1987 -    4 followers
My name is Artur Valentin Rivunov. I come from Drezna, Russia, a small city south of Moscow. I dream when I am awake, and I am awake when I dream. I took on to writing at a young age when I fell in love with the expression of English word use, for it is so simple, yet so manipulative. Since 12 years old I continued on the passion of expressing every feeling and sentiment to the obscure and mundane way of life as well as things people do and have done to me. I am no human. These are my perceptions, arranged in no particular way then expression of word after word. I also make music and draw. To me these elements are fitting and extraordinary together. They help to solve the fundamental principle of life and finding true happiness and appreciation of it, as well as appreciation of others around me even if some are bunch of cunts (ILYS). Much respect and love for the people that have shown me the same gesture.
My name is Artur Valentin Rivunov. I come from Drezna, Russia, a small city south of Moscow. I dream when I am awake, and I am awake when I dream. I took on to writing at a young age when I fell in love with the expression of English word use, for it is so simple, yet so manipulative. Since 12 years old I continued on the passion of expressing every feeling and sentiment to the obscure and mundane way of life as well as things people do and have done to me. I am no human. These are my perceptions, arranged in no particular way then expression of word after word. I also make music and draw. To me these elements are fitting and extraordinary together. They help to solve the fundamental principle of life and finding true happiness and appreciation of it, as well as appreciation of others around me even if some are bunch of cunts (ILYS). Much respect and love for the people that have shown me the same gesture.
ArturVRivunov
ArturVRivunov
Nov 4, 2011

Upon her return from desert Vegas,
Like lizards kissing in the heat,
The rain drops poured so hard, how lovely again to hear each other’s heart’s beat
Upon our meet, and washed away the agony of the everlasting wait.

Upon her voyage from earthly east,
Within the beast between Pacific and Atlantic feast.
Flowers crying, in a vase soaking on the table,
For they did not meet,
The sunshine hidden behind clouds of darkness.

So vague the feeling from one’s love departure,
on voyage resumed by time ahead 3 hours.
The dreams came quickly, and time more distant,
if to the moment of her departure,
Yet I still could not touch her.

The carcass harking for a crow to feast,
of my safety I’m concerned the least.
For by her voyage I am not,
My mind does rigorous of thinking and succumbs to plot,
What is there, and what is not.

Through I grieve to think me lonely,
Even as much her look gazes in my heart, stonily,
The sudden energy passing through the wireless speaker,
Her voice traveling over to mine much meeker.

My mind compels me to the image,
Of what other’s gave to me by words,
That this time I have to fight with swords,
This sad place they never speak of ruled by lords.

How relentlessly I tried.
My heart for her safety cried,
Until my mind gave in to show,
a point in back of my head I fried.

The eagerness of her time next to mine.

My selfish understanding sublime.

Like tea was seasoned with thyme.
Instead of lemon,
Who’s there to blame on?
Then action of mind of mine.

ArturVRivunov
ArturVRivunov
Oct 19, 2011

In all, without morals, the concept of happiness would be indifference of stale misery.  Spinning all in the concept of life in circle, for morals go in a straight line and never need to recount the same point of what you already know of happiness. For you have all the time in search for more.

ArturVRivunov
ArturVRivunov
Oct 18, 2011

With time there's nothing visual. . .
Only things. . . due after some fact. . .
What we consider is most purest of things. . .
to some, it's just white hurricane crack. . .
I consider myself. . .
With time all illusions. . . set to the side. . .
Life is pure. . . without a blanket of time. .
We consider,. . . we all make it in rhyme. . .
Someway . . .or another. . .
The world is got so much more then to bother. . .each One another. . .
Then to share with joyful expression,. . . that time but allows us. . .
To the fullest extent,. . . time as illusion. . .
Can only make more then one self,. . . then the other one melt. . .
Getting spanked all around. . . All the crazies do us by belt. . .
What fuck is the matter,. . . has time cut into your butter. . .
Greasing up all the streets,. . . boiling off all intelligence. .
Even speaker who shares with the world with poetic intelligence,. . .
thats love to the life. . . . with the time with his neighbors. . .
Such life is a streamer,. . . streaming through time, . . .
time of one's life surrounded by steam of another. . .
When we cram on one another, time is illusion. .
running over. . . creating a fusion. . .
one from another creating confusion. . .time is illusion. . .
To look at a counter, less fulfilment then want her. .
Because time as illusion. . . invades escape from this cooky confusion. . .
When eyes set bound to imposter, your dream in reality. . .
always forming when time is without a solution, . . .
just letting it go. . . unfurls deep worlds we've only just known. . .
beyond in time is the scape. . .where numbers be running. . .
a world out of shape. . . If time was a matter. . .
To please all our moods. . . this world would be great. . . but The world is so great. . .
all musicians we are, i promiss you know it. . .we flow around with each other. . .
But time has concealed her, to even distinct, the sound of the peaceful. .
Where sound is a stink. . .to even consider, where fuck did we all go. . .
looking for clocks, on rocks and a mirror. . .
Time grieve, be a mirror. . For only as far as it goes, you'll never see her. . .
If time is illusion, our minds won't confuse her. . only to melt with the extra minute on clock. . .
To consider every moment,. . . . time is illusion. . .that every moment is just a matter of memory. .
In each other, and in some. . . Some parts are for bad, to refuse on the good,
and some parts are for good to refuse on the bad. . .
Positive time is our best, with time. . You forget its illusion when roaming galant and free. . .
Far from illusion hidden behind, there is a consorted of sorts. . . . misery. . Time is illusion

ArturVRivunov
ArturVRivunov
Oct 18, 2011

Ciao to the world. . .my hand is free. . .
hope to penetrate all your misery. . .
stand on beside you feeling my glee. . .
what them can't I can't see, we both can just be. . .
Happy and free. . . .

Ciao to the world. . .where do you see?
Unspeakable motions relenting through notions. . .
That you are the world and I am the world. . .
Ride up beside planted come tree. . .
Choosing to sense, what life doesn't chance. . .
If was so easy to speak without kissing the spick. . .
Learning together, binded by teather on unspeacable measure. . . .

Ciao to the world. . .
What pleasure do feel?
Sensations at leasure, stranded by seasure.
What is so pure then to run with a cure, of being you just you, and I just me. . .
When it doesn't matter. . .
For we are and can be, and always I sensed that, friends with the power to smile on the world. . . .

Ciao to the world. . .
Do you smile on yourself?
Getting it clearer, this sense that's titer so nearer. . .
so great of a mystery as to what cost it in history. . .
What paused it about among,
domeneering a crowd. . .
that pissed on that history and made life this lost mystery. . .

Ciao to the world.. .
It's so great that I see you. . .
Peeling your skin to taste on your roots. . .
Feeling my life has strapped on its boots. . .
what is so moving,
Is something no one can keep you in life from disproving. . .
For this is the part that always puts on the spot,
what idea is given as the source of this proving?

Ciao to the world. . .
Why we need for such pusher, who can't but press on for the moocher?. . .
And feed to the world what we don't aspire,
some even becoming blind to how life truly feels.
Because of what shameful desire it instills. . .
so they take flight to the hills, running their bills,
killing the time without the conception that people of each one's own doesn't need redemption from such a parole. . .
Derived from an old point of a hunt for the dead sea scroll. . . .

Ciao to the world. . .
Where in these hills do we ever tumble under strains,
put down under mockingly with such assumptive pains?
Who in the fuck disallows what we all grow so heartedly to cherish,
and then take on to fight against what we don't embellish?
For sake of each one our own, blown from where we inspire,
life is but for pleasure and desire, for, to in happiness respire.
There isn't but hell in this place, in which we feel to replace. . .
Bit by bit, but always making it harder for in this pace, it's such a miserable and unfortunate case. . .
Of greed in its haste, molding most souls into waste.

Ciao to the world. . .
Where in the hell did you go in this haste,
loosing the sense of what built you in the first place?
Not God, nor feeble men,
but love for certain aspirations of good to make this world an ease for many admirations.
For centuries to come, where we behold on in under one world of pleasant desire to fullfill all that we were fighting for,
mirror image of what freedom by hearts could implore.
Sincerely we never need be, for some it's just an ease,
to want always please into the self, stand on top of the shelf like a beaten up trophy headed for disastrous catastrophy.. . .

Ciao to the world. . .
I'm sit in Jardin du Luxembourg. . .Where life is full of smorgesbourg, all we are so different, relenting to one thing of beauty of the peace and quite that we want always beside, be.
How this little part of the world in larger then life city of Paris,
won't stand all around for a day say on the other side of the planet,
because some would want for it to be a glamour for riches drowned in their clamour.. . .

Ciao to the world. . .
I'm sit by a stranger. . .Do you think I feel danger?
Do you see what's even a mistake, life is something not quiet so fake, even when you give a chance to let one other have the better miser dance,
given the glance with such bitter pretense is worth even to chance?

Ciao to the world. . .
I'm gather on all of my new experience. . .Better perciever then most think im deceiver. . .
When who is better then being the deceiver?
Is one getting by, the best of the deceiver. . . .slaughtered at the mind by vivid perception,
because in all case life has taught nonsense ridden by selfish perception of ones own misdirection. ..

Ciao to the world. . .
I'm satisfied to be pleasant without the need for so much in life,
all but to gather on what life is so abundant,
all the smiling faces passing with haste paces, from so many different places. . . . .

ArturVRivunov
ArturVRivunov
Oct 18, 2011

music is the potential to dwell deep into the impossible and make it known
with the possible. . .
that is what one hears. . .it is not possible, for hearing is far more then just hearing,
patiently hearing, then one is hearing
one's voice guiding them, to happy dwelling, healing them. . .
understanding clearly the path of others, not ever having to shove. . .
no one steering them. . .
except the eye for the equal happiness of the knowledge of the impossible

ArturVRivunov
ArturVRivunov
Oct 18, 2011

I saw a gentle face looking through my eyes, and they said to me don't think about it twice. . .
Just look back into my eyes and I'll show you a deeper place. . .The life is not a silly place, for in my time I lived within my place. . .Now I'll show you that deep embrace your eyes long for.
Then that gentle face took me to a place where life's but in pace without digrunted haste. Senses guided this gentle face, showed me how to fight it, and I took it willingly, my new strength betrothed from her gentle brace. My gentle face I became to embrace as only fresh breath of air.
I became to know it so, when I glance back what in my time I felt but such a waste, when all it was were just few silly moments, when my heart sank and I couldn't show this feeling with about a face in blanc. But then came a reason for what in life could be my please on, for I was missing this gentle face present in mine. Until funny as to how long ago I wrote this, to only finish in this moment when I have run into this gentle face. Pondering her embrace in this life I feel without her a waste, but I know and feel her daily smile, her tiring heart at times like mine when I feel the world is falling apart.
Her gentle face overrides the feeling grief, for if I was to feel sad, it is always brief.
I only long so much a day for when the time comes, we together, get to play.
Darling, your gentle face in front of me sways me in ways I have only imagined. To say so now how I felt this moment and now this moment I had found it. Your gentle face I saw in time when mine was less profound, it give me a feeling joy so far from how I imagined, for your gentle face I feel it to never wonder from it, into oblivion because from how far I saw it to now how much I love it.
I believe in love and it's how I lived it, but never seeing that there would be another. I never felt to loose my sight for I have felt you, from afar glowing within the night. Adults and others feel lost to love, feeling time in age, to be only put down by something they don't feel in life they can't anymore engage. How could we lovers loose sight of life adventure, ceised by today's life on its venture. Today's affections all but tend to misperfections and everyone seized in mind to love themselves creating such perfections, to only show but never feel.
Oh! How I look into your gentle face and feel for it in every place. To even look into another, it's pointless within my pace. For there is no such face I could find within your embrace. I am your face, for how much I feel we fit in place.
To yours mine always ventures, through clouds of clamour where life is but lost in glamour. No one see's a subtle moment, where time passes between the two, because their always distracted away from two, to always wonder about around them, whome is who, what looks upon our face embraces. And in most cases, they loose their loving laces, that tie together of what you and I do share.
For when I looked into a gentle face, your trully in spirit, since now my heart can clearly hear it. Since our first embrace, together in one place, my heart explode it, this sound so melodious. Yours trully listened and mine just glistened, the sound of perfect. This melody, all I could and only hear, to it to only add in new sound you in me but steer.
The soothing melody of you and me sitting beside each other on our first walk where all the chatter around us but was talk. While I felt in your wonder moment, swamped by your mesmirizing glow.
There was no other place I felt to go but to your heart. The funny thing you told me in moment of rediculous it didn't mean to me a thing of any sort particulous. I only felt to hold your hand and feel your lips with such lovely words. Sitting on that busy metro, my life changed with in large retro, a spect in life I felt to wonder when all for me would be a calm no matter where I felt I stood in warmth, your love swarmed over me by strength, if so this train had hit a wall I would have gathered in my strength to break your fall. . . . .. . .

ArturVRivunov
ArturVRivunov
Oct 13, 2011

Jumped into river of sorrow. . Landed myself beside tomorrow. .island
consider this world a heaven for it is what we see. . . . . .
will be all that we all remember. . .
generations passing on and building music with our sounds. .
stringing out to another. . as endless it may be, there’s never intention to bother
like bodies, minds, and hearts stepping around. . .
Fusing into a subtle tune. . . ., that makes the sense of one. .
Where anything is but happy feeling no less then weight of ton. .
For in my time there was and is the only one. . lady life. . .

I am a circumstance that but is not understood. .
What you think of image i am being,
when question is simply happiness and my way of life. . .

What hell this riding shit. .
Mind your business,  loompampa head. .
Life's pleasant knowing it's part of it. .

You think I got time for some thirty minutes. .
Of course I do. .
Because life. . .  my pace. . . . is best to stay that way. . .

unpredictable but sound . . Strung to find and meet. . all recluse stuck on beat. . . .
Likewise no need repeat impartial worries. . .

i stand and choosing to be the way I am, for if to start someone's business. . aiding , I isn’t fucking relating. . . .
not part my life of worry to masses. . .except to aid it wordly. .
with my soul and shit humanity came close to killing. . . that’s why I’m on this mic spilling. . .
To put in perspective the best my eyes do see. . .
and how they see, im blessed, to train me so. . .to feel the feeling of life's every blow
I came to this place with measure of worries. . .toiling in stories. .
now I am recluse feeling no worries. . . .

Jumped into a river of sorrow. . . .landed myself on land of today. . . ai. . .fucking no way. . .
For now it’s only place I’ll keep my feet planted to stay. . . . .even as many of you haters want me to sway

Some say fucking no way. . .always stepping in crowd. . . the otherway. . .
In my future.
clear and early where all is smiling faces. . .giving each other pure embraces. . . .
to some unrealistic. . .so as to why
Some mazza fuckas do is speak from darkest of corners. . .talking shit
to each other. . . .
like one to and from the other. . .
Remorsing to boring tempers. .All just wearing your pampers. . thinking
behid.

If this hits you so hard. . Let me know and I’ll find another way to start. . .
All you mazza fuckas do is creep from darkest of corners. . .
Tending to energy far over your heads. . .always speaking down on some others. .around you. . . .

But around me, stick until your out of your breath. .
Perhaps with some others, there’s the lack of conversing because their stuck in their heads. . .

I speak from the heart when I say to you so. . .
In reason you passing such energy is nothing woooo terrific. . .
stanky breath
I fucking don't hate it. . But rather not appreciate it. . .for with my stanky breath
i push with something rather then your patience. . .


with every nation involved. . . .
i solved the problem of me,
the passion in ration of me. .
Who i am in slightest of spirit. .as humanly possible

Who is you I see. .

No matter how you blink,
how you think,
how long it takes you to evoke the senses of you, . .
You are in my sights a beautiful star. .
together we can go far. . .
Even being afar. . .ill walk to you without my car. . .
From A to A, memory. . . . From A to M family, not that far. . . .
[After C Heaven Start]
Never the less, my hands across my breast. . .flat as flat iron. . .
.I am made of iron. . . .biches always blarring their sirens. . .for what reasons. . .respiring in deep shit. . .for the day it’s what they desiren’

Killing time with  cigarettes. . . .since I was 6. . .fuck you biches that made me start. . . .I wish life would just make you smell it’s fart. . . . .
And find the purest of heart. . . then dwelling in smells. . .from procreated hells. . . .

Please be considerate, dirty words put together, make beautiful poetry. It is not to offend anyone in regards to being good souls, it is to distinguish our intuition of why we have hate for nonsense.
 
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