"untraceable" poems
I know you.
Sitting behind a screen in your room,
Sipping in the shadows of a coffee shop.
iPhone, iPad, iAm "Anonymous".
The most dangerous word you can be labeled,
The most double-edged of weapons-
Anonymous.
You're never really as untraceable
As the cleared browser history says you are,
Never as untraceable as the chain of destruction you cause is traceable.
You're never really as invisible
As the checked box lets you think you are,
Never as invisible as the scars you direct a hand to make are visible.
One word can't be all that.
Anonymous can't be so dangerous.
Some clicks on a keyboard can't be so devastating.
There's a reason it used to be difficult to avoid responsibility.
Because responsibility for your words, for what you cause,
Is what allows you to see a few steps ahead.
Your signature is what allows you to learn from mistakes,
To vow after you've learned the hard way to think before you act.
To see that those words have two names attached to them now.
The writer, and the subject.
Two traceable, visible people.
Two hearts beating and breathing, now connected.
Anonymous constructs a wall between action and reaction.
It robs you of responsibility.
Yes, responsibility is a prized possession, there to teach and show.
Anonymous allows you to settle.
It robs you of the greater person you could become.
Yes, your future holds more than this, there beyond the wall of cyber bulling.
I hate that I was once Anonymous like you.
I hate that I unknowingly controlled the strings
Of a self-destructive marionette hand miles away.
But I don't hate you. Because I know you.
I know you are more than the mistakes you've made behind that screen.
I know you are more than Anonymous.
So prove it.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 7:13 PM UTC
I want you, but I'm okay with your essence
Basking in your scent long after your presence
The pursuit of my happiness
Seems to wrapped up in your arms
Yet I'm wrapped up
And you seem to be gone
Our fate is as good as whitewashed
Unwritten history in the making
Sanitized love
I give and you're taking
I should never be ok with half
When whole is available
I was ok with your essence
Until it became untraceable
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 4:56 AM UTC
Ashen doves float within the waves,
slinking like silent demons in the night.
They curl around my body,
jaws operating like steel machines,
gnashing at my limbs.
I begin to scream for help,
but they ****** my breath,
they drag me under their tides of black,
unleashing my unremitting fear of water predators.
their teeth, sunken into my flesh,
gnawing at my mind,
painting me my new mortality.
These are my demons,
the sharks in the bath when it comes to hygiene.
the fear of the below and the depths of human mentality,
the untraceable percentage of human worthlessness,
the detestable attraction to the demise of our minds,
I float lower into the aqua,
pressure building,
unforgiving and foreboding
I close my lids, and dream of the sand,
praying it to be underfoot when I open my eyes,
but when my lids open, the doves loom closer.
The irony of a hydrophobe,
dying at the hands of the sharks.
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 8:20 PM UTC
I lied by the sea,
far away from the ebb-
uncared, untraceable,
a heap among the mounds.
You came to me first,
And then joined in she,
both squatted by me,
started the play with me.
Never can I forget,
the first caress-
I know not, yours or hers,
but it was like heaven.
Your juvenile dreams,
naive imaginations,
bestowed on my otiose self,
by your seasoned skills.
Grain upon grains,
both made me proud.
Not conforming to a flaw,
meticulous maven masons.
When your hands tired,
she backed you up.
While she was ******
you tended her to health.
Finally, I stood tall-
an Olympian castle.
Both were beguiled,
I would never be happier.
And, then came the storm,
Satanic vibes infested the air.
I couldn’t fathom what befell,
you were furious, she was crying.
Raised voices, clenched fists,
intimate moments castaway,
I stood a meek witness,
while a relationship was severed.
Came along the lunar surge,
I was wiped away without a trace.
Both stood distant from the other,
watching me fall, filled with remorse.
Mar 2, 2010
Mar 2, 2010 at 9:15 AM UTC
The Beast, it lies,
The Beast, it cheats,
It gnaws and gnashes at your knees and feet,
Its teeth are long,
Its teeth, they scar,
No person is left unmarked
It size, unmeasurable
Its weight, unweighed
Its whereabouts, untraceable
Its name, unnamed,
But the Beast wears a familiar mask you see
A mask so familiar, so familiar indeed,
This unmeasurable, untraceable, unnamable beast,
Who gnaws and gnashes at your knees and feet
It roams by night, by day it hides
The fearsome beast who lives inside.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
The loneliest librarian is in the
heart of darkness
I saw him, old, bearded
on three sides book cases
on the open side, a desk
he faces outward into the darkness
drawing notes at their best.
Look away! in the distance
an army and her generals gather
Up ahead, a conqueror
metal jangles, saddles horse
Cries the pony boy:
I miss my mother
let me go back
what does this all mean?
Studying now, the librarian,
notes in check, own pen
scratching, no metals
only and only
his mind and an ink-filled well
Spearhead, arrowhead formation
a king and his khanate lean forward
into the permafrost, snow lashing
wind blows against but cannot stop
fierce wild will
and only the willows weep
Cries the pony boy:
Radically, may I be afraid
of the dead, arms asunder
so much love! so much love!
what does this all mean?
And far, far ahead of this army
librarian sits, silently
loving nothing, everything beside him
he scribbles notes
A love letter? tiresome if so
upon closer inspection...
At the center of the dark dark forest
where a lonely man rides in his kayak
lantern fixed upon a frame, making his boat top-heavy
he bobs back and forth across his body of water
he is haunted
he is lonely
he is a skeleton
Now grand general crosses the Styx
Ice clumps brushing gently against his ships
cold enough to **** a horse, set blood aglow
with blue, so cold it could not rot.
To valley forge!
to valley forge
to forge a future.
And pony boy cries:
What does it mean?
my father is gone, gone before this war,
he once said, it must be, be,
Did he mean...
Finally, up ahead, the librarian draws
untraceable lines, he knows the army is at his door
lonely, shaking, only the conqueror made it
and he is almost dead too.
Scared, sacredly, he finally hands the librarian his match
and sobs, softly, under breath
"Time, time is, time without,
time too
starts anew."
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 12:42 AM UTC
sometimes
I wish that I could get out of here, away from the dead thud of your approach.
You remanifest with a mouth full of flat line, nothing’s changed.
A man with the same nature about him, the same engorged rhetoric toward life
I wished to bury in my garden long before.
A wound in the backyard, untraceable and
unremarkable.
Not of my heart but of Her Red Sea in which you reside now
Only as blood.
Buried along with my naked, along with my softness and my victim.
When all this is over, don’t look at me
and expect to see the same person.
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 1:32 AM UTC
Crack
The mirror broke.
And such a thing, although inevitable,
Tainted my vision,
And stole my hope.
I lost my smile,
When, what I had was lost.
Irreparable,
Irreplaceable,
Overwhelmingly...
Untraceable.
Over time the pain faded
And was replaced anew,
Increasingly constant,
Blindening,
Suffocating.
Crack
Another's mirror broke
And the innocent pain, revived,
Gifted my mind,
With the cracked
Memory of my mirror.
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 9:33 AM UTC
True colors have been reflected
like glossy panels of deceit;
A palette of mixed aggressive tones
to paint a hue of hate;
****** images depicted,
displaying a forgotten world
of an imagination still sputtering on
A heart scarred for disbelieving the
truth with each stroke;
Empathetic swirls of long repressed
feelings, staccato marks the untraceable
A blend of emotions that leaves my gut
reeling, like pigments of color circling
a water-filled bowl
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 2:56 PM UTC
you were crying at my window at dawn
& your hair was only adding to the flood
i hadn't gotten out of bed
remembering how our souls danced undressed
in lovely weather on the fringes of a fair
you looked like a red bird in the morning sun
i just lay there, stolen by your shining face
i've been a barbarian most of my life
stop me if you've heard this one before
my blind approach to the steep paths of the labyrinth
plunging hard & immediately untraceable
i am a rude ghost ******* to your friends
feigning imagined mystery like the
stage door of a circus tent
that day was beautiful and the sky clear
carrying mute birds with paper messages
but the rain is on it's way
but sometimes, most nights
i am a lamb upon your altar
when i recall how i asked you
where you want to be buried
i said i would search for it
with a hand grenade
& you asked me the name
of the town where i was born
& if i am an animal
i am one of the few that is self-destructive
i will bring the empire thundering down
i have chewed through my beautiful muscle
to get out of that southern state & into your door
with my face against the wet gold leaves
& my nose burned black from the snow & wind
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 10:55 PM UTC
When I look at you
I see Bryant Park flushed with spring
and cluttered, burnished with Christmastime.
I see the way your big hands hold my face, my waist.
I see thick snowflakes
catching in your long lashes.
I see the streaks of light we've trailed
in the places we have been
like the flare of a comet,
footprints in ash and snow.
Six months we have stood,
daring the storm to catch us,
daring the lightning to strike.
You will pretend you did not remember our anniversary
and make me laugh when you say so
because you want me to learn
that you forgetting me is humorous
and ridiculous
and impossible.
I'll wake up the morning after,
panicked because it was five months and not six,
and you will say that it makes no difference
because what does a month matter
when you have forever?
We dance
and I trip and step on your toes
but you just turn on Frank Sinatra
and lead me through while you sing, smiling, in my ear.
And on the days when I curl up like a shell in your arms
shaking with untraceable, messy sobs
you keep singing
your lips unafraid to kiss away the tears.
I think I knew you once,
a thousand years ago,
a billion,
when we were stars in the galaxy
lovers in a white palace
dust in the ground.
And today
we are six months of being in love
six months of pure, unadulterated happiness
six months of dancing,
an eternal song.
Sing me to sleep again,
champion of my heart.
I will dream that we are timeless
and your voice will carry me through
until the dawn.
JFC
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 2:06 AM UTC
Watching smoke curl in the sky
A simmer reflection, a residue of death stealing life
The scent of sweet burning arrives
Between breaths misting predawn light
A womb collects dead children
We hear them shrink and shiver
Their limbs atrophied, their eyes wide
Every kiss is wildfire
Every yearning is weathered
Like the shedding paint on the boards outside
That needed a touchup, a lifetime ago
Every touch is parched
Every trust is dystopian
The flesh departs from neuronal collections
Untraceable to the heart inside
No daughters, no sons
No lovers, no love
No affection, connection; truth or simple trust
No daughters, no sons
No lovers, no love
No future
No hope
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 1:24 AM UTC
The road back to you is full of thorns
every step is a pierce through my skin
soles bleed from the sharp edges of my agony
wounds that time hasn't healed yet
and its pus cry out 'for how long?'
The road back to you is full of thorns
and I am still made of eggshells
crushed each time i roll back in
which is why this road is a road
that i should travel back no more
The road back to you is full of thorns
but it calls me even with memories i no longer welcome
my footsteps can lead to many other roads
but your arrow is a test of how much I've recovered
and so I go...
The road back to you is full of thorns
but i know one day the thorns will hurt me no more
and your familiar signs could lure me no more..
with my new compass, thanks but, No thanks!
No longer barefoot, no longer on foot
[Recalculating... Turn right]
a road that my GPS system won't even recognize
because the road back to you is full of thorns
Abandoned, Uninhabited, Untraceable
In fact, it's a road no More...
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 3:17 AM UTC
a series of random questions
all asking,
some ending in,
a few beginners,
where from...
from where,
do the haters come from?
the pleasure of mass ******
in what gene,
from what cell, possessed,
that you seek it as a life's rationale,
so easy?
from where,
derived
the notion that you,
politician professional
behind closed doors,
bend over to the private interest
your public pretense,
couched lies,
the idea mocking me,
you know what's better
fraud,
from where,
did this despotic greed arise?
from where,
this endless depression,
a session with no end,
don't recall the beginning,
whence the end,
where the end,
freedom from it,
climb out from Joseph's pit,
the exit come
from?
from where,
does inspiration come from?
from
intimacy with the inanimate,
the population of objects,
coarse, beauteous that provoke,
the museums, the gutter, the worn,
the just unrealized, imagined,
from
learning to speak hearts
to speak the heart language
from
from animated blood, eyes, taste buds,
when you pass thru the molecules of me,
by contact real or imagined,
desperation, satisfaction organic,
from where,
from where do these questions arise,
the answers as well,
they are tangible, yet intangible,
even
from,
a notion indistinct,
an untraceable path,
hidden routers,
deflecting reflecting,
even a current direct,
invisible to the naked
from where?
a fair question,
answers, unreliable,
for in the forming,
froming is always
transfigured,
distorted
so let's agree,
the
mother, mater, matters not,
of from,
unsolvable, soluble,
the origin, source,
the river-head is a wasted search
only the acts of yours,
even/or the poems,
all realized ~
undeniable
from you, your hand
that is the only answer to
a question,
from where,
wherein from
comes both,
the contained,
and the
uncontained.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 11:15 AM UTC
Kylie
A song bird with a broken wing the cancer like the archer’s arrow pierced the breast the spirit widens
Under storm laden skies from inward hush and silence an opening umbrella of prayer provides a shield
The buffeted retreats to sheltering rocks and finds the hidden stream within depths blessed bindings
In warmest recesses your steps guided by the unseen over and through this dark passing new findings
With down cast eyes you continue the dark streets the home of the sick and the broken pain unspoken
You came upon these deep downward steeps from the flood lights and euphoric accolades of fame
Before your lyrical melodies were joyful expressive now will carry weighty and knowing sterling acclaim
Mined from troubles hard unrelenting walls finally the richest golden ore through your feelings pour
A little ease by the mystical dreams when sleep restores still withdrawn faces in the moonlight so pale
For a time at heaven you rail to costly you barter all that is thine to own backed by a great pink brigade
You fight with unstoppable courage you lead the march you find ground unvisited you go on without fail
Beaconing to legions behind encouraging you carry the burning torch showing the way through the dark
This my only desire I stand in this human body frail knowing my limitations but from the fight I call you
Don’t be afraid and never say give up to many are depending your touch glorious women you defend
Say in song the mystery you found in a city all alone you met sisters not age defined all filled with youth
In your face I see the unexplainable the untraceable a strength born from conflict a secret knowing
This is dedicated to Kylie Minouge Melissa Eatheridge and all breast cancer survivors
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 9:13 AM UTC
Do you know what it means when
you say, "I'll never find someone like you?."
Love is always going to be love in one person.
Love is different colours, different emotions;
Love is a time traveler, but no matter
How many times you find love or love finds you--
There is only One of one person who'll love you.
They're irreplaceable, untraceable, one of a kind.
They are always going to be them--who they are!
They'll have different colours, different emotions.
They're time travelers and no matter
How many times you find them or they find you--
There is only One of them who'll love you.
Creative Writings - Reina J. Morris
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
you are a fractal
in a sea of branches
you are the air between
the dust that spirals in the sun streams
the decimal point in the equation
the dividing line between oblivion and infinity
you are a loose end
fraying
made of left over dry skin
you are the chemical
you poison my drinking water
you are
the secret ingredient
the last place they'd ever look
you are
the dark matter
the imaginary number I can't wrap my head around
you cure my melancholy
we are
alveoli
we breathe fire
seen through telescopes
we believe we are alone
we'll believe anything they tell us
they won't love you
they can't see you
you are too much
they'd never understand
you don't give
what you don't receive
you give life
as you breathe through me
I see you when my eyes close
I trace your shape on frosted windows
you spark the fire that hijacks my biology
you draw upon my skin with ***** fingernails
your handwriting is embedded in my DNA
your name echoes still
unfamiliar voices without faces
your secret's safe with me
hidden in massive outer space places
untraceable
mastermind configuration
takes ages just to give up out of frustration
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 2:53 AM UTC
A song bird with a broken wing the cancer like the archer’s arrow pierced the breast the spirit widens
Under storm laden skies from inward hush and silence an opening umbrella of prayer provides a shield
The buffeted retreats to sheltering rocks and finds the hidden stream within depths blessed bindings
In warmest recesses your steps guided by the unseen over and through this dark passing new findings
With down cast eyes you continue the dark streets the home of the sick and the broken pain unspoken
You came upon these deep downward steeps from the flood lights and euphoric accolades of fame
Before your lyrical melodies were joyful expressive now will carry weighty and knowing sterling acclaim
Mined from troubles hard unrelenting walls finally the richest golden ore through your feelings pour
A little ease by the mystical dreams when sleep restores still withdrawn faces in the moonlight so pale
For a time at heaven you rail to costly you barter all that is thine to own backed by a great pink brigade
You fight with unstoppable courage you lead the march you find ground unvisited you go on without fail
Beaconing to legions behind encouraging you carry the burning torch showing the way through the dark
This my only desire I stand in this human body frail knowing my limitations but from the fight I call you
Don’t be afraid and never say give up to many are depending your touch glorious women you defend
Say in song the mystery you found in a city all alone you met sisters not age defined all filled with youth
In your face I see the unexplainable the untraceable a strength born from conflict a secret knowing
This is dedicated to Kylie Minouge Melissa Eatheridge and all breast cancer survivors
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 3:09 PM UTC
this love is now & new & once again
stabbing @ me like durga-like diety
with sweet golden daggers
an essential togetherness
teasing out of these odd surroundings
I was listening to Jack Kerouac on the way
home in his mad
bop rhapsody apocalypse
streaming out my speakers
while familiar streets crawl past
once again
I'm thinking
as the day old glum spread over me
& out to envelop all I see
how little different to be watching
seeing street signs all opening
into cul-de-sacs and open storefronts
paraded in the endless traffic flow
now bent slow over
feeding my cat crab cakes
that my mother made
myow myow, he goes
& I acknowledge
myow myow, he goes
& I answer
what?
what in god's name is
the matter with you?
myow myow
his solemn reply
licking @ a piece of
exposed claw meat
nestled among old bits
of dry brown kibble
how about this soul?
how about this life?
this sickness?
how about this always seeking I?
how about he music of my mind
in untraceable car rides alone?
wherefore to I wander
ceaselessly in search of what
wonders where I might be
born on the road of least descent
cat paws, grabs @ bottle caps on
grained wood table
my media
fizzles & searchlights
in my window
there is something I'm not facing
something inescapable, my love
like you
born of locusts in the dust, my love
like you
my weary dune-mother
how solemn are the tunes that run
thy face, o' mother and thy will
how broken are the lines upon thine
shining brow in bedroom windows
open to the world like peace
stolen in the sad glance I gaze @ everything
stolen is the cup I fill @ leaking kitchen
sink pipe strands of scent or bark
of neighbor dogs amusing grass flow
weather flowers under well I'm never
knowing what--I never will
no matter, all is well
another's all is nothing now
where knock goes streaming
crashing loud
like anvils in the rain
it's only me
how now, my dear contender?
like a shadow fallen into sound
how now the planets unwatered?
how now the roots are killed?
we all inhabit the same fears
how rabbit hides his smear
to give me a surprise
for me, none so dear
than the mystery
& April dies today
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 1:54 AM UTC
sand sand sand sand sand sand
i think my mind is disintegrating
i might
**** myself
it probably began before i was born
in the beginning there was nothing
and the world was perfect
then i came into the world
and read lots of articles at university
because
i wanted a good grade
but the world began to fuzz at its edges
i’d drift back to the flat
and stare at all the objects in my room
unable to understand them
most of the time i hate myself
it’s one of the few emotions
i have left
i had this 4500 word assignment
but every time i went to type it up
my words came out, out of order
a string of unrecognisable
broken symbols
a mangled image of my own
stupid head
i came to the conclusion
i was
having a mental breakdown
the other month i
sat in the city mall
and
stared at all the passing people
in their most mundane moments
and thought
this is the rest of my life
this stupid, pointless repetition
i watched people rise on an escalator
faces fixed blankly on
the space in front of them
as if they weren’t there at all
i watched seagulls poke at one another
and squawk into the ground
and thought
there is more life in them
than us
i didn’t want to be a **** up again
i would try to read over
what’d i’d written
for hours on end
until i was shaking, on the edge of tears
unable to understand why this was happening to me
i’d lie in bed
and think about the infinite worthless stretch of my life
feeling only an untraceable anxiety
deep in the pit of
my flesh
for the longest time
i thought all this anxiety and fear
came from without
that if i learned about existence enough
i could
excise all the bad parts out
but something in my head broke
something i couldn’t
control
maybe some part of me wanted this to happen
so i’d have a reason
to die.
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 11:00 AM UTC
The fine light slanting through the windows outside
hit upon the shadows in the dusty corner;
corners cut by the butcher's son
leave little left of the slaughtered voices.
I cradle his red stained hands,
leaving the untraceable pleasure under my fingertips.
With the time ticking away,
why does all the time travel to some sort of silent retreat?
We all feel pleasure in being guilty.
I start to yell, like ***** willows on fire
to let my own voices recover.
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 2:00 PM UTC
Where God passes
The edge of forever where raw power is displayed
Walk the seascapes enter the story told in timelessness except for outer space it is the only place where man finds his mind freed so steep is the unending awe that without question he finally is able to present his self
as the tiny speck lost is all ego all self importance he is open to the quest for ultimate truth. You perfect you’re thinking at the sea shore it is a storehouse that lends itself to grand thoughts no limitations hamper
your endeavors aliveness engulfs you totally. Subdued moods excavate every shallow you start a down ward decent the deep cries out to your soul the part that never can be accessed on shore. The ground a
foundation for raising up temporal structures your needs are served in waters that open as a mysterious gate the deeper the fathoms the more understanding is released. To abide in calm surface features of the
sea what a waste take off the restraints become a voyager drift with churning twisting pressures they will give great reward for accosting your accustomed staid and uneventful living. Go deeper the mundane the
so called important will be forced through your very pores as you continue calling the unknown manifest itself with great scrolls hidden beyond reach to those that plod along the sunny quiet banks. Life test all
men you can face them unafraid armed with years not minutes of preparedness found alone in the struggle only found at sea. Pondered Plumbed in inexorable conditions that stretches changes a person’s character
his stature tempered fired as steel in the caldron. We need leaders vibrant thinkers people who can and will accost hell in the very near future and come away victorious. They will have found their way through
the untold deadly entanglements figuratively and real their not accustomed to ease and know perils at close quarters they learned them in great waters not in pools that have not the ability to stir you to your
core you’re going to pour out your life in one form or another do it with sand and grit leave a scarred an effectual trail for others to follow not the light untraceable light footsteps of one who has never lived.
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 4:44 AM UTC
Self-respect, Self-esteem,
A body,
Sparkling red, ruby love for traveling to new and broader sides of the world,
A pair of lips,
A heart that can tremble when sad, and vibrate with joy when she feels my hands in hers,
Some eyes,
A pretty ******* **** interest in books
Legs, arms or what not,
A round, firm belief system that can open up if support presents itself,
Clothes..or not what do I care?,
An untraceable amount of empathy, that is quilted with smaller amounts of self-interest and a hankering for affection that is not masked and hidden by make-up and trendy fashion,
Hair, long or short, or none...,
A sense of pride when she walks and this somewhat cynical view on how the world works, because she believes that the complex life we live in cannot be generalized to the point that government can regulate it,
A tongue, that can swivel and turn just so she can speak, nothing else, speak her mind, speak her thoughts, but she can never speak enough...
Ears, or an ear, or none because I doubt I'll be talking over her,
A never-ending need to be herself, and the knowing that she is beautiful, beautiful enough to be able to "look like she just woke up", beautiful enough to not need me,
But most importantly beautiful enough to be totally invisible...
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
It's cold here, but it heightens her senses. The rustle of the wind in the fallen leaves and the crash of waves on a distant shore tell her she's at home. But this dream is a lie. There is a huntsman on her tail. His mark is untraceable. But to her it's undeniable. He is here. Silent, patient and resolved, her would-be captor knows her as his own reflection. She is aware of intentions, but also of his hesitation. So, in spite of being in his sights, she paces on. Steady, her gaze remains ahead. And though the ranks of cypress trees pass one by one, for what seems to be eternity, the search for her moon moves her on.
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 11:29 AM UTC