"rehearsed" poems
Burning fuel but not to leave,
boys circled town, came back
to the station where they began.
Gas exhaust drifted like spirits
above asphalt, dissolving in the night.
Girls stayed in the lot,
waiting for men old enough
to buy liquor, their names
claiming the land-
long after other names lay
buried in the ground.
They kept to the faces,
legs folded on hoods,
lip gloss catching the station lights,
bracelets chiming, hair flips rehearsed,
laughing at trucks circling back.
They wanted to be chosen, and I tried
to want that too- tried to be a girl among girls,
waiting for the moment some hand
would tug me out of the circle.
But my eyes kept straying-
across the street,
to the rise that was not just dirt
but a chest under earth,
ribs shifting,
a hum curling into my throat.
Something skeletal in its patience,
as if Baykok himself
were sharpening arrows in the dark,
waiting for breath to break.
Built long before us by Ojibwe,
still honored as sacred ground.
The others smoked, struck sparks,
sequins spilling from careless wrists,
never thinking how easily flame
might travel down, through us,
into what we couldn’t see.
I could hear bones shifting,
a buried drumbeat, the land’s own warning.
Every glance of the mound
pulled me back into silence.
It told me what the others
didn’t want to know-
that all this circling, waiting,
was only the lid of a grave.
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 12:02 AM UTC
This smile that makes your day...
This undaunted smile that seem to say.
Show me yours too so we both could play,
On a plane where everything is fine...
Everything's okay...
This smile that reaches out to you...
With nothing but invisible arms.
Caresses your eyes and draws you in.
Entices you with the sweetest charms.
Whispers you tales of a brightly lit future;
Where we're trapped in dance with each other...
Supporting...
Leading...
Lifting and,
Seducing one another...
Let the music ring clear,.
Over the thumping of our heartbeats...
Aggressively segmenting, framing the dance into seconds that would elapse.
Like two duelists entranced into committing tender jousts and retreats.
But know that...
This smile screams only lies.
For it is but a routine mask.
So well worn and adequately rehearsed...
You'd never see the need to ask.
Instead you'd just allow yourself be taken,
To a place where the tide gently beats...
Upon the shore our two ailing hearts.
A place where earth and sky would meet.
When in fact,
It hides the turmoil and agitation.
Guarding the storm that brews incessantly.
Continuously threatening
To breach this shared sanctity with me.
A haven would've then be erected.
That very instant we allowed...
This dance of smiles
From time of first contact to the time we bowed.
This smile... Only took a second
To paint a peaceful picture upon my face.
Free from the pressures building behind my pursed lips.
Just take this smile so that in that second,
We could get lost in the promise of a heavenly place...
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
Mr. handsome stranger
He’s coming after
Desperate like a last request
Frantic delusional lunatic
Unhinged fragile losing what’s left
Self serving sadomasochistic
Easy on the eyes but doesn’t quite fit in
Playing it cool in social situations
His intelligent banter he claims as his own
With somewhat smart comebacks he practiced at home
Trying so hard that the sweat beads down
Onto his stressed wrinkled furrowed brow
the stories he skillfully misdirected
Carefully darting unwanted questions
Mr. Indiscreet can’t blow his cover
Disarm the girl of his unrealistic dreams
How quite average and normal he can be
Mr. Stalker walks over to the Girl
works up the courage and talks to her
Strikes up a witty conversation
With his movie star smile and education
Using the words that he pre rehearsed
Says all the right things and compliments her
Looking past his rather peculiar behavior
And when politely asked gives up her number
He rings her up the very next day
With a romantic scenic picnic date
Under the shade of a lush green tree
Upon a blanket with wine and cheese
Playing the part of the handsome boyfriend
Gains her full trust and faith in him
Joking in a effort to make her laugh
To put her at ease and follow his plan
Jealous of her ex boyfriends
Knowing their names and full address
And when he drops her off at home
Tracks and follows her every move
Knows all her weekly kept routines
Threatens and blackmails all her friends
Studies everyday mundane errands
Unaware of his decent into madness
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 8:28 AM UTC
Rain is really rainy
running, rolling round'
rendering rhythms on
roofs rather randomly
yet really relying on
rays reaching right
as rehearsed.
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 8:20 PM UTC
the comforting warmth of the morning sun,
like I had known it from the days of yesteryears.
the familiar scent of dew-kissed grass,
a fresh aroma that brought forth the tide of gratitude laden tears.
I had foreseen the day to be just as before...
I had planned to play out my morning as I had rehearsed.
but your message had foiled all that I thought I knew...
it brought about the smile that eternity had kept pursed.
your words were laced with the flowers of spring...
they set at ease the unapparent apprehension I've always kept.
they spoke of compliments meant only for the worthiest quills,
I've read them in disbelief as I think not of myself, an adept...
truly you are one that's generous and so very kind.
for your words flew off the page and had struck home;
bearing the stoutest of hope and most selfless of wishes.
they had provided direction in these vague circles that I roam.
so now allow me to thank you dear poetess...
for drawing the sunrise clear into my view.
I shall revel and bask in its delightful rays...
because your words had painted today in the brightest hue...
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
She stands before the class
Her voice rings loud and clear
Each word beautifully enunciated
For all who wish to hear
The perennial English teacher
She reads with such dramatics and flair
Such a pity that its only noticed
by students in the first few chairs
She's reading out my poem
She paints pictures with her words
But honestly? Sometimes I find
Her explanations quite absurd
No, That's not what I meant!
Dear teacher, stop twisting my verse!
Dear students, please notice the flaws
In the story she so carefully rehearsed
It's amazing how sometimes she understands
The thought and feelings of what I wrote
And sometimes she gets it so very wrong
That I want to strangle her throat
She continues unperturbed
By the lack of interest in the room
Students only see her smile and energy
Not her disappointment and gloom
She worked so hard to teach them,
A little appreciation would go far!
But they just sit and pretend to listen
As they wait for the end for the hour
Finally, she comes across
That fateful line
The one that sparks a discussion
I watch the class come to life
In a tsunami of opinions,
She smiles proudly, riding the wave
She launches into her explanation
And it's the completely wrong one she gave
Its one of many misinterpretations
Of my carefully crafted work
There! That student! She understands what I meant!
Now now, don't tell her she's wrong. Don't be a ****
A debate ensues and words fly
The classroom divides into two.
Half are on my side, dear teacher
And the other half believe you.
Out of the blue, the bell rings
For once the students want more time!
A pat on the back for the English teacher.
This victory is both hers and mine
So what if she gets it wrong sometimes?
So what what if she's too dramatic?
Sometimes she's just unreasonable
She's your average literature fanatic
She always gets her point across
Without having to scream and shout
She teaches the students the value of words
Isn't that what it's all about?
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
I read so much poetry i've started to think in rhymes,
then I start to wonder if i'm good enough to write a few lines.
Always thinking in words that'll get me some kind of verse.
Something that sounds not too predictable and hopefully not rehearsed.
I wonder if it in my head is as good as it is written down.
And if out loud it doesn't sound too profound.
I want to create something that has a hook.
Something that makes you take a second look.
It'll be simple but deep from the heart.
Some one will read it and say "that's fine art".
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 12:30 AM UTC
Assert confidence in a convincing recital
Claim certainty that protection is binding
safety is paramount
a rehearsed amount
until she takes it on ethics
every truth is there to detect
A battle for reason
until potential yields to the objective
Loyalty isn't just imagination
Fate constructed in a noiseless dialogue
momentary eye contact
pencil hits paper
Smoke and vapor
Fire comes later
an unsurpassed honor
All the letters weve written
are a smear on the page of occasion
Resulting in endless treasure
Only to be rediscovered
When the omission is uncovered
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 4:41 AM UTC
In September, we missed the bus
And walked for miles
In the Cornish rain.
We laughed as it licked every
Square on our bodies
And squelched into our shoes
Turning our socks to flannels.
The asphalt had become beautiful
- it had drunk the sky
And rehearsed the whispers
Of the sea.
We were the only humans in Cornwall
As the sun went down
And you put on your head torch
We climbed through mirrors
Of trees and bends.
When we got back to the cottage
We did a funny dance
To peel free of our clothes.
Then we toasted our bodies
And watched television.
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 7:34 PM UTC
Your shrill, yet oddly pleasant sound, echoes loudly down the long corridor.
I try to ignore you as the jaunty sound clashes with my melancholy mood,
Yet I find the notes and melodies cling to my mind like tissue stuck to a shoe,
Hanging on for it's own amusement,
Ignorant of my desire not to be teased nor humoured at this anxious time.
I feel I shouldn't like your racket,
My naïve ears and young years sense, not only an inappropriate comedy in your sound,
But also a daunting undertone,
Adding to my sense of having been plunged into deep icy waters.
Perhaps your music soothes those who are leaving,
Your high happy notes providing optimism and assurance of recovery,
Or of a restful sleep enveloping dear ones.
For me, however, at the point of no-return in my pilgrimage,
I hear only the low notes,
Out of time with my quickened pulse,
And lending a foreboding soundtrack to my slow deliberate steps.
But you play for no pay,
Busking in this hospital,
Doing good both night and day.
Yes, you are well known in this place,
Admired for the hours you commit to this space where lives can hang in the balance,
And where your instrument by day is a sharp sleek scalpel,
Invasive in its desire to alleviate suffering,
Your steady, practiced hand rehearsed and well versed in the methodically planned procedure of a surgical concerto.
But out of hours your instrument of choice lends you a voice,
Allowing flourishes and improvisations.
But were you aware that for visitors like me who visited repeatedly,
The clarinet would take on a significance beyond other instruments,
Taking me instantly back to bittersweet memories of visiting my family,
As, in turn, they aged and became unwell and recovered and became unwell again.
Now I am older and a little wiser,
I reflect and ruminate on this period;
My memories of family are more than just hospital visits,
And I wonder if I could ask one thing of you?
Why no Rhapsody in Blue?!
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
Whenever I am not seeing you
Lethal void is my heart
Like the monolithic art
Of a sculptor;
Like the figures of Mona Lisa,
I tried to engrave you
Again and again in my heart
And rehearsed you many times
In my memories.
To reconstitute
Your beautiful image
Inside of my mind
I behold you thousand times,
Yet all loving and languishing
Nothing could be captured
To match your perfection
As you were seen in person
Nor could be remembered
To your many dimensional figure
Of youth unclaimed.
You are just beautiful but demure,
Seductive but unrevealing
A love that slips down
Near your lips were forbidden?
And be never told?
Like two balsam flowers unfold
Opening from their buds,
Your eyelids are open wide.
Like two bees ******* honey
My eyes were seeking yours
To ferret out the secret
Of your true love and desires;
Neither did they come out
Nor did they flutter
And never reached out
My beehive safely.
Seeking out for your true love
In your eyes, in your lips,
Cheeks and chin far and near,
Everywhere all over you,
Looking at you all the time.
You are open to interpretation
Of your true intention
Of your love and desires
Like the secret smiles
Of Mona Lisa.
Until you make confession
Of your true love,
I will behold you thousand times,
You are just beautiful but demure
Looking for you all the time.
You make me dream about you
While in my sleep or I am awake.
My discrete memories
Are overshadowed by time,
I cannot fight with my feelings
Whenever I am not seeing you,
Lethal void is my heart,
Come and meet me in person!
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 4:17 PM UTC
We're standing outside in a cold, blistered wind,
for a quick pull of smoke and the chemicals within?
A quick rush of joy, euphoric train wreck,
a cure made illegal for a chemist's blank cheque.
Plant matter burning, charring my lungs,
an irritated throat and a cough soon to come.
Pass it to a friend and beg them to be quick
so I can burn my lungs again - let my blood run thick.
Serotonin chained and forced to make me feel good,
yet a non-addictive substance, apt misunderstood.
Less harmful than tobacco, alcohol still worse,
a sadly brainwashed nation where impression's pre-rehearsed.
Generations plagued with loud misguided cries.
They say it makes you stupid, another heartless lie.
We'll strap a gas mask to a monkey, and force it THC.
Forget about the oxygen... I wonder what we'll see?
It seems their brain cells died - it has to be the drug!
Government made a discovery? They ought to be less smug.
But back to my friend, and I in the cold,
forced to be hidden from long outdated scold.
Celebrating beauties in the world that were forgotten,
we're told it's overrated, like fine Egyptian cotton?
I know from experience that this has to be divine:
it could not exist if the sun could not shine.
The wind has stopped blowing, the rain takes it's place,
to feel divine beauty of liquid touching face.
It is something natural, and comes from within,
wow, I'm still standing in a cold blistered wind.
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 10:48 AM UTC
Skyward glints,
another hint from another sun,
London runs down,
daily commute over and out.
And how the weekday work is
coming to an end,
but what do they work on whilst 5 in the evening?
Spreadsheets saved in significant folders,
word documents in for a week on Monday,
presentation notes to be written, rehearsed, re-wrote and printed?
‘Beds, beds, beds,
prime town centre property To Let’
Broken brick buildings sit, they belong
to internet auction sites and in estate agent windows.
There’s no flow in this town no more.
Whatever river of commerce that once ran through here
has moved onto, and into, another course,
oxbow lake suburb by Government force.
It rains in the North.
Jewels in the tarmac,
rings in the walls,
stars behind the factory noise,
sound hidden behind an all-car-call.
My broken skin, my broken hide,
months of thought, a hunger for home.
Far flung, further thrown,
back to the up-north-hometown,
hometown of the known.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 12:06 PM UTC
Gemini's are known to dabble in arts of all kind; Well-cultured, well-versed and rehearsed in both rhythm and rhyme.
From music to magic and everything in between; Learning lessons as they unfold with the change of each scene.
We cannot be contained within wires nor hidden behind screens. Energy is everywhere; We choose our frequencies.
Disconnect from electricity and experience the ever-natural waves. Break harmful traditions of doubt and unobtainable change.
We are not alone.
This life has no range.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
to run a mess of things
lies, ties, and unspeakable rings,
you cannot convince me
if you were a gypsy
spun so fine,
claiming things, unknown klepto,
funny, thought i would never know?
unlike you, though... i did let go.
in dance
a rebounded, but failed, fanned romance,
a verbal tribute
to bounce around my notebook.
take a long look
see the crystal,
can you see it at all?
but even if i fall, i still remain
ive heard the rumors of fire and fire
ive once experienced that ****** up desire.
but i fight bold, whilst you fight cold
your little "friends" line-- was rehearsed and old.
so if you are a gypsy
can you too take a journey
leave the past,
and never come back?
cause the only person honestly
qualified
was the one whom couldnt
lie.
but to see the eventual Fail.
and watch you come crawling
tended an open wound
and got the ball all rolling.
if you were a gypsy
you would have known me
long before, you opened this door
and forever remembered as a ....
funny, its predictable
to know how i am prepared
with this and much more
but now i know i am capable.
so, if you were a gypsy
you would have flown free
once the parasite could be breached
he could have happy...?
but unlike a gypsy
you dont have the grace
but its all too easy
when his resin is all over your face.
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 9:08 PM UTC
Mother Nature broke her water
But the baby never came
Our inundated world
Will never be the same
We watched slowly
With a growing sense of impotence
As an elemental army
Took our innocence
Some left their homes and died
In another place
They never did return
To their own space
Politicians waded 'round
In their wellingtons
What nerve they had to even show
Their sorry skeletons
Pontificated platitudes
Filled the element of air
And those who had been flooded
Didn't really care
To hear the sly sermon
Those words were barely heard
Though so well-written
Practised and rehearsed
Mother Nature has retreated now
To her slumber state
One day soon she'll wake again
We do not know the date
Windermere 2016 February 14th
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 4:36 PM UTC
to hold a photograph in my hand
and believe what is presented,
take is at it already is – why not?
if I close my mind’s shuttering eye,
will you be as candid as before?
unrestricted, unsorted from the hullaballoo,
you, freer than what is imagined, closing
in like a bullet from yesterday shot out
of the sky’s contrived clearing –
to hold a photograph in my hand
and tug closer by the mouth of the fringe
as if to pour water on a broken glass,
slithering now, a shadow of moon
at the very dull end of my cup;
you are closer than any rehearsed moment
ready to catch the inner canthus of the eye:
this relentless picture-passing, tense and
fervent, avid like bankiva to air,
water to chrysanthemum: behind thick shrub
of crepuscular, an arboreal locomotion
shatters loose, your frantic figure.
to hold a photograph in my hand
and size it down to the dimensions
of this home – there is potential in this
comparison: flaring out like smoke from
where it infinitely burns, I seek an ache
and hence place a finger to shush,
to hold this photograph in my hand
and confabulate a soft blow to the gut
and feel it realer than any dagger or berretta
held at one’s life-edge: this delusory intimation,
a slipshod work of feeling. to feel it rejoin
me somewhere I ought to be back again.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 2:48 AM UTC
Venus cursed but well rehearsed
Phoenix heart destined to burst
Through cleansing flame I'm what remains
Infinite energy that never drains
Past..Forever regrets we sever
Break the pattern release the teether
Listen maybe you'll understand
Our future is held in our hands
Once upon a selfish mind
Saw the light made me blind
Search for answers that's what you'll find
Cast I am I play a fool
Manipulating every rule
Two versions of me in a duel
Both lay dead in a pool
Procreate self reproduction
Initiate new construction
Find a purpose how to function
Don't be a meal to feed corruption
Oh my lord I feel a change
Phasing as I rearrange
Wisdom flowing like a sage
Cursed I am with a life that's strange
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 7:23 PM UTC
Tax the poor and reward the rich
This line should be reversed
But, the politicians always use this line
It's a line they have rehearsed
As soon as they are voted in
They give themselves a raise
When we question what they did this for
They just sit there in a daze
They use all sorts of doublespeak
To tell us all their reasons
For taxing poor and elderly
The rich are out of season
A few cents here, a nickel there
No one will notice that
While our old folks sit at home
Sharing tinned food with their cat
Tax the poor and reward the rich
This line should be reversed
But, the politicians always use this line
It's a line they have rehearsed
As soon as they are voted in
They give themselves a raise
When we question what they did this for
They just sit there in a daze
The veterans they are targets too
Their pensions get rolled back
They hit those who can't defend themselves
Or are too poor to fight back
They give out tax cuts to the rich
Big business gets the most
While our working poor are stuck at home
Finding new ways to serve toast
They sell our jobs and tax our lives
Until we're better dead
But then we can't afford to die
We've no place to lay our head
They sit in ivory towers
Looking down on those below
Wondering how to get more money in
How to make their pockets grow
The parties not in power
Try their best to make a change
But to do that, we need lots of help
Parliament must rearrange
The way the parties govern
The way they ***** the meek
There must be changes at the top
To help strengthen the weak
There's people on the system
Who worked hard and did their part
Now they can't afford an apple
Let alone the apple cart
Tax the poor and reward the rich
This line should be reversed
But, the politicians always use this line
It's a line they have rehearsed
As soon as they are voted in
They give themselves a raise
When we question what they did this for
They just sit there in a daze
So, at the next election
Don't just vote because you should
Go and vote for something different
Go and vote for something good
Because your parents vote one colour
And you choose to do that too
Is not a true democracy
You've a choice in what to do
If you're voting for the first time
Think real hard before you pick
All their promises look tasty
Until you give them a good lick
Remember how your grandpa
Said "It was much better when"
"We were treated fair and equally"
And it can be done again
So if Tax the poor and reward the rich
Is the motto that you choose
I hope that you'll rememer this
When you can't afford new shoes
The time to change what's wrong is now
Start giving money back
To those who can't afford to lose
The one's who fall between the crack
So tax the rich, reward the poor
Take the tax cuts all away
And make our seniors equal
Don't make them be the ones that pay.
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 7:46 PM UTC
I....I can't breathe
It all started when my feet hit the floor
I walked out of my room and heard whispers
You no longer look at me anymore
With every step I took
I wanted to cry out
My legs just shook
I went back to my room
I can't decide whats better
a coffin or this tomb
I feel nothing... absolutely nothing
I cried it all out the night before
So I sit at my computer and write a little note
This time my words won't be ignored
As I write my heart beats faster
DOES ANYONE CARE!! DOES NO ONE NOTICE?!?
Look.... I want to apologize to our pastor
You'll stand up on stage
to say some half *** message
While my mother cries
as you read the rehearsed words on your page
How many people showed up?
Or did people stay home
because I was a **** up ?
Did he come?.. see he was my last straw
Did he look at my casket and wished he would've texted me back
when I reached out vulnerable and raw
Did he cry?
I hope he did
cause he gave up on me
so i figured, why even try
I'm sorry to my sister
The pain got worse..I stopped talking
every word was a tongue twister
I prayed for the end...and it came
My cries echoed off the walls
To say my death was an accident
would be just to avoid the blame
Yes I believe God was with me that night
The demons left when he came down to hold me
His tears washed away the hurt
As my lungs finally gave up the good fight
He spared my soul ...well what little was left
I'm in the clouds now
Wishing my life wasn't a victim of theft
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 8:12 PM UTC
If I die tomorrow there’s some things I wish to say,
Because if I die tomorrow,
Then I only have today,
To my wife, my friend, my soulmate,
Your everything that’s pure,
Each day you give me all of you,
And the next you give me more.
You never judge or hold a grudge,
16 years we’ve never fought,
If I could pull the best bits from myself,
They’d be the ones that you have taught.
Know how much I love you,
For I’m just a simple man -
That loves you with completeness,
For it’s made me who I am,
Everyday I’ve spent with you
Has been a day above,
I’m not sure I deserve you,
Let alone deserve your love,
But said and done,
You are the one,
I fell for - with all my being,
No matter where I may end up,
It’ll be you my eyes keep seeing.
.......
And now my children,
This is tough,
Not something I’ve rehearsed,
Even just the thought of You’s,
And my heart is fit to burst,
I always wanted children,
I always wanted you,
I was blessed to have a daughter,
Then my son was gifted too,
Your growing up so quickly,
I’m so proud of who you are,
It doesn’t matter where I go,
My love is never far,
There aren’t the words to tell you both,
What you mean to me,
One day when your parents,
Maybe then you both will see,
Always do your best in life,
And always love each other,
Always know I love you both,
And watch over your mother.
........
For if I die tomorrow,
And I only have today
If my time has come,
And I’m not able to stay,
Know that I die happy,
For all you’ve given me,
Know that I die happy,
Let that thought be all you see.
Jun 6, 2019
Jun 6, 2019 at 6:57 PM UTC
This poem isn't one about boys.
This poem isn't a tribute to the girls
Who got their hearts broken by an idiot.
But I pray for them too.
This poem is not plea for attention,
This poem is not a bargaining chip.
This is to the little girls who's
Fathers hurt them more
Than any boy ever could
This is an ode to the girls who cry over
An abandoned office.
This is for the warriors who fought through the pain.
You've wondered if it was your fault.
You've wondered if there was anything
You or anyone could've done.
The nights you've seen pass by
As you contemplate why he didn't stay
Are countless.
You've written poems about the
Emptiness you've felt
Because of his absence.
You've rehearsed in your mind what it would
Be like
If he came back.
You've thought about how it would be
If life were perfect.
...
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 8:14 PM UTC
I've had a thousand conversations with you in my mind this week.
I already know what you will say.
My responses,
yes,
...they are rehearsed.
My patience is limited for,
unlike you,
...I have seen this movie before.
Sorry,
"It doesn't mean I do not love you,
in fact,
...it means the opposite."
...because you are all I think about
-constantly.
* *It is not that I am really smart
It is not that I am really smart
It is not that I am really smart.* *
I see you all.
All the time,
endlessly
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 11:06 PM UTC
Everyone loves you
the world is your stage
each line well rehearsed
you’re the latest craze
yet alone in the darkness
a child cries out
unmasked and revealing
a heart filled with doubt
today they love you
what if tomorrow they don’t
how well will you sleep
knowing your demons won’t
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 8:47 AM UTC