Tag Archives: Poetry of war

Just another day. – Nina

It was about 10 o’clock. Hot summer night

Easy to spot their flimsy flashing lights

The cops parked on my block to come n lock me up

They should’ve locked the truck

Somebody swooped in and took their shotgun: upped

Computer too

Ha…

I was long gone with my pitbull

Just another day as Nina, my life was never dismal

Last month the cells were blissful

A meditative miracle

Art crimes

Devout mind

Nope, I’m no criminal

 

-Nina

 

Nina Yin – Hip Hop Slam Poetry. -We Unpredictable.

I see through third eye, they say check the optometrist.

Blossoming seed, forever I am an optimist.

Inspire cause im inspired, by any and all mediums.

Acquire the gift and uplifting all my people with.

Artistic mystic, significantly shifting.

My wishlist is listed linguistics

I put the drank down and put this thang down.

I see clear as a vision no mystery in me now.

My mind is yin yang, the Sun Tzu art of war.

I’ve already won, pen over your sword

But I’m chilling on stand by samurai in the the darkness.

Rooftop of the projects, assembling an arsenal.

Student w no teacher, Witty unpredictable, resemblance self

until death I get deeper.

 

-Nina

Zen Samurai -Poetry of war. By Nina Yin

Meditation on inevitable death should be performed daily, once ones body and mind are at peace; they should imagine being ripped apart by arrows, swords, and spears.

Being thrown off thousand foot cliffs, dying of disease, or commuting seppuku at the deaths of one’s master.

One should consider themselves as dead..

-Hagakure

Why should I be afraid to face anything, death….

Here and now I stand strong as myrtle trees. In depth in the substance of the way.

Although tyrant treachery stands to my face clutching weapons; I have nothing to hide nor fear… with weapons of my own.

Do not attest to who and what I am before I eclipse your mind into the nothingness in which we came from.

You cannot acclimate to this level of which you I fear not; devil in the midst, you make me laugh as I draw my sword.

Like an olden tax collector in Roman times you harass the poor and underprivileged. You disgrace the city we worked so hard to rise.

I didn’t know it was tax collection day….

I cut you down at dawn and watch the sunrise twinkle in your pool of blood, wiping my blade on your Babylonian uniform.

Bowing unto your rotting flesh.

-Nina

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