SS Hosted: TNL vs. TWC (tag match) [Draw]

[FreshADiddle]

The Next Level vs. The Written Catastrophic
Topical Category

Free Topic...24 lines minimum, 32 maximum.
Verses are due Monday, November 22nd @ 11:59 p.m. PST.

Writing for TNL: Clee and Fresh
Writing for TWC: Silk and Lex

[Clee]

so fresh and so clee

http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/showthread.php?t=440864
http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/show...869/index.html

[Silk Sky]

checks....gl

[Silk Sky]

Me and Mic's verse. I'm not going to tell you who did what part, but it was 50/50.

Traditional Irony

He paces in a wavy line, enraged beast confined
to our living room, where the passing of time dies
and though he's moving- emotion is a stand still
right between my heart and his "stubborn man" will
I can feel his calculating gaze- we don't match up
and in this palpitating haze, I can't catch up
no patience, my hand grips the wilted blue sofa arm
its blatant, the way he ignores the silent alarm
he set it off when he said he didn't trust anything-
he doesn't love me? surely- that must be what he means

we're playing tug of war with a hoard of vicious words
they blister and burn, we swore we would be heard
but meanings are blocked by emotions, shield and sword
we fight till we're broken, and we feel no more
I point at the door, I've never forced him to stay
and with one final mistake, I turn (our) forever away
.................................................. .............................

sometimes it just kills me, makes my mind a vexed blur
puppet on strings, I feel vacant when standing next to her
we're startin to learn but feelings cant spawn into words
my thoughts conjure and i act as if im not concerned,
she stares right through, does my emptiness always show?
can't compare the new and the used, she plays for control
my imagination starts to exploit, our thoughts are joined
while our arguments separate, both lacking points
Its like she doesn't recognize me, her eyes blaze
and her tight jeans excite me, but our minds rage


we're playing tug of war with a hoard of vicious words
they blister and burn, we swore we would be heard
but meanings are blocked by emotions, shield and sword
we fight till we're broken, and we feel no more
she points at the door, I've never begged to stay

and with one final mistake, she takes my breath away

[Clee]

http://i55.tinypic.com/2e0v60m.jpg


When I close my eyes at night, I hear deep rebel screams
and themes of abduction erupt in stressful scenes.
I have to wrestle my dreams from the snare of nightmares
caused by civil war... and I don't care to fight there
anymore. My soul's now safe in an exiled place;
a square mile where kids draped in tribal textiles chase
apparitions of their mothers and brothers, long gone;
holding on to false hope that they'll hear a swan song...
Or catch a glimpse of promise lurking in the bush,
yearning for their roots while I'm searching for a push
in a positive direction, trying to deposit the reflection
of a child redesigned as a pickpocket that questions
the destination of my faith and my struggles with hunger
that interrupt my mumbles and trouble my slumber.
Orphaned by war, with no number to dial home;
I've crumbled under the clutter of this tribal zone................

I’m not a holy xylophone but crafted wood which speaks
and breathes dreams in the tragic life of a boy who’s sixteen,
his shelter from the screams, teardrops over bloodshed
musical relief for a peaceful sleep in a mud bed.
I led him down his own path not to follow others
never wallow in the footsteps of men this sand smothered,
his hands colored the air to the tone of my beat,
which rang thru the streets and gave refuge in relief;
I’m not some higher being, out to be humbled
just saving the meaning of a boy’s life before it crumbles.

[oatmeal]

cool votes

[Cody Nash]

crew battles are dead.. try front lines ladies... closed.