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Best Of Week 1:

Prolyfic:

this is what i see...

times changin, my minds attainin a higher plain to,
explain tha natures wisdom, thru incrypted rhythms/
conversations w/ madness, contemplatin tha vantage,
tick...ya lifes thinin, tick...ya lifes lived.../
blind men follow famine, marchin to the apocalypse,
hope atop tha cliffs, do we not possess legs?/
I rose, like lazarus, science told imposible,
words as my aposles, follow tha flow....

times changin, warpin, tickin speakin its diction,
in rhythm, never slippin, never waitin for nothin/
all passes, tha math adds to a bad axis,
world spins faster, slaves become masters/
science offeneds pastors, chilvilry is a bastard,
his son, hated his father, fought ta cover his ways/
ocean tides rise, waves come to wash tha sadness,
displeased, we forsake the own air that we breathe/
spreadin poisons, creatin big black murky seas,
which leads me to believe, r we worth of peace?/
worthy, of tha skies above, shootin drugs,
jus to bare our own lives, nerve we call oursleves "high"/
testin, our new weapons at tha peoples expense,
till we, cease to exist, whats tha meanin 4 this?/
wise men left glyphs and we self-destructed,
other forms see tha scorn in our bones an study it...

deacon:

It's a time to stop all growth--The sand a shallow hole we ly. Waiting time clicks without a subordinate flashful sign--We look apon the cliffs to find a hope of further futures but lack the leaves of spring that shelters the character of all our features. We melt with sun aside a dying sea--so helplessly--so narrow to the truth inside the lack of better comformity--that seed imbedded in our souls less light no hope for growth--next to a sandy shadow sea our lives stand still-less hope. On the desktops we pivit our lives away to better the future in a capital way--we flush out the blood that drove us this far to filter our lives like empirical stars. Our travel was fluent to the end--

Discovered now lost whats thick was thin

The Necromancer:

Time is delt and it melts with the pelt of skin of the flesh of the rest of the world lost in a gust of wind so it must dissolve and to solve the mystery and history of time to the chime of the clock to stop and hawk to top of the authority which is boring me and command of the land lays waste to the taste of chronology and pathology to lie and deny the progression thats testing humanity and their vanity to move forward and toward another advancement from tantric to practical turn an attack to null and make peace so at least we'll be secure and demure in the fact that at last time must stop so as to hop from chaos of melting and molten folding to pacifism so we're living in peace and harmony and technology brings harm to me so we must rid ourselves of the food off our shelves as we take away all buildings thats filling our world and leave us with dust and water and we become our own fodder to feed our hunger of a universe to be made worse by having nothing at all and to fall to nature and her will so she will recreate from the smallest like an ant to the tallest like a mountain or at least a cliff to miff your thought that you were on top but your not and you got to move back as time moves forward.

Honorable Mention : .:Stem:.