Lost In Found (Illume, Mitch)

[Mitch]

Illume:

Blow me up a image of a life, I'll put a pin in it,
I'm living in it. But I don't wanna live in it.
Look around the edges. Frayed outskirts.
I scream outward. Tirade. Outburst.
Sometimes it's difficult. It's always imminent,
Infinite coincidences and fisticuffs incidents.
Like seeing through the fog, then we look clearly.
Pierce people. And fuckin' stay weary.
Guilty feelings. So reject delusions.
It's blindness that's proven to vex humans.
We can't un-see what we come to recognize.
Empathize. Then everything clarifies.
I'm terrified now, cause I feel feelings.
The real stuff, where fakes run away screamin'.
But I face-forward, suck it up. mechanize. Onwards.
Or else I'm paralyzed. Stuck. Cautious.
So I move through the motions. Alone. Broken.
Through the oceans and moments that no-one noticed.
My rhyme's potent. With both of my eyes open
I break open my mind's focus and try. Motile,
I fly solo into a place of thinking.
Everything is thought. I embrace inklings.
Intelligence. Or incredulous directionlessness.
Subjectiveness wrapped up in objectiveness.
Step inside the paradox, of a relative edifice,
Encapsulated in its own perceptiveness.
Paradigm brain. Everyone's got a linear view,
Cause linear truth is simpler to chew than evidence is.
So what's the answer? What's not? What is?
I found nothing's profound. It's where everything sits.
And love? … well it's just a possessive worth.
An infected term, devoid of a selfless word.
I learned that life is only what you make it.
And words are nothin' outside of statements.
But the masks we make cover the self we left,
Life's a game – it's just a fact of death.
Move, repose, it's just ebb and flow,
Time and spokes like a cyclic oath.
We spin the wheel till it's time we woke.
As the cycle goes ….. life's the joke.
So .. look through the corrective lens
That bends the frames of all the existent trends
It helps to grow the soul. Turn on and seek
the gold beneath your broken feet.
Yes, own the keep that holds defeats,
and hold the keys of the only peace.
Control your mind, devote your deeds,
To grow and find your own release.
In choking, breathe, approach, retreat,
till Nothing's Way is the road you've reached.

Mitch:

Have fun and play till you grow as me,
cold and cunning, craving coma sleep,
trapped in the darkness of self; a sanctum,
awaiting the healths decay. Energy
unveiled from a wealth of information correcting me,
dissecting me. I try to piece, together, something.
Running free, rolling deep. Head above the clouds of smoke I'm puffing.
Soaked in puddles of bong water, soggy cloak of bacco' black.
Godfather clock, sun in the attic,
cycling epitomes around an epicenter of psychic cello moans,
in manic episodes cunningly crafted.
Trapped in the darkness of subtle attraction.
Doing nothing but pondering action.
Losing love for God.
Aenima honored in absence of theological chastise.
I'm a prehistoric possible,
practically probable but gone with the past that
hatched it to swallow it after.
Trapped in the darkness of my calling,
dissolving in acid rain,
watching the traffic through bottles refracted.
Pain, bottles up, smashed a case, but i'm smashed the same.
I'm an ape to an obelisk, pushing it up a mountain,
just to watch it fall back down again.
I'm a sissy, fuss and pout is change.
I'm down to derange my dusty route like pounding rain,
let close melt into far to stumble around in nows domain.
let go. Gouge at the scars, draw out the pain,
Van Gogh, astounded at stars, they sound the same.
A crown of chains holds my head up straight,
for the crowds amaze, lost in walls that tower faith.
The power houses keep their powder kegs close
with broken key in case a threat escapes the labyrinth.
I haven't had a chance to see inside their hidden heavens gates,
but I heard it through the vinyl, from musicians sipping fermented grape,
cus' even demons need an idiot to entertain,
that even we with freedom are set up graves no men evade.
Pawns tossed from a game of chess that's played by better brains.
They'll cut my neck of wood with a cement replace just to etch their names.

[Kin]

dunno who's who

verse 1-

It's always imminent,
Infinite coincidences and fisticuffs incidents.
-dope ....try sayin' that shit 3 timez fast

Intelligence. Or incredulous directionlessness.
Subjectiveness wrapped up in objectiveness.
-there goes another one..nice

the gold beneath your broken feet.
Yes, own the keep that holds defeats,
and hold the keys of the only peace.
Control your mind, devote your deeds,
To grow and find your own release.
In choking, breathe, approach, retreat,
till Nothing's Way is the road you've reached.
-Flow was flawless at the end....smooth

nice verse...Think when you connect your rhymes closer together those seem to be the parts that pop out to me...overall real tight wit' it

verse 2-

let go. Gouge at the scars, draw out the pain,
Van Gogh, astounded at stars, they sound the same.
-fire

that even we with freedom are set up graves no men evade.
Pawns tossed from a game of chess that's played by better brains.
They'll cut my neck of wood with a cement replace just to etch their names.
-Whoa....endin' was crazy

So i couldn't tell who was who...both held it down...pretty even skill wise and content...

nice drop!!!

HoLLa