The gift of life wrapped in flesh.
Indeed, I want to live. & indeed I know
nothing's more precious than the present. Me within.
That presence felt to skin rekindled
fore stories of war's glory. Me
born soldier. She born four leaf. Me
unarmed & equipped for battle
remain unscathed in her keep. She.
Freedom among sleepness nights
under mirrors where hot metal whisper their victim's
names. Many souls wandered off in the night. Dreaming
the voice of a love. Often finding truth in
a trigger's lullaby. Salute. Yet,
I've always loved the beat of heart.
There's just some music much too beautiful to let go unheard.
My blessed Four Leaf frequency clear. I hear,
Come home. Front lines no place for rest. True.
Gardens, the only place for life. True.
Live, won't you. Indeed, I want to live.
But my name's been sought for...
I hope it's She.
m.n.i.w
 1900
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Four Leaf
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romance
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OTHER POEMS WRITTEN BY m.n.i.w
Four LeafThe gift of life wrapped in flesh. Indeed, I want to live. & indeed I know nothing's more precious than the present. Me within. That presence felt to skin rekindled fore stories of war's glory. Me born soldier. She born four leaf. Me unarmed & equipped for battle remain unscathed in her keep. She. Freedom among sleepness nights under mirrors where hot metal whisper their victim's names. Many souls wandered off in the night. Dreaming the voice of a love. Often finding truth in a trigger's lullaby. Salute. Yet, I've always loved the beat of heart. There's just some music much too beautiful to let go unheard. My blessed Four Leaf frequency clear. I hear, Come home. Front lines no place for rest. True. Gardens, the only place for life. True. Live, won't you. Indeed, I want to live. But my name's been sought for... I hope it's She.  |
Verse From "Kintsukaroi (In Her Eyes)" by m.n.i.wYoung and militant minded, at war with myself. Civil war, mind games, no need for a vest. Can't rest, can't sleep, weighing wolves, weighing sheep. Either way, both keep a heavy burden on me. Got dimes with no values, a star in the shadows. Blow smoke in the air, let empty bottles rattle. Only way to kill the pain, some John Coltrane. Then put a knife to the vein, and watch how the end came. Stories of storms before me told me the end was gory. But I'm wanting and willing to take the journey. It's all true in nature, part of its legislature, Hell's a with life as the nomenclature. The spirits of ghosts must be claiming bodies. Zombied and empty, left my heart without remedy. Familiar feelings that go back since the dawn of me. Friend or foe, lovers always to turn to enemies eventually. They testified with both hands, pointed to the moon. Confused stars with bullets, another lost too soon. Claimed my heart's a bullet in the chamber looking for v... |
Like a snowstorm upon a mountain topIt feels like a snowstorm upon a mountain top. You call out to no one, but your calls still echo until you're engulfed in your own bitterness. You grow numb and resent everything until your mind is blank. The sun doesn't shine. It just laughs at you, trolling your life. Fooling you into thinking that light will ever come your way again. The darkness becomes your light and your world become bittersweet and dim. |