Netcees - post some of the dopest battles uve ever seen

Originally Posted by Blacketh
What is it good for?

yo,

To shape a civilization - man vs. wild, the industrial
turkey in a perfect little pile in your lunchable,
highly combustable, clouds that narrow a windpipe
soliders fight in tuxedos lined with heroin pinstripes -
the American midnight - Rocket power, Reggie in dimebags
Squids washed upon the riverbanks for chemical finance,
intersectional bypass - blacktop, paint in a dotted line
directs whiplashing cars filled with slaves to the dollar sign -
we placed a trojan horse inside the basement of columbine,
watched a murder crawl out and framed hatred for homicide.
but hatred is authorized .. it's a volatile weapon,
always changing it's structure, endless model selection:
there's hostile aggression, bitterness, shame & regret ,
isolation, neglect; or double barrel aimed at your neck -
racism, tension, pent-up rage is repressed,
and we wonder why the Middle East invaded the West ..
Major, Lieutenant, Sargent, Captain, or King
puppets captured in a web, the Black tarantula's string -
the Sopranos will sing an ode to mafia ties,
notes bloodthirsty enough to cause Gaddafi to rise.
while our audience cries, it's time for curtains to fall
9/11 was the first and last emergency call..
begging God to grant serenity and mercy to all -
alas, Berlin is not the only great, impervious wall.
Our purpose is scrawled in constellational patterns,
so fortune telling is the only occupation that matters..
that tug-of-war that comes with conversational chatter,
is what keeps the better part of populations in taverns.
conservation, disaster - mirrored shadows on a carpeted floor
war is art, art is beauty, beauty started the war.
Death departed the morgue in search of Heavenly bliss,
became a Livestrong band around Destiny's wrist.
Marine Corpses camouflaged behind intestinal rips,
signed their souls to the Devil & He let 'em enlist.
while physicists are on a mission for dimensional shifts,
we fight to capture back those precious seconds we missed..
the future's bright, the past is glorified, the present's a bitch -
in this war, the draft's a process we could never resist.

take a second to listen - this aint an anthem for peace,
broken eggs can make an omelet, Death can fashion a feast.
Food for thought - war is more than troops attacking in fleets,
cuz there's a battle beneath the North Face logo stamped to your fleece.
we've mobilized an army of compassionate beasts,
expressing hatred for their enemies with passive beliefs.
the chasm is deep - our cycle seems deliciously wretched,
sometimes ethics & survival hold a different perspective.

it's pitiful trenches, dinner selections, first-string vs. secondaries
WAR - they ask what is it good for?
and I answer: absolutely .. necessary.

Originally Posted by Oatmeal
Thought Auditing

I had this elaborate allegory combining science and art
where I highlighted the spark between the mind and the heart
I likened the brain to a desert - barren, wild and parched
a regretful impression sunken under miles of starch
to search across it is a process undeniably stark
the thirst for knowledge is the cause for all its life to embark
it was packed with brilliance, full of wisdom that I tried to impart
perfect in every way...except being contrived from the start
it was lively and smart, balancing light with the darkness
I talked about how death can breathe new life in the market
I even wrote a wordplay like: "I'm bullish on life stocks" (in the margins)
topped off with theories from academic titans I hearkened
but at the end it felt like I was just recycling garbage -
it's good and all, but it'll never ripen for harvest
I used to settle like, "don't sweat it, it's the plight of the artist"
but the lesson of growth for a writer is most likely the hardest
what I was writing was Carthage, a nihilist plot
I had content and concepts neatly tied up in knots
but the soul of the words was entirely lost
so here I am, intent with every rhyme that I jot
I want to capture the emotion of a cry in a thought
and decipher the cost of all the lies I forgot
I move to the tune of Siren songs, here’s the miles I’ve plotted
with the tease that I’ve crossed, my third i MUST be dotted
this desert is mine, let me saunter through my mind while I pause it
cuz this itch for the pen proves that it's time for an audit...

initializing audit

life is hurry up and wait; you either feast or famine
simply put: good things happen until they cease to happen
some days she won’t show you shit except for pieces or fractions
until she releases her sequins and strips free of her satin
this mentality’s valid, but I find it breeds inaction:
if the contract’s written backwards, why bother to read the captions?
I’ve gone back to the Master and said “try offering equal rations”
but He just mocks all my feats and passions so fuck it…
in my mind I’m on a walk on a beach in Athens
see I’ve got some issues with God, our most passive of masters
and they’re magnified by the fact that my dad is a pastor
meanwhile I’m hoping 2012 brings a massive disaster
so I can have some validation that I actually matter
if I get passed in the rapture, then what can you do
till then I’m doubting everybody who’s discovered the Truth
I got my father’s love but still I got something to prove
if it was between me and God, I don’t know which one he would choose
perhaps I’m dumb to give these thoughts so much space for entertaining
I complain that life’s unfair, then I complain that I’m complaining
I have this cruel desire to fuel the fire of hatred I’ve been saving
and unleash it on the hypocrites…though I’m basically the same thing
there’s something sacred and amazing in the mist of the rain
a suspended reflection traveling an infinite plane
I’ve driven fists into brains, wasted precious moments making bitches of saints
now I got hands of stone, but fuck…I just wish I could paint

this shit is the same for all of us, life is hopelessly stormy
folks say “wait till you’re older” but they don’t need to warn me
cuz I’m a jokeless romantic and I know that it’s corny
but I still struggle to discern between lonely and horny
this is the soul of my story, none of it’s makeshift
inside I’m frowning, downtrodden—outside I’m numb from the facelift
I host a garden of regrets where my lush mistakes sit
like when I forfeited a lover with true talent for a slut with fake tits
I try to escape this emptiness like the fool that I must be
cuz I can’t stop hearing birds chirping pretty music and just…breathe
one flash of a smile and I find myself stooping on one knee
the same smile I have when I tell my students it’s cool to be drug free
but now I’ve found love with a girl who is brutally ugly
her eyes are slanted, legs bent, and she drools when she hugs me
my down syndrome princess makes this existence feel unusually lucky—
cuz there’s no question she tells the truth when she coos that she loves me...

audit complete

we’ve been through a lot now, you’ve had glance at my travels, stories
but remember when we walked through my abandoned allegory?
I said the mind was a desert through which we struggle to search
it was ugly at first, but now it suddenly…works
it’s a barren wasteland with no words for solace
the only way to keep it alive is to thirst for knowledge
you’ll have to wander through heartache to find a wealth of subtleties
cuz the highest knowledge of all is that of self-discovery
be patient for growth, eventually you’ll catch a break
allow your mind to be a desert…let the negativity evaporate