"lizzy" poems
Enter Lizzy in the foothill forests & Loki up in the mountains
Both say their hymns separately initially.
Loki at the mountains
Loki: I am so happy of my freedom
Lizzy in the forest at the foothills
Lizzy: I can't imagine of a better situation
Loki moving down the mountain
Loki: But I want a true lover to mould me better
Lizzy moving towards the mountain
Lizzy: I now want a true lover to honor my feelings
They meet each other and conversation follows
Loki: How could I come across such a beauty!
Lizzy: Even I think likewise, you are so handsome!
Loki: Come, let's make love right now & right here.
Lizzy: How could you ****** me so easily, is it a magic.
Loki: My name is Loki, I'm the God here and you should fall into my arms listening this.
Loki transforms into his celestial form.
Lizzy faints seeing Loki's transformation as she realizes that it was the dreaded-scheming Norse God.
Loki catches her as she faints and takes her to his cave on the mountain.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 7:00 AM UTC
It's London, all the time,
when at night I close my eyes,
it's when and where I get to roam and dwell,
in the city I know inside-out so well,
where all the narrow streets and cobbled stones,
teacups, pint glasses, and fresh scones,
lend themselves into the misty English air,
of London's ancient, yet so modern flair,
of Piccadilly, and Hyde Park Corner's box,
riding Black Cabs, or a big Red Double-Bus,
evening gas-lamp walks with ol' Saucy Jack,
fish and chips and shandys for a perfect snack;
then the changing of The Guard at Buckingham,
where native Cockney's and young mums with prams,
gather for a view of Lizzy's Royal Family Show;
but, my, how rich the April sun sets and does glow,
over the rolling raging river Thames of yore,
where ancient Roman armies marched to shore,
proclaimed: LONDINIUM! -the regal rest,
of civilised peoples and the Royal Crests,
where lives and deaths would go and come,
yet The City despite all odds has lost and won,
in the hearts, souls and minds of all who take,
great London as their true hearth and home to stake,
and arise and fall the poet's versing nights and days,
whilst Big Ben chimes his toll in the foggy haze;
and alas, London from my slumber dissipates,
to that of which I yearn and love, asleep or wake,
knowing where my home of soul-keep lies divine:
in London, my dear London; it's London, all the time.
______
London:
http://beautyineverything.com/3366195864
Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 7:31 PM UTC
*if charles chooses a coronation name that isn't his baptismal name, he'll be ****** after all: we need that name for a hope of patronage and idiocy when politicising saudi arabia as a "reliable" ally.*
why is it that
cats love listening to handel?
well, when
active during charles ii's
reign he was the cream
of the crop, and a cherry on top;
the cats say: handel over bach
any daydream to come!
they should have never
renamed big ben (after benjamin
disraeali) as the queen elizabeth tower...
she's got the ****** bridge
at dartford!
what's next, Lizzy of Stonehenge?!
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 10:47 PM UTC
You used to be a silent night,
Who was off from success afar.
But now that you are shining bright,
You have become a famous star.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 8:30 AM UTC
Dear Prudence, Julia, Michelle, Mr. Moonlight, Eleanor Rigby, Dizzy Miss Lizzy, Lady Madonna, Lovely Rita, Rocky Racoon, Lucille, **** Sadie, Clarabella, Her Majesty, Nowhere Man, Penny Lane, Carol, Long Tall Sally, Maggie Mae, Johnny B. Goode, Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds, Moonlight Boy, Martha My Dear,
You Like Me Too Much. It’s All Too Much. I’m So Tired. The Night Before Yesterday Memphis, Tennessee, I Saw Her Standing There. Polythene Pam.
Not A Second Time She Said She Said “Hey Bulldog. I Want To Hold Your Hand. Why Don’t We Do It In The Road. Here, There and Everywhere. Something.”
I Want To Tell You I Should Have Known Better. “Wait. Slow Down. I Just Don’t Understand. Tell Me Why.”
“Because I’m Down. I’m Happy Just To Dance With You. Hold Me Tight”
“I’ll Be On My Way”
“Please Please Me”
“Get Back. Help!”
And I Love Her
All My Loving,
Mean Mr. Mustard
P.S I Love You
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 12:58 AM UTC
*We lose so much talent to addiction
Some of you may not care, but I do
This is my tribute to them*
**Alan Wilson
Canned Heat
Jimi Hendrix
The Jimi Hendrix Experience
Janis Joplin
Jim Morrison
The Doors
Brian Cole
The Association
Billy Murcia
New York Dolls
Danny Whitten
Crazy Horse
Gram Parsons
The Stooges
Gary Thain
Uriah Heep
Elvis Presley
Gregory Herbert
Blood, Sweat & Tears
Keith Moon
The Who
Sid Vicious
*** Pistols
Lowell George
Little Feat
Jimmy McCulloch
Wings
John Bonham
Led Zeppelin
Darby Crash
Germs
James Honeyman-Scott
Pretenders
Pete Farndon
Pretenders
Paul Gardiner
Tubeway Army
Gary Holton
Heavy Metal Kids
Phil Lynott
Thin Lizzy
Andrew Wood
Mother Love Bone
Brent Mydland
Grateful Dead
Steve Clark
Def Leppard
Johnny Thunders
New York Dolls
David Ruffin
The Temptations
Kristen Pfaff
Hole
Shannon Hoon
Blind Melon
Bradley Nowell
Sublime
John Kahn
Jerry Garcia Band
Jonathan Melvoin
The Smashing Pumpkins
Billy Mackenzie
Associates
West Arkeen
The Outpatience
Nick Traina
Link 80
John Baker Saunders
Mad Season
Bobby Sheehan
Blues Traveler
Wes Berggren
Tripping Daisy
Allen Woody
The Allman Brothers Band
Carl Crack
Atari Teenage Riot
Layne Staley
Alice in Chains/Mad Seasons
Kurt Cobain
Nirvana
Dee Dee
Ramones
Robbin Crosby
Ratt
John Entwistle
The Who
Howie Epstein
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
Jeremy Michael Ward
De Facto
Tim Hemensley
GOD
Dave Schulthise
The Dead Milkmen
Rick James
Kevin DuBrow
Quiet Riot
Ike Turner
Gidget Gein
Marilyn Manson
Jay Bennett
Wilco
Michael Jackson
The Rev
Avenged Sevenfold
Paul Gray
Slipknot
Mike Starr
Alice in Chains
Amy Winehouse**
*We are not bad people, we just have bad ways
Yet, not many understand*
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
if it were left up to me
this whole poem could be worshiping
the shiny puddle of silver light the stars stained
onto your heaving collarbone when
we made love & connected souls first
under the third eye pyramid tapestry then
on a rough bed of flat canyon orange dirt
in summertime georgia
but it's not & can't ever be
because people don't know you
like i do for example they aren't aware
that you dance with a summer breeze
like the lighthearted yellow butterfly
i can never catch in a net or
that you're the reason
i became a writer to begin with
they probably aren't prone
to remember the october morning
you found me huddled just before dawn
in a half-lit safeway parking lot
burning my clothes & yellow wooden pencils for fuel
chewing the pink bubblegum erasers or when
you said i have a beautiful pristine voice &
i melted giddy into your wet violet
hair as the wind whipped it
i was around nine & in the third grade
so i sat patiently crosslegged & camouflaged
a lizard with my tongue out savoring
that moment like an unexpected
rainshower in the pre-puberty desert
listening to the rhythms of your salty blood
pump waves of breath out of your lungs
& they still don't know about
later on when i was walking home
shoulder bones barreled against the long fog
you picked me up again in the
immaculate rust wagon your brother left the keys in
you bought me firewood at a gas station got me
happy drunk on hot kisses & so paranoid ******
listening to thin lizzy on tape in your garage
you laughed hyena hard
when i asked you to marry me
that starless purple night on your daddy's farm
& so did he but he never really said no
& neither did your eyes they just glistened
like they were floating in olive oil as
you ascended the stairs to your bedroom alone
covered in magic enormous light
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 12:48 PM UTC
Her name was Cné, Lizzy, Santita, Tangerine
she told me she was new in town, fresh upon, the scene
we danced the tango, mamba
we loved in the horizontal thunda
and I know she was in splendor, the moment that, she creamed
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 1:28 AM UTC
Bits and Bobbles
Gizmos and trinkets
Testtubes with creatures
Coming to life with my skill.
Magic and Science
My domains to command
Creating life, Cheating death
Manipulating the very fabric of the Universe.
Dark swirling matter and energy
Bending to my will.
Every thread and wave,
All under my understanding
Yet I pleadge these powers
To the man I love with all my heart.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 5:37 AM UTC
*Paul Simon wrote of sitting at a railway station,
With a ticket for his destination,
A cool autumn morn, and I’m doing the same,
Penning my thoughts, while awaiting my train.
A nice warm coffee cupped in my hand,
My trusty pen, the poet’s wand,
More travellers arrive, their tickets purchase,
While I just sit, composing verses.
My I-Pod blasts out Thin Lizzy live,
The music helps my poem thrive,
People staring, I'm deep in thought,
Me thinks this poem won’t be short.
The train arrives, of course its late,
So much to do, I cannot wait,
We pass through villages, towns and fields,
The lonely scarecrow, no secrets he yields.
The stunning views sure do amaze,
As we journey on through drizzly haze,
The farmer’s fields and their misty shroud,
As I travel further from maddening crowd.
Through the cloud comes a shaft of light,
Then forms a rainbow, bold and bright,
You see the world with a different view,
Or perhaps not, as we pass through Crewe.
Great, sods law, one working loo,
And yes of course, there’s quite a queue,
I-Pod still belting out the tunes,
As along the track, the train it zooms.
Ahh, now my destination is in sight,
Now a cracking day and drunken night,
A time to catch up with good friends,
And where both Journey, and poem ends.*
© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2013
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 7:33 AM UTC
Peter got his very own egg. His had a package of skittles.
Lizzy got her very own egg. Hers had two rolling dice.
Sarah got her very own egg. Hers had a book of riddles.
Landon got his very own egg. His had bean-bags with rice.
Kathy got her very own egg. Hers had a mini clown.
Henry got his very own egg. His had a lock and key
I got my very own egg, and I was jumping up and down
As this was my first egg that was given just for me.
I had reached the age of ten, so now I was allowed
To have my own egg this easter, and boy was I proud.
I took my egg, I tore it open, and what was inside?
What was inside was suddenly something I wanted to hide...
"What's inside?" Asked Peter and Lizzy.
"What'd you get?" Asked Sarah and Landon.
"Is it candy?" Poked Kathy and Henry.
And I ran away, because nothing is a hard companion.
Nothing. My egg had nothing. I tried to let it go...
It really should've been easier as the months went all too slow...
But nothing, good old nothing: It stayed and seemed to grow...
And nothing's now my only friend, and because I made it so.
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 12:35 AM UTC
Oh pit of love !
pit of love never dries up .
oh pit of love -LIZZY , im pit of love.
pit of love never dries up .
LIZZY thee are my heart .
LIZZY, thee are my strength .
LIZZY ,thee are my everything .
pit of love never dries up .
LIZZY , im pit of love sets .
beside a mighty stream .
and my water is ever clear and pure .
my care is like blue grass tree .
that deeps its root into mighty stream .
my care is always tender .
im pit of love LIZZY .
pit of love never dries up .
oh my jolly Swallow, LIZZY .
my dulcet princess ,LIZZY .
my lily rose ,LIZZY .
without thee there is no life for me .
and my love for thee is firmament of glory .
but if its a hell .
i just wish you know that i love you dearly .
for how long my heart can stand ?
oh pit of love .
pit of love never dries up !!!
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
It's a distance from me
Sheffield - City of industry
Where my friend alights to be
Lizzy Boo Green
Queen of my scene
The perpetual adjective that smiles
Like a teenager
in a disco
Or a burning go-go.
-----
Primary a target of my wishes
That curl friendship in a scribbled
slowhand
Back and forth
To indirect overdrive
Where a thousand exits greet you with fire
And say welcome
Where we probably will never meet
Seperated by forests, buildings and miles of cold
concrete.
-----
If I allowed my candle to burn down
Then tame a buick's wanderings into nature's
blind spot
Then I am no poet
I hold my friendship like a trophy, high
No contact, No coffee, But we share the same sky.
-----
My pledge is to write my verse
A gift stolen be a loved cat,
So here is my rotting composure
I have one golden friend, Whose fretted blue lights
Are visualising something else.
As change haunts the bellringer, The only sound of life
Is deafening bells.
-----
A frail yet stunning femininity masked by
Accumulative beauty
The description holds general putativity
in a broken cup
As it flows into the sewers of of my persona
And tho we will never share
A cobblestoned journey into the opposites that
collide into seperate genders
It is only my years that say goodbye to that today
I lost my younger years in the afternoon of yesterday.
-----
2 Friends heading into infinity
But without a compass to map direction
Only 1 of us is courting perfection
And I am sorry to say in my selfish unit
That it isn't me,
I'm only a word that's free.
-----
Freedom is so entwined by *******
Tho I'm not concerned with that,
I am blessed from where I am sat
I am, perhaps too old to understand
What cradles friendship between a young girl and
an ageing man-
A beautiful wide-eyed energy from Elysium, Our Lizzy
Which leaves me nothing inside nothing more
Other than a single image worth living for.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
~
**Wesson gives a lessen with a .357
David slings rock
cop holsters a glauk
Lizzy Borden packs an axe
Mac he packs the knife
Billy battles with a club
Tommy's gun is a sub
Kelly's got one too
Bazooka Joe is gum
Peter Gunn is not
Smokey has the right to "bear" arms
or did we just arm bears
don't let my gun become undone
never stifle my rifle
hear the whistle of my missle
think next I'll bring the tank
after that what do you bet? i'll come flying in a Jet**
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
i write when i should read
read when it's not right
go down repost rabbit holes
until i lose my sight
my muse is in a tizzy
my body always busy
i listen to Thin Lizzy
until i lose my mind
my prayers just hit
the rafters
my happy ever afters
are taken by
the grifters
i relate to drifters
I'm really in a bind
please forgive my scheming
I feel like i'm
dreaming
but this silly rambling
is
all
that
i
could
find
SøułSurvivør
(C) 6/15/2017
Jun 15, 2017
Jun 15, 2017 at 3:10 AM UTC
• Confessions in the booth, I’m questioning the truth.
Reds Rushing to the foot,
blood running where i stood, shutting shooting down the veins, the Hiipower is nothing but rude.
It leaves without me asking it too, at least keep in touch.
All that screaming and such.
... And all that crying and such.
I've had had it, more than enough.
I'm just shouting things out
"it's just ******* blown!" and "it's ******* gone!" i starting running, around, the surrounding.
I wrote the words to this verse with the nervous nerves pumping in reverse,"Lex i know that you heard"(what?).
The hurt in my head, shut.
I'm feeling well with the cuts, I still take alotta **** to heart,
if those ***** call you a ***** I’ll shove their cellphones up their butts, if she calls you again, hang on that ****
I'm tired tonight, my head is rig wired, chest is too tight, the cold is with KFC i know that caused i'm feeling so crushed,
I'm Lizzy elevated to the bottom of rushing, i can feel the surge, i can't find my words, i'm accelerating on hope from nothing, looking at Lexi looking at the way she behaves, i wanna tell her it's nothing, Lex, but she's gotten the hardest of it, ain't no way she's forgotten.
Anything can happen, something bout Lex's texts impacts with the voices in my head i'm being reinstalled from shreds.
The bad blood and bone.
I'm just so far, blown off gone.
Blown an' gone.
The whole ****** issue is just.
Blown an' gone.
Don't care about the visuals i'm just.
Blown an' gone.
Don't care about opinions i'm just.
Blown an' gone.
If it gets more difficult i'll be just.
Blown an' gone.
To anyone whose listening it's been real, with GooD GoD
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 12:59 PM UTC
When I was a kid, round here
purple sweet peas carpeted common ground.
Thick, and ripe for picking
in their depths we found
all manner of detritus,
single shoes and old **** mags.
My friends and I went roaming
with our secrets and five ****
Down on Slade Green marshes
fearless urban rangers,
ankle deep in water
never minding dangers.
Our private wilderness so bloomed
and we sank into its mire.
Running, jumping, singing, shouting
our youth ablaze, on fire.
Untouched as we believed it
that ground had seen its share,
of blood and fear and wanting,
we didn't know (or care).
Needles in emplacements
left by no one soldier brave.
****** was young back then,
at least, around our way.
In my peaceful ignorance
of 'paedos' underground,
I hid among the rusting hulks
waiting to be found.
Underneath the tower block,
the thirteenth floor my home,
a dragon in the ******* chute!
Imagination sown.
Each time that the fire brigade
came screaming to a halt,
to extinguish yet another mischief
for which none would be caught.
Our little speck of landing
Mrs Kingsley kept so clean,
a bizzy lizzy at her door
she visits me in dreams.
Skin shiny over knuckles
a worn-thin wedding band.
Her flowery dress, neatly pressed,
a duster in her hand.
And I guess she's been dead years now.
She was old as could be then.
I never knew, the day we moved,
I'd not see her face again.
But, move we did,
from 'the flats', to number ninety-nine.
We had gardens - front AND back -
my own bedroom, yes! All mine!
From the windows of our council house
the world changed, all around.
The sweet peas were uprooted,
houses claimed my common ground.
So, I don't own it any more,
if I ever did.
But home is home, wherever,
inside I'm still that kid.
Who ran and jumped and shouted,
a childhood held dear,
and though I think "I've come so far"
my life began round here.
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 7:08 PM UTC
Lizzy the lezzy is my absolute lover
Pull down her pants and pull up the covers
Do the deed
Find out she peed
And kick that ***** to the streets
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 12:45 AM UTC
Aw aw aw LIZZY .
my splendid only juicy .
what last of memory .
am i to place upon you ,jolly .
for words steal as season .
and our oath is but fake reason .
i hope with you the world know the truth .
cause i behold you with worship all through .
and my heart feels it holy .
to give you my sweetest story .
you are fire within me for more .
but tempest toll and a word is business with a Moor .
yet there is something i would like then you behold for proof .
come and lay down upon my bed of flower .
cause the blood stain is redeemed any ever .
behold ,your life needs but my soul .
for word is magic and can fool .
but the blood is real and it holds responsible .
come the blood stain is more reliable .
beauty fades away as color wore out of red .
come and lay upon my flowery bed .
and let us have the covenant of blood .
the blood stain bed will unit us and the covenant .
its the Lord last supper , the blood is most confident .
the Holy Grail as much as the Ichor of our soul unity .
without the covenant the soul is but a vile entity .
word is spirit and the blood is soul .
the spirit is dominant in beyond abstract vale .
the soul is the physical living of our real existence .
and a lonely man or woman is a half spirit .
see we should make our life one and become full .
so come and sit upon my flowery bed .
and let us have the soul to its full and lead .
upon the bed we will sip the HOLY Grail .
the holy Ichor will strain from me and trail .
into you upon the flowery bed for covenant .
the Lord made the sacrifice across the pole with blood .
but before he beholds covenant with the twelves with his soul .
is the ever binding oath for our physical living .
for the words of his poetry entreaties with spirit .
know today that you impart with my word for spirit .
but if you will ; to partake with my earth living .
you should sip me into you so that we may be one .
come and lay naked upon my flowery bed with your heart alighted .
and i will penetrate into you with tenderness in the night .
come at midnight and close windows and doors .
put off the light and lay down flat and open me your door .
hold up your limbs and close tight your eyes .
cause im going to sacrifice into you at midnight .
no murmur ,no romance ,just lay stiff flat and up your limbs .
open the door of your altar lightly cause the blood ,
of sacrifice is going to gush into your hollow , pure .
the Lord needs sacrifice and woman needs sacrifice of blood .
let me sacrifice to you into that night ; at naked allure .
into that altar between your limbs , im going to seal the covenant.
never stir , never moan cause its the blood oath of our life .
and our living will stick to it for the remnant of our right .
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 12:13 AM UTC
Nightmares must be gentle to do any harm.
They stagger through my unconscious mind
the way the dead tips of palm leaves flicker in the wind.
In the absence of sleep, I converse with them
from my second story window,
through the air above the boulevard.
They break out in golden sweat
and their leaves clash and rustle
when I ask where all the clouds have gone.
In the face of such hostility,
I crave the trees of home,
happy to accept their fate
even as they begin to wreak
of the death of summer themselves.
They shed leaves like flesh
that bleed smoke the flavor of rotting earth
as they burn through late October.
Light dissolves
and shadows move like vertigo,
the way Lizzy Volkamer moved through the Midwest
the summer before last.
The palms won’t speak to me
And Lizzy watches dead leaves gather.
Until they’re burnt, she won’t speak to me either,
though she misses Lo dearly.
Because Lo only lives in the summer months
and is miles away by now.
Ashes began to fill a sky already in decay,
so she swam through August to escape.
She followed the heat to where it settles in other seasons,
where vicious sleep peruses such fugitives.
Se faltan las nubes
whisper the palm trees in her dreams
even as the wind picks up
and offers to help them say so much more
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 5:00 PM UTC
Yes I think you
a woman that likes silver not gold
unless the gold might cress your hand,
your colour is green
bright like your personality
and your hair is almost Black or should be
and your heart beats on to disco sounds
T HA NK you Liz, Beth Elizzy.
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC
Lady Lizzy liked sleeping in
she deemed it, a viable win
even though she's alone
****** skill's she would hone
and never considered it, sin
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 9:45 AM UTC
Fred
The little baby girl
So full of life
Elizabeth
The child so eager
To take all that life
Can give her
Lizzy
The superstar wanna-be
Creating a dream
Holding on so tightly
Liz
Responsible, caring
She sees the world
With new eyes
And drops her head
Ardilla
She copes, she lives,
Yet she knows
The hope is gone
Angel
In love,
In glorious
Infatuation
Idzy
Growing patient and kind
Planning and learning
Making her own place in life
And carefully keeping
Her dreams at bay
So that he will
Ask her one day
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 1:43 PM UTC
I am the Gretzky of all Gretzkys
The ultimate air Jordan
As cool as Joe Montana
and as nuts as Lizzy Borden
A child of all four powers
with stealth and smarts and grace
With a stick and an ax
and a perfect pass
I'll dunk right in your face
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
I behold with your beauty .
thy charm is harp and lute worthy .
from route or from ocean.
i beset with Magi sojourn.
thy glance is jasper ,beryl ,and sapphire.
thy breath is anguent .incense .myrrh.
i beset with worship to thy promised land .
Sirius,Vegas,Arturus will guide me by dream or by land.
thy love is the worship of heaven choir.
i run not for jasper; lo, Orphic with lute and lyre.
but i do run for thy heart and thy soul.
i embark for love by dream or by land.
LIZZY,your worship !is only by you my soul longs stand.
im a beggar,im a knight ,im a messiah but im only a soul .
why tarriest thou?i behold with love and fume .
lets rove on down this azure of garden of fragrance perfume.
i give my heart upon the dream of thy happiness .
cause the toss is harsh but for you my lily bed minuteness.
thou art the praised of my soul even i will face *****
oh, tempest gale what do i know ?but my gait i will always resume.
drink Ichor, drink Elixir thou crudest rival Meanads.
i rejoice from my ***** the love peril with my ballad.
give me thy love and take from me Babilon bloom.
with fantasy ,love and ecstasy and myth all is sublime.
i carry not mother of pearl but the perfume of my breath .
love of fire i dread not even your kiss sentence me to death.
love ! i hear a numerable in as much as pain.
take the glory from me but i behold difficulty of your love sustain.
give me your heart ,fear no consequence for you my soul cant refrain.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 1:20 PM UTC