Blast from the Past

[Jukon]

What is Blast from the Past?
Blast from the Past is the new brain child of OM and PC.
For as long as I've been a member on this site there's always
been a strict "No bumping old pieces" rule, well we're taking
that rule off the table. It doesn't come without restrictions, of course.
A lot of times, pieces just simply go unnoticed or you got feed
but were hoping for a little bit more. With this, you'll have a chance
to get a couple more posts of feed.

Rules and Regulations
1. You may only bump one old piece a month.
(this will be heavily monitored)
2. You cannot bump the same piece 2 months in a row.

Leave any thoughts/ suggestions in the thread if any of you
have any other ideas to help elevate this section of the site.

All freeposts will be deleted.


@TheIllyricist @Eyes @Revelation 18:3 @143 @slecht @mic s @spokenoh @'phX @Fatt Sajak @muh thugga @Easy.
@Soul_Purpose @OG Maestro @everyone else

[Emily]

http://rapbattles.com/showthread.php?477878-CONSISTENCY

For each stanza, syllable count goes 11, 10, 8, 4, 10, 8, 4 and rhyming structure goes A, B, C, D, B, E, D (2nd and 5th lines rhyme, 4th and 7th rhyme).


CONSISTENCY:

Furious, my father called me 'Son' one day,
And on child's shoulder laid cheated hand;
Frowned and grimaced, flummoxed, faltered-
Begrudgingly,
My father muttered me the Law of Man:
Word is bond, a man must prove his
Consistency.

A chef, stewing over morning's argument,
Carefully brings pot up to the boil.
She stirs, and watches as the sauce
Thickens quickly.
Simple things compound, let fire toil;
With life and food, maintain the right
Consistency.

A scientist stays the course of his study,
Eyes fixed steady on his destination;
He knows changing heart will challenge
Validity.
His data is ruled by regulation,
For there is no meaning without
Consistency.

Every tick of the clock an expiration;
The final breath of a newborn moment.
Each sunset, another day dies.
And finally,
Time dissolves all things, the Great Erodent:
Nothing lasts, there's no such thing as
Consistency.

[Emily]

Dropped, C/o idealizt.



Scarlet Letter or a Badge of Honor?



Embarrassed evil
loathes laughingstock legacy;
harbors horror's hopes.

Borderline personality
where boredom lies
in a borderlying city.
Boarded shrines
formerly immortalized
dethroned of ordered sitting.

Through clinched teeth,
misguided miscreants
expect minced meat
from a master of disguise
selling lies in the street
indiscriminately.

Promiscuous pretenders
pledge patently
plagued promises.

Hellions hone their addicts
to establish habitats
of dishonorable mathematics
destined for disaster -
akin to the blind
driving plastered.

Ravenous writers
rapidly roam
reconstructing rare
ruptured raptures,
savagely sulked
in the stutter of the chatter.

A muster of the matter
prevent words read
from another chapter.

Extremities shackle bound -
entropy entrapped
in the vastest town
disrupts the act of sound
as the eye of Horus
finally has its glasses found.

"SO. WHAT. ARE. WE. AFTER?"
A loaded son of a . . .
jumped the gun with his way,
loving the hate, and fucking the faith
produced by a sundry old Sage
in the news with his Sunday stoned gaze.

Swashbuckler brandished
his eternal legacy
with eloquent stride.



http://rapbattles.com/showthread.php...Badge-of-Honor

[spokenoh]

it's with dearest regrets that I inform you
your childhood hero becomes the victim
of their greatest strength, their virtue,
and it gets worse;
it happened before they killed the villain
now living like the king people
made him into.
Do not pray for justice, for God no longer
grants wishes the minute one starts to doubt,
He becomes what we know so well,
the personal hell
countless nights you had prayed to him about.
There are poles so close, their difference
you would not tell.
Everything abandons seeds once spawned,
yet flowers continue to bloom each spring,
trees growing toward suns that kill
things given life.
I regret to inform you beginnings
always end, day breaks like young hearts
morning turned night.

[Majic]

Godless Life Faithful Death

http://www.rapbattles.com/showthread...t=godless+life



Am I complete?
How could I ever compete? I mean honestly
Envision steep, unforgiving peaks in this odyssey.
The honest me? Id hang it up. Forget being a prodigy.
Eyes fixated, I’m dictated by these thoughts beside of me.
Inside of me? I don’t know, I just can’t muster the inner chi
No energy, my puppet strings are spider webs of insecurity.
I’m sure it’d be a revelation, kind of like trial and errors.
Forced participation, this truth is worth a mile of dares.
“Don’t be scared” How could I not be? Im sloppy with fear
Dropped from a pier with cinder blocks, waiting for god to appear
10ft down I’m just a kid, learning lessons of sin.
20ft im 20 years searching for presence of him.
30ft Im screaming bubbles, and gasping for breath.
I hit the bottom aged with certainty of my impending death.
That’s it
Death is certain, it is the unwritten rule.
We live as we deem fit, but Life is thread to a spool.
Just a means to an end, counteracted with living.
My time I’ve yet to spend, but to whom am I giving.
Death is only a noun, and Deceased an adjective.
Moving on is in faith, to atheists it’s the end.

To me it’s now clear..
clouded judgment on these perspectives
has left me full of clarity, but only after deception.
Only after perceptual endeavors with faith
Can I push through my life without too much on my plate.
Wickedness will prevail, to what length is a choice.
Or a subconscious measure of inner evil with voice.
I open my mouth to admit, my body takes on some water.
My lungs won’t give the air, to tell god I’m his martyr.
I can’t warn my daughters, no spreading the word.
I think it might be his point, Faith will not be referred.
Envision steep unforgiving peaks, hold on to them dearly.
Am I complete? Not until I accept him…
I hope that he hears me..

[Spoken Deity]

http://rapbattles.com/showthread.php...ols&highlight=

I still can't believe this was passed for HOF for the month. ugh. Anywho...

Break Symbols

I make Ensos with my tongue,
the back of photographs are the canvas.
It’s not that the memories aren’t real,
but rather, that I can make them void-
crushing them within this artistic circle.
Salivary ink-hands take handfuls of essence
and its merely
Empty space by the time I’m done interpreting-
Simply swaying hips of mother tide as she
pushes my head down deeper between her legs.
Eyes frozen open, making sure what I threw away
disappears forever.
I’ll stair at the black until I’m sure
she’s swallowed it whole, imploding on herself.