"travis" poems
2003, where did you go?
My Scene dolls and All Time Low
Red Jeeps and glitter cheeks
Thirteen and hip hop beats
Tube tops, pop n lock
Don't forget your frosted lipgloss
Butterflies and Blink's First Date
"Forever Yours" on a silver keychain
Belly rings, snorting pills stings
Tiered skirts and ankle bling
TLR, Summerland
South of Nowhere, Degrassi: The Next Gen
Nicole Richie and Paris Hilton
Travis Barker and Ashlee Simpson
Fall Out Boy and Timbaland
Pete Wentz almost ended it
Promiscuous, Grand Theft Autumn
Jeans hung low, and girl you got em
I wanna live there over again
Everything was better then
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 3:57 AM UTC
Tory Lanez
Drake
The Weeknd
PartyNextDoor
Post Malone
ILoveMakonnen
RDGLDGRN
Kyle
G-Eazy
Rae Sremmurd
Future
Travis Scott
Lana Del Rey
Bryson Tiller
Jhene Aiko
Cal Scruby
Twenty-one pilots
The Neighbourhood
Zayn Malik
Jimi Hendrix
Nina Simone
Damian Marley ft Nas
Stephen Marley ft Wyclef Jean ft Nina Simone (Song:keeper of the flame)
No-Maddz (Song: Shotta)
Jesse Royal
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 8:51 PM UTC
Chameleon of Pretense
True colors
Not always colorful
No absolutes
No boundaries
Shades of gray
Deep dark deceit
Disguises shallow self
A chameleon of pretense
Forever changing
Their spectrum of sincerity
To temporarily fit
The moment at hand
Pretending and professing
Haughty hypocrites are we
Selfishly
And single-handedly
Glorifying
A colorful
Glittering glutton
Of pride...
(C)~Travis
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 10:41 PM UTC
i couldn't stand the heat,
spent most of the time in the shade,
everyone made fun
of the guy standing by the pool
reading a book, pretending to
be a sundial;
i was called the whiskey-man;
one night i slept outside
and by the time i woke up my glass
of brandy disappeared;
mingled with the "auctioneers"
of a good time; boy one of those
kenyan girls was hot... oomph,
she looked like oiled coal, slimy bits
and raw ***
i know i was a tourist...
played a stupid drinking game with
two english girls, snogged one
at the end of the game, wasn't invited
back to the room for a *********
spent hours at night looking at the tide
splashing the shore, cried at the painting
so alive all the museums and galleries
became graveyards of appreciation;
it was a holiday resort, i admit,
although one bartender asked me to do
a local tour of the place, go clubbing,
supposedly a colonial ******* i was
upon first reading;
but the heat though! god almighty, couldn't
stand the temperature,
i was literally an ice-cream cone most
of the time, took to the shades,
wrote a short story for my grandfather
about an elephant dunking his trunk into
a bottle of brandy...
one day got chatting to a scottish pair
and a russian couple,
told the scottish guy about travis' 12 memories
album,
i was originally asking for a cigarette,
so we drank and chatted about mickey mouse
politics of america...
the scottish guy eventually ran off and jumped
into the kids' shallow pool veering
on blind-drunk-happy...
another time i too jumped into a pool
with my clothes on...
******* this heat...
ha, hmm, those kenyan macaques were funny
esp. on prompt of being fed on the balcony...
but boy that baboon was a menace,
a real anarchist, charged in like a donkey
with meningitis and stole food...
although one baboon had massive haemorrhoids...
and given his fat pinky *** it was even funnier to watch.
oh yeah, and this guy muhammad wanted
to take me to a crocodile sanctuary of his...
i sort of refused the invitation,
and no, i didn't go on the zoological escapade
of a safari to see the Masai tribesmen...
just gave c. g. jung's modern man in search of soul
to one of the caretakers of the resort.
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 7:43 AM UTC
There’s something about the way your words just flow when you speak of what you love that gives me a sense of peace. This is the same kind of peace felt when the Florida wind caresses against my skin on a warm afternoon, and sometimes I like to think your touch is just as gentle and welcoming. Sometimes, convincing myself that your touch is as smooth as the words you use to lure me to you drives away the monster inside seeking what to taunt me with next. Lately, it’s been picking at you, but when you smooth out the bumpy road and just drive, my mind is at peace. The peace growing in this careless mind which I used to call home has a name: Travis; my new home.
There’s something about your eyes; profound, delicate, confidential; they describe you. Just by the gaze of your brown/green eyes, your personality is revealed. And it’s that confidentiality in your stare, and the delicacy in your gaze that gives me security.
I can’t wait for the day that it’s no longer the way you observe people, but the way you hold me that gives me that sense of security. Where it’s no longer the way you talk, but that “Florida wind” impression you give off when your breath strokes against my skin that gives me that same sense of peace. When I’m home and I can rest and hear the music of your heartbeat putting me to sleep. I can’t wait for that day, when I can just put those demons to the side and breathe to the rhythm of the music. Because with your peace and security orbiting my mind, I can finally rest again.
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 12:07 AM UTC
.
"That there Is'belle's house stinks wunderful turr'ble,"croaked Emma Beiler at their quilting bee.
"Jah...vell," sighed Rosanna Yoder. "All them there katzes , ain't so?"
Accordingly the two ladies set out to pay Travis and Isabella Salter a visit, only to be politely told that they had were in the process of taking some cats to a local shelter.
Two weeks passed and to the Amish folks' disgust the odour had merely intensified.
"Them there Englisch are chust liars!" Potato Sam spat the words out along with a *** of chewing tobacco.
" Ach, vell," sighed his wife Rosanna, unaware of her heavily sweating underarms. The Ordnung strictly forbade deodorant as well as perfume. "Reckon I best mosey over and see fur myself."
Travis opened the door with a tired sigh.
'Chust thought I'de ask vhat fur stinks yer house up so vonderful tur'ble...Izzy tells us youse gettin' rid of them but-"
A puzzled look crossed Travis weary face as he glanced toward the kitchen. Irritation gripped him, not lessened as Rosanna glowered at Tabby washing her face on the couch. Then a waft of a familiar scent, overpowering, drifted toward him from the kitchen. Brussel sprouts enhanced by -.
With all the stress, Isabelle was increasing her calming herbs, mixing the powders.... Valerian?
"Good evening, Mrs. Yoder." He motioned her toward the door, locking it firmly behind her. For a long time after she was gone he stood staring out the window.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 1:39 AM UTC
The itty bitty city kitty
She thought she was the best
She thought she was so witty;
Much better than the rest.
The itty bitty city kitty
Begged to be put to the test
That’s the reason for this ditty
She felt there was no contest.
The itty bitty kitty
Runs home to her nest.
She hates the nitty gritty;
Her voice loudly expressed.
The itty bitty kitty
Will always request
Travis Tritt and Conway Twitty
For her country music zest.
The little bitty kitty
In the cold she wears a vest.
She never learned to knitty
Though we’d have been impressed.
The itty bitty kitty
Takes scorn as just a jest.
She doesn’t need your pity.
She’s on a kitty quest.
The little bitty kitty
Likes her covers messed.
It kind of makes her giddy.
Likes her comfort best.
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
The curves on a brachiosaurus
make Queen Latifah seem like a beach towel.
The jaws on a tyrannosaurus rex
make Jay Leno augment his chin.
The spikes on a stegosaurus
make Travis Barker shave his head.
Latifah Leno Barker
hunt for dino flesh
like aboriginals
chase mammoth with sticks
stones and fire dances.
Yeah, I'd pay to see that.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:23 PM UTC
New day, with dawn of rising sun
off the docks, cruising towards horizon
light and breezy all, felt like blessed by Poseidon
Skinny dipping for happiness, hope I find some.
Many I got bon voyage, many I curses,
many were on board, many kraken lurks.
Head straight, high sail,
ignored all, focused on right trail.
Pleasant journey until now, premonitions around,
dark clouds, high tide, ensuing panic in crowd,
blinded became Travis, undermined the upcoming crisis
Darkness engulfed, realized too late, next moment...
**** hit the fan down came the rain,
followed by storm and a huge hurricane.
Bulldozed through, but that's just iceberg's tip,
it's gonna be titanic soon, already feel like losing grip.
Beyond horizon, can't see,
calm sea or whirlpool will there be.
All I know, strength of these sails,
sailors and that mysterious gentle gale.
May 25, 2022
May 25, 2022 at 9:52 AM UTC
he missed the days when he could sit down and relax
a paradox
a parallax
the stories of youth and tales of old
the nights of flame and soot and coals
colors blurred and faces too
he needs a way to get him through
the night is his home but the day is too long
so he spreads his worth till the yawn of dawn
and he gets by because he needs to
he's gotta prove them wrong
a soul who has been flushed
but the drain is clogged
they would have let him go
but hearts are softer now then ever before
travis was a wise man who got caught up in the feel
now *** and mary j replace his every meal
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 12:17 AM UTC
Travis Bickle and Kurt Cobain
are sitting in a Diner
and drinking coffee.
"I couldn't take it anymore", says Travis
"so I went in there and shot them all."
Kurt silently drinks his coffee.
"*Life has a tendency to kick you in the *****
every chance it gets.*", Travis sighs.
Kurt takes a bite from his
apple pie
and flushes it down with some more coffee.
"*The hole in my neck
still hurts sometimes.*", Travis continues.
"Man, that really hurt."
Kurt throws a few bucks
on the counter and
slides down slowly from his stool.
"*Fuckin' ***** he whispers
as he leaves the diner.
The waitress takes the money
and moves on to the kitchen.
Her name is Chantalle.
She has breast-cancer
but does not know it yet.
Life has a tendency to kick you
whether you have ***** or not.
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 9:19 AM UTC
*And suddenly I realized that all of this,
The gun, the bombs, the revolution
Has got something to do
With a girl named Marla Singer.*
Cornelius, Rupert, Travis, Tyler Durden
Who could really tell how many are we in a single body?
Mind creating multiple personas, good or bad
Or both could mean the same thing,
A label, a name as it is,
Could mean something or nothing
***And there could always be a Tyler Durden
The Bold and Free, The Enlightened one***
We see ourselves as we’d like to be
Good or Bad? Again, we decide what is right
Founder of our own fellowship
For our own Project Mayhem
For a girl named Marla Singer..
What again is a Project Mayhem?
***All I know is…
First and Second Rule:
You do not ask questions about PROJECT MAYHEM.***
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 12:15 PM UTC
Momma was a bleeder
***** on the stairs outside the complex
Mainstays all unraveled
mildewed and rotting on the concrete decks
Her ceaseless curtain calls
belied the prescriptions for falling down
She was a butterfly hurricane comin’ from the coast
makin’ eddies swirl sanguine pools
Even Kruger wasn’t dumb enough to jump in her grey-outs
the guy simply walked away
Feb 10, 2010
Feb 10, 2010 at 7:01 PM UTC
A song and I'm wayfaring
Me small things tall
No questions I'm guided
Acoustic Travis
Drifting under bridges
Moving with the flow
Nothing degrading
What is a worry
Picked up and taken places
In others arms and eyes
They talk for me
I watch things and play on stuff
This compilation is leading me astray
But I just want to stay
Haven't heard in years
Where have I gone these years
Who have I been
Oh the thoughts are warm
My heart is poached
Sunny side up
I recall
Letters spoke to conceal a word
Tree sap sticky
I climbed not that tall
Idle with my fun plans
Loll to a place holding a safe hand
Stroll through this gate
I'm seeing good people today
Sit down to play
Hard skates won't fit my feet hurt my toes
Old toy car won't turn corners
Make do wear my jelly blue shoes
What's a schedule what is time
I don't think ahead
Explain it to me in a nursery rhyme
Kiss goodbye can't stay
Red sky at night shepherds delight
Blue sky and baby faced sun tomorrow
Going home sleeping tight
Won't let the bed bugs bite
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
This isnt a poem, it is an open invitation to any member of this community to attend a poetry reading that myself, Travis McCullers, and Jaysen Good are hosting. It will be held in our homely hometown of Live Oak, Florida at a certain Spirit of the Suwannee cafe on Sunday, March 4th. You all are more than welcome to attend and any contributions you wish to make to the performance will be considered. The cafe is a full service restaurant and bar, so please feel free to get obscenely drunk on the premises. Directions and contact information will ne provided to serious inquirers via private message. Please feel free to ask any other general questions that may occur to you in your comments below.
thanks for reading,
David Badgerow
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 11:39 AM UTC
Old-Self :D
By: Travis R. K. Sanders
Part 1
Ok so most of you think you know who I am and what I am about because you may hang out or communicate with me on a day to day basis but you don’t know anything. Fiend and slave to my body. How the urges are so powerful and how everything else quickly becomes irrelevant. Almost like living a double life but this is who I am and there is no escape. Sleeping with the enemy of the enemies. Uncontrollable and over-powering this ****** desire can be. Finish with one maybe two then moving on to two or three more. What kind of life is this for the beautiful and brilliant mind of such a insecure and vulnerable Virgo? Maybe it has to do with not having a father and I need comfort? Maybe I am over sexed and need it all the time or maybe I am looking for that someone to call my own? I don’t know what it is but it is filthy, ***** and disgusting that I give myself to so many others and have a hard time turning down those who wish to give themselves to me. Is it the lifestyle I live? Being a homosexual man. Surely not all homosexuals are overtly ****** and are in need of some type of ****** gratifications 24/7. Is it nature and has nothing to do with being homosexual but male? Maybe so but I can only imagine and pray that the day that I wake up diseased and infectious never comes. In need of a reality check and soul saving. This nail biting life is not for the faint hearted which I thought once beat with inside of me. Too many men to count but I know the exact number I think but I am no longer sure because that part of me will not open up completely. Yet I want to give it my all and let you in on why I am ashamed to approach those I find attractive not just physically but in mind and soul as well. Instead I lie myself to bed with someone I do not know. Strangers are easy to sleep with, oh my god did I just say that? But I know it is true because I have done it on numerous and multiple occasions. I need help I need it bad, this life I live is so sad. But yet through the weeks the months the years I develop a true heart beat and not the beat of pleasure and I realize finally that this was my old-self.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 9:42 AM UTC
i think about you every day
and
every night
why wouldn't i
you are
my life
if you ever leave
i won't
ever stay
if i can't go with you
i will just
fade away
your love
is the blood
beneath my skin
where the
sidewalk ends
Heaven begins
forever my
heartbeat is
stronger
my only wish
is of timeless gift
to love you longer
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 1:46 AM UTC
Like warm water from a soothing shower
Running down my skin
Like the pollen of a flower into the belly
Of the bee
You are everything to me
You are the sweetest sin
My love
Where do I begin
Becoming one is my favorite part
We make love with our hearts
You bite my shoulder
I move over
You pull me close
Don't let me go
Like sunsets on gleaming oceans
our toes sink into sand
My cheeks burn red
When you kiss my hand
Lead me not into temptation
But to the sweetest land
Where forever does exist
And roses never die
Where losers always win
And mothers never cry
Where I am you
And you are me
Where two bound souls
Are finally free
My love
Don't you know what you mean to me?
My love for you is undying
My love for you is true
My love for you will never fade
But it will always remain
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 10:53 PM UTC
Watercolors
Glorious golden embers
Glowing and gleaming
Glistening in the blowing wind
Riding cool autumn breezes
Embarking on a journey’s end
A moment of truth revealed
A kaleidoscope of color
Meticulously painted and perfected
Radiantly reflected
On the canvas in my heart
Where you came
Painting an offering of acceptance
Friendship
Grace and love
Leaving heart prints
With every brush stroke
Lasting forever
But the moment
Lasting only a season
And God with all His reason
Blurs the view
While clouds of confusion
Gather on the horizon
The watercolors all run together
As the rain rolls down my cheeks…
©~Travis
10.15.08
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 10:33 PM UTC
There I sit,
On my beautiful Nel,
The big girl that always lights my world.
A Russian Don by blood,
But she’s a Texas cutter to me.
Here we sit,
Watching this wonderful West Texas sunset.
She grazes on some prairie grass;
I chew on a cat-tail.
I wish we could have ridden,
With Jesse and Bill,
And become legends,
Here in these hills.
The canyons would echo our youthful cries,
Of excitement and joy,
While we just ride, run, Live.
Maybe in those days,
Nel could have run in the pastures,
of an old Texas myth,
and I could have wrassled some cows,
to earn the spurs of my grand-father’s,
father.
If we were on the trail,
Drivin’ some Angus and Belgian Blues,
Up north to Kansas City,
And maybe one night,
The boys and I could sit around the fire,
And stare up at the stars,
Wondering which stellar painting,
Looked most like our horse.
I want the times,
When Grand-dad and Nana Ma,
Would sit on their porch,
And gently swing another night away,
Like they had done,
For the last 50 years.
Nel would be my company;
My loyal bride;
While I rode south towards San-Anton’.
And we would meet up with,
Travis and Bowie,
To fight Santa Anna,
As he rushed the ol’ palisade,
Of the mission where I would die.
The Bexar province would weep for we few,
Who stood for the ideals of a noble, new nation.
Yet,
All ideals eventually come and go.
Well, me and Nel,
We ain’t never seen a cattle drive.
We ain’t ever been outside this here pasture.
So our dreams remain dreams,
And our hope remains void.
My Cowboy Dreams,
And her beautiful mane,
Grow faint and grey,
Every Single Day.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 1:43 AM UTC
Once fully liberated, she rides her antique, three-speed bike down the small hill from her campsite to the: RESTROOMS – SHOWERS – PAYING CAMPERS ONLY. She dismounts and goes into the well-kept, recreational facilities and takes a hot, 50-cent, seven-minute shower, arching her soapy back against the white tiles, rubbing her soapy front in the same spot, up and down and up, and then, rinsed, she stands, dripping wet in front of the first full-length mirror she's seen in weeks, gyrating her hips, mocking pin-up poses to herself and all god's good-looking men with a sense of the absurd, then she wraps her towel around, tying the knot between her ******* She stands outside in the sweet, Santa Vidian air, finger-drying her hair and imagining, unabashedly imagining, guys in the campsite above, eating fresh-cooked meat and ogling her. Then she takes off down the road, pale green nightgown fluttering against the rear spokes, past Bonnie's trailer where from sundown till 11pm you can hear the best country music: Randi Travis, Willie Nelson, Hank Williams Sr. She pulls up to her sweet “Bleu Belle,” shushes the dogs reflexively, hops off the bicycle, and turns, eyes closed, face upraised into a rare shaft of redwood forest sun.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 1:07 PM UTC
Travis used to pick up pebbles
Held them in his hand looking
For gold... Or crystal, smooth sides
Or even one with a strange color
He wanted to throw them upstream
So he could watch his collection
Bounce before it drowns
Now I've been collecting pebbles
Since he shot one bouncing farther
Than the heat could bend the light
I learned religion that day
I woulda started a church on the shore
Hiring monks to unravel the secrets
Of his backhand throw,
I mean if I could even pick up
The pebbles anymore without
Watching half drip through fingertips
Just to watch them drown, thudding
Into last years promises,
I swear if I had a pebble for every
Promise I made to my future,
I'd be forced to build a wall
Between me and every half-thrown
Analogy ripping your mind
Out of the moment and hello
This isn't a Poem, this is
Uhhhhh....
Just words in a line and so if that
Interruption wasn't enough to
Send you Running
Then you're stronger than the people
Disappointed by my inattention to details
If I really had a pebble for every
Promise I've ever broken I'd do my best
To pile them up in such a way that the right
Light reflects my true intentions
That wall, is a scarf, to keep you warm
All the nights you had to cry yourself
To sleepless tossing when I should've been
There. To wipe away your tears and
I'm sorry.. But I'm gonna have to leave
You in that bed a few more times I still
Haven't learned how to count sheep
who can't jump over that wall we built
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
It’s Monday afternoon, the first day after Fall Break. Several of my suitemates are here, relaxing a bit before we hit the dining hall and then scatter, like debris from a bomb. There are a zillion things to do on campus, on any given night. Lisa and I are going to a seminar, Anna and Sunny are going to a Uni play and Leong’s going to see a documentary.
Leong was hunched over a cup of dark tea, reading ‘J-14’ magazine. “Do any of you guys think Travis Kelce is hot?” She asked, not looking up. Leong subscribes to several ‘teen’ magazines, like ‘J-14’, ‘Girls' World’ and ‘Girl’s Life.’ She says that Yale is her chance to be the ‘American teenager’ she could never be at home (Macaw, China). We’d make fun of her if we didn’t all read them after she finished, and they were lying around.
“No,” said Lisa and I about the same time as Anna and Sunny said, “Yeah,” to varying degrees.
“Did you think he was hot before he started dating Taylor?” she asked, pushing the enquiry even further. “No,” said Lisa and I repeated in unison - we had this down now.
“He wasn’t on my radar,” Anna admitted. Sunny said, “Yeah, same here.”
“Why do YOU think he’s hot?” Leong asked Sunny (who’s fem-facing).
“I can appreciate a hot guy,” she said, sounding a little defensive, “as someone who could draw hetero interest.”
Then Lisa reported, from head down in her textbook, “Your mouth retains the DNA of everyone you ever kissed.” She looked up and asked me, how many guys have you kissed?
“You mean politely kissed or Deep-kissed,” I asked back, tilting my head, sticking out my tongue and slobbering it around, like a dog eating peanut butter.
“They mean French-kissed,” she replied, rescanning the last paragraphs as I calculated.
“So, the five guys I dated, but we used to play ‘spin the bottle’ at parties too.. so.. 25?” I said.
“You **** she laughed. “I have my truth,” I updogged, “How about you?”
“I’d forgotten ‘spin the bottle,’ Lisa admitted, recalculating.. “Yeah, 25 sounds about right.”
“Leong?” she asked Leong. “Two,” Leong answered instantly.
“Anna?” she asked Anna, so Lisa was going completely around the room with this survey.
“25 sounds right” Anna answered, “including spin,” (the bottle).
“Sunny?” Leong asked Sunny. “A HUNDRED,” I said, hijacking Sunny’s answer, and everyone chuckled. Every Friday night Sunny brings a different girl home to ‘spend the night.’ It’s rather impressive.
“A few,” Sunny answered, shrugging nonchalantly, “A girl doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“I’ve got a calculator,” Anna said, “if you change your mind,” holding her phone up like an offer.
Oct 23, 2023
Oct 23, 2023 at 5:09 PM UTC
follow your bliss-
my bliss?
Follow your heart-
the heart that is shattered?
selecting a single splinter?
you must trust yourself
you must know yourself
I lay my thread bare soul on the ground and stare.
shredded, tattered and dingy
yet still-
always seeking
what else must I do
To be me?
is this me?
or now?
Wait---
is this me?
-yet?
still when cornered like prey
contempt and remorse
oozes from my pores at once
You did this-
BUT YOU DID THIS TO ME!
how could you-
why would you?
what did I ever do to you?
it's me alone
distracting and attracting
always hiding- waiting to be found by the dense shadows on the outside.
duality
duplicity
my own back in which repeatedly and magically stabbed
the stench of regret
wafts up knowing engorged nostrils
sting
I've pierced myself once again -
barely relinquishing a dab of the putridness, greedily turning and twisting the pain in my fists
wringing the sopping rag out
in hopes of just one more use...
with the always present possibility
of finally spinning this life story
to gold
Travis
2/18/13
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 9:58 PM UTC
The idea had been growing in my brain,
Queens, fairies, dopers, junkies, sick, venal,
They are all animals anyway,
Become a person like other people,
Organization is necessary,
All the animals come out at night,
There never has been any choice for me,
Wash all this **** off the streets. My body fights,
There is no escape. I am God's lonely man,
Headaches that stay and never go away,
Thank God for the rain. Wash the garbage and
cannot put it back together again,
One day there will be a knock on the door,
and it will be me. What hope is there for (me?)
Sep 17, 2020
Sep 17, 2020 at 6:57 PM UTC