Voted For: Mentalz

Well this was a good battle...

Sus, your verse was aiight, nothing really jumped out at me. But nothing against your topical skill i just felt bored by the way you wrote the topic.. basic to me. Decent attempt at wordplay which i dont advise in a topical but if dont right make it dope. Use more imagery next time.

Mentalz... First of all good vocab, read a dictionary before this battle huh ? You had good imagery as well. The piece was written well and the pictures were vivid. Good Piece


Suspicious: 6.5/10

Mentalz: 7.8/10


Vote: Mentalz

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RV's Only 3 Time Topical Tourney Champion

Voted For: Mentalz

Dust of Snow.

The Hours passed by, a fleet, confused crowd desired,
With wafture of blown garments, sharp as knife, bright as fire
Light, light of foot and laughing, morning-browed higher,
And where they'd trot the grass: green, the jonquil and the briar
Thrilled into jocund life, the dreaming dungeon dells,
Waked to a morrice chime of broken glass and jostled bells
They spake, and roused the mused soul that dwells,
In dust, or snow, smiling, shaped new heavens and hells
Dethroned old gods, and made blind beggars kings,
God is the plumed Thought that soars and sings
The Hours passed by, with veiled eyes were endowed,
To breathing dusk and arrowy moonlight vowed
Of dream, and parted lips that scarce suspire,
South wind and shadowy grove and murmuring lyre
Swaying they moved, as drowsed of wizard spells,
Were tranced with sight of recent miracles that retell
And yet they trembled, a breeze down their folded wings,
Quivered the hint of sweet scent, withholden things
The Hours passed by, through huddled cities loud,
With witless hate and stale with stinking mire gave sound
So cowled monks might march with bier and shroud,
Down streets plague-spotted toward the rich oils around
Very strange lilies bloomed in lightless cells,
And passionate spirits open, burst their clayey shells
And sang the stricken hope, that bleeds and clings,
Earth's bruised heart beat, in the throbbing strings
The Hours passed by, the stumbling hours and cowed,
Uncertain, prone to tears and childish sounds formed dark clouds
The feeble shapes that any chance perfoems expells,
Their wisdom useless, lacking the lust blood that swells
The tensed vein: the hot, swift tide that stings,
With life. Ah, wise! but naked to the arm slings
And youth, we dallied by the bubble, babbling wells,
Where April pured all her lyrics to secret tells
And son, we sped our bold intel imaginings,
As far as the red planet orbits with triple rings
Life! Love! I followed, and followed thee,
There waits one person to end my journey, and that is me.


vs

A Lonely Beginning
Withered And Old In The Midst Of Poverty, In A Defeated Stature
Passed Into Dust From His Cradle To Witness His Seed Was Fractured
Scratching Away His Life Through Lottery Tickets For A Change To Dream
Residue Still Lays In His Nails From The Fortune He Fails To Redeem
Everything Is Visioned As Trashed And Rusted Under His Teary Eyes
For After Every Dollar Spent, Came Silence And All You'd Hear's A Sigh
Had Nothing To Loose But A Fortune To Gain In A Lottery Ticket
Could He One Day Win Or Was This A Charade, A Heartless Gimmick

A Shot At A Dream
Strolling Down The Boulevard Surrounded By The Sound Of Anguish
Decided For A Final Shot At A Dream, Wishing He Could Finally Manage
To Reaquire His Goal So He Reached For A Stained Dollar Bill In His Pocket
Scratched The Numbers.......And His Hands Trembled To Suddenly Drop It
For In This One Paper, Lay His Dreams, His Entire Invisioned Life
Failed Myserably The First Time, But Had A Chance To Go At It Twice

Wasting Of A Shot
Recieved 5 Million Dollars To Remodel That Which He Held So Dearly
But In His Mind Layed Other Thoughts Dormant, For To Him It Was Mearly
A Chance To Get A Hit.......Like A Heavyweight Boxer During His Last Round
Not At Life, But At A Drug That Constricted His Vaines Like A Wild Hound
Wasting His 5 Mil At Crack Houses, Converting Millions Into Quarters
Not Analyzing The Situation......He Layed Getting Drugged On Street Corners

The Clashing End Of A Man
Giving It All Up For The Snow That Kidnapped And Dump Him In The Dust
For It Became To Late For Him To Realized That His Life Had Been Crushed
And The Clouds Teared For This Old Man, The God Noded At His Presence
And The Essence Of His Dreams Were Mearly That Period On A Sentence
Famished And Withered He Sleeps On The Concrete Of A Titan
For He's Only A Shadow Of A Pedestrian, The Echoing Thunder Of Lighting.


vote: mentalz...

it was a hella long read but nicely created by mental better lay out an all this was a nice battle ya preety even to me but mental just edge this out more creative i thought...

nice battle... RTF?

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NOT TO BE FUCKED WITH!!!!

poll check...decent battle you two................

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Time is not long, and indecision is hells cemment. So the well is rented, untill heaven is relevant. Untill then, to be eloquent, sex cells, so le'ts cellibate.

"watch what you watchin...fox keeps feedin' us toxin's..stop sleepin' start thinkin outside of the box and unplug from the matrix doctrine....but watch what you say cause big brother is watchin" - nas - sly fox

The I.H.C.J.S.F.M.T.R.H.P.M.M.W.T.S.M.S.I.T.F.F.W.A.S. O Crew