5. Eye-Rime v. 13. Pent Up (VOTE NOW!)

[Quriosity]

VERSE DUE FRIDAY @ 11:59 PM EST
VOTES DUE SUNDAY @ 11:59 PM EST

RSTL Official Rules & Regulations

[Quriosity]

Notice deadline changes.

[Eye-Rime]

here.

1] 10. LDogg v. 15. Got Life?
2]
3]

[Quriosity]

Dear Sons of Man,






Since my umbilical peaked, he's been like a missile for peace
Spreading beliefs of how he's chosen for a mission as priest
With his biblical speech, and extraordinarily chiseled physique
But I never quite cared to listen, I just wished it would cease
Men kissing his feet, and most thinking that his pitch is unique
And the women all loving his body, licking lips as he speaks
The position he treats as if it's some petition or piece of
Epistle to keep him above us while he pivots his seat
Or his throne… or whatever he calls it, such a trivial feat
When at home lingers the stench of all the shit up his creek
So dismal and weak as a father, made me bleed if I bothered
To ever question his word, guess I was seen as the martyr
Wish we met before they split, because to read him is harder
Than anything else in the world, except believing his jargon
Feeding his garbage to a horde of believers, brutally cheering
Knowing that people would abide if they could usually fear it
Each choosing to hear it, hypnotized by his beautiful lyrics
But lately, my mind has grown a bit recluse and satiric
And this is the letter I write to all of you that inherit
The same painful feelings of being futile in spirit
.
.
.
I thoroughly thought it through before beginning the task
Feeling the heat of every breath against the thin of my mask
I grin as I bask in the glory of such a passionate story
As I pictured the aftermath of all the madness I'm storing
Growing up, my father only fed me snacks in the morning
Said he never had proper time to make a breakfast so pouring
Juice into a glass is all I had for performing, but fuck it
Cos now my heart felt no remorse for filling oil in buckets
With no actual warning, I watched the oil leaving a trace
On the meat of his face, slowly it trickles with the sweetest embrace
Unclothed from his feet to his waist, and I, bare to the bone
Reminiscent of all the times that I was scared and alone
Although he'd preach it to the world, the man was never at home
We never played a game of catch, or even shared his cologne
Never revealed the truths of sex, or helped review for a test
Though he always said I'd understand if I walked a few of his steps
But the truth, I confess... is that I always wept for attention
Cos while he was out helping others, I was kept at a distance
And Momma had left me there, without a check or a mention
So I took it upon myself and made a scheduled ascension
.
.
.
Black oil slowly dripped from his chin in parallel with his tears
Two dirty socks stuffed in his jaws to keep from yelling in fear
The smell was severe; I tightly pinched my nose to avoid it
While quickly contemplating if whether I should go to the toilet

With his back against the wall and his butt on the cold cement
Head tilted in Hell's direction while awaiting his slow descent
Dimly lit, while his skin emits the brightest hue of complexion
Face pale from the fright that looms inside the room with aggression
He would pay for the path he chose: a constant slew of neglection
As a result of undying love for God's intuitive lessons
While away in the toilet room, he tried to zoom his perception
Unaware that his lonely captor was consumed in depression
Which grew to obsession, his only son, now immune to discretion
And the steps he took, I vowed to take only a few in directions
As he had wished, to understand why he would choose a profession
Which left my soul obliterated... cold and blue from deception
So as he rose, only to find a goo that spewed from his sections
I slowly descended upon the room to view my delicatessen

He struggled to stand as I began to laugh in amusement
Face puzzled, shrouded in sadness and a massive confusion
As he fell repeatedly, I watched him turn at an angle
Feeling his pain as teary eyes began to learn of his ankles
He looked down to see his legs would now eternally dangle
Then began crying to God, so I felt it urgent to strangle
Peeling the mask off'a my face to wipe the tears from my cheek
Fingers gripping my father's neck, as I heard him whisper a peep
"I'm .. s-s-sorr .." - He softly said, though so sincerely and sweet
I still refused to loosen my grip, for I was nearing the peak
As his voice disappeared in the shrieks, a devilish grin as I treated
Awful pains from the home-made stitching that appeared on my feet
Then lit the match, brooding as flames and flesh coalesced
Watching his body decintigrate as heat enmeshed with his chest
Now here I lay, on the same floor, watching my feet as they ooze
Only to say, that I still don't get it after a week in his shoes







But at least I tried,
Which was more than I could say for my Father.
















Yours truly,




The End.

[Pent uP]

Super Power Chronicles:
Lets Do It Again



I'm in the cop car yard, bombing cars of unlawful guards
keying and carving hard for starving artists who got their cause
stopped and paused. Ones who lost their lungs to offi-SARS.
I rid awful scars, intervening when problems start;
since the scene when my toddler farts hit a mean ten
I didn’t seem blessed, but innocently had a little secret...

my overzealous ode to hellish jokes of felons
make Loki jealous; so your weapons won't protect shit
I open cellars, go for shelves of older/better
wine, smokes and leather. The whole endeavor rolls forever
and slows and shells up only after I stole the brackets
to the kitchen sink. When I got the missing link loaded fast, it's
no more practice; I dip and things start going backwards.
When facing crimes I bend space and time to mold the havoc

Never reaped or sowed a casket -- strictly survival and laughs
Freeze time in a snap, peep what the library has and I call it class.
by my own hands I've heightened the stance of iconoclasts;
as unlikely and masked as that isn't, I was the brat
who quietly snatched holy water at baptisms
and had rivers of pigs blood bagged with him
staggering drunk accident; letting the stash spill in
then happening to make the preacher finger the boys ass and lips
with half his skin damp and dipped before letting time act again
and clapped content at the reactions sent and how he handled it

That aint the baddest thing; honest to god; I hate hospitals hard
I'm switching names daily from the call cards on the small carts
if your loves set, get a blood test -- 'cause someone in charge
left me running this yard and I'm tryna see how much money I cost
Giving white babies to blacks and calling slave problems resolved
I'm even replacing Asian kids with lovable dogs

I've used a lot of words to hurt girls I knew as lover birds
after swooning mother earth into a halt to prove them of their worst
I'd view their cunning work; stripping dudes of undershirts
before they'd move to furniture in the nude while running flirts
I'd wait until they looked like whores seducing customers
lose my utter nerve, and jump back to do some fucked up dirt
like finding out where her dad wooed her mother first
and dropping her in the picture they look to summon mirth



I've read and practiced the deadly tactics to getting ass quick
I know when to act and pretend I’m passive, extend my passion
start bending backwards, and slam my foot to step as master
I manage to wet'em faster after some gentle laughter
No mentors have quizzed this self taught persons brain
a certain shame my genius isn't worth a grain
Even invented invisibility potions and served this lame
froze time and switched it with his cure for aids
kicking back like a goat through the highs and lows
so many hours dwindled while all of time was froze
that I would grow by my own mind control
when my twelfth birthday hit, I looked forty five years old...
Can't reverse the effects of a persons neglect on a dieing soul
save the shit, I’m aging quick no matter where i try to go

[Lucifa]

I've read both twice over to give this the fairest vote ..

Q - I think was well written as per usual .. I wasn't overly keen on the reasoning for the son killing his father as it didn't really seem a good motive .. I guess there's been a few murders based around 'neglect' in real life .. but this didn't really convey a severity of neglect .. just the fact that his dad was busy being a priest .. with which most kids would act out and rebel against the beliefs rather than straight up torture the guy .. but like I say .. this was well written and pretty well described visually .. emotion was hit n miss for me as I didn't see the anguish .. just resentment .. overall though I think it was a pretty good showing ..

Pent - fan of Heroes? .. this had some comedic value in some of the stunts your character pulls with his power .. what lacked for me here was a solid showing by way of mechanics .. it was a struggle to read this smoothly and although you described scenarios I wasn't really drawn in by any visuals .. some of the rhyming felt off in places too .. I did enjoy the idea you had but I don't think the interest level was kept at any consistent level whilst I read it ..

Vote = Eye-Rime .. I think Pent had the better concept which held the potential to take this in contrast to Q's underwhelming idea .. however .. Q delivered his story with very high standard mechanics and an overall feeling of consistency .. better rounded and although a touch unrealistic (although Pent's is "out there"), it did keep me interested in the read and left me feeling more impressed by the writing ..

[Got Life?]

Let the voting commence...

Pent - I have no idea wtf lucy is talking about with it being hard to follow your rhymes...this piece was written smooth as fucking hell...the constant flow of rhymes here is what made this piece really easy and enjoyable to read. I also like the images you presented and it almost felt like your character had a touch of divinity in him, not just some superhero type shit, but the end makes it feel as though it's almost god lashing out because he's getting less and less acknowledgement/respect...I unno I think that's a bit of a stretch, but I think the piece was refreshing though I would have liked more info on the character and not just what he was doing.

Q - Not sure why I didn't feel like reading this yesterday, but this actually flowed pretty much as smooth as Pent's piece, though a bit more "mechanical" I guess...I think the structure of the piece put slightly rigid confines on the craze and insanity of your character though I thoroughly enjoyed how you built it up and actually provided a reason behind the madness...it was a well balanced array of gore with a poetic touch...the emotions and imagery felt real and I think it connected very well.

This is hard to vote on because both pieces were really well written and offer their own value, but I have to go with what connected with me as a reader better and that was Q's piece.

vote = Eye-Rime.

[J o o k]

Originally Posted by Quriosity

Dear Sons of Man,



Since my umbilical peaked, he's been like a missile for peace
Spreading beliefs of how he's chosen for a mission as priest
With his biblical speech, and extraordinarily chiseled physique
But I never quite cared to listen, I just wished it would cease
Men kissing his feet, and most thinking that his pitch is unique
And the women all loving his body, licking lips as he speaks
The position he treats as if it's some petition or piece of
Epistle to keep him above us while he pivots his seat
Or his throne… or whatever he calls it, such a trivial feat
When at home lingers the stench of all the shit up his creek

Good opening stanza, the only thing I have to knit pick about is in the fourth to last line you should have ended it on piece, and started the next line with of, so the flow could stay consistant. That lines is the only line that doesn't fit in with the others.

So dismal and weak as a father, made me bleed if I bothered
To ever question his word, guess I was seen as the martyr
Wish we met before they split, because to read him is harder
Than anything else in the world, except believing his jargon
Feeding his garbage to a horde of believers, brutally cheering


Knowing that people would abide if they could usually fear it

Out of place. This line is not executed well at all. Knowing that people would abide if they could usually fear it?

Usually fear it? Knowing they would abide, if they could fear it. No. Not thought out.



Each choosing to hear it, hypnotized by his beautiful lyrics
But lately, my mind has grown a bit recluse and satiric
And this is the letter I write to all of you that inherit
The same painful feelings of being futile in spirit
.
.
.

Good stanza^. Way to lead into the substance. I am ready!

I thoroughly thought it through before beginning the task
Feeling the heat of every breath against the thin of my mask
I grin as I bask in the glory of such a passionate story

side note: I would have liked a comma after bask to smooth out the flow

As I pictured the aftermath of all the madness I'm storing
Growing up, my father only fed me snacks in the morning
Said he never had proper time to make a breakfast so pouring
Juice into a glass is all I had for performing, but fuck it
Cos now my heart felt no remorse for filling oil in buckets
With no actual warning, I watched the oil leaving a trace
On the meat of his face, slowly it trickles with the sweetest embrace
Unclothed from his feet to his waist, and I, bare to the bone
Reminiscent of all the times that I was scared and alone
Although he'd preach it to the world, the man was never at home
We never played a game of catch, or even shared his cologne
Never revealed the truths of sex, or helped review for a test
Though he always said I'd understand if I walked a few of his steps
But the truth, I confess... is that I always wept for attention
Cos while he was out helping others, I was kept at a distance
And Momma had left me there, without a check or a mention
So I took it upon myself and made a scheduled ascension
.
.
.
Black oil slowly dripped from his chin in parallel with his tears
Two dirty socks stuffed in his jaws to keep from yelling in fear
The smell was severe; I tightly pinched my nose to avoid it
While quickly contemplating if whether I should go to the toilet

^This line is also not executed well. Contemplating if whether is set up to compare two options. Don't get too wordy. Stick to the basics and you'll be fine. Let your natural thought lead you.

With his back against the wall and his butt on the cold cement
Head tilted in Hell's direction while awaiting his slow descent
Dimly lit, while his skin emits the brightest hue of complexion
Face pale from the fright that looms inside the room with aggression
He would pay for the path he chose: a constant slew of neglection
As a result of undying love for God's intuitive lessons
While away in the toilet room, he tried to zoom his perception
Unaware that his lonely captor was consumed in depression
Which grew to obsession, his only son, now immune to discretion
And the steps he took, I vowed to take only a few in directions
As he had wished, to understand why he would choose a profession
Which left my soul obliterated... cold and blue from deception
So as he rose, only to find a goo that spewed from his sections
I slowly descended upon the room to view my delicatessen

He struggled to stand as I began to laugh in amusement
Face puzzled, shrouded in sadness and a massive confusion
As he fell repeatedly, I watched him turn at an angle
Feeling his pain as teary eyes began to learn of his ankles
He looked down to see his legs would now eternally dangle
Then began crying to God, so I felt it urgent to strangle
Peeling the mask off'a my face to wipe the tears from my cheek
Fingers gripping my father's neck, as I heard him whisper a peep
"I'm .. s-s-sorr .." - He softly said, though so sincerely and sweet
I still refused to loosen my grip, for I was nearing the peak
As his voice disappeared in the shrieks, a devilish grin as I treated
Awful pains from the home-made stitching that appeared on my feet
Then lit the match, brooding as flames and flesh coalesced
Watching his body decintigrate as heat enmeshed with his chest
Now here I lay, on the same floor, watching my feet as they ooze
Only to say, that I still don't get it after a week in his shoes







But at least I tried,
Which was more than I could say for my Father.

Yours truly,




The End.

You see Q, this whole story was about a son killing his father who has neglected him due to his career obligations. You opened well, the character buildup was good. This is what I have trouble with, your ending.

Now here I lay, on the same floor, watching my feet as they ooze
Only to say, that I still don't get it after a week in his shoes

Now you're laying their on the same floor watching your feet as they ooze.. but you DONT get it after a week in his shoes.

Lol Q what the fuck is going on here. You still don't get why he neglected you after you serving a week in his shoes doing what he does you don't understand how that was a priority over you?

Or is the ending so fucking metaphorical (which would be ill), that you're actually saying your father is a killer and you just got done killing him because he does that to people whilst being a positive community figure?

Wow that would be dope. But I highly doubt that you're underlying message is my metaphorical venture.

So I would just like to say the ending should have been more exact per se.

Overall this was a pretty good piece. I haven't read a lot from you and don't think I am overly criticizing you, this is how I give good feed back to the writer.

My biggest conern with you is your wording. I understand you want to be classy, but when you get to wordy it actually takes away from the class.

[J o o k]

Originally Posted by Pent uP

Super Power Chronicles:
Lets Do It Again



I'm in the cop car yard, bombing cars of unlawful guards
keying and carving hard for starving artists who got their cause
stopped and paused. Ones who lost their lungs to offi-SARS.
I rid awful scars, intervening when problems start;
since the scene when my toddler farts hit a mean ten
I didn’t seem blessed, but innocently had a little secret...

my overzealous ode to hellish jokes of felons
make Loki jealous; so your weapons won't protect shit
I open cellars, go for shelves of older/better
wine, smokes and leather. The whole endeavor rolls forever
and slows and shells up only after I stole the brackets
to the kitchen sink. When I got the missing link loaded fast, it's
no more practice; I dip and things start going backwards.
When facing crimes I bend space and time to mold the havoc


Your rhyme scheme is weird, but I like it. I see how you end your sentences in mid line, never seen that before, it's almost paragraph-ic = ]. Pretty unique though.

Never reaped or sowed a casket -- strictly survival and laughs
Freeze time in a snap, peep what the library has and I call it class.
by my own hands I've heightened the stance of iconoclasts;
as unlikely and masked as that isn't, I was the brat
who quietly snatched holy water at baptisms
and had rivers of pigs blood bagged with him
staggering drunk accident; letting the stash spill in
then happening to make the preacher finger the boys ass and lips
with half his skin damp and dipped before letting time act again
and clapped content at the reactions sent and how he handled it


^All this takes me no where, It's a lot of filler. You can take most of it out of your story and your story would say the same shit. Come on Pent, everything in your piece should support something else.


That aint the baddest thing; honest to god; I hate hospitals hard
I'm switching names daily from the call cards on the small carts
if your loves set, get a blood test -- 'cause someone in charge
left me running this yard and I'm tryna see how much money I cost
Giving white babies to blacks and calling slave problems resolved
I'm even replacing Asian kids with lovable dogs

You're starting to bore me, you're not going anywhere Pent, same shit as last stanza.

I've used a lot of words to hurt girls I knew as lover birds
after swooning mother earth into a halt to prove them of their worst
I'd view their cunning work; stripping dudes of undershirts
before they'd move to furniture in the nude while running flirts
I'd wait until they looked like whores seducing customers
lose my utter nerve, and jump back to do some fucked up dirt
like finding out where her dad wooed her mother first
and dropping her in the picture they look to summon mirth



I've read and practiced the deadly tactics to getting ass quick
I know when to act and pretend I’m passive, extend my passion
start bending backwards, and slam my foot to step as master
I manage to wet'em faster after some gentle laughter
No mentors have quizzed this self taught persons brain
a certain shame my genius isn't worth a grain
Even invented invisibility potions and served this lame
froze time and switched it with his cure for aids
kicking back like a goat through the highs and lows
so many hours dwindled while all of time was froze
that I would grow by my own mind control
when my twelfth birthday hit, I looked forty five years old...
Can't reverse the effects of a persons neglect on a dieing soul
save the shit, I’m aging quick no matter where i try to go

I feel as if this was a waste of time to read. What wasd the point? There wasn't one. This was a 7th grade level written piece and it stood still for three stanzas. So with that said I don't know what else I can say about it. I've seen this kid write better than this. I don't know what's going on here.


VOTE - EYE

[Pent uP]

jook that was the gayest sway voting i've ever seen

get the fuck out

[vada]

eye-rime...

i really liked this not because your flow strongly resembles mine and you do obscene amounts of multi's like me, or that you kind of just think and write like me, no i liked it because it was interesting, read smoothly, flowed very good and at the end i was satisfied, the topic itself wasn't great, but with the picture you used after seeing it at the end i could just picture it and the imagery in the verse itself lightened up more once the end hit, yea it's hard having a father that you cant rely on, not saying i dont rely on mine i just felt the writers voice and got into the character, you allowed me to somewhat get to know him, good shit


pent up...

well this was wierd to me, the flow i loved it to people that couldn't catch the flow you have to read it fast, if you dont then you'll the flow, but i gotcha, this was good, not great, i did feel like there was too much going on at once, i never really got that feel for what this was actually trying to lead to even though i did, confusing right?...yea basically i'm just trying to grasp who the hell this is, or even if it's more than one person, or just you trying to personify all the shit society deems as lower class and burdened...anyway i liked the verse it read smooth, i just wanted more, and atleast and ending that wrapped things up...i feel like there should be the all so famous "TO BE CONTINUED" quote at the end...


overall...

i liked both of these, but i have to give my VOTE TO Q...this wasn't a blow out by any means i just felt more satisfied at the end of his verse compared to Pent...not saying anything bad about pent's verse just giving my critique, props to both though

[DaAlmightyDolla]

q-
as a nigga who didnt have a father i cant relate to ur verse lol. good drop none the less. u went back 2 the multis and ur flow was still top notch. 4 some reason this felt long as fuck.i was still intrigued enough 2 finish it. good imagery n character developement 4 the father. im starting 2 wonder if u really can write like this whenever u want cuz u seem 2 use that oh well fuck it take this excuse often. overall 8/10

pent

dunno really wat 2 say about ur verse. it was just everywhere like it didnt have a focal point to me. ur flow was cool but it made some of the bars feel stretched. it was like an ooziewith random shooting like on some ghostface verse. i guess thats y i liked it. ill give it a 7.5/10 cuz i felt it could have been executed better with a clearer storyline

v
q