aruk - Hello Poetry

Whatever it is I needed, This is it! Like pale apples from the eye of the sky, In each bite genres of sunsets engulf and pirouette this melancholy night. Like the red velvet stroke of the wind, I've noticed its breath and plea for an evergreen checkered winter coat. While out with my bad habits, I've noticed its somber hand reaching out of the glistening of this stout winter. You are an evergreen tree. And I'm envious of your winter coat. And I say you are a loaded gun watching the sun raise. And I say her touch to you feels like thousands of waves crashing. Her breath feels a thousand times better than a blossoming crimson sun Just after an affair of melancholy rain Just the thought of her shadow will make your stomach sink to unfathomable depths grander than the happenings of each shimmering star.

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Mar 26, 2016

Mar 26, 2016 at 10:53 PM UTC

This is it!

Whatever it is I needed, This is it! Like pale apples from the eye of the sky, In each bite genres of sunsets engulf and pirouette this melancholy night. Like the red velvet stroke of the wind, I've noticed its breath and plea for an evergreen checkered winter coat. While out with my bad habits, I've noticed its somber hand reaching out of the glistening of this stout winter. You are an evergreen tree. And I'm envious of your winter coat. And I say you are a loaded gun watching the sun raise. And I say her touch to you feels like thousands of waves crashing. Her breath feels a thousand times better than a blossoming crimson sun Just after an affair of melancholy rain Just the thought of her shadow will make your stomach sink to unfathomable depths grander than the happenings of each shimmering star.

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To think through the retrospection. To think I'm here able. To think I was a dust at the hill of a telescope. To think hence I will be a root of an evergreen tree drenched in the flavor of sunset. To think everyday I die, and everyday I'm birth. The Sun the same, and the passing clouds. The deeds that render me, and the deeds I've rendered I wear upon my sleeve. To think here and now the best. Another will think here and now the past. The beautiful crisp dying leaves, To think they kept the trees warm. To think their color is now warm.

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Dec 10, 2015

Dec 10, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC

time

To think through the retrospection. To think I'm here able. To think I was a dust at the hill of a telescope. To think hence I will be a root of an evergreen tree drenched in the flavor of sunset. To think everyday I die, and everyday I'm birth. The Sun the same, and the passing clouds. The deeds that render me, and the deeds I've rendered I wear upon my sleeve. To think here and now the best. Another will think here and now the past. The beautiful crisp dying leaves, To think they kept the trees warm. To think their color is now warm.

12

Let's Move into the woods, and Let's start a kingdom on the backbone of autumn's tragedy. Let's Start again a new in a white house on the hills. Let's Wander the woods with the Sun and pass the night with the Moon. Let's Stay in the wonder of our minds and feel the raise of each pious tide. Let's Let's

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Dec 1, 2015

Dec 1, 2015 at 3:17 PM UTC

White House on the Hills

Let's Move into the woods, and Let's start a kingdom on the backbone of autumn's tragedy. Let's Start again a new in a white house on the hills. Let's Wander the woods with the Sun and pass the night with the Moon. Let's Stay in the wonder of our minds and feel the raise of each pious tide. Let's Let's

12

The happening! A blinded stroke of brush. Stroke! That way! Which way? That way! Somewhere in the sky, Above the curtains of clouds, drowning, Time’s alone shadow. Maybe, The paint runs down the river’s spine, To the beginning. The artist drenched in roots, A tree he is becoming. The art indeed! Does the wind know? Blowing lilacs and smelling of golden dusk. Frail and fragile like a dying leaf. Bright like the Moon’s halo. Happening is a river that glows! Inside the known, just as Inside the unknown.

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Nov 24, 2015

Nov 24, 2015 at 3:46 PM UTC

Happening!

The happening! A blinded stroke of brush. Stroke! That way! Which way? That way! Somewhere in the sky, Above the curtains of clouds, drowning, Time’s alone shadow. Maybe, The paint runs down the river’s spine, To the beginning. The artist drenched in roots, A tree he is becoming. The art indeed! Does the wind know? Blowing lilacs and smelling of golden dusk. Frail and fragile like a dying leaf. Bright like the Moon’s halo. Happening is a river that glows! Inside the known, just as Inside the unknown.

20

The night came into me, In its entirety and immorality. Like death, Like rain, Greeted me as an old friend, Wearing stars that couldn't shine bright enough, And clouds that couldn't cry loud enough. The happening of its sky— gapped glowing lilac, It's vibrations rip through the meadow of my happening. Breathes were still — mine and hers Between heaves of storm And a moment of silence, Then wind began to blow.

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Nov 23, 2015

Nov 23, 2015 at 4:29 PM UTC

Then Wind Began To Blow

The night came into me, In its entirety and immorality. Like death, Like rain, Greeted me as an old friend, Wearing stars that couldn't shine bright enough, And clouds that couldn't cry loud enough. The happening of its sky— gapped glowing lilac, It's vibrations rip through the meadow of my happening. Breathes were still — mine and hers Between heaves of storm And a moment of silence, Then wind began to blow.

13

The TRUTH found me! Sitting alone, Head in hands Of years gone. The golden DEATH of the day, The TRUTH found her the same. What did I do before it came? I walked and I walked and I broke apart. The sound of breaking filled my heart. I spent my days, A broken river. Droplets of water, that Fell through the chalice of hardness. Sweet isn't me! From which giving tree? They asked of the grapes, This is no water, the sweetest wine.

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Nov 4, 2015

Nov 4, 2015 at 2:55 PM UTC

TRUTH

The TRUTH found me! Sitting alone, Head in hands Of years gone. The golden DEATH of the day, The TRUTH found her the same. What did I do before it came? I walked and I walked and I broke apart. The sound of breaking filled my heart. I spent my days, A broken river. Droplets of water, that Fell through the chalice of hardness. Sweet isn't me! From which giving tree? They asked of the grapes, This is no water, the sweetest wine.

17

Take it off off off! Further away, way way off! To before it was made. No consent was given or made, Yet your purpose here lays, like seeing it is gonna make it stay. Nothing you said, you said, Keep it in place. I’m going away, way way off, Death can’t change the way!

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Nov 2, 2015

Nov 2, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC

The Way

Take it off off off! Further away, way way off! To before it was made. No consent was given or made, Yet your purpose here lays, like seeing it is gonna make it stay. Nothing you said, you said, Keep it in place. I’m going away, way way off, Death can’t change the way!

10

South West wind, My lover is in your midst. Be gentle and remember, Remembrance is all I’ve given lover. Take lover to where the sun rests it’s meaning.

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Oct 19, 2015

Oct 19, 2015 at 2:03 PM UTC

Untitled

South West wind, My lover is in your midst. Be gentle and remember, Remembrance is all I’ve given lover. Take lover to where the sun rests it’s meaning.

5

The storm came – robust With heavy lunar boots, And tumultuous cry. It swallowed mountains as stones, Tirelessly insufficient. The storm came – robust To the edge of kanwa, Where stood a little faint yellow bird, And just as fast and just as hard, And just as fast and just as hard, The storm came – robust And the faint bird did not move, Nor pecked alone. The storm stood – No longer lost in the sky – robust

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Sep 30, 2015

Sep 30, 2015 at 3:33 PM UTC

Robust

The storm came – robust With heavy lunar boots, And tumultuous cry. It swallowed mountains as stones, Tirelessly insufficient. The storm came – robust To the edge of kanwa, Where stood a little faint yellow bird, And just as fast and just as hard, And just as fast and just as hard, The storm came – robust And the faint bird did not move, Nor pecked alone. The storm stood – No longer lost in the sky – robust

15

these, our boots of steel, gallant and strong, carry our souls to sea though made, rubber, leather, and suede, to blaze trials, and mark our names to fields unnamed. cloaked, the wheels, do as you feel, none shall trodden our path. none shall trodden black, our boots of steel.

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Sep 28, 2015

Sep 28, 2015 at 5:41 PM UTC

Boots of Steel

these, our boots of steel, gallant and strong, carry our souls to sea though made, rubber, leather, and suede, to blaze trials, and mark our names to fields unnamed. cloaked, the wheels, do as you feel, none shall trodden our path. none shall trodden black, our boots of steel.

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