Connected
 

Flickering hues lit all the room: their faces and walls.
They complacently call eachother names like 'babe' that evolved
throughout the years, loud and clear, from the faith they installed
escaping the faults that's made them elated, enthralled,
entangled and caught. They're so close - in separated realms.
Thumbs thumbing the screen - drum thumping machines messaging their friends.
No leverage to their heads: they're glued like Texans to their pelt -
connected in themselves through a cybernetically embedded
skeleton and shell electrically developed between the screen and their eye.
He's feeling sublime, on the couch, reading the lies -
completely online with the The Onion, Wikimedia, Chive.
Their only hope is he notices when she stretches her cheeks in a smile.

'Fuzzies' are made from the seat to his side: she's on the love-seat adjacent.
By herself, trying to buy herself scrunchies and bracelets.
Munching on Lay chips - drowning their puppy's engagement
with the crunch that they're making. Neither drunk nor complacent,
just stuck in the stages between ready to squab and getting along.
A connection is lost - closest they come is petting the dog.
Friends and their job are never questioned a lot
but scenarios of settling are apprehensively thought.
The consensus is not spoken of - consider it sacred -
Tablets zip-tying faces until lips are strung by the digital matrix.
Pixels equate with pleading the fifth in arraignments:
and their eyes are drawn with a hint of dumb blankness.

Their principles make it and the tribulations harder than war.
Locked in their corners - their bodies are corpses - this the modern rapport.
Said to be lovers but dead to eachother through hearts they adore:
they're starving for more on the ground obstacle floor.
As problems are formed they progress their connection to the glow -
The rhetoric is old - one that everybody knows:
The further they're getting in their home, the more pressure on their souls.
Lessening control until everything goes to hell and it explodes.
Love assembled by the oafs - setting it in stone and ruining their hearts.
Visualized, digitized, minimized and consuming all the charge.
Brooding is an art that Photoshop embellished for the truly Avant-garde;
If any of this applies to you, you've been doomed right from the start.

This is an old verse I had laying around.

I've given a bit of feedback in the last month or so and voted around the site. If that's not enough I'll drop some feedback later this week just let me know I still have to

idk man u seem chill but the COUPLETS are super forced.. like not even natural just mechanical square into a circular hole type of deal

I enjoyed this faggot. Flow was simply dope and extremely consistent. Not only that, but the meaning behind individual lines and bars were just dope. A few were stretched for idea/concepts sake, but they still flowed, so I can't really complain. i feel like this should be a possible @Zen HOF fame vote. Depends on what else is entered, but at least a mention is nice. Some really solid writing.

Up 1 time

[dis]Connected

Flickering hues lit all the room: their faces and walls.
They complacently call eachother names like 'babe' that evolved
throughout the years, loud and clear, from the faith they installed
escaping the faults that's made them elated, enthralled,
entangled and caught. They're so close - in separated realms.
Thumbs thumbing the screen - drum thumping machines messaging their friends.
No leverage to their heads: they're glued like Texans to their pelt -
connected in themselves through a cybernetically embedded
skeleton and shell electrically developed between the screen and their eye.
He's feeling sublime, on the couch, reading the lies -
completely online with the The Onion, Wikimedia, Chive.
Their only hope is he notices when she stretches her cheeks in a smile.

Loved this. The flow was redic, also the switch in the multis was intriguing and done well. Great reference and good message.


'Fuzzies' are made from the seat to his side: she's on the love-seat adjacent.
By herself, trying to buy herself scrunchies and bracelets.
Munching on Lay chips - drowning their puppy's engagement
with the crunch that they're making. Neither drunk nor complacent,

Great wording, dope multis. Again enjoyed the references.

just stuck in the stages between ready to squab and getting along.
A connection is lost - closest they come is petting the dog.
Friends and their job are never questioned a lot
but scenarios of settling are apprehensively thought.
The consensus is not spoken of - consider it sacred -
Tablets zip-tying faces until lips are strung by the digital matrix.
Pixels equate with pleading the fifth in arraignments:
and their eyes are drawn with a hint of dumb blankness.

the flow was FLAWLESS here. Multis were perfect. This was well written.

Their principles make it and the tribulations harder than war.
Locked in their corners - their bodies are corpses - this the modern rapport.
Said to be lovers but dead to eachother through hearts they adore:
they're starving for more on the ground obstacle floor.

SICK.

As problems are formed they progress their connection to the glow -
The rhetoric is old - one that everybody knows:
The further they're getting in their home, the more pressure on their souls.
Lessening control until everything goes to hell and it explodes.
Love assembled by the oafs - setting it in stone and ruining their hearts.
Visualized, digitized, minimized and consuming all the charge.
Brooding is an art that Photoshop embellished for the truly Avant-garde;
If any of this applies to you, you've been doomed right from the start.

lol real sick. Great vocabulary showcased here. Continued on w/ an exciting style of seeing what's next. Loved this piece man, great work.

So true. So true. Excellent depiction of a real world problem. Also, possibly the soulution lol. Batty and I were talking about this, my wife and I went out to eat a while ago and we looked around and EVERYONE were on their phones. My thought was, :if I am paying for you to eat I should be able to enjoy your company, I did not invite your facebook friends:". Batty told me that he knew of a husband and wife who would literally sit in their living rooms on a couch and talk to each other on facebook. this world needs to be nuked. Anyway...you have skill with wording, you already know that, concise and intelligent, and thank you for confirming my own thoughts about this world. peace.

Ya this was very spot on. Well written, insightful and full of truth.

Is this the verse you were referring to in the tournament?

Not at all. This was just something I wrote once and never posted.

thanks

Hella dope lol hate to use such a primitive phrase in something much more than that! But it's all I can say.

"..closest they come is petting the dog.."

Fire

You spoke on a real level. I look around my house now & I can see what you're writing about.

Thanks guys...any more

Topicals, in a sense are formulaic. I sort of cringe when reading and I see the end of the line approaching peripherally. I don want the line to end. And part of me doesn't like stanzas for that matter, because since its so formulaic, the emotions embedded are almost thrusted into you at the beginning when the author is explaining or describing any sort. In an instance where you went on with the longer scheme in the first paragraph, that was probably the only instance this didnt prove true. But that's probably the ONLY instance where you did that. I hate feeling that I think I know what's going to come up next. IT's a step up from the battle arena where its set-up, punch, diss, set up, punch. Repeat. In a topical, more poetic lounge, you can negate that formula and create your own. This here seemed like you never really took a step and pivoted with a dance of your own tune. You just sort of wrote - quite well, but you just wrote.

Also in one tune, it's just...when I read things, I read them and I say, "that doesn't make that MUCH sense, in that context" but as a reader I can digest things differently, but theres instances where lines don't really have a accurate measure of things. And the meaning is so far off, that connecting with the reader becomes futile, and it may turn the reader off, like in this line here

you seem to be connecting the two in some sort of fashion when in reality these two definition CAN be connected but not in such a relative manner. Dont get me wrong, they CAN be, by definition, but when you think complacency and its intri***ies, yes the feeling a emotionally invested inebriated state can bring out complacency, but the way you brought it out and presented it seemed mediocre to me. (I do get the picture you're trying to paint, between a modern disquietude and the connections they may, or may not perceive to be enjoyable)

Overall I read this verse many times. About 10. More than any other verse I've read in awhile. Just because I was trying to digest as much of it as I can. I did this throughout a period from the day you posted it, until now. I had much more feed each day I was writing a comment, but decided to save it till later. I wanted to pinpoint objectives I think you lacked in. We all know this is better than average, but I don't think you really got out enough as you wanted too. You seemed stuck at times, even if you did get out as much as you warranted

got this

Drunk?

I thought this was pretty dope.

Haven't forgot. Will get back to this later.
@Pent uP have no fear

ALL OF THESE EMPTY PROMISES

I WASN'T DRUNK BUT I WILL BE SOON, PENTUP

Really incoherent feed j like ur verses tbh

Riddled with horrible spelling and logic as usual...

While I appreciate the defense, there are valid views in his feedback..to some degree anyway.

you should feed the verse instead of the other feedbackers