Untitled

[143]

I fathered depth in the words sprayed from rustic lips
Lies purchased with malice balancing a sharp knife in melted butter
I could recess in the workings of thorns and spikes
But I fight a senseless battle to prove a useless point

Even at night you anoint fallen angels to not repair their wings
And follow ways that shave feathers of decision from extremities
Hording the pureness
Constructing a sweater to mask your intentions

My eyes purges the callousness that you branded your actions
Forsaken your maternal instincts for bionic distinction and cold morals
Soft touches are replace with electrodes and high whining diodes
Exploding in laughter
My search for your innocence, comical

But this world is all a stage that forgets that known criminals of the heart still have to ingest the digression they possess that passes as machismo, a gizmo that even Gitmo imprisoned individuals would find sinful in Allah's glory, redirecting the story you seek to unravel and bog down with whimsically brutal cinder box in a shallow sea leaving the head expose to forever watch the scene act 4 played from the hilt to the door and score a crescendo condescending to the makers of the aria of ire you sing in an A minor falsetto....

So I let go...

And stab at your blacken heart with assassin's precision intermittently given visions reversing your perverting decisions into the wellness of darkness carting the lethargic Arctic outlooks that shook a world of peace to the creases now degrease from your vile fleas of lies and destitution proving that once was a white lighter flying kites of expectation has a chance to reverberate soften glances of tranquility instead of dreaded soliloquy and vacations in fallacy.......

Watching you die from retrofitting coldness collapsing....

http://rapbattles.com/forum/showthre...=1#post8648147
http://rapbattles.com/forum/showthre...=1#post8648150

[ILLunatic]

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[Emily]

143 I'll get to this

[Emily]

“I fathered depth in the words sprayed from rustic lips
Lies purchased with malice balancing a sharp knife in melted butter
I could recess in the workings of thorns and spikes
But I fight a senseless battle to prove a useless point…”

She’s powerful. Her rustic lips and lies bought with malice,
fill her full mouth of melted butter to the brim.

“…I could recess in the workings of thorns and spikes…”

What does that say about you?
I find it an interesting sentence.
That’s a great introduction into your perception of her personality,
and of her devious nature.
I very much like the ‘sharp knife’ line. Great imagery.

“Even at night you anoint fallen angels to not repair their wings
And follow ways that shave feathers of decision from extremities
Hording the pureness
Constructing a sweater to mask your intentions…”

The glorified fakeness is superb.
Just my personal opinion of her.
This second stanza, to me, depicts a woman who looks for thrills/trouble, wrong fixes,
propelling slight movements/words, influencing the gullible,
sucking up every bit that is pure and right and wearing that dirty, deceitful rag,
camouflaging her inclinations.
I liked the expression in that stanza.
It felt real.

“My eyes purges the callousness that you branded your actions
Forsaken your maternal instincts for bionic distinction and cold morals
Soft touches are replace with electrodes and high whining diodes
Exploding in laughter
My search for your innocence, comical…”

You have a clear cut way of looking at her. You see her stance and place your
convictions clearly on paper. She’s killed, dissected.
Your distain for her overtly outgoing tendencies is on show. Good job.
You’ve stripped her with your blatant disgust, your few sharp words, for the sinner.

“But this world is all a stage that forgets that known criminals of the heart still have to ingest the digression they possess that passes as machismo, a gizmo that even Gitmo imprisoned individuals would find sinful in Allah's glory, redirecting the story you seek to unravel and bog down with whimsically brutal cinder box in a shallow sea leaving the head expose to forever watch the scene act 4 played from the hilt to the door and score a crescendo condescending to the makers of the aria of ire you sing in an A minor falsetto....”

I feel for her. She’s a criminal of the heart. She’s playing, trying to be cool, but danger looms, does she know it?
She might be aware you’re observing.
When she acts up, center of attention, loud show off, you see shallowness, you feel revulsion.
You repel and detest her nauseating play, her sickening song, while others hear music, you hear a screech.
The way she sings/is, and the ones that listen and applaud aren't more than pawns in her shifty ways.
But it’s not about them.
It’s about HER.

“So I let go...

And stab at your blacken heart with assassin's precision intermittently given visions reversing your perverting decisions into the wellness of darkness carting the lethargic Arctic outlooks that shook a world of peace to the creases now degrease from your vile fleas of lies and destitution proving that once was a white lighter flying kites of expectation has a chance to reverberate soften glances of tranquility instead of dreaded soliloquy and vacations in fallacy.......

Watching you die from retrofitting coldness collapsing....”

To me, you're able to see both sides of her.
You see the calmness in the stream, and want that captured for a lifetime,
to have and keep in its purest form, forever.
But she has a rebel touch. A conflicted heart. And she, to me, has been abused in the past lol…(profiling)…lol.
I know I’m going into this feed more than I should, but it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.
I like that I can see her.
You give me a clear image.
Some might say, chuck a comma here or there, wouldn't hurt you.
It would make it calmer to the eye, but you write it like you say it, and when I read it,
I've still got the flow. So I get over that. And over the odd typo, what not.
I’m more interested in what you've got to say.

I still keep coming back for more.

Good stuff 143.

Top notch.


(It would be interesting to read her side. I'd like to see the insecurities that make her the way she is. She may seem overly confident, but we might know better.)