pulse

[Eŋg]

Two hands on my chest
when I handle a grey thought sullenly.
Veins, taut, underneath the design of a beast.
Preoccupied with the skin, the ocular lies, hiding a grin,
Crop the disguise: ink drops hit the eyes in a squint.
Bop in my stride? More like I walk by with a limp.
The climate is crisp.
Glass cobbles from cracked bottles escorting
a chorus. Awkward. They’re trying to sing.
Love lost in the sheets that a tyrant defends,
Tossing change - hate myself - buying a friend.
Love found on the streets in the smile of a guest’s
thin, cracked lips. Distracted. This hatchet
would be buried if I could just find some earth,
Occupied with worth: a client; the worst,
the first slave buying a serf dying to serve.
Mother’s trying to stir while my mind is inert.
Admiring hurt. Grow to inspire a herd.
- My life is my word
and I’m more tight-lipped than I would prefer.
Silence the air when we step out for dinner,
Body heat -- commodity, expounding winter.
Estranged. Hugged it out and you found I was thinner.
Wrote you a letter but the message was false:
My pencil is precious. Alchemist. Turns lead into gold.
One-shot to the noggin’s a deafening note,
Two taps where my heart is to check for a pulse.

[Witty]

Love lost in the sheets that a tyrant defends,
Tossing change - hate myself - buying a friend.
Love found on the streets in the smile of a guest’s
thin, cracked lips. Distracted. This hatchet
would be buried if I could just find some earth,
Occupied with worth: a client; the worst,
the first slave buying a serf dying to serve.

^Fire....this was nice, little short but you did your thing, I would leave better feed but I'm too lazy. I enjoyed it tho and there wasn't anything that stood out to me as being not good, dope piece, good to see you posting.

[PancakeBrah]

"- My life is my word
and I’m more tight-lipped than I would prefer.
Silence the air when we step out for dinner,
Body heat -- commodity, expounding winter.
Estranged. Hugged it out and you found I was thinner."

The best section. The last line in particular.

Well written. The first three lines were a little clunky but once you got into a more 'normal' scheme I picked up the vibe. I'm simple, I suppose. Nice use of punctuation to assist the reader in picking up your flow/rhythm. Pretty air tight in terms of execution. There were one or two lines that dipped below the rest in quality but overall strong throughout.

[Kin]

Wrote you a letter but the message was false:
My pencil is precious. Alchemist. Turns lead into gold.
One-shot to the noggin’s a deafening note,
Two taps where my heart is to check for a pulse.

^ best to me...whole thing was dope Unique style...same characteristics I see with the abstract thoughts that seems to be popular here kinda more poetic then Hip-Hopish but your def. have a mind of a skilled writer

thiz was a good piece

HoLLa

[JESODIST]

You got like a lil story going on here, I like some parts of it like this.

This hatchet would be buried if I could just find some earth,
Occupied with worth: a client; the worst,
the first slave buying a serf dying to serve.
Mother’s trying to stir while my mind is inert.
Admiring hurt. Grow to inspire a herd.
- My life is my word and I’m more tight-lipped than I would prefer.


But your flow was a bit choppy around here and i didn't catch the rhyme.

Two hands on my chest
when I handle a grey thought sullenly.
Veins, taut, underneath the design of a beast.

Sounds like a broken story. You straight hit the points and went at it directly no fillers.
Nice drop overall.

[Friend Zone Fred Zim]

wow dope shit OXFORD BOI

[Mael]

One of the most refined writers to execute. Ill stuff, mate.

[UnbornBuddha]

This appeared to be a concise outline of a silent individual whose "mind being inert" and who handles "grey thought sullenly". As if checking the pulse of his heart everytime he becomes empty, as if seeing if his heartless or not. The pulse obviously being an indication that he isn't. Or perhaps it's someone else checking the individual's pulse to a self commited shot to the noggin. Either way this life, and warmth of whoever your speaking of is symbolized by the churning of movement that is in the pulse.
And of course in life one's pulse changes when circumstances challenge it. Sometmes in a pathological way, other times due to overly being hit by outside stimuli that produces excited rapidity in the pulse, due to chemical signals infleunced by one's reaction to whatever one is experiencing. Sometimes it slows down as if on the brink of an expiry end. But alas it comes back, until the great departure is at hand.

Also in terms of the melody the beginning had a bit of a mishap it seemed to me, in terms of rhythmic ambiance. It was a bit hard to pick up, but after that it transitioned into a smooth reading that had this narrative to it that was quite unique describing even the climate with descriptive precision.

My favorite part was
"Love found on the streets in the smile of a guest’s
thin, cracked lips. Distracted. This hatchet
would be buried if I could just find some earth,
Occupied with worth: a client; the worst,
the first slave buying a serf dying to serve"

Anyways keep writing my good chap.

[Eŋg]

@Split slut.

oh yea. thanks guys - appreciated.

[Pharaohs Army]

one take for me.
Never happens.
translation.. impeccable rhythm.. you split the lines and punctuation up excellently.
i had to "read" it again to glean the content/message.. "kids these days" would not garner "what it's saying", from "1 or 2 listens"... don't know if that's a bad thing.. but it's my FB, and since it's admirably artistic no one should expect that anyway.

[sral]

I got this at RB for you recently, bruh.

Seen it lagging beneath a heap of Lenox drops there so I gave it a deserved bump back to the top.

[Pinot Grij]

- My life is my word
and I’m more tight-lipped than I would prefer.

This is a great quotation here. Loved this.

Overall, I think the piece could've improved with a more coherent tone - but that line alone made this thread worth opening.

[Certain]

I liked the narrative aspect of this quite a bit, that walk that I imagined to be at about dusk, pondering the world through back alleys, wondering about inaction. There was a lot to like in this very brief verse, which I think is a staple of your writing. We have very similar styles. Well, I mix my styles up quite a bit, though I suppose you do as well under other names to a degree. But I write like this a lot. You do a lot with juxtaposed sentence structure, which is a fun little device if a bit obvious. I think some of your punctuation was more to guide rhymes than actually punctuate, but mostly your punctuation was good. The standout lines were perfect, and the writing never veered too far into abstract, never lost sight of the scene. Here are my favorite lines:

Glass cobbles from cracked bottles escorting
a chorus. Awkward. They’re trying to sing.
...
Tossing change - hate myself - buying a friend.
Love found on the streets in the smile of a guest’s
thin, cracked lips.
...
My life is my word
and I’m more tight-lipped than I would prefer.
...
Estranged. Hugged it out and you found I was thinner.
Wrote you a letter but the message was false

Good work. Thanks for the feedback.

[Split]

Originally Posted by Eŋg

@Split slut.

oh yea. thanks guys - appreciated.

2nite after my class

[oats]

I got this when I'm home from work

[dead man]

lol oats steady dropping those futurist posts.

anyway i liked this for its brevity. i think you work best in short, succinct bursts of inspiration. unfortunately it doesnt seem like they're coming along often. fortunately, you're still motivated to read and comment on many other pieces and for that i thank you.

Love lost in the sheets that a tyrant defends,
Tossing change - hate myself - buying a friend.
Love found on the streets in the smile of a guest’s
thin, cracked lips.

the - hate myself - reads like an internal thought in the midst of action. I'm re-reading old stephen king books atm and he does this quite often although he uses italics to communicate internal stream of consciousness thoughts and the like.

Estranged. Hugged it out and you found I was thinner.
Wrote you a letter but the message was false:
My pencil is precious. Alchemist. Turns lead into gold.

second line was my favorite out of the verse. third was second. first was third. needless to say, this section was a central hub of interest for me. i think we share that urge to drop a line of pure self-indulgence every now and then. maybe its just our hiphop roots or maybe its something more primal.

great work as always homie. hope to see a newer submission sooner than later.


thanks



1

[Eŋg]

Originally Posted by dead man

unfortunately it doesnt seem like they're coming along often.

i don't drop everything i write. but i do need to write more.

nuff love for the feed, people. this will do it.

[Split]

Two hands on my chest
when I handle a grey thought sullenly.
Veins, taut, underneath the design of a beast.

"Design of a beast" seemed out of place. Weird opener. You sound corpselike



Preoccupied with the skin, the ocular lies, hiding a grin,
Crop the disguise: ink drops hit the eyes in a squint.
Bop in my stride? More like I walk by with a limp.

First line wasn't to my tastes. But deft characterization, getting visuals of like 1930s comic book villains in lush printed ink.


The climate is crisp.
Glass cobbles from cracked bottles escorting
a chorus. Awkward. They’re trying to sing.
Love lost in the sheets that a tyrant defends,

What does this mean? "Tyrant" is a good word. Very colorful.


Tossing change - hate myself - buying a friend.
Love found on the streets in the smile of a guest’s
thin, cracked lips.

This was dry but nice concise writing.


Distracted. This hatchet
would be buried if I could just find some earth,

dope. favorite line of the piece.

Occupied with worth: a client; the worst,
the first slave buying a serf dying to serve.
Mother’s trying to stir while my mind is inert.
Admiring hurt. Grow to inspire a herd.
- My life is my word

Boring rhymes here. "mother's trying to stir while my mind is inert" sounds like a Buster Bluth excerpt from the humorless Scottish adaptation of Arrested Development.

and I’m more tight-lipped than I would prefer.
Silence the air when we step out for dinner,

Awesome awesome couplet. Second line is sublime, carries so much weight in the piece. Really, you could have gone wherever you wanted after this line. I get an image of two grad students stepping outside onto the patio of an expensive restaurant downtown. Both in peacoats and dress shoes. "Silence the air" is simply fantastic, it centers the action on the moment, creates tension, is very strong imagery that resonates with anyone.

Body heat -- commodity, expounding winter.
Estranged. Hugged it out and you found I was thinner.

Again, dope follow-through here.

Wrote you a letter but the message was false:
My pencil is precious. Alchemist. Turns lead into gold.

Cool metaphor. "Alchemist" was clunky.

One-shot to the noggin’s a deafening note,
Two taps where my heart is to check for a pulse.

Last line is a cool callback, but "noggin" is out of place.


overall, cool drop. I wasn't impressed with the rhymes and flow compared to your usual standards, but there were ill lines scattered throughout. That "silence the air" thing might take its place as my favorite bit of your writing. I think you struggled a little bit with your voice here, seemed on and off. Good piece.

write more. collab.

[Exis]

I owe you alot of feed, sorry...

I love your imagery, unusual word usage and over all style...it's raw...I like how you pull the reader in with diction, 'tis not only refreshin' but it shows a side of your thoughts that to most seem hidden as you lurk across this board droppin' snippets of it in discussion and ever hardly in the Open Mic...ahem, write more!

This was slick Ox,

Stay uppity.

[Sho Money EMG]

Hof nomination. Loved this @eng