Tag Archives: Writer

Go.

Dare to write

Writing your dreams, desire, sex, love and passion

Whatever that may be

You can see your thoughts colliding with concrete written form

It’s bare and exposed

Lighting a way through the dark reality of human consciousness

Love yourself

Blessed with the food, shelter, family friends

Give thanks when you write

Nobody is promised tomorrow

Everybody dies; but not everybody lives.

I watch the skyline slide by/ I’m on transit,

my style they can’t Hack it.

Trans girl

sit sideways out the phrame.

My pen got game so I have no shame.

Jungle to jungle. Throwies.

The train rumbles.

I write on my pad ride through the mass mumble.

Slapped mad styles,

I don’t get caught no more

A bold soldier.
I don’t consider this place to be Canada.

That’s criminal.
It’s aboriginal so I believe my laws are more applicable.

I can’t see myself other ways other self.
police can’t change me, I’m reppin till my deff.

-Nina…,nina…,Nina………..

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Nina Shade ( Nina Yin) Goodnightnina – Dreams / Every Night (Slam poetry over J Dilla)

Lyrics:

Dreams….

I dream every night. It’s like I don’t sleep; I’m far to busy venturing rivers and streams, painting graffiti on infinite trains.

My dreams are what dreams are made of. My mind is the money so my vacation is paid up.

Tropical paradises on every turn. I’ve never seen so many gorgeous baby blue pools with pearls twirling my world.

I can fly if I want to and explore. I’m getting good, in fact I’m better than Peter pan. Taking off is tricky but I always land.

My dreams have music so I wake up singing with love. Lyrics that no conscious mind could think of.

My dreams have more amusing amusement parks than Californi and Dubai put together. My subconscious really got her shit together.

I have nightmares worst than Steven kings, but I’ve been into horror flicks since I was a kid.

But this is real time 3d and if it’s too deep I wake up n have some tea.

I dream.

Every.

Single.

Night.

I get lost in pitch black in my bed on a trip LSD couldn’t bring to light.

I get to live past futures; in surreal movements, clearer than glass to my mind when it computes it.

But my minds far more complex. More convex it sees more than I can comprehend.

How many times I saw the end or woke up to a new beginning, open my eyes and the rooms spinning,

Damn I’m dizzy that was trippy.

What were those lyrics I heard angels signings?

I turn the light on.

I got the light, write before it’s gone.

Pick up a pen and write down this midnight song.

-Nina

Write… something…. ;)

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“Write, write something”. She said. Staring at the screen with a blank stare. But wait a second, this is emptiness in form, it’s non-conceptual. Of value or of nothingness but, it is writing…. so…. “your going somewhere right?”.

Write, write something”. She said again to herself getting frustrated. She takes a deep breath and thinks of her lover lying in bed. Someone whos special to her and she’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t love her.

“Write, write something”. She starts to smile while the hip hop blares in the background. Thinking of the markers in her bag and how she’s about to ride the train.

I want to write.

“Write, write something”.

To L.C.

NINA Yin.

My Journey. My Zazen. Studies n Poetry.

Misty rain on Mount Lu
And waves surging in Che-chiang;
When you have not yet been there,
Many regret you surely have;

But once there and homeward you send,
How matter of fact things look!

Misty rain on Mount Lu
And waves surging in Che-chiang….

πŸ‰πŸ‰πŸ‰πŸ‰πŸ‰πŸ‰πŸ‰πŸ‰πŸ‰πŸ‰πŸ‰πŸ‰πŸ‰πŸ‰πŸ‰πŸ‰

Samsara: Birth and Death.

Buddhist scriptures have it, the darkness of the cave itself turns into enlightenment when a torch of spiritual insight burns. Darkness and enlightenment are not two separate things. Is life not as we live it, cut into pieces by recklessly applying the murderous knife of intellectual surgery?

::::::My robe is torn, shreds hanging and blowing in the wind::::::::::

Whatever this is, there is one thing in this connection which we can never afford to lose sight of – that is, the peace of poverty (for peace is only found in poverty)Β moral ground. Zen is quite emphatic in this mystic flight, comes from fighting the battle of life courageously and undauntingly.

Written by Nina Shade Vestergaard taken from Zen Buddhism organized by D.T. Suzuki and the teachings of ancient zen master Pai-Chang Nieh-P’an.

Peace upon you all.