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Best Poems Written by M.N.I.W M.N.I.W

Below are the all-time best M.N.I.W M.N.I.W poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | M.N.I.W M.N.I.W Poem

Like Wingless Birds

I can tell you about the elongated nights.
The pain and agony endured to the soul.
The hammer of reality that aims to chisel at my pride 
until it resembles a statue of anguish and defeat.
The way time and precious seconds taunt you 
when you have hopes of moving forward with life.
Its inconsiderable essence.
The way moments vanish like atheistic faith.
During times of distinct disparity 
its motion reflects that of a shelled gastropod, 
and in the midst of joyous occasion, 
time flows like raging waters.
Waving those moments into occipital entrapment.

I can tell you the feeling of watching all the things 
you love in life pass by like highway signs.
Life drawing me in to intersections 
while I'm chasing hope like a runaway freight train.
Stopping me at red lights while 
opportunity makes every green light 
with time to spare.
The feeling of being a puppet 
at every whim of a deviant puppeteer.
And every day and night is show time.

I can tell you about the tears I never shed 
as they flood my mind with thoughts of guilt 
and overwhelming sorrow.
The moments I lacked sympathy 
and empathy at moments when short phrases 
and warm gestures needed implementation.
Neglected communications as if I were aphasic.
A shy man of few words cursed 
with a heart that speaks volumes.
Sadly guilty of making bad decisions 
and acting maliciously when all I had were good intentions.

I can tell you about the memories that haunt my mind 
like vivid pictures on a slide show on repeat.
The unified heartbeat that once fluttered 
like angel wings have ceased.
And have been buried beneath the soil 
where our love first began to grow.
But the constant battles in this war of love between us 
has degraded the soil, 
inhibiting the possibility of our lost love 
from sprouting from the roots ever again.

I can tell you about the essence of 
moonless nights and starless skies.
The sensation of being engulfed in a tunnel of darkness 
and the only light source stems from an exit miles away.
The despair sometimes feels like I'm gasping for air 
while submerged in the heart of the Artic.
Or thirsting for freedom 
while journeying through the Amazon.
The sure tangibility of dreams like a mirage.
No boundless heights to strive for 
at the core of my eclipsed surroundings.
The epitome of the world seen 
through the eyes of a wingless bird. 
Trying to emulate the gracious flight of Heaven's angels, 
but sometimes the world can be cruel.

Details | M.N.I.W M.N.I.W Poem

A Tale of the Wind

In the frame that hangs upon that wall resides
an image taken from the previous century.
The jubilant smile on that kid's face reflects
a time similar to a world of fantasy.
Superheroes were real,
good prospered over evil,
and the clock of life 
would never cease to tick and tock.
But like the weather,
things change and then that cold,
spine chilling breeze passes through your body.
You soon realize that the only thing that you were right
to think as a child was to be afraid of the dark.
Often the darkness will swallow you up, and just as often,
the meaning of light that you clung to will diminish from existence.
I've known that feeling for a while now.

Rooted with the spirit to thrive like blossoming roses.
Childhood is like a cool summer breeze.
The way the wind gently massages your pores
until the scorching heat becomes a fable.
It serves to remind you that fire doesn't always 
burn if you know that opportunity
will soon extinguish its flames.
The future holds many luxuries, is what most are told,
and others learn that sharp jewels cut deep.
Like a diamond in the rough,
we grow up trying to discover our self-value,
while others try to dim the light that flourishes from our ability to shine.
And during that journey,
many of us are left to crumble
as if we were uncompressed lumps of coal.
The realities of life step from the shadows and reveals itself.
A misconstrued image of what's real and what's fictional.
This is around the time that the winter's blizzards
begin their reign of terror.
The pneumatic wind chills make the temperatures even colder
until the blood flowing through your veins become opaque.

Like roses in the winter,
eventually our beauty becomes a mirage,
the sweet sensation of warmth becomes a facade,
and we become fragile, wither and die.
The great-grandmother who loved kodak moments was a rare flower,
but frigid temperatures preceded demise until death reigned.
Every time I visited her as a child I'd greet her
with a subtle, shy grin and she'd greet me with a full smile.
As time passed, while being in her presence, my lips would soon mirror hers.
It's been a long time since I've seen that glamorous smile.
Because now she's gone in the wind
and every time I feel a breeze,
it haunts my thoughts.

Life, like the wind, comes and goes.
Sometimes a warm breeze, sometimes a cold breeze.
Sometimes howling an unearthly tone 
and sometimes whispering smooth jazz.
But it'll always blow even as one day
we won't be able to feel it tickle our skin.

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Beauty


Beauty.
Fluorescent view.
Illuminates the world.
She shines brighter than twinkling stars.
My love.

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My Final Curtain Call

I'm sorry momma.
I'm sorry father.
I couldn't be the man you raised.
You instilled me with morals and values,
from which I chose to stray.
I chose to leave those college days,
just to be on the streets stuck in my stagnant ways.
Little leagues games that I always use to play.
Back when you could stand to look into my eyes
and it put a smile on your face.
Now when I look into yours eyes
I see the reflection of a disgrace.
But you can't blame yourself
for me being stuck in this forsaken place.
You opened up doors for me.
I'm the one that chose not to enter.
I know that you regret the day
I separated from your placenta.
Because you weren't sure
of what you were getting yourself into.
But momma I never meant to.
Bring you shame
or stain your name.
It's just that living in this world,
it often gets hard to sustain.
And hard to maintain.
My desire to be better is strong,
but it just seems to come without gain.
Now malicious thoughts only exist
within my mind frame.
Hand signals and twisted up fingers
like I suffer from carpal tunnel.
Choosing the wrong paths
to make it out the tunnel.
And I can't get through.
My street fraternity,
my hood brotherhood,
the people that I run to.
I'm wreaking havoc among oppositions.
Some demise upon a few.
I have no love for the world.
I tried,
but there's not much that I can do.
Society caused my heart's shrinkage,
so there's only room for a few.
Mainly just you and you.
I saw you working like a slave
just to make ends meet.
And those times that you couldn't
I watched you weep
because we had no food to eat.
Living on a mad street.
Where the sound of sirens
and bullets ricocheting made it hard to sleep.
I was always confused.
Every time I saw lights flashing red and blue,
it brought me the blues.
No one cared then,
so now I could care less
about following the rules.
And no one cared
when I went to school
looking like a fool
with my cheap clothes
and worn out shoes.
Paying dues that could never subdue.
I saw that the good road was full of cracks.
And the bad road was smooth sailing.
Any opposition I assailed.
I tried so hard,
but my good humor failed to prevail.
I know that you all are praying for me,
and wish me well.
But I know I have a special position in Hell.
Or locked in a cell.
So father don't wait up on me.
And momma please don't cry.
'Cause my train to the Lord's haven
has already derailed.
No lie.
Soon I'll be...
Staring out the window of a cop car.
I know the end of the road is not too far.
Soon I'll be...
Staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.
I know no parent wants to hear about
the death of their son.
To the man I always look up to like a hero.
As I matured the feeling was reciprocated.
When he realized his son was a zero.
It left him devastated.
To the woman who caressed me
to warmth and shed light.
On those dark cold nights
when disparity was the only thing in sight.
I'm sending out this apology because
I know y'all saw the higher me.
But this is the life for me
and I could never rise to be.
I'm a beast lost in this worldly jungle.
Just know I'll always love you.
I'm sorry to you all.
This is my final curtain call.

Details | M.N.I.W M.N.I.W Poem

A Tale of a Traumatized Heart

Hello.
My name is...well it's not important right now.
Before we ignite our engines
and travel down this road to heartbreak.
I'll be honest and let you know
that I don't plan to be the victim.
So I suggest that you fasten your seat belt.
Any relationship with me will surely end
in a collision of mixed emotions in a way
that'll change your life for the worse.
So it's better to take all necessary precautions.

I'm going to tell you the cliché tale
of a man crippled with deceptive affliction.
The one who fell for love's game
of misdirection and misconception.
Cursed by Cupid's blunder.
I misconstrued the image of demon for angel.
Confused her horns for halo.
And perceived her wings as a way to take flight to new heights.
Only to realize that her beautiful smile
was a facade and she only aimed to take me high
so that my fall would be from a greater distance.
And the impact would be more detrimental.
I confused right from left
and made the right turn in the wrong direction.
My heart reciprocated the action as one piece split left.
And I have yet to recover the missing piece of the puzzle.

She was a bitter blessing.
Her walk was strides of grace.
Almost as if she floated through air with every single step.
Her skin was silk
and every day I yearned to be fabricated
in her essence.
Her beautiful voice could have been a new genre of music.
Her smile was the moon and stars when the sun settled.
Her eyes matched her caramel/chocolate complexion
to the point that I became lost in the fantasy
of her potential sweetness.
I craved her to rid
the bitter taste that life gave me.
All in all, her beauty was like the ocean,
yet she was shallow.
Lacking any depth, but at the same time
she could drown you deep in the waters of disparity.

My recovery is unlikely.
Mending my heart would take a drastic procedure.
She molded my heart with a chisel
and hammer with all intent to shatter it to bits.
She is a true artist because she succeeded
and exceeded beyond all limitations.
A masterpiece of destruction like a volcanic eruption.
I should've requested a prenuptial agreement,
so that I could have everything I gave to her returned.
Like my heart, my mind, my trust, and my ability to love.
But she chose to keep a big piece of me
to let it rest in her memoirs of deceit.
The only way that you could possibly
unlock my caged heart is if you fit the missing piece.
No offense, but I won't hold my breath.

So hi my name is...never mind,
I won't be around long enough for you to curse it.

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Lessons From Nature

Upon His soul leaving the body it once rested in,
a storm of atramentous clouds formed over the mountain top
that we once stood upon like kings.
Loss caused the quaking thunder
to shake the foundation of my heart,
and in the midst,
lightning struck and severed a piece in the process.
Leaving a gaping hole in the left center of my chest.

I felt blistering wind chills.
The murky clouds rained tears
that crashed down like an avalanche.
Burying me in its chilling sensation
until I became numb to all.
Yet, I still feel flesh wounds
inflicted by life's tales of tragedy.
Scars unmendable by any procedure except revival.
But I won't hold my breath waiting for miracles.

I viewed the world once inhabited by my beloved Father,
it screamed of tremendous absence.
One that drained my flowing bloodstream to shallowness.
His soul deserted and left my world like a desert.
Lacking water, the essence of life,
it feels like a drought now that the tears have stopped
and the nightmare of reality woke me up.
That lightning bolt took a piece of my heart,
but enlightened my mind.
Lessons became illuminous and vivid
like sunlight peeking through the clouds.

He told me how jungles were a glimpse of the world.
One must watch their back
because of unknowns lingering in shadows.
How the green is vast as compared to
how many people possess envious traits.
How you must watch the snakes that silently slither beside you.
And how often things of blinding beauty can block enlightening light,
the same way prestigious trees promote shade.
Words of truly distinct wisdom flowed
from His mind to his mouth,
then to my ears like Niagara.
Admirable and unforgettable.
Encroaching my thoughts with acuity, but without admittance
like angels sent down from heaven going unnoticed.
Creeping into the depths of my mind
revealing things pseudonymous like the ocean.
Enlightening the pessimistic sharks that
attack the potential beauty that lies within my mind.
Illuminating creatures beneath its layers
like the creativity and the mental blessings
bestowed upon me that go unrecognized.

How to dig deep within my heart,
deeper than the grandest canyons,
and give life to words without speaking.
Deep enough for my heartbeats to create
onomatopoeia out of white noise.
Epitomizing the sounds of nature's musicians.
While His beats have ceased to tremble
and mine pulsates melodically,
I remember Him as nature remembers Spring and Summer.
Impossible to forget how its essence of life
brought beauty to mine.

m.n.i.w

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Love Or Lust


Your heart resides in the possession of whom you love. 
Feelings of desire are overwhelming.
Lately you've been so close to sinning. 
Envisioning women in different positions. 
Your mission never to inflict harm on such a delicate heart with incisions of such precision. 
Contact centered.

Lust or love?

Which do you hold above? 
Human qualities denies the ability of achieving perfection. 
But perfection is only defined by perception.
Thoughts of deception makes it hard for me to pursue the right direction.
Only thinking of what is left.
Straying from words and feelings result with disconnection. 

Love or lust?

One reason for the lack of trust.

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A Happy Ending - Dark and Twisted

One day I was in a hospital,
witnessing human birth.
I took in the repulsive, beautiful sight
as Earth's population grew by one.
A tiny specimen, ready to bring eternal joy to the world.
Innocence flourishing in front our eyes like a rose.
But lacking pricks.
Little hands reaching for life's essence
in every extension of their arms.
The fragility of their bodies
and minds.
Molding a masterpiece of humanity
and morality is the goal.
I know every parent looks into their child's eyes,
and sees potential glory.

Persevering through trials of the storm,
trying to find that guiding rainbow as it forms.
Triumphing over all obstacles to find that golden treasure.
Instead of metal, they found a golden child
to instill them with pleasure.
The one who makes dreams a reality,
and blows away nightmares in winds of charity.
But life isn't always a wonderland.
Around every corner exists potential quicksand.

In another room of the hospital,
there's a man with cancer.
He has a lovely wife
and 2 daughters, one's a ballet dancer.
His wife, beside him, bears the image
of a statue chiseled by needles and pills.
She numbs the pain behind shady thrills.
In another room is a woman who's a victim of time.
Right place, wrong time, struck by a stray bullet
in an attempt of a homicidal crime.
As blood trickled from her spine,
thoughts flowed through my mind.
What kind of world is this we yearn to live in?
In actuality, life may be the curse
and death may be the blessing.
At least while we're young,
ignorant and innocent, we have sweet bliss.
But when time accelerates age,
we're all touched by the Devil's kiss.
It lingers throughout the rest of our days.
Until feelings of happiness leave us dazed.
And blinded by Hell's smoky haze.

I have no desire to see such a delicate
and warm creature turn stone cold.
Most try to maintain morality,
but the sun doesn't shine until the attempt folds.
I refuse to watch that epidemic unfold.
So I fill my hands with that child of gold.
The infant cries, I smile and bring the loud noise to a halt.
My desire is her suffocation.
In the end, I'll know that
she's happy and it's my fault.
She'll find eternal bliss where freedom comes without a fee.
Life comes with a price, but death comes free.
At least hers will be without the woes
that life makes us endure.
And as a bonus, she won't have to deliver
a victim cursed of life's lure.
So tonight, I'll rest peacefully bound to individuality.
The good deed is done, and I'll keep trying to maintain my morality.

Details | M.N.I.W M.N.I.W Poem

My Masterpiece - Dark and Twisted

I'm sorry mom, but I killed a man.
His daughter and newborn that was in his hands.
I'm so sorry because you raised me well,
but there's a demon inside
and I thought that I should tell.
I found pleasure in their weeps and cries.
I smiled softly as the tears rolled down from their eyes.
I told them hush, hush, it's for the best.
While I smothered the baby
and stuck the knife in his chest.
I felt an absence, so I contemplated.
On how to create a deathly masterpiece,
so that the media wouldn't be devastated.
I smeared the blood on the wall
and drew a smiley face.
I severed the man's arm
and stuck it in the fire place.
I heard subtle cries,
the man was still grasping for life.
I should have made those incisions with a sharper knife.
I laid the dead child beside him to see his reaction.
Then I stabbed him again,
while he focused on the distraction.
He's a brave soldier, he didn't die easily.
Sad it didn't happen more peacefully.
I bet his daughter would've been proud.
She would've survived,
if she didn't play music so loud.
I crept up the stairs and peeked inside the room.
She was teenaged, around sixteen I assumed.
She didn't even scream,
well that was until she saw me.
And the blood on my hands,
so she tried to brawl me.
Tough girl, I'll admit, she sure put up a fight.
But she swung with her left, I dodged and struck her with a right.
She fell to the ground, I raised my hands in victory.
Then I paused and realized there was no prize meant for me.
So I dragged the body downstairs
and laid her beside her family.
I bet this wasn't the horrid day they planned to see.
Oh well, I slit a vein and let the blood spew out.
I decided to tie her to a chair,
so she wouldn't move about.
I got bored and started to tear the infant from limb to limb.
Night began to fall,
outside of the window is dim.
I needed to speed up the process,
if I wanted there to be progress.
I nailed each limb to the wall
and for the head, I let it rest.
On the kitchen counter,
my art piece was starting to come alive.
The daughter's blood made a pool so deep that I could dive.
Two down, only him left to go.
I hung his body from the ceiling,
so he could be the centerpiece of the show.
I washed my hands and took pictures, this belonged in a gallery.
To be gazed upon by millions,
just the thought of it was flattering.
Blame the overwhelming aggression
or adolescent depression.
Don't think too much about it,
time never endures regression.
So mom when you come home tonight.
Try not to have such a fright.

Details | M.N.I.W M.N.I.W Poem

Roses


This life mirrors a rose.

A beautiful vision, but a pain to feel.

Needled stems causes blood to stem from my flesh.
Draining my veins of the rosy red essence of life
that flowed through my bloodstream. 

The blood flows like lava after a volcanic eruption 
as it burns my flesh.
Due to pain inflicted by the war wounds of life.

These women are as bittersweet as roses.
The sweet smell of their scents is intoxicating,
but how detrimental the touch.
Misusing your heart as a voodoo doll 
and pinning your heart to their memoirs of affliction.

Left in a state of fantasy.
To the point you have to constantly question if the feeling is real.
Often getting no answers.
And other times you find out their stories of deep sentiment 
were just fairy tales narrated by deception.

The Ups turn up downs.
Soon downs come back around.
The constant contradiction leaves you 
mentally exhausted and sick.
Life is like a roller coaster.
Rolling coasting thoughts through my mind.
When it gets too heavy, I'm overdosing.
Drugs are the potion, at least until I reach my limits.
I realized there's no one I can give devotion.

Roses, truly a pretty scene.
Roses stem with subtle knives.
To your back they intervene.
Infliction deeply applied,
Until love and reality becomes obscene. 

Heaven belongs to God, 
but this place called Earth is Satan's playground.
The difference between angels 
and demons is to where they are bound. 
Both with wings, one with horns.
Mistaking horns for halo, will leave you forever scorn.