Resignation

[oats]

go out and live today and tell me how it felt
I'll be bullshitting with Icarus until I'm allowed to melt
he lets me fly when it's night time, and that's a hand a coward's dealt
but if it's Now or knelt I'll always choose the moon from its clouded veldt
waxing crescent wax poetic, masters degree but I can't master effort
pillory salt propensity - please pass the pepper
leagues back my granddad shook hands with lepers
now all I got are trite words like "nothing lasts forever"
relapsed pretender of finding honor in searching
through the wrinkles between freedom's lies and honest internment
wandering merchant, wasting time still pondering purpose
while I wait in the checkout line to buy some laundry detergent
go on to the surface, don't look down. nothing really matters if
dissecting X factors just establishes more asterisks
go ahead and laugh at this, pack a bowl and have a rip
the pastor's boy's a masochist, pass the plate and crack the whip
nothing ever happens. it's, all lost in the aggregate

the eucharist is useless if the flesh is whet from bruises sipped
taste the irony of blood - close your eyes, get used to it
feel the spirit when the music hits, the exploration's lost at sea
while every hope and dream you have is whittled down to "possibly"
theodicy idiocracy, an apoplectic apology
the end is near, own it - live life on the edge of an apostrophe
if I'm being modest - these days I feel like a dead man -
prying verses open till my eyes are hurtin, hoping that I'll feel like dead man
...till I re-read what I wrote and realize I'm just suspended in quicksand
more alive than dead but still somewhere in stasis
mind is always elsewhere but I can't manage to place it
to say it's a spaceship is bullshit, this isn't space it's a pulpit
and I've been finding I have less and less to say in adulthood
so I pretend that it's all good - Monday will be better this time
cuz knowing nothing is dope when I can dress it in my cleverest rhymes

[sral]

dope shit bruh

[Pinot Grij]

That pulpit/adulthood rhyme is dope. There was a lot of great rhymes in here - that whole asterisks-aggregate portion read really smoothly. As a piece, I'm more intrigued by the "adulthood" angst angle, than the soul-searching writer stuff

[Exis]

That waxing crescent rap poetic line is tight...whole joint is nice but yeah, that shit was fire.

Good stuff,

Stay uppity.

[PancakeBrah]

leagues back my granddad shook hands with lepers
now all I got are trite words like "nothing lasts forever"
relapsed pretender of finding honor in searching
through the wrinkles between freedom's lies and honest internment
wandering merchant, wasting time still pondering purpose
while I wait in the checkout line to buy some laundry detergent

while every hope and dream you have is whittled down to "possibly"

Highlights, to me.

VERY SELF CRITICAL. The verse was critical of itself, even. A realist look, maybe even dour. I liked that you didn't just take the opening line from dead man's open mic but also alluded to it with the 'wax crescent wax poetic' phrase and the outright double mention in the second verse. The first verse was stronger than the second. I think the first verse felt more natural, and the rhyming a bit stronger, but both were good. Strong technical open micering, with good content. Thanks for the read!

[NYCSPITZ]

this shit was hot

nyc>oats imo

[big baby]

This is moderately depressing.

I like that when you finally said something, it was said just loosely. You didnt' give a permanent reading of each couplet. Just an off handed representation of what you possibly wanted it to mean.

theodicy idiocracy, an apoplectic apology
the end is near, own it - live life on the edge of an apostrophe

perfect example. Though I''m sure you can break it down and come up with some reliable substance. All in all, this was almost a personal condescension based on the absence of the writers initial point in life.

thanks for the read

[Otto Peighlaught]

Man, this was such a fresh read for me. The wording in the first paragraph was amazing. Internal rhymes that a lot of people will probably not notice were natural as hell. The master the effort line was amazing, pretty much the whole section from there to the end of that paragraph was witty and full of wordplay, the closer was something I relate to heavily as well. Didn't like how the second paragraph was a lot of breaking the fourth wall in terms of writers voice, but it was still enjoyable. Excellent read. Thank you.

[Split Eight]

go out and live today and tell me how it felt
I'll be bullshitting with Icarus until I'm allowed to melt
he lets me fly when it's night time, and that's a hand a coward's dealt

Nice opening. Dead man did have a good line there. Not sure how I like the Icarus reference

waxing crescent wax poetic, masters degree but I can't master effort
I liked this master's flip. i can definitely relate. It never gets easy to find motivation, even when it feels like youve put in your dues and it should be practically on tap


more alive than dead but still somewhere in stasis
mind is always elsewhere but I can't manage to place it
to say it's a spaceship is bullshit, this isn't space it's a pulpit
and I've been finding I have less and less to say in adulthood
so I pretend that it's all good - Monday will be better this time

this was my favorite section-- especially the second to last line


good stuff man. Nice to see an oats piece in here

[Certain]

go out and live today and tell me how it felt
I'll be bullshitting with Icarus until I'm allowed to melt
he lets me fly when it's night time, and that's a hand a coward's dealt
but if it's Now or knelt I'll always choose the moon from its clouded veldt

The rhyming here felt forced. The opening line was very good, and the “bullshitting with Icarus” turn of phrase was slick. But none of the rhymes felt earned or metaphorically sound and complete.

waxing crescent wax poetic, masters degree but I can't master effort
pillory salt propensity - please pass the pepper
leagues back my granddad shook hands with lepers
now all I got are trite words like "nothing lasts forever”
relapsed pretender of finding honor in searching

Much better four-bar scheme here. I’ve noticed that not living up to our grandfathers is the plague of millennials, since most of our parents were relatively unimpressive by comparison. The words (and rhymes) are crisp and smooth, but the sentiments sting with relatable feeling.

through the wrinkles between freedom's lies and honest internment

Very cool words. Not much meaning.

wandering merchant, wasting time still pondering purpose
while I wait in the checkout line to buy some laundry detergent
go on to the surface, don't look down. nothing really matters if
dissecting X factors just establishes more asterisks

The closing line here was fantastic. The image set with the laundry detergent was, too. This was the best four-line run of the piece.

go ahead and laugh at this, pack a bowl and have a rip
the pastor's boy's a masochist, pass the plate and crack the whip
nothing ever happens. it's, all lost in the aggregate

Good rhyming, thin substance. But it closed out the first stanza well.

the eucharist is useless if the flesh is whet from bruises sipped

Nah.

taste the irony of blood - close your eyes, get used to it
feel the spirit when the music hits, the exploration's lost at sea
while every hope and dream you have is whittled down to "possibly"
theodicy idiocracy, an apoplectic apology

This was OK. Pulling back on rhyming in order to strengthen your syntax would have helped.

the end is near, own it - live life on the edge of an apostrophe

The best line of the piece. This is so damn clever.

if I'm being modest - these days I feel like a dead man -
prying verses open till my eyes are hurtin, hoping that I'll feel like @dead man
...till I re-read what I wrote and realize I'm just suspended in quicksand
more alive than dead but still somewhere in stasis
mind is always elsewhere but I can't manage to place it

This section felt like you let yourself get off topic into some writing-about-writing, then acknowledged the lack of focus because that’s the way stream of consciousness works.

to say it's a spaceship is bullshit, this isn't space it's a pulpit
and I've been finding I have less and less to say in adulthood
so I pretend that it's all good - Monday will be better this time

Great little run here.

cuz knowing nothing is dope when I can dress it in my cleverest rhymes

This piece warranted something better than “cleverest” as the penultimate word.

Well, quaker oats, there were a lot of flashes here, but it felt very scattershot and half-considered. That, of course, was part of the point, but that doesn’t mean I am going to let you off the hook for it. Your rhyming is always great, but some moments felt forced and others felt slightly stretched.

[UnbornBuddha]

There were flashes of brilliance here, i.g."wandering merchant, wasting time still pondering purpose while I wait in the checkout line to buy some laundry detergent... theodicy idiocracy, an apoplectic apology".
But there was also a sense of apathy. Not in the emotion conveyed or the message. But from the state of will you crafted from. It was very fluid, but at times it grew stale. Mostly because this sense of unscrupulous detailing filtered throughout the piece. Thus while nothing is badly worded because of your high literacy, there is still a lack of artistic drive. Which culminates and is reflected in the undeveloped concepts and ideas. I expect something very precise from you, mostly because your a good writer.
So its not a bad expectation and this was nice, don't get me wrong. But the impressions didn't really linger in me. There was an air of languor and there was a cool breeze as well, your very smooth with your words. Just didn't really lead me into the mental or artistic cliffside.