Yusuf Kura

Yusuf Kura Mar 2016

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.

Yusuf Kura Dec 2015

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.

Yusuf Kura Dec 2015

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

Nov 2015

E. E. Cummings

My Love

my love
thy hair is one kingdom
  the king whereof is darkness
thy forehead is a flight of flowers

thy head is a quick forest
  filled with sleeping birds
thy ******* are swarms of white bees
  upon the bough of thy body
thy body to me is April
in whose armpits is the approach of spring

thy thighs are white horses yoked to a chariot
  of kings
they are the striking of a good minstrel
between them is always a pleasant song

my love
thy head is a casket
  of the cool jewel of thy mind
the hair of thy head is one warrior
  innocent of defeat
thy hair upon thy shoulders is an army
  with victory and with trumpets

thy legs are the trees of dreaming
whose fruit is the very eatage of forgetfulness

thy lips are satraps in scarlet
  in whose kiss is the combinings of kings
thy wrists
are holy
  which are the keepers of the keys of thy blood
thy feet upon thy ankles are flowers in vases
  of silver

in thy beauty is the dilemma of flutes

  thy eyes are the betrayal
of bells comprehended through incense

Yusuf Kura Nov 2015

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.

#self #fear #life #death #unknown #clouds #sky #hidden #known #happening

Yusuf Kura Nov 2015

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.

Yusuf Kura Nov 2015

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.