensitivity
lapping soundlessly,
spindrift plashing
the shoreline
of another world's
feigned peace
Perhaps the muted voice
of guilty pleasures,
hushed by their own
hidden truths
Feeling the unfelt textures
of every stifled vibration
left unbreathed
The naked truth befallen
so cold and lonely
Running in circles,
volatile as all those
unspoken excitations raging ―
and the whispers of those
who hear not
the voices in the wind
An emotionally enslaved heart
tarries, marooned high and dry
in a memory on a distant sand bar
lain fallow for so long ―
stagnant darkness
of an unsated soul
gathered on the back
of a parched tongue
sullied wordless
Rising up through
a dusty hieroglyph corridor
through an unlocked
labyrinth gate; vestige echoes
from somewhere left behind
in an incomprehensible
abandoned wake
It's getting harder and harder
for an insatiable soul to breathe ...
climbing up a tree trunk―
up within the silence
of the listening tree
Toes dug into
the rough bark furrows ―
fingers reaching upwards
beyond their deepest known grasp
A shadow stranded
out on a hangin' bough
hearkening without ears that hear:
“perhaps they’ll listen now“
the wingless bird sings
in psalms that fly away
on tattered feathers
over untamed waters roil
Back to nature’s waning youth,
the bough bends unbroken
to taste the freedom
of the wild absolving seas
Jesse Stillwater
June 2018
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 12:41 PM UTC
[Dedicated to Austin Osman Spare]
Have pity ! show no pity !
Those eyes that send such shivers
Into my brain and spine : oh let them
Flame like the ancient city
Swallowed up by the sulphurous rivers
When men let angels fret them !
Yea ! let the south wind blow,
And the Turkish banner advance,
And the word go out : No quarter !
But I shall hod thee -so !
While the boys and maidens dance
About the shambles of slaughter !
I know thee who thou art,
The inmost fiend that curlest
Thy vampire tounge about
Earth's corybantic heart,
Hell's warrior that whirlest
The darts of horror and doubt !
Thou knowest me who I am
The inmost soul and saviour
Of man ; what hieroglyph
Of the dragon and the lamb
Shall thou and I engrave here
On Time's inscandescable cliff ?
Look ! in the plished granite,
Black as thy cartouche is with sins,
I read the searing sentence
That blasts the eyes that scan it :
**** and SET be TWINS."
A fico for repentance !
Ay ! O Son of my mother
That snarled and clawed in her womb
As now we rave in our rapture,
I know thee, I love thee, brother !
Incestuous males that consumes
The light and the life that we capture.
Starve thou the soul of the world,
Brother, as I the body !
Shall we not glut our lust
On these wretches whom Fate hath hurled
To a hell of jesus and shoddy,
Dung and ethics and dust ?
Thou as I art Fate.
Coe then, conquer and kiss me !
Come ! what hinders? Believe me :
This is the thought we await.
The mark is fair ; can you miss me ?
See, how subtly I writhe !
Strange runes and unknown sigils
I trace in the trance that thrills us.
Death ! how lithe, how blithe
Are these male incestuous vigils !
Ah ! this is the spasm that kills us !
Wherefore I solemnly affirm
This twofold Oneness at the term.
Asar on Asi did beget
Horus twin brother unto Set.
Now Set and Horus kiss, to call
The Soul of the Unnatural
Forth from the dusk ; then nature slain
Lets the Beyond be born again.
This weird is of the tongue of Khem,
The Conjuration used of them.
Whoso shall speak it, let him die,
His bowels rotting inwardly,
Save he uncover and caress
The God that lighteth his liesse.
6k
we love a guy with a black eye blood shot
those cute five-finger dimples in his jawline up in millennial graphs
of x-time and y-self worth
increasing steadily in units knuckles and palms
lips and prods in a smooth
arching crescent down-facing hieroglyph of his swollen socket as
the plane descending for Cropper and kudos
touchdown
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
I want to drop you off a cliff
And turn you into hieroglyph
Accessorize you with a noose
This time I'll be Zeus
I'll burn you to ashes
Or would you rather hear splashes?
Drowning you wouldn't be too bad
What else should I add?
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 9:54 PM UTC
*Best poems are lost in the morn's toothbrush
wash away with rinse fade like first crush
run away with the trail of the bus you miss
fly with summer clouds melt like first kiss!
Best poems are lost with the winds' dusty blow
half seen half known through half shut window
burn away like fire on a long winter night
lure with contour eluding full sight!
Best poems are lost in the crescent moon's glow
when your mind is too weary head hits pillow
evanesce like youthful time smoothness of face
undecoded hieroglyph untraced address!
Best poems are lost like petals in the rain
in the race for vain pride rush for self gain
seen through smoked glass pages unread
crumbling with time wasted like ****
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 12:13 PM UTC
we use or misuse each other
we don't ask as often as needed
the eye of the needle
the sky is closer
storms are wiser
waters sleep in the seeds of wind
everything so holy entangled
sweet deceit in lustry illusions
glamour for amour
cover up for unforseen
the unbearable unknown
everything so wise
like the eagerness of colts
So it goes, said Vonnegut
casually I am your anything
a strange causality a presence
this cocoon of desire
of course, urgent lover
next day another mirror
friend in the afternoon
a simple woman in the morning
slippery oblivion by midnight
unearthed hieroglyph
all night wide
foe and moan &
foam of laughter
SOS in a bottle
but not of wine
holy **** from time to time
not a dime piece, but she is
a penny for your thoughts it is
you can make and you can take
the cinema on/of my skin
let's speak with our ribs
for the sake of mimes
I could be your slave, but wait
when bus sirens fade away
incandescence is my name,
the patience of graves
of grapes
Feb 11, 2023
Feb 11, 2023 at 9:46 AM UTC
The dead are all around us
they are as alive
in their way
as we are
in ours
We share a world of shadows
with these manes
and step awkwardly
into the light
Every breath of the wind
is a dead soul passing
every autumn leaf that falls
a secret hieroglyph
from the beyond
Beasts in the wild
know this
thus the coyote
sings his mad lament
the raven turns his dull eye
toward the east
expecting not light
but a flight of dark wings
And dark wings
command my attention these days
my eye
turned inexorably toward
the night
Where every word
is farewell
where all commerce ends
and I rejoin the stream of stars
Done with all of this.
And surely
it will be bliss.
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 8:19 PM UTC
I've been
trying
to find
words to describe
the secrets
of ancient bones
hidden within this temple
in which i've made my home.
Perhaps if you took the time
to study
the walls I call
my skin
covered with
graffiti & hieroglyph,
You might find
some
greater
truth
obscured by
my own lack
of knowledge
on where
and how
to begin
So maybe I'll start
with the
original
big BANG
Detail
every moment
of recorded history
that lead up to the exact
explosive moment
when our lips met for the first time
and i slipped
into a new
universe
where
I only want to fill silence
with your
name
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC
This morning, between two branches of a tree
Beside the door, epeira once again
Has spun and signed his tapestry and trap.
I test his early-warning system and
It works, he scrambles forth in sable with
The yellow hieroglyph that no one knows
The meaning of. And I remember now
How yesterday at dusk the nighthawks came
Back as they do about this time each year,
Grey squadrons with the slashes white on wings
Cruising for bugs beneath the bellied cloud.
Now soon the monarchs will be drifting south,
And then the geese will go, and then one day
The little garden birds will not be here.
See how many leaves already have
Withered and turned; a few have fallen, too.
Change is continuous on the seamless web,
Yet moments come like this one, when you feel
Upon your heart a signal to attend
The definite announcement of an end
Where one thing ceases and another starts;
When like the spider waiting on the web
You know the intricate dependencies
Spreading in secret through the fabric vast
Of heaven and earth, sending their messages
Ciphered in chemistry to all the kinds,
The whisper down the bloodstream: it is time.
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 9:19 AM UTC
Scientists made a lofty discovery
The universe continually expands and contracts
In the exact same manner absolutely
So we ultimately live the same lives for all eternity
So we devised a way to send a message to the next universe
A message that would stay in place
Even without the existence of space
A message that would survive time
Even through the end of our line
The message conveyed:
Don't make our mistakes
Correct our sins
Our universe ended
The new one began
The first humans mindlessly worshipped the message
Hearts of the willing sacrificed
They killed for control of its mystic power
It belonged to whoever owned the ivory tower
Until religions were developed
Although they were all somewhat derived from the message
People began to see the message itself as a pagan hieroglyph
An incoherent interference
They killed all that worshipped it
Senseless slaughter
Things got hotter
When people were finally intelligent enough to understand it
They saw all the things we did wrong
And how to avoid those mistakes
But the things we did that were wrong
Seemed much more convenient and easier
They used the weapons we told them not to make
And the ideas we told them to steer clear of
Swords became guns
Racism became genocide
Love became hate
More direct ways of imposing their vision onto the world
Foregoing empathy and compromise
They submitted to the fascism of their subjectivity
And were plunged into the Dark Ages
Steel ***** and chains
Followed by bullet rain
Humanity was lost and found
Humanitarians gagged and bound
People had to make mistakes for themselves
Until they decided to stop living in hell
Humanity collectively decided to follow the message righteously
After they saw hope for the future
Through the vision our message provided
And they realized they should write a message of their own
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 7:33 AM UTC
'And am I then a pyramid?' says Senlin,
'In which are caves and coffins, where lies hidden
Some old and mocking hieroglyph of flesh?
Or am I rather the moonlight, spreading subtly
Above those stones and times?
Or the green blade of grass that bravely grows
Between to massive boulders of black basalt
Year after year, and fades and blows?
Senlin, sitting before us in the lamplight,
Laughs, and lights his pipe. The yellow flame
Minutely flares in his eyes, minutely dwindles.
Does a blade of grass have Senlin for a name?
Yet we would say that we have seen him somewhere,
A tiny spear of green beneath the blue,
Playing his destiny in a sun-warmed crevice
With the gigantic fates of frost and dew.
Does a spider come and spin his gossamer ladder
Rung by silver rung,
Chaining it fast to Senlin? Its faint shadow
Flung, waveringly, where his is flung?
Does a raindrop dazzle starlike down his length
Trying his futile strength?
A snowflake startle him? The stars defeat him?
Through aeons of dusk have birds above him sung?
Time is a wind, says Senlin; time, like music,
Blows over us its mournful beauty, passes,
And leaves behind a shadowy reflection,--
A helpless gesture of mist above the grasses.
1.6k
What does infinite longing
sound like?
Where is the vault that holds
the seed corn of sadness?
And how can we mute our fear
when the barred owls in these
dank woods sob in perfect
sympathy
with the night?
Here
the tense oboes find their range
silence pervades their thoughts
the drum marks a beat
while the string section weaves
a hieroglyph of grief
and resignation.
This symphony is called
the song of the night
and night proves to be
full of whispered life
rustling leaves
and the courage to face it.
But night is not synonymous
with darkness.
Its ways and means
harmonize with the light
render half the whole
parcel our sleeping hours
into dreams
and fitful moments
beneath the staring moon.
In the morning
a plaintive bird song
stirs thought
brings the sun into the east
and wraps night's dreams into
a silk handkerchief
where dreams are tightly bound
and forgotten.
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 9:42 PM UTC
Standing at the edge of the cliff
Want to swing but afraid to whiff
Waited too long my bones are stiff
Trying to interpret like a hieroglyph
Over analyze your over analyzations
Embrace all the nervous sensations
Inner voice shouting accusations
Fading and drowning aspirations
Pardon the interruption
As my heart skips a beat
I propose an introduction
How nice of us to meet
Suffering silent suffocation
To finally breathe is a feat
To follow no instruction
An empty blank paper sheet
Excuse me maam,My name is Drifton, and Im really not a threat
But I can see it from your shoes and I know you have to jet
But to me you must see the worse thing in this world is regret
Weighing heavier on me than any imaginable amount of debt
So many things to say and potential memories to create
Yet we will never know as my writing made me hesitate
I watch you walk away with a rapidly racing heart rate
What am I gonna say..start a debate,ask for a date...great
She's gone forever as I fill up with self indulged irate hate
Erase her memory eternally,my spotted minds blank slate
How many times has your soul lead you astray to a mate
Forever Immortalized within these words, a far better fate
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 6:55 PM UTC
Analytical minds share symbols like currency, defining the present's possible.
Tip an 8 sideways and infinity tumbles out,
but sadly for us, there is no word for , so it doesn't exist.
Modern idioms can string together only hints of divinity:
A Hebrew Prince raised by Egyptian Pharaohs wrote a book about the I Am.
Our language fails pathetically, scarcely the words for what Moses saw in that burning bush.
We know he saw God, lived to tell in writing.
Grasp the Key for the 6th Angel's Little Scroll, unlocking his original Ancient Hebrew.
Like math, each letter is a picture hieroglyph, and a meaning, and a number.
Add letters together, each word is a painting, and a poem.
One sentence is paragraphs of meaning, on four dizzying levels.
One concise chapter speaks a vertigo of encyclopedic volumes.
First to Analyze the most important hieroglyph in Genesis,
so important, do not pronounce it, so its sacredness will never fade:
At top, the sign of Life, then doubled, and the sign of Intelligible Light between.
So becoming a unique verb; all other verbs derive from this, the Creator.
Then add the sign of potential manifestation, with foundation in eternity.
IHOAH
a verb/noun signifying exactly The-Being-Who-Is-Who-Was-And-Who-Will-Be
A vertical hieroglyph pictorially resembling a Man.
Then:
The letter with the sound of A looks like: , and means the physical manifestation of
A= the physical manifestation of, D= man, A= the physical manifestation of, M= woman.
ADAM, with its root word in red clay.
A noun, collective humanity in physical form resembling spirit. (one meaning)
Vertically hieroglyphic one sees a man; but it is smaller (another meaning)
Adam, a shadow of IHOAH.
Let me explain how Moses reveals DNA....
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 2:14 PM UTC
i.
On the aisle of Clarin, misamis occidental
Attentive i hadst becometh, ashore a chaste purity;
I kneweth her, she's been waiting for me.
ii.
Afore in the jungle's, wherein ourn touch hath connected
Aloft in the starry nebula's, whence when Pharaoh's directed;
Yet me and mine wild child, were streaming banner's of feral.
iii.
Althedish Hieroglyph's told of ourn second coming
Ourn craft was as in Ezekiel's time, circle's inside circle's;
We illuminated beshowing, towering ticking with none time.
iv.
No custom to be payed, for we art not slave's
I've waited this long, for mine queen of the shade;
I shalt rest with her, on the aisle of Clarin, risking, daring.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane queen dedication
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC
Your eyes touch the back of my mouth. Make it so hard to swallow.
I never breathed so evenly, my stomach feels so hallow.
I'll bury my face in your neck. Allow me to sink my tongue, and
Drown my teeth into your arms. Your breath fills my lungs.
Everything is easy now, since we simply let it be.
This is anything but sarcastic, the way our colors bleed.
I love your golden irises, I love your sepia skin.
Wrap yourself around my bones and melt into my ribs.
I feel like our arms glide through each other,
Like dancing lovers, after years of familiarization
Predictability in every step, but for once
Comforting to know what's going to come next.
Your hands hieroglyph the language of my fingernails
Decoding a sensation that belongs to something bigger than us,
And finally understanding that it's okay to touch that.
Contentment for war. Trading pity for empathy.
Trading sympathy for care.
You were always in the confines of my aching head,
Your name is in all my search-bars.
If I had the right fingers, I would create you in marble
I would design a statue and have it be gilded
In your honor. And if there was a temple for us,
It would be in the shape of a man, aimed at the earth.
He would be bowing to a large evergreen tree.
And our initials would be carved on the side.
Let's finally spraypaint our faces in underpasses
Eyes like this deserve to be gazed into.
Eyes like yours.
Deep breathing, my face in your chest.
Breastbone meeting skull
Dripping my lips onto your skin
Like candlewax.
If you kiss me with finality,
"I promise, darling, I'll kiss you back."
Jan 4, 2011
Jan 4, 2011 at 10:35 AM UTC
A rose in the snow
A diamond in a plow
A single cloud on a hot day
A lone bud amongst the flowers of May
A sole tree on a cliff
Amidst lines, there is a hieroglyph
A white lily in a field of red tulips
A solar eclipse
A volcano in the ocean
A center of planetary revolution
An aurora atop icy regions
A rainbow above desert nations
A sunset in the sea
A sunrise in the city
A moon in the afternoon sky
A mother's unique lullaby
A bright evening star in a cloudy night
Within darkness, a presence of a candlelight
Still, nothing can compare
To you, none would resemble, none can dare
You are beyond comparison
And I can only provide one reason
I don't shiver or stutter when you're present
Around you, it just feels pleasant
I've never met anyone like you
Nor heard anyone say my name like you do
When the sound of my name slides from those lips
I feel safe
You make me feel safe to be me
You make me feel safe
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 2:04 PM UTC
GOOD HOUSEKEEPING
Not stated
( though it’s understood )
she will not say a word
like dust
swept under a rug.
Good
Housekeeping.
His anger
ripens
into the bruise
she wears upon her skin
a jewellery
of fear
written upon pale flesh
his hieroglyph of hatred.
Love’s lustre
tarnished from the first
the tattoo
of boot and fist.
Holds her hand
under the grill
until her eyes bulge
gulls screaming overhead.
The bilge
of his vile
vomiting insults
upon her scared face.
“Slut...slut...slut”
his screams in a rut
matching each word
to each rising fist
a blow by blow
account.
He the liturgist
in the nightly rites
of violence
uglier than can be imagined.
Lilies cower
in a vase.
He the high priest
of her despair.
An ugly bruise
upon her soul.
Her eyes now
null and void
slit wrists
upon polished table tops
in a room
now sunlit...now unlit.
Aug 17, 2019
Aug 17, 2019 at 3:15 PM UTC
You rewrite me.
I learn the hieroglyph for longing,
the derivative of sigh.
Ours is a softly spoken love
and I'm a breathless scribe.
Dec 14, 2010
Dec 14, 2010 at 1:42 PM UTC
You are my one absolute favorite drug.
If you were a beer, I"d most definitely chug.
I need you like a purple dinosaur needs a hug.
I"ll pour you in my mug, even fill up a to go jug.
If you happened to be a bottle of wine
I"d savor each and every single last sip
A tribute to every grape on your vine
Head rush with each touch of the lip
I"ll be all yours, won"t you be all mine
Come with me and journey on this trip
Be my shade from the bright sunshine
Whisper till you blush, I gave you a tip
Breezy Hair blowing looking so finely divine
Preceding a gush,got me on an IV drip
Now Let me be your cocktail
You can make me extra stiff
Hand me the keys to your jail
Paint the walls like a hieroglyph
Blindfolded, your body's my Braille
Using your scent, I catch a whiff
Night"s coffin about to receive a nail
As you reach the precipice of the cliff
Let us propose a toast with champagne
That roller coaster ride was so insane
So cheers to us, and all we have to gain
May the years be kind and free of pain
And tears only be artificial from rain
No fears, we"re all on the same train
So may our time never be taken in vain
The way I feel, words, can never explain
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 1:42 AM UTC
Autumn racing red and gold
behind half-open eyes of icy blue.
27th Fall. Step into cold
and race through
alleyways I've known.
A crunching stride, solitary breaths.
Staccato notes
banged out on sidewalks' grey scales...
...I'm every inch
of this softened ground,
these shoe treads, hieroglyphics...
...My town appends
its runic fate
onto
my story's granite page.
Crisping air, engulf my lungs.
Ensconce my face in drowsy weather.
Sleepy eyelids, sliding down
to Main & Dow Street. Watch me hover
along the margins.
These last 4 months of quiet aching
engraved in me come roaring out now.
Autumn streets stay silent.
And Kendrick Park
has whispered low
in bashful rustling;
I climb the boardwalk,
my thoughts are gilded,
responding slowly.
The breeze abates,
it's halfway warm.
Bellevue & Lewis
I am a statue;
smooth, cold marble,
still in November.
And, soon, the Summer comes with angry glares.
And, soon, this stony face will disappear.
These months will always linger in me.
Does my ghost haunt this place already?
I'll return here every Autumn when
October signs off on the Summer's death.
And I'll be tracing all your features with
forgotten footsteps' ancient hieroglyphs...
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 12:54 PM UTC
I had known you in the womb
telepathically - or possibly a ghost
a lost twin or lost soul
(maybe not, you were four)
or maybe
all of existence and time -
as cosmic brothers
and my neighboring universe
or a shared galaxy
because when you walked in
my legs were crawling back to me
after a long hike through the seven summits
and my arms have paddled through the seven seas
to joyfully return to land
twisted and contoured
so painfully blissful to see the shore
and the meteors about shouted
from the sky in their tapered bleeding orange gowns
of eldritch scripts and manuals
rejoice rejoice rejoice rejoice rejoice
yet I cannot say your name correctly
(like an ancient hieroglyph yet to be understood by scholars)
I'm sorry that I cannot
hopefully you will whisper it to me
as I sleep
so it will never be forgotten again
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
what could empty you?
in the weight
of our divines
the un thinking
deep within us
strokes of pure spirit
our fleeting fall
labour — the early war;
original sin
in between the earth and sky
is the shade
of the galaxy
why limit sorrow?
why blank the source?
conquered,
we go on
and put life first
ignore the remnant artifacts
merciless undoings
turned pools,
nudge of time
ordinary notes of care
unleashed poisons
etched
into skin
history’s suitor to time,
shards,
debris
remember remember
remember
the blank silence echoing
days go on,
fewer,
sleep escaping
crying out
it was a home.
cursed nights into mornings,
who can make of this?
what once was theirs,
whatever is left?
emptied, murdered, obliterated
an annihilation
of the ego
the anguish,
the anguish
eyes still seeing last touch
feeling
ancient alone abandoned
what is a year
a month
a decade
but a moment?
—lost and burned
futile devices,
fervour’s writing
mailed to the void
and the sea?
the sea?
the saltwater dead, my love,
the saltwater dead
the last great epitaph
of our love:
i am nobody
i am nobody
and you
are gone
oh, August, a season deceased,
tell me again
the hieroglyph
of your name
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 8:28 PM UTC
i.
i always find a space for myself
in small places:
ii.
in my mother's open wounds,
there i dance with salt and lime
and my father's misplaced angers.
iii.
in the scratched frames
under the nails of an angry girl.
in between cowering sunbeams
i lick the walls clean of dust.
iv.
in the fifth page of thrifted book,
back when i was in love with bukowski,
i look at the stains of a summer day sin
and see a five-feet
egyptian sarcophagus taped with figures;
what is the hieroglyph for pity,
so that hathor takes me back to the tight spaces of her womb?
what is the hieroglyph for homelessness?
what is the hieroglyph for misplaced?
v.
i always find a space for myself
in small places:
in the holes of a tire,
in between discolored knuckles,
in desperate places where a body gives up
and wastes away;
there's a space for one more.
vi.
i always find a space for myself
in small places — they wait with such quiet patience
like a father to a prodigal child —
i always find a space for myself
waiting in small places,
it calls hauntingly, like a well-loved, familiar ghost.
yet i cannot come back.
i am too huge with sorrows now —
too full with wistful human bones.
Aug 12, 2021
Aug 12, 2021 at 8:36 AM UTC
Women
Inequality
No one likes
Rightness
No one likes
Orderliness
Ancient concepts of truth,
balance, order,
harmony, law,
morality, and justice,
touched the point,
and the pyramid floor
I will wear my ostrich feathers,
with truth
Regulate the stars, seasons,
and the actions of mortals
Order from chaos
From the moment of creation,
my art wings,
were authentically replicated
The key of the nile,
is ancient and sacred
© 2023 Carol Natasha Diviney
May 28, 2023
May 28, 2023 at 6:56 AM UTC