"tats" poems
Oh you a gangsta now?
Let me guess cause you got those "hard" tattoos
Jordans as shoes
And blow more green in your in between time
Oh you a gangsta now?
Cause you fight a little bit
Stay on that corner and quick to pollute your nation
With the wicked ways of degredation
Oh you a gangster now?
Cause you roll with a clique
To weak to stand on your own
But there validation gives you the courage
To steal without hesitation
Peddle drugs with no reservation
Take life as quick as a minute passes...
Well I hope those tats come with teflon
Cause while you out here playing the don
There's plenty associates that'll aim at your head
For your place just to save face with a few so called good men
I hope that corner has insurance or at least comes with benefits
Cause as past gangstas before you predicts there are only two outcomes present
Lifetime in a 6x8
Or 6 feet under while your soul patiently waits the outcome of where it will spend eternity
I guess this is what our forefathers gave their lives for
For this ignorance of the so called gangasta
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 9:08 AM UTC
I.
“No doubt they’ll sing in tune after the Revolution.”
-Kamarovsky, Doctor Zhivago (film)
Everyone seems to clench his fist these days
In solidarity with ephemera
While setting fire to green recycling bins
Hurling someone else’s bicycle through a window
Armed with their undergraduate degrees
The comrades liberate a coffee shop
Wifi-ing the revolution of the day
Empowerment by beating love to death
Loudsplaining authentic victimization
Posing for selfies with a stolen ‘phone
II.
Their inhumanity seemed a marvel of class-consciousness, their barbarism a model of proletarian firmness…
-Doctor Zhivago, p. 349
Everyone seems to clutch his flag these days
In solidarity with a past that wasn’t
While setting fire to misspelled cardboard signs
Hurling someone else’s beer into a crowd
Armed with their lurid Confederate tats
The Something.Right liberate a dumpster
Bull-horning the counter-revolution
Empowerment by beating love to death
Bellowing their Reconquista of stench
Posing behind their cheap gas station shades
III.
“I used to admire your poetry...I shouldn't admire it now. I should find it absurdly personal. Don't you agree? Feelings, insights, affections... it's suddenly trivial now. You don't agree; you're wrong. The personal life is dead…”
-Strelnikov to Yuri, Doctor Zhivago (film)
Some few embrace civilization these days
In solidarity with humanity
While lighting one small candle as a votive
Whispering an Ave into the Light
Armed with wonder through pen and flute and brush
Recusants choose the liberation given
In singing of the eternal verities
Self-empowerment happily denied
With love, with poetry, music, and art
Celebrating life on this summer day
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
Devilish Grin
with a
Naughty smile
Dark hair
Blue eyes
spoiled-n-wild
Tats two
Black-n-blue
dark-n-tan
white stockings
Knee-high
high- heels
spread thighs
Deep breath
wide eyes
long strokes
deeper sighs
nail marks
blood red
already dried
move slow
Said wise
silent screams
already tried
hand cuffed
lips sealed
Hair tied
Legs wrapped
open wide
Firm grip
twitching hips
In joy
Toes curled
Slip-n-slide
smooth ride
deep ******
Headboard knocks
she replies
screaming
please
come inside
Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 2:41 PM UTC
Sitting here,
wishing she
were here,
In this chair-
on my lap,
straddling me.
Choker on,
wearing a skirt;
pink lace thong
Hair combed long
no shirt on
tats; jet black lace her back
Gently kissing her neck,
she slowly lick her lips,
But, the rest is
all mine...
Her soft skin
rubbing against mine
goosebumps run up her hand
then scatter through her spine
Thin *******
turning me on
intensely
I need her energy
immensely
Her senses
sense me
her scent
attracts me
The rough material of my jeans
Rubbing against her ****
Buckles your knees
I can feel it
The more I move
the tighter she squeezes it
the stare in her eyes
is her invitation
to my demise;
I have
arrived.
Moaning
as she grinds,
absorbing all her vibes
rubbing herself against my thighs-
Leaving her wetness as my prize
Apr 11, 2022
Apr 11, 2022 at 7:42 PM UTC
I went to the garage to throw up and came out with a glass of water and a box to store my waste
I wish I had thrown up everything all that was me
But nothing came up but a wee little bit
Our adventure set off and to the shed we went only to be disappointed by the crude lawn mower
Once more the travels we set off on to the couch it is
Where he shows me a trick to alleviate my nauseous head
My legs spread for him and I cannot control the yes daddy slipping from my ***** ****** lips at the time
21 and **** with the tats he was everything I wanted and so the game began where his **** ****** my god **** tight *****
Age is just a number I'm 17 god **** it a responsible one at that with a job and friends and good grades and a future and here I am wishing I was good enough for this man
But I was
And he was cute and funny and sweet and
Gone
And this 17 year old sits waiting wondering what the **** do I do when I want but do not need and what the **** do I do when he may not want me
But baby I'm a jumper and the fall is scary but
Am I strong enough to crawl out of that hole again?
Am o stupid enough to chance it?
Will this even effect me as much as I'm playing into it?
I may not even like him when it comes down to it
But ****
I want to **** again
And I want to be loved
But these are indeed not the same thing my first time guy
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
Dark hair tied back.
Blue eyes pointed front and center.
Tats two on her back and shoulder
Black stocking satin strap.
Knee-high; hard to measure.
High - heels they just climb forever.
Spread thighs hypnotized his eyes.
Deep breath watching her chest rise
Wide eyes she looks posterized,
long strokes that disappear deep inside.
Deeper sighs I can feel the vibes,
nail marks across his chest,
blood dried just follow the X.
Move slow make her want it more,
said wise speaking from experience.
Handcuffed cause she likes to be a deviant.
Lips sealed, around his **** like she’s practicing keeping secrets.
Hair tied back cause that’s how Sir told her to keep it.
Legs wrapped around his waist, at a right angle, so Sir can reach it.
open wide like Simon says, She reacts so, Sir doesn’t have to repeat it.
Firm grip on her waistline, but there is no wasting time.
Twitching hips, tighten his grips, as she whines,
in joy of the loving being deployed.
Toes curled the pleasure can’t be denied.
Slip slide the more she moves the harder he grinds,
smooth ride the way their bodies coincide.
Deep ****** they combust, as they collide,
come inside her, like a gentleman,
he gives her, a piece of his mine.
Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 3:17 PM UTC
50 quid a night
Bleak walls
***** curtains
'Thieves abound' signs.
What do you expect?
Rumbling
deep and dark
Boeings vying
with Airbus
for air space
Around me
surrounded
held hostage by
a mix of humanity
that defies belief
Tats & shaven eyebrows
Over there a Rolex
Business people
thin on the ground
Holidaymakers
construction gangs
football teams
flight crew...
No pilots, mind
Families
And then there are
the lonesomes
like me
and people shouting
into their digital fruits
Only 50 quid a night
What do you expect?
What you've got...
A melting *** of humanity
In all its gore & gloriousness
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 12:00 PM UTC
"Tout aux tavernes et aux filles."
Suppose you screeve? or go cheap-jack?
Or fake the broads? or fig a nag?
Or thimble-rig? or knap a yack?
Or pitch a snide? or smash a rag?
Suppose you duff? or nose and lag?
Or get the straight, and land your ***
How do you melt the multy swag?
***** and the blowens cop the lot.
Fiddle, or fence, or mace, or mack;
Or moskeneer, or flash the drag;
Dead-lurk a crib, or do a crack;
Pad with a slang, or chuck a ***
Bonnet, or tout, or mump and gag;
Rattle the tats, or mark the spot;
You can not bank a single stag;
***** and the blowens cop the lot.
Suppose you try a different tack,
And on the square you flash your flag?
At penny-a-lining make your whack,
Or with the mummers mug and gag?
For nix, for nix the dibbs you bag!
At any graft, no matter what,
Your merry goblins soon stravag:
***** and the blowens cop the lot.
THE MORAL
It's up the spout and Charley Wag
With wipes and tickers and what not.
Until the squeezer nips your scrag,
***** and the blowens cop the lot.
2.6k
Cinematic
Friends that I get tats with.
The catastrophic
love affairs
that seem so charismatic.
We are the characters in the attic.
The Anne Frank
of the stratus.
the
Sarcastic,
******* children of all these older kids,
that's it!
And that's okay
with us.
The black of day's
a must.
The hack upraises us until we feel so
ill-discussed.
Don't look at me on the Subway,
because these eyes can't handle others.
Like a book
without
a cover, we are
Eve & Adam smothered.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 4:17 AM UTC
Me and the crew riding around in the PT Cruiser.
Soda oozin' out the cup like the one of Biggest Loser.
Don't let the insults be spiky, like the shell of King Koopa.
Goin' back and forth : we in the movie Looper.
Be chill like the Buddha.
Dude, uh, I think you dropped your burger.
Electric surger blew up like the Time Warner merger.
The inside of our place on fire ;
The officer called us liars.
Wanted to throw us in the manor on the Cliff of Briar.
Yeah, it's an American Horror Story.
Being profiled because of ethnicity,
We're Mexican, see,
But we're not gonna steal something worth $3.50.
Looking at us like monsters of Loch Ness.
Yeah, we may come from a pool of cess
But you're simply too incredulous
To think of a time other than 1955.
You can ruin our lives
And throw us in jail in the blink of an eye.
Don't even need to find
A shred of evidence to kick our behind.
You feel like we're behind your back
Cocking our guns with a slight click-clack.
About to shoot them off with a ratatatat
While we're caressing our "gang tats".
But that's not how it is.
You think we all give weapons to kids?
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
im a let that bass set
back to the view you
been checking me at
you be asking me questions like
do you not love yourself?
***** better check yourself
i would have taken my strap
to the back of my right cheek fat
sprayed my old gang with shrap
the blood and my skull by the scrap
so please bare with me
child will you ever see
we on the attack
this country that we born in,
is the enemy to the ones that we once had
turning itself into the biggest group of bang
so now that you are stuck in this whirlwind insane
ready to die, bonnie and clyde , two thousand and nine
when you gonna see that this dynamic duo
dont make the world turn with our voodoo
they dont know whats going on here
they too busy across seas in the world
so what we doing 85 when we ride
they just wiped out a whole **** tribe
two bullets holes instead of their eyes
world dont even take this country seriously
they have us on every angle no peers
just the enemies, spitting prophecies
made in their fears
that we gonna collapse
everyone put money in us by the wraps
too many kids going to bed starved
when other fat *** mother *******
grow too many vegetables in their yard
turn nutrition into trash, so what if they compact
all you old *** troops, still living in the war that we had
were a whole planet of warriors, let alone were the home
to the worst and the best of the wickedly out of the world
celebrate your serial killers, and dead rulers, not even with curls
so even tho it took Jimmy Henchman seven days
the reaper follows me in ever track that i lead
believe that I never write the realest **** i ever spoke
knowing the secrets of the underworld let me bleed
shouldn't have ever seaked out the truth they wrote
setting all the serpents septers after me, black cats
shotty caps, bullet scraps, hub cabs, and shorty tats
Grim Reaper oxyacetylenes in my dreams chrome gleams
Protected by the Prince of Air, setting things right first in my dreams
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 12:39 PM UTC
My granny was only twelve years old
When she got her first tattoo
She was kind of a rebellious child
Back in nineteen twenty-two
She hid that thing for a little while
'Til her daddy finally got wise
He took that girl to the woodshed
With ****** in both of his eyes
He asked that girl, "What did you do,
Don't you know that's gotta be a sin?"
"Now look what you've done to your body,
Has your mama seen your skin?"
Now my granny was a stubborn child
She didn't listen to a word he said
She didn't hide the one she already had
But she got three more instead
Now as my granny got older, so did her skin
And her ink was droopy and sad
You'd think that woman would feel remorse
But I think she was almost glad
Now the art sunk down to her elbows
As it wobbled to and fro
The butterfly tats would take to flight
Everywhere Granny would go
Now another tat was a bloodshot eye
But now it was always winking
On the other arm was a battleship
But of course that thing was sinking
Well that's the story of my granny's art
She lived to be a hundred and two
The day she died it said "Rest in peace"
Not the gravestone, her last tattoo
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 4:45 PM UTC
Every evening
she beams into my living room
bringing me the news of the world
Juanita ***
looking at me with her large eyes, gently tossing her coiffured blond hair
demurely enunciating ugly words through her beautifully shaped mouth
another insane event has occurred in some far off country
and Juanita *** has nice red lip gloss on tonight
a boat load of desperate people has reached our shores
only Juanita *** can make the word "asylum" sound ******
more bikie gang trouble in the city
if I had tats and a Harley Juanita, would you ride off with me?
a ********** released on bail
you shouldn't have to read such filth Juanita
the Government’s economic policies are working
who did you share your stimulus package with Juanita?
another loutish sportsman has disgraced himself in public
Juanita, let the sports reporter read that stuff in future
Parliamentarians hurl foul language at each other in Canberra
I love it when you talk ***** Juanita
debate continues about the best way to tackle climate change
if there was an ETS Juanita, would you trade emissions with me?
she is telling me that tomorrow it will be warm and moist
and Jesus Christ, Juanita *** has two buttons undone on her blouse
There will be another news update in an hour
but not from Juanita ***
and without Juanita ***
no news is good news
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 4:39 AM UTC
The drunken Navy cook was suppurative 1 with tats
And the supply boat was always sunk or late
Our officers would not release the c-rats
So one night someone forced a lock, and we ate:
Tin-can crackers, mother////ers and ham
Mystery meat with beans in tomato sauce
Beans and baby ////s and some heavy jam
Beef slices with potatoes in sphagnum moss
But Lieutenant Macbeth, a lord over the earth
Found us, and then he much displaced the mirth 2
1 Cf. Chaucer’s cook in The Canterbury Tales
2 Macbeth III.IV.132-133
In the end, Lieutenant Macbeth (not the ////’s real name) could do nothing since the looted c-rats were so widely distributed that he’d have had to write up the entire unit.
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 4:19 PM UTC
My granny was only twelve years old
When she got her first tattoo
She was kind of a rebellious child
Back in nineteen twenty-two
She hid that thing for a little while
'Til her daddy finally got wise
He took that girl to the woodshed
With ****** in both of his eyes
He asked that girl, "What did you do,
Don't you know that's gotta be a sin?"
"Now look what you've done to your body,
Has your mama seen your skin?"
Now my granny was a stubborn child
She didn't listen to a word he said
She didn't hide the one she had
But she got three more instead
Now as my granny got older, so did her skin
And her ink was droopy and sad
You'd think that woman would feel remorse
But I think she was almost glad
Now the art sunk down to her elbows
As it wobbled to and fro
The butterfly tats would take to flight
Everywhere Granny would go
Now another tat was a bloodshot eye
But now it was always winking
On the other arm was a battleship
But of course that thing was sinking
Well that's the story of my granny's art
She lived to be a hundred and two
The day she died it said "Rest in peace"
Not the gravestone, her last tattoo
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 11:14 AM UTC
The White Race
&
The Black Base
In-fighting Nut-Case
Wearing kits & killing kins
Tracer bullets leave no trace!
Ak's & Ra's
Customized & hand made
Just Like Burger-king
Have it your way!
And this war is brought to you by
Your's Truly,
The infamous
NRA!
Cops shooting innocent by-standers on the block,
Innocent by-standers then copping Bump-stocks,
Dropping scores to make it count,
Odd murders 2 even out!
Sniper's posted atop rooftops,
Legislations to make him stop.
A "Mentally Challenged" Caucasian man who had gone AWOL?
Suddenly reappears like an Automatic *****
Posted @ the Hotel
Planning to **** wholesale
To get the maximum reward
Also to get closer to God,
Bodies 4 trophies
& Their Head's as his awards!
In the midst of all this
Another white supremacist
With absolutely no
Motor-skills
To run us over
& Cause massive kills
At Town Halls
Movie theaters and even at the Shopping mall
A Muslim nut-job
Planning ********
A darker American
A lighter Puerto Rican,
Or even a white broad,
Always someone@ur service
To start a brawl,
To ***** some skin
& Make it crawl,
To raise u up
Then Watch you fall.
Wild fires burning bodies bare
Of All colors,
From well done to medium rare,
White House to Gitmo
Water boarding & a bit more,
Laid back extreme sports!
**** 4 tats here,
Cliques & Gangs here
Bricks in the bag here
Clipped to the back rear,
**** yes No *** hair,
Shotguns no cab fare,
Tariffs on imports
Nuns & Nymphos
Hoes before bro's
Turning friend's into foes.
Deserted mill workers,
Over dosing on pill sherbets
Gettin' high 2 get by
Laugh hard then start to cry,
Suicides to feel Alive,
Straight up living
Just to curl up & die,
What a way to go
Get buried to touch the sKy!
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 3:41 PM UTC
Poem 1
A LESSON THAT I TAUGHT
I Teach!!
I taught...
Here's a lesson that I taught...
I had this lesson. It were ace in my mind!
The planning was tight, concise, well timed
Going into the room - my stage
Put on the teacher face, the act
(My phone is buzzing but I don't react)
Lights, camera, action! You're on!
"Hi guys! Come in, unpack your things!"
But I'm just thinking about why it rings
"Hi guys! Come in, take off your coats!"
For some reason now I'm thinking about goats
(Why ******* goats?
Why now?!)
I thought
(I need to teach a lesson on...
Oh crap! The whiteboards not working!) ****
Right, try again...
"Excuse me Chelsea, that skirts too tight,
And too short and you aren't wearing tights.
Go down to student point and get yourself a note"
And now I'll get back to the lesson that I taught
"I FUCKIN' 'ATE SIR! HE'S ALWAYS TIGHT!!"
Class - "Totes! Hahahahaha!!!"
I think ... Look you little tots, all you're thinking about is **** ... and your tots and your shots and your tokes in her tote!
You think you're ******* clever but you're not!!
I say... "This is an amazing lesson that I've got!
Does anyone remember the last lesson that I taught?"
"No sir, we do not"
"You're boring sir"
"Are you gay sir?"
On a parallel universe, where I don't care about my career and my home and my children...
I think in my head for a bit, then I say...
"Look you little spaz, you think I'm tight?!? I've been sleeping in a mates spare room at night
because me and the mother of my kids had a fight
and everything in my life is turning *****
Because all I do is stay up all night to plan a ******* lesson for a bunch of little scrotes! Who can't even take off their coats, And sit and ******* listen to the lesson that I taught! I'm marking so much that my body's not taut and my mind spins round and round in thought (a word which you spell ******* tawt!)
Progress and differentiation!
The future of your education!
And I just hope that in some way, I might actually TEACH you something today!
But all you think about is **** and tats and texts and sexts and COD and Christiano Ronaldo and Justin 'fucking' Beiber AND YOU CALL ME GAY?!?
You spell thought ... T.A.W.T!! You're 18 for gods sake!!
How you gonna make a living eh?!
Totesport?!
A couple of them titter
And the rest go silent...
And I think I've won!
'Til one of them says "sir... I'm gonna get you done!"
"And you're gay"
"And you're a **** teacher"
The end
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 5:04 AM UTC
Often I think of Billy,
with his great white eyes
& his tats,
arms full of grinning devils,
scorpions & pentagrams.
He was a hellacious gunner
& he loved to use the kabar
& we missed him
when he rotated
back to the world.
Often I think of Billy,
with his great white eyes
& his tats,
arms full of grinning devils,
scorpions & pentagrams.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 5:17 AM UTC
As far as wars go
It's a bit of a bore,
But we are at war.
Trade war tariffs:
Monetary missiles,
Cyber attackers:
Heat-seeking hackers.
Yes, hot wars are so passé.
Cold wars,
So-called Star Wars:
All in the past.
Silent battlers
Not sabre rattlers.
Keyboard warriors
No F15s nor Harriers.
Masters of Sanctions
Not Masters of War.
Expelling diplomats
And tit-for-tats.
It's a new World War,
But it's a bore,
So pay attention,
Don't get complacent,
The war drones on.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC
The sun didn't come up today
We stayed in bed
Waiting
Till 11:30
And said "If this is the end at least I'm spending it
with you."
And we turned on all the lights and got naked
Made the house into a beach
Drank old scotch
With little pink umbrellas
Like it was going out of style
We talked about Unicorns
How they never got the memo about the ark
And shouldn't there be fossils?!
Shouldn't there be something?!
We dressed the dog up
And she ruled over her blanket fort
With an iron paw
She had to be stopped
So like generals with swords
And guns drawn on our arms
We invaded
And the Maharaja's palace
Collapsed on top of us
We were drunk and in love
Love and in drunk
Under a mile of blankets
And sheets
Of paper
Made confetti
Tossed it up around our heads
White and prematurely aging
Paper dolls
We gave each other prison tats
With blue ink pens
And sewing needles
1 plus 1
Is 2 hearts sharing their last cup of tea
Their last bowl of mac and cheese
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 11:04 PM UTC
Above the sea there flew a lonely hawk,
so far away from home, too far to walk.
The fish he caught he did not like to eat
and all that he could think about was meat.
He was upon a ship with men with tats,
and there could eat his fill with lots of rats.
But then the ship, it struck a rock and sank,
and from then on, the rest of life, it stank.
Aug 17, 2011
Aug 17, 2011 at 9:36 PM UTC
It has been years
Since I slept
On a park bench
On a playground slide
In a ***** hallway
With a broken window
But I see me in him
Strange haircut
Face tats
Slightly *****
Talking to a stranger
And crying
I walk by
Afraid to interrupt
But in the store
I plan out how I will
Help
Exiting excited
I find he is gone
I drop my car
At the mechanic’s shop
Across from Walmart
And walking away
Almost stumble upon
A nearly slumbering form
I mumble some
Pleasantries
Pass him a ten
And let him be
It rains that night
But I don’t think
About him at all
Next day the car is fix
I head home
And see him walking
I open my car door
To give him a ride to the store
One open bottle of cider alcohol
Out of a six pack
I have to stop myself
On the verge of judging
But who am I
He accepts my ride
Putting the seat back
To fit him and his backpack
And blue tarp
I drop him at the front spot
I sit my care safely in
The parking lot
Then come back
Offer him a phone call
And sit and wait
And sit and chat
He says that no one
Has ever done that
He tells me that
People in town
Have been nice
And now he has a ride
Up to Peoria
I give him another five
And forget about him
Till now
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 7:39 PM UTC
When I was young and needed wheels
my father helped me buy my first.
He worked then in a funeral home
and got a great deal on a hearse.
When first he handed me the keys
I thought there must be some mistake;
A Station Wagon for the dead-
Most dates would do a double take.
True, it had low mileage,
but a ghastly MPG.
It was very roomy in the back
where the coffins used to be.
I thought it would be hard to park,
and in that, I wasn't wrong.
Dad said the horn was customized-
when pressed it played "the Munsters" song.
Its capacious bay proved useful
when transporting beer and wine.
It even helped me to get "lucky".
a "Goth" girl thought it fine.
Pale white skin with tats and piercings'
those memories still can thrill.
Though I found it disconcerting
that she liked to lie so still.
These days I drive a Prius
in an effort to be "Green"
I work out and eat "healthy"
as I'm no longer quite so keen
to be caught lying in the back
of a flatbed limousine .
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 7:31 AM UTC
okay, i’ll admit that
your face is on my laptop’s background.
which is odd, i can see that,
since we both know i wish that you would just ******* disappear.
and i know that it’s not a very effective tactic, in forgetting everything that’s ever happened, and i get that.
it’s just that i get nervous when you’re not around for too long
but i know that eventually i’ll forget that
and it’ll be like
none of this ever happened and
maybe nothing will ever feel quite as tragic
as when i was so ******* ecstatic
that you found somebody and that he’s actually attractive, and bearded, and fully tatted.
and i’ll be here in this disaster city
where you’ve rarely matterred,
because i finally found a place where everyone doesn’t know you, and i'll just disappear for a while,
and i’ll be here overcoming my fear of needles while i'm at it.
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 2:52 AM UTC