01-20-2014, 12:03 AM | #1 |
living
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star child
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explosions in the cemetery rock me to sleep halloween ghost costumes out of hospital sheets enraptured by the gospel you preach with Bacardi on your breath, watch my tolerance weaken how do we proceed? we built a monument close to Arpeggio notes. you whispered as the melody rose told me all of your secrets .. all of your needs like planting scarlet begonias in a garden of weeds heartless the sleeve. darts at the bar, circus bizarre we are all star children that have learned to revolve full throttle revolver. six-shot Yosemite sharp the only single animal let into the Arc china doll. eyes an inky black. calligraphy mark we're toxic like exhaust fumes and a sensitive heart misery martyr speaking for the silenced at 5 developing depressiveness and trying to die wax crayon outsider. the line for lunch was immense so i sat and clenched my stomach instead. psyche under arrest the best times of my life were in a park on the bench before i knew that disrepair was art in the flesh decomposition is the closest that we'll ever become to someone's daughters and sons. emperors, slaves living breathing organisms, rotting away obligations to fade out and an option to stay barefoot, burning walking out of a grave red cabernet the color of a bloody filet lobster and steak. my method's growing harder to read feeling lucid. Jesus Christ inside a carpenter's dream harbored between calm and serene. carbon and gene questioning myself. ripped apart at the seams wintertime your entrances and autumn your leaves you manipulate like medias and marketing teams by nature elusive. evaded diffusion, nose to the floor hurt me soul. punish me for showing remorse poke at a swarm of killer hornets. that's emotion en forme we're not supposed to be born. that's why it's so unimportant i've danced in the storm. mud and water and air i think the grass would look greener if i cared. DEADMAN
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01-20-2014, 12:09 AM | #2 |
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WACK
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VETWORK
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01-20-2014, 01:12 AM | #3 |
subterranean dweller
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.. this shit was so fluid. i respect it man, imagery and all. and when it comes to your punches you don't make a big deal out of it - it kinda just slides right into the fluidity of your verses, then half way through the next bar im like damn that was hot hold up..hha
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Padded Room Diaries: Entry One. Entry Two, Genius vs. Insanity Margin scribble Entry Three: Sporadic thoughts. Entry 4: Bars Attacks Rebel Yell Series: Rebel Yell |
01-20-2014, 04:03 AM | #4 |
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"lobster and steak. my method's growing harder to read" - you should eat something then continue your report. Joke aside that whole last part was excellent, the last line in particular is great and cynical. "feeling lucid. Jesus Christ inside a carpenters dream" - could be a good novelty t-shirt catch phrase. The 'showing remorse - emotion en forme' was a very impressive and fancy rhyme. Also enjoyed the subtle switching of the rhyme technique in this section:
"full throttle revolver. six-shot Yosemite sharp the only single animal let into the Arc china doll. eyes an inky black. calligraphy mark we're toxic like exhaust fumes and a sensitive heart" - it is cool how it was a little different every second line rather than the x4 that preceded it. |
01-20-2014, 05:54 PM | #5 |
nok Su kow
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told me all of your secrets .. all of your needs
like planting scarlet begonias in a garden of weeds heartless the sleeve. darts at the bar, circus bizarre we are all star children that have learned to revolve full throttle revolver. six-shot Yosemite sharp the only single animal let into the Arc china doll. eyes an inky black. calligraphy mark we're toxic like exhaust fumes and a sensitive heart red cabernet the color of a bloody filet lobster and steak. my method's growing harder to read feeling lucid. Jesus Christ inside a carpenter's dream harbored between calm and serene. carbon and gene This was a sick drop imo. That Jesus in a carpenter dream, six shot Yosemite sharp/ arc lines were my fav I think. Liked the ending as well. Definitely comeback to read again.
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"black as midnight..black as pitch blacker than the soul of the foulest witch" |
01-21-2014, 12:21 AM | #6 |
............
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Lol @ Frank actin' like me before growin' balls.
explosions in the cemetery rock me to sleep halloween ghost costumes out of hospital sheets enraptured by the gospel you preach with Bacardi on your breath, watch my tolerance weaken how do we proceed? we built a monument close to Arpeggio notes. you whispered as the melody rose told me all of your secrets .. all of your needs like planting scarlet begonias in a garden of weeds ^^Slick, loved the first bar...and the closin' one in this section. the only single animal let into the Arc ^^Chea...my real name is Noa so this made it even better lol. china doll. eyes an inky black. calligraphy mark ^^Me likies. Closer was ill also...great read Black, had a little of everythin' and lacked a lot of nothin' man. Stay uppity. |
01-21-2014, 03:27 AM | #7 |
Mic Check
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hahaha fuckin guy. so depressed and gloomy lol. well u already know that im a fan in general. THIS piece however didn't do it for me...especially compared to most of your more recent work. that being said there's no denying the consistent quality of all of your pieces, and this was no different. but for me this one was a little too boring. usually you manage to keep my interest but i didn't feel as encapsulate by this one. yes that was a very big word for me. ill probably try to rhyme it now, peace.
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My syllable count approximately a billion, bounce. You cannot compete. |
01-21-2014, 10:05 AM | #8 |
living
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word thanks guys. pm me links for rtf's. i feel you copy. it probably was a bit sylvia plath for you. thats ok.
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Zack Wicks for president |
01-21-2014, 01:06 PM | #9 |
Mic Check
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hahaha. vocab fail/typo.
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My syllable count approximately a billion, bounce. You cannot compete. |
01-23-2014, 10:50 PM | #10 |
Robin Williams of Fallen Victims
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that park on a bench/art in the flesh couplet was fresh as hell. I dug it. I liked the streamlined style you used. good shit.
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01-24-2014, 02:03 PM | #11 |
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This piece is a ravaging monument to that all-encompassing center: our sun chakra. As one fantasizes about whispering sweet nothings to Taiwanese dime pieces in the upper echelons of a seductive monastery at the foot of the majestic himalayas, our sweet melodies crescendo into the astral realm. Your asian water mark strokes invoke calligraphy as a transient portal to the moon chakra, the first and only way to access a woman's vagina while she is on her period. Then, with ease, you transitioned to Jesus Christ and mention the media monopoly, in effect destroying the western dualistic thought - Hebraic heaven and earth, Greek body and mind. As the grass greens, you truly release your kundalini, portaling through miniature WORMHOLES to activate your sun chakra. Pretty good, all in all a success but I'd suggest bikram yoga and a more vicious training regimen for your third eye if you want to reach the winter topical finals and succeed. 9.75/10 effort
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01-25-2014, 04:08 PM | #12 | |
rhyme capsule.
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decidedly more off-kilter than (what i think) is typical of your writing. if it's an evolution or merely an outstretched branch that decided to more keenly feel the air on its own, to absorb the scenery instead of reaching for the sun, then i think i like it. i might, at this stage, consciously looking for error in your verse as is my habit, be predisposed to dislike your 'like' similies. cut from the body and viewed on their own as singular, imperfect, organisms -- they are sufficient. good enough. i personally feel they mark (forgivable) dips in the quality of your writing. you definitely have a propensity to use them, but you have no trouble ignoring them when moving between transitory concepts, so i have to assume you just like them. maybe it gives a bit more oomph. for you. there's only two instances. one is in the following quote. anyway:
Quote:
questioning myself. ripped apart at the seams introspection's a blessing. that's emotion en forme we're not supposed to be born. that's why it's so unimportant can't remember you using a loan term before. probably have. just a small dab of existential nihilism sprinkled with some antinatalist thinking. they almost compliment each other. whew. life is good. so yea you had a sort of motif with the hopsital sheets/wax crayon/line for lunch. sort of. painted the setting without overt imagery. subtle. there was overt imagery but it was more fanciful. impertinent to the setting. structurally this was different. this wasn't watch me rip these rhyme schemes with this list-like composition. this was much more free-form, freely formed, and unrestrained, in ways, it flowed and made its own impression instead of filling a pre-existing void. maybe i haven't been reading you enough lately because none of the other feeds are saying this is different. lol. i enjoyed the fact you're taking the pedal off certain, almost conceited, aspects and allowing your creative/poetic expression to flourish. however gay that just sounded. keep going. you might eventually transmigrate. +1 on the Plath reference. sad. was reading Hughes the other day. poetry about a thrush but it was more to do with humans than anything. interesting. @dead man i won't be back. Last edited by Eŋg; 01-29-2014 at 12:06 AM. |
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01-28-2014, 01:53 AM | #13 |
living
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:)
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