"wrestled" poems
*I stopped by for a cigarette and to hear a story
He always told the tale of one eyed molly
She lost her eye
In a fight with a dog
The moral of the story was
Never trust something
Just because it may look harmless,
Even act harmless
But this day he told me another tale
The one of old Lumberjack Dale*
He was large like an ogre
Chopped too many trees to know of
Was stupid according to my uncle
This gave me quite a chuckle
He left off, on a normal morning
Hiked up the mountain
To where the clear dirt’s mourning
Held his axe and began to swing
The trees didn't have a prayer
He thought he was king
One fell down
He yelled "TIMBER"
Another smacked the ground
He Yelled "TIMBER"
Then another
and
Another
Birds were scattering
Squirrels were flying
The sounds were of a madman grunting through fire
"TIMBER"
The fifth hit the ground
The lumberjack ogre
Had to sit down
He swung one too many times, on this here day
The mountain swung back with a black bear, ok?
Protecting her cubs she wrestled the big man
Teeth in his arm and his axe in his hand
He squinted his eyes and flung the weapon
Missing the giant bear standing about 6' 11"
The mountain whispered to the lumberjack
"Leave and never come back"
He had ****** his pants and ran for the shack
"TIMBER"
The old black bear followed
Protecting her land
And the ones she adored
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
He rubbed his weary eyes...
What trickery could this be?
Was it a signboard draped in disguise
Or the reflection of light off a tree?
Seconds ticked as he drew closer.
The lady materialised to rule out prior suspicions.
His fingers wrestled over the rusty brake lever,
Wheels squealed their futile objections.
The lady wore a face he could barely see...
She had long tresses that bore an alluring fragrance.
Her beauty tipped the scales allowing him bravery,
Unafraid he asked, "Miss, may I be of assistance?"
Her voice seemed to ride the subtle night breeze,
Coating his ears like sugar laden candy.
Soft and demure... Yet laced with a hint of tease,
She had said, "I'm stranded in the dark as you can see..."
"What luck!", he thought, seizing the opportunity
He removed his sack to make space for her.
His heart raced being in the damsel's good company,
The lady slid herself onto the rack before they both rode together.
As he pedalled hard, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
Her voice came again, a tender little whisper,
*"I live rather close... Not far off from here...
A little over the hill... Just over yonder..."*
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 5:59 AM UTC
He was never my classmate,
Neither was he my schoolmate,
As we have met on OkCupid,
Which is where we got suited.
He soon became my tablemate,
Then got promoted to bedmate,
Ranging from late-night nosh
To some naughty oh-my-gosh.
He was my almost-roommate,
Now, a hopeful housemate,
Since he would visit me daily
And keep me company gaily.
He was frequently my seatmate,
As well as invaluable playmate,
For we traveled places together
And cloyingly wrestled each other.
He has always been my helpmate,
And is presently my best teammate,
As he has cheered me up from afar,
As we chat as if there is no au revoir.
He will one day become my inmate,
Plus my hard-working workmate,
Since we will both have mini-me’s
Forcing us to slog away on our knees.
He is undoubtedly my soulmate,
One who is to become my lifemate,
For he is a romantic yet **** geek,
A keeper with charms all too unique.
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 10:00 AM UTC
a kiss does not always mean
"i love you"
sometimes it means
"i am sorry"
and sometimes it means
"i have to go"
i have had kisses that taste like
alcohol, sweat and stinging regret.
i have had kisses that were laced
with desperation as their tongue
wrestled with mine.
i have had kisses that left me feeling
more empty about myself than good.
i have had kisses that never should
have happened, ones i wanted to take back.
jesus christ, i wish i could.
there are kisses i have given
that were so passionately deep
only because i was trying to find something,
maybe searching for the thing that
no one could ever find inside of me.
there are kisses that have broken my heart.
and there are kisses that never happened,
but still managed to make me fall apart.
kisses that made me a mess of ****** cliches.
kisses that kept warning me,
kept signaling me to stay away.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 12:34 AM UTC
i cannot imagine myself,
i mean the voice with whom I speak
who both doubt and believe (in me)
i cannot imagine that self
without you.
your silence a symphony
your words a philosophy
carefully constructed behind
the blue iris and white wash
of your eyes.
i cannot imagine my life
without you in the passenger seat
(you let me drive) and you've yet
to fall asleep
i can still feel you staring at me
and that self doesn't want to believe
(at least not on this particular day)
it's worthy of whatever good you see.
yet here you are, in all your quiet thunder
humbling me with each individual
breath.
i cannot imagine myself
because as much as i have wrestled
and fought against this inevitable truth
it grew more clear with every struggle.
i cannot imagine myself
because since the day i met you
i knew inside this mind of mine
i had to make room for two.
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 9:33 AM UTC
A twisted form of angel,
he's a demon in the light.
Brilliant array of feathers
'fore the eagle prepares his
strike. Tsunami risen to ruin
from a gentle hazel tide. I
came to love his pretty things
since pretty never lies. But
beauty couldn't hide the
burning sun, he wrought me
dry. Oasis wasn't deep enough
to stifle up my cries. I wrestled
brave with golden chains that
locked me to his side. Securely
bound on his wicked ride, I'm
afraid of pretty things. Yet, I
decline to run when my heart,
it sings: What a pretty thing. What
a pretty gooorgeous thing - to see
a demon while there's light. Ready
to burn though he owns the night.
His vices I thought a pretty thing,
I'd faith, drowned in his soulless
eyes, that his pretty must not lie.
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 12:52 AM UTC
201
Two swimmers wrestled on the spar—
Until the morning sun—
When One—turned smiling to the land—
Oh God! the Other One!
The stray ships—passing—
Spied a face—
Upon the waters borne—
With eyes in death—still begging raised—
And hands—beseeching—thrown!
3.5k
rich people blame poor
people for living off the
state & poor people blame
rich people for living off
them; & the state blames
everybody for living off it;
the rich pay the state
to let them skate; the state
kills a generation of the poor
when it goes to war; the poor
only riot when there's
already too much violence;
it's been said the true
revolution starts w/in
it's also been said, it's
not what comes out, it's
what goes in; we came
out of she who he went into
but who went into him?
it's said that Abraham
wrestled god's angel til dawn;
demanding a ******* instead
God gave Abe a painful STD;
passing down through his line
until the coming Messiah; he who
is born w/out the hereditary STD
of Adam & Eve's Original Sin
if sin is the knowledge of good
& evil & Jesus was born w/out
sin, wouldn't that men Jesus didn't
know right from wrong? he only
knew the Jewish law; he wasn't
guilty of anything but he was a
trouble-maker; a poor carpenter
who said he was the king of the Jews
& didn't have any STDs, but he never
got laid so how would anyone know;
the disciple whom he loved felt an ache
in the thigh & going to see Luke, was
given a spongy bit of mold to take until
the ache went away;
since the Lord had gone around clearing
up all the sudden zoster infections there
was no outbreak except among the Pharisees
& Saducees who frequented the local temples
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 7:03 PM UTC
When I was younger, I would wait for him
to die. I loved him - at least I wished I did.
He used to be my D.A.D., and acronym.
Remaining in the mobile home, amid
his “hidden” *** toys and unlocked arsenal-
when he would return, my brother and I hid.
His I.Q.? Soaring, but he lacked a soul,
he killed kittens for fun and never got caught.
Covert sociopath; maintaining control.
Court ordered visits left my mother distraught,
she wrestled the system over us for years,
our knight in shining armor that always fought.
The battle was won after many shed tears -
to a ****** life we forged, pioneers.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC
I spied my shadow slinking
Up behind me in the night,
I issued it a challenge,
And we started in to a fight.
I wrestled with the shadow,
But it wasn't any fun,
I tried my very hardest
All the same,my shadow won
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 6:09 PM UTC
Your Excellency
I salute thee
Oh! King
King of Gbomulero
Oh! King
I salute your mighty sword
Oh! King
Kabiyesi o!
Kabiyesi o!
I lift up my mouth
To praise your mighty-ness
Oh! King
Kabiyesi o!
Your Lordship
That no dares to question
No one dares
To look into your eyes
Oh! King
Kabiyesi o!
The fighter of the spirits
The king of the witches
The night crawler
That wrestled the spirits in the dark
The only addressee of the jury
The judge and the jury
The Alápatà of Gbomulero
Oh! King
Kabiyesi o!
The end and eternity
Of Gbomulero's existence
The mantle of Orunmila
The Royal Highness
Of the gods
Oh! King
Kabiyesi o!
Ki ade pelori
Ki bata na tu pele
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 12:14 PM UTC
I remember being tangled up
In a mess of bones and organs
That had lost their homes inside the carcass of my body.
We wrestled in nothing but our skeleton frames
While my intestines seemed to strangle me,
My lungs could no longer help me breathe,
My heart lay tossed on the floor,
A rib cage that couldn’t hold it any longer,
Couldn’t protect it anymore.
And I could swear our love was still alive.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
It felt as though the humidity itself
carried a hint of liquor as we walked
out into the night, wanting only to escape
our lives for a little.
Deep down in Vieux Carre
twisted brass clashed with a piano
running half step from the crowded clubs
on Frenchman Street.
We filled our lungs with the city
and found her to be like certain kinds
of dangerous doses--
intoxicating.
It was our second night
and the more we drank
the more I began to see glimpses
of the specters spoken of by locals.
They linger in my peripheral,
watching me with their sunken eyes.
You could faintly hear them moan,
only in defeated tones
and their collective scowl danced
in the heavy air of summer
as though it were a part from
all that jazz.
In the stranger hours of morn
I was approached by a ghost
a few blocks off Bourbon.
He offered up nothing but his ***** palms
in hopes of some false salvation.
I wrestled a dollar from my pocket
and passed it on to him,
only to watch him fruitlessly grasp at it
before it slide through his ghostly hands
to the floor below.
He looked down at the dollar
all helpless-like and he said
"It’s been slipping through my fingers
like dat for years now
and ain't nobody help’n me."
I walked from him, realizing then
why I had needed this trip,
I needed to remember all the love in my life
because the only difference between
me and the ghosts of N'awlins
was someone cared about me,
and I cared enough about them
not to destroy myself.
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 2:06 PM UTC
I wrestled with the black sea
that brood inside of her,
but nothing I possessed
could stop that dark tide
from taking her.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 8:13 AM UTC
Torrents of vapor ridden wind, snatched at her hair.
Below, rattled the rapid, riotous and vast, rippling sea.
Churning, like a chewing, charming serpent's lair.
Once long ago I knew her; with time she left me be.
On the edge she was, with will to leap t'wards the horizons.
The brittle cliff would not give way, for even it was curious.
Dare say all of nature reacted for the most prurient reasons.
Even the sky descended to watch, with a lightning so furious.
She beheld no fear and the sky wept with thunderous applause.
Her bare marble-like features glistened in the gleaning of the gloom.
Why she stood there, triumphantly, tempting, terror, for what cause?
It will never be known, for she never was, in a time before this doom.
The earth shook like the hands of a beleaguered, berated old man.
It erected monoliths. Volcanoes, pluming molten magma skyward.
The red glow brought heat; earth thought to please her, or so was its plan.
The elements wrestled for the better view of that beauty stalwart.
Never had a sight been so majestically violent, so mightily tame.
Where she stood, should and would forever more be a sacred place.
The tempest of the elements raged on, though none would win the game.
A silence, softly, settled the rambunctiousness, and halted their race.
The skies parted with a sad and lowly somberness.
Every elated, embittered, element safely put to rest.
As the sun swept aside all their postulated, pettiness.
Rays of the sun showered her with bright white zest.
The lady, she moved with unfathomable grace.
She tilted her perfect head up to the skies.
With the slightest of a smile shook her face.
Like all before, she left them there surprised... and forever, there she stood.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 3:21 PM UTC
who the **** knows how an alien would view us
terrified, at the awe inducing power
we've wrestled from the world
and the lack of respect we have for it
mortified, at the sheer opulence
we've dug out from the earth
and that the many shall never see
inside, we all know
that anything makes more sense
than a perspective that rung
even neutral
Jun 26, 2021
Jun 26, 2021 at 12:48 AM UTC
Adrift on her very first voyage
With the sea coursing in through her bow
Lay the cruise ship, the S.S. Lumbago
There was scarcely a chance for her now
But Ahoy! On the western horizon
In a flurry of yellow and green
That ender of blight and a damsel’s delight
And he’s always on cue for his scene
It’s Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar!
It’s got seating for seventy people
And the service is well above par
There’s an adequate medical unit
And a modest but elegant bar
What more could a man ever dream of
In a Luxury Budgerigar?
Well…
The forests of England were burning
So the foxes escaped to the city
The badgers had taken to looting
And the squirrels had formed a committee
But who should arise from a manhole
With a confident gleam in his eye?
That destroyer of woes with a spring in his toes
And he’s quick with a witty reply…
Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar!
With adjustable hose pipe attachment
It’s got wheels like a feathery car
The forests were dowsed and the fauna re-housed
With a three day retreat at a spa
It’s a thing to admire and surely acquire
The Luxury Budgerigar!
But…
Susan was stricken with sorrow
Twas her darkest, most fearful hour
A spider had wrestled her out of her bath
And set up his home in the shower
But who should jump out of the wardrobe
With an innocent look on his face?
That singer of shanties, remover of *******
And first in an obstacle race
Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar
With a sucker for spiders and beetles
That deposits them into a jar
There’s a tiny wee restaurant to feed them
It was given a Michelin star
A remarkable thing with retractable wings
Is a Luxury Budgerigar
So if you should be in a pet shop
And you see just the critter for you
Please heed this advice: make a note of the price
Then proceed to the back of the queue
When you ask for your preference of creature
Should it whistle, slither or waddle
Do as Sir Patrick Stewart did
And opt for the Luxury model
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 4:51 PM UTC
Asle,
Amazes me
Asle,
Phases me
Asle,
Gets me high
Asle,
Gets me ******
Asle,
A shack of amour'
Asle,
Gives me a home
Alsle,
Tucks me in bed in mine mind
Asle,
A lacy string of hourglass time
Asle,
One I can't release
Asle,
Every mans belief
Asle,
A contact to god
Asle,
A wandering pod
Asle,
A loot for the steal
Asle,
A dream to me, maby one day real
Asle,
Letters shall I write
Asle,
A suddening polite
Asle,
A capsule of ******* numbing
Asle,
For the birds alls humming
Asle,
A party to oneself
Asle,
Alone on stilts
Asle,
Canst thou not be afraid?
Asle,
I'm not others oh sugar cane
Asle,
Wrestled with thy demons
Asle,
Cut, broke, and bleeding?
Asle,
Down thy aisle I want to walk
Asle,
Let me post thou a forgetnot!
Asle,
Let me be martyr'd for thine transgressions
Asle,
I see thy train rolling in, shalt I come to thy station?
Asle,
Ive got a strong premonition
Asle,
Shalt I enter thy kitchen?
Asle,
Is thy bed warm or cold?
Asle,
Move over mine love and feel ourn kindling coals!!
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC
<>
it’s not even 6am, restless night, or wrestled night, ain’t much difference, see the **** geese on the water’s edge, I dutifully slip out of bed, awakening no one, dutifully slide in to my slip-on sneakers, grab the white umbrella next to the front door, dutifully, steadily, my first chore of the day, walk deliberately (and carefully) to make them get them get heck away, into the sound, and to cease polluting the grass where children may play…
standing at the waters edge, task finished, the sky commands examination, there is within the cumulus textured, multi-pastel, thick curdled pastiche cloud banks, overhanging the world as far as one can see, a substantive hole appearing in the sky revealing a blue heaven….what one believes, prefers should be, but what is, in fact,
not a…given and we are a but, partly cloudy day, a partly clouded observant person…
this reminds me that there are holes in all places, everywhere, in my disturbed sleep, where I spend hours of triangulating in dreams, what I cannot pin down:
who I am, what I am, my purpose on earth, though I know where
I am, though not even, most critically, why I am…
is this a poem?
this thoughtful cursed query sits behind my eyes, frontally lobed, perpetually asking, judging me, these words, repetitiously heard,
one is not fooled,
it is a simple self-evaluation test, only an ask,
what are my justifications, ma raison d'être,
(reason for being) which is an amuse, for I discover
in French, ‘reason for being,’
is a feminine word,
(qui en Français,
c'est un mot féminin…)
and that makes me smile,
for I’m a woman-centric man
(I have no gender confusion,
this is not one of the holes
to which I refer)
perhaps it is, or, perhaps it is a rambunctious rambling of no worth, for no answers are obtained, given, deduced, and holes, skyward and inward are deep, none delimited by neither bottom or a top, just widening gaps and gapes in my existence…and answers are not
forthcoming…
<>
5:50am
Thursday July 18
Year Two Thousand and Twenty Four
Jul 18, 2024
Jul 18, 2024 at 6:51 AM UTC
Hail, happy saint, on thine immortal throne,
Possest of glory, life, and bliss unknown;
We hear no more the music of thy tongue,
Thy wonted auditories cease to throng.
Thy sermons in unequall’d accents flow’d,
And ev’ry ***** with devotion glow’d;
Thou didst in strains of eloquence refin’d
Inflame the heart, and captivate the mind.
Unhappy we the setting sun deplore,
So glorious once, but ah! it shines no more.
Behold the prophet in his tow’ring flight!
He leaves the earth for heav’n’s unmeasur’d height,
And worlds unknown receive him from our sight.
There Whitefield wings with rapid course his way,
And sails to Zion through vast seas of day.
Thy pray’rs, great saint, and thine incessant cries
Have pierc’d the ***** of thy native skies.
Thou moon hast seen, and all the stars of light,
How he has wrestled with his God by night.
He pray’d that grace in ev’ry heart might dwell,
He long’d to see America excell;
He charg’d its youth that ev’ry grace divine
Should with full lustre in their conduct shine;
That Saviour, which his soul did first receive,
The greatest gift that ev’n a God can give,
He freely offer’d to the num’rous throng,
That on his lips with list’ning pleasure hung.
“Take him, ye wretched, for your only good,
“Take him ye starving sinners, for your food;
“Ye thirsty, come to this life-giving stream,
“Ye preachers, take him for your joyful theme;
“Take him my dear Americans, he said,
“Be your complaints on his kind ***** laid:
“Take him, ye Africans, he longs for you,
“Impartial Saviour is his title due:
“Wash’d in the fountain of redeeming blood,
“You shall be sons, and kings, and priests to God.”
Great Countess, we Americans revere
Thy name, and mingle in thy grief sincere;
New England deeply feels, the Orphans mourn,
Their more than father will no more return.
But, though arrested by the hand of death,
Whitefield no more exerts his lab’ring breath,
Yet let us view him in th’ eternal skies,
Let ev’ry heart to this bright vision rise;
While the tomb safe retains its sacred trust,
Till life divine re-animates his dust.
2.1k
Vincent van Gogh
o man of greater talent blessed
in loss the same as all the rest
wrestled he with demons of the mind
but oh! such beauty
palate knife could find!
in sweat and pain
did Vincent make his mark
in poverty
obsessed for love of art
he, in his eyes, God's poetry was made
struggling til his mortal soul
was shade
his great love, a woman of distain
he could not win
nor loss of her sustain
a bandag'd head of sorrow
woe betides
but greater wound
within his chest resides
o wond'rous lights
the stars in heav'n found
they to fortune's hand
he was forever bound
looked he upon your rays back then
now his own light goes soft
unto eternal end
soulsurvivor
(c) 6/5/2015
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 3:24 AM UTC
It all began as an observation,
a mere innocent study,
to watch people in cars,
from cars.
First, the tired workers,
who glared and stared in the road in front,
who slumped in their seats,
who held the steering wheels in a glum manner,
who had dark circles under their eyes,
who had cans of beers at the back seat,
tired, weary, drained, exhausted,spent.
The cheeky children,
who yelled at their siblings,
who wrestled with siblings,
who sat listening to lectures,
who texted with their phones,
who went tippy tappy with their laptops,
who ignored the world; reading,
innocent, busy adolescents.
Of course, there are mothers,
who glance at their sleepy children every few minutes,
who smile at their babies dotingly,
who gave loud lectures to kids,
who smoked cigars,
who was on the phone,or was just driving ahead,
loving, fussy, unleisured.
There were the out-going,
who head-banged furiously to booming music,
who sang aloud to radio,
who chatted enthusiasticly with passengers,
who smiled the whole way through the journey,
who stuck their hands out to feel the wind,
who had nothing to worry about,
free, wonderful, liberated, loose.
Also, some were fretful,
who needed to visit hospitals,
who had their heart broken,
who got rejected at interviews,
who lost someone,
who is obviously in anxiety, who were simply drunk,
worrysome, tired, sad.
And then there's me,
who had nothing better to do,
than to watch and observe,
and felt many things should be changed,
eccentric, weird.
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 3:37 AM UTC
Samson fell for Delilah while being the enemy of her
Philistines people, but the gods chose her to take
his power.He tried to make her be a good woman.
Delilah wrestled with The Lord, in fact, using her powers
of seduction and deception against the man.This way, she
found the Samson's secret. She could subdue him to be captured.
For sure, she felt sorry for what she did, when she understood
what real love means, but it was too late to change anything.
For Samson, love has been senseless. He sadly ceased to
continue this fight with her. He ought to love God more than
he loved the woman. He ought to know that faith involved the
sacrifice of sinful love. He became a simple , blind man.
He destroyed the temple of the Philistines, all their idols and
the people being inside it, after demanding the divine power,
when only God's love and the Holy faith became important
in his human life. Probably, Delilah cried for doing what she
did to him ,but she had to fight against the enemies of her
gods. In fact,she has never really loved any man,because she
didn't meet The Lord while loving Samson,while trying to find Him.
She would know that Lord means honest love, truth and justice.
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
In school, ****** was as bad as *****
It had been raining, I had been heart broken
The night was cold, it was almost Fall
My birthday was in the Fall, soon I'd be seventeen
I'd be seventeen, and still a ******
I may have broke it off, but she's the one who ended it
I may have been dumb, but she was unfaithful
Thus I ran, and dove into her arms
I knew she was older, she knew I was younger
She was lonely, looking for fun
I was lost, looking for a new rush
My face was red, I had been drinking
Her lips were red, she had been hunting
I found a corner to hide, but she smelled blood
Her eyes drilled into mine, she licked her lips and breathed fire
My legs started to shake, my lips started to quiver
She came like a viper, she slithered toward me
Hypnotized by her hips, my mouth watered at her *******
She sat on my lap, and looked me up and down
"You looked lonely," she said, "I think you're cute."
Boy was I, lonely that is, she took my beer and took a sip
Her perfume smelled like fruit, her breath smelled like candy
The warmth from her legs met mine, and my cheeks turned the color of her lips
My heart was dancing, her eyes were twinkling
She took me prisoner, and dragged me upstairs
She slammed the door and sealed my fate
Her smile was devious, her smell so sweet
Her hands on my belt, her tongue on my teeth
She kidnapped me beneath the sheets, she made me her prisoner of war
And I waved the red flag, I was ready for war
I wanted war, I wanted you
I wanted her, I wanted it, I wanted the badge
She dug her nails in my skin, I dug my teeth into hers
Our clothes took themselves off, her thong was black lace
She devoured me, I penetrated her
We danced, we kissed, we wrestled and sang
... And then it was over
It was over in twenty minutes
This veil of innocence that we chastised
That we mock and rush to throw away
Is so easily thrown away
But those twenty minutes were amazing, although I probably wasn't
She knew it was my first time, she called me out
"You're a ****** she said, "Don't tell me you're not."
Embarrassed I countered, "I'm also not eighteen."
She gasped in horror, and stormed out of the room
In her speed to grab her clothes, she'd forgotten to tell me her name
And to this day, I still don't know it.
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 8:13 PM UTC