The possesed holy child

[UnbornBuddha]

—Tis the story of the little possessed monk.

There was once a little monk who daily recited scripture song.
The child was the perfect symbol of simple love with no animal lusts.
He always chanted with a nimble hum, and a humble heart.
Yet, even though he appeared so soft
He began to hear chattering whispers that schizo’s got.
Sucked into despair and disparage he tried to live in peace along
This religious audience that made his head beep and throb.
He began to weep his light trying to seek and pluck these demon foxes.
His essence began to leak out like a dripping faucet.
Exhaustion made him start to believe what the faux said.
Things like “become a faun for your displeased as Faust is”.
The poster child of flawless manners began to be tarnished.
It seemed the ether sprung this evil crumbs from thin air,
And he ate them like an inward starved sinner
Who felt so guilty he started to have cramps & seizures
Due to becoming something other than a divine receiver
Whose signal is ever so contorted from his own hypno.
Where he saw factories of the blood entailed by Sinclair
As well as visions of the day cataclysm comes
Where the only survivors are flocks of cannibalistic chumps
Who enforce their rule with mechanistic guns.
Alas, the days where his steps were like nimbus clouds
Are long gone, now his aura has an intense drought.
Infinite sound once came out this near infant’s pout.
But now pestilent miasma covers his innocent mouth.
This same “night air” that contains a poisonous insect’s house
is the very same one where herpes simplex sprouts.
Where Black Death and cholera colors terra with more gloom than the cold era.
Swollen sclera’s become scarred due to the polar reversal
That happened when the boy lost his better half to omen terrestrials.
Luckily a merciful healer knows a serum
which is collected from the syrup of golden perennials.
All he had to do was caress the earth collect the herb-
And make the boy smell its aroma and surrender.
The little boy who had convulsed into a coma turned celestial.
Once dispersed of the anger angelical pedals & pedestals arose
leading to the reception for those who’ve conquered their exceptional foes
Non beneficial ghosts, and other ancestral monsters
Who leave a trail of chemical sulfur.
And because they inevitably suffer
They try to do the same to the receptacles of the essential mana
Inflicting them with existential woe
That as we’ve seen was the sensory nerve musculoskeletal curse.
Those who don’t think in self & other differential terms,
live in non duality and don’t have consequential thirst.
A hunger that yearns to fulfill non essential girth.
The boy was able again to ponder the elemental splendors of reverential wonders,
Able again to listen and transmit the other dimensional concerts.
Peril avoided, once again the world rejoicing.
But what of the boy’s visions of all the destroying,
the world’s eroding into all sorts of corrosion?
Well that’s something his working to foil,
using the lesson gathered from the quarreling voices.
So he toils away,
but now never forgetting to drain his boils engrained…
His still giving, but also now nourishes his own soil innate,
and not just when his soul in pain with local complaints.
He truly now sees that his corpse, his abode is part of the royal domain.
He’s also cautious of the otherworldly forces that come to spoil the course he was chosen.
Yet his not afraid, because the inner lord’s emerald orb has awoken,
And with it he can take on hordes of opposing opponents,
And be ridiculed by them and not be insulted.
Who knew the life of a little monk was so potent.

[Vulgar]

This was very messy with instances of intriguing content. You write like Zygote at 40% and I hope you don't take that harshly. I wonder what site you come from where many likeminded writers all are connected in some way - it's interesting. Is it a Canibus rap forum? I think you can write hall of fame material pieces, as in exceptionally written stories, but you need a lot of work still. From memory, your freestyle video you showed me was indicative that you are Hispanic, which explains a lot of your rhythmic inaccuracies. One of the biggest turn offs about a verse is when a writer is constantly disheveled and can't seem to decide on a concrete, consistent scheme, at least syllabically. One moment you are organized, the next you abandon your post and you're overrun by "soldiers of writer's neglect" as I will dub it.

Your writing hasn't found its natural angle yet. You stumble over vocabulary words, but you also excel at some aspects as well. It's a mixture of failure and success - only one prevails in the long run if glaring mistakes are present. You don't strike me as a perfectionist, but a go with the wind type, like you'll write 20 long pieces, and maybe 5 of them will be something really special, or worth furthering your efforts on. Would any of those be classics at this point in your writing metamorphosis? Doubtful at this CURRENT point, however, it doesn't mean anything if you set your mind to approaching a work with patience and adventurousness.

I'm going to comment on the entire verse and edit it a little as well. I hope it helps you to see what areas you may be lacking in. I'm in no way being condescending with this breakdown, just speaking from what I think can be improved upon. Discard as you feel necessary.

There was once a little monk who daily recited scripture song.
First misstep; you should definitely consider naming the monk. Give him a character identifier, a memorable fragment: a name. 'Daily recited scripture song' works grammatically and I don't hate it, but I don't exactly like how it comes off the tongue.
The child was the perfect symbol of simple love with no animal lusts.
^I think you should've actually started with this line vs the previous
He always chanted with a nimble hum, and a humble heart.
^Weak
Yet, even though he appeared so soft
He began to hear chattering whispers that schizo’s got.
^Soft and got barely rhyme.. I would've went with "schitzophrenics got"
Sucked into despair and disparage he tried to live in peace along
This religious audience that made his head beep and throb.
? Very sloppy
He began to weep his light trying to seek and pluck these demon foxes.
His essence began to leak out like a dripping faucet.
Best section so far since it gets imaginative here. I don't know what "weep his light" means, other than pouring out his essence from depression?
Exhaustion made him start to believe what the faux said.
Things like “become a faun for your displeased as Faust is”.
Can you fill me in on Faust? I haven't read anything by him
The poster child of flawless manners began to be tarnished.
maybe consider adding another line that rhymes with this, it feels out of place IMO
It seemed the ether sprung this evil crumbs from thin air,
And he ate them like an inward starved sinner
Sloppy
Who felt so guilty he started to have cramps & seizures
Due to becoming something other than a divine receiver
Whose signal is ever so contorted from his own hypno.
Where he saw factories of the blood entailed by Sinclair
As well as visions of the day cataclysm comes
Where the only survivors are flocks of cannibalistic chumps
Who enforce their rule with mechanistic guns.
If you look at the beginning of each of these lines, the first words are 'who, where, where, who' - there are other ways to start out a line that might benefit the piece
Alas, the days where his steps were like nimbus clouds
Are long gone, now his aura has an intense drought
suggestion: the most intense of droughts
Infinite sound once came out this near infant’s pout.
But now pestilent miasma covers his innocent mouth.
This same “night air” that contains a poisonous insect’s house
is the very same one where herpes simplex sprouts.
Where Black Death and cholera colors terra with more gloom than the cold era.
Nice section, I liked it, and the references
Swollen sclera’s become scarred due to the polar reversal
That happened when the boy lost his better half to omen terrestrials.
'Omen terrestrials' sounds like nonsense.. are they purveyors of omens?
Luckily a merciful healer knows a serum
which is collected from the syrup of golden perennials.
All he had to do was caress the earth collect the herb-
And make the boy smell its aroma and surrender.
The rhyming is below average here, I think you're capable of better. Just slow down.
The little boy who had convulsed into a coma turned celestial.
Once dispersed of the anger angelical pedals & pedestals arose
Not sure how pedestals can rise, when they are already elevated above all else, right?
leading to the reception for those who’ve conquered their exceptional foes
This is cool
Non beneficial ghosts, and other ancestral monsters
Non beneficial ghosts drew a blank for me
Who leave a trail of chemical sulfur.
And because they inevitably suffer
They try to do the same to the receptacles of the essential mana
Inflicting them with existential woe
That as we’ve seen was the sensory nerve musculoskeletal curse.
Definitely think you should start working on how you start every line. It's a glaring flaw in your style that can be improved on. The key is to make it smooth, almost like you're reading or writing a short story.
Those who don’t think in self & other differential terms,
live in non duality and don’t have consequential thirst.
Vague
A hunger that yearns to fulfill non essential girth.
Vague
The boy was able again to ponder the elemental splendors of reverential wonders,
Able again to listen and transmit the other dimensional concerts.
Cool bar
Peril avoided, once again the world rejoicing.
But what of the boy’s visions of all the destroying,
the world’s eroding into all sorts of corrosion?
Rhyme scheme is chaos
Well that’s something his working to foil,
using the lesson gathered from the quarreling voices.
So he toils away,
but now never forgetting to drain his boils engrained…
"Quarreling voices" is a great idea but it's drowned by the worst section of the piece so far
His still giving, but also now nourishes his own soil innate,
and not just when his soul in pain with local complaints.
Terrible
He truly now sees that his corpse, his abode is part of the royal domain.
Better
He’s also cautious of the otherworldly forces that come to spoil the course he was chosen.
Trying to continue words that rhyme with 'oil' comes off as unnecessary. It's also one of the rhymes I try to avoid most because you can only rhyme so many words, and everyone has done it before.
Yet his not afraid, because the inner lord’s emerald orb has awoken,
And with it he can take on hordes of opposing opponents,
And be ridiculed by them and not be insulted.
Who knew the life of a little monk was so potent.
Ineffective closer

These are my thoughts for now, let me know what your reaction is. Do you see what I see, or should I go into more detail about the specific areas you can furnish? The potential is there but the sense of placement, timing and tuning are not.

Keep doing you

[UnbornBuddha]

Hello my friend,
My reaction?
Well, I do not take any of what you have said as harsh, but rather with hefty consideration. For what you have provided is indeed good feedback, so it is indeed necessary for me to give it a listen to. Hopefully, rectifying with practice the weaknesses.
I also see the shortcomings in what I choose to start my lines with. I do write spontaneously, almost as in free writing, and then come back and edit. Your assessment of the more of the wind type is correct. What thing I do disagree with is keeping a consistent concrete rhyme scheme at all times, that is a perfectionist attribute that I'm not too ardent to apply. I do have some perfectionist in me, but I'm not obsessive either. But I wholeheartedly agree that my rhyme schemes can definitely be improved on. Any advice would be highly appreciated to address the proposed chaos.
As for the stumbling of vocabulary I do not know if I understand what you are trying to convey. Any clarification would be most insightful. Most of the times when I write I use words/ terminology that are in my vocabulary already.
And from whence I came from is not from another forum. Especially not one that consists of like minded Canibus followers/ fanbase. To tell you the truth I do not listen much to him. I usually wrote with any other enthusiastic fellows that were willing to share and partake that space with me.
Fauhst as in Goethe's. And yes weep his light means the pouring/ leaking out of his essence, what made the boy him.
Thank you very much for giving me many fine points in which I can begin to work on.

[Pharaohs Army]

Originally Posted by Vulgar

Yet, even though he appeared so soft
He began to hear chattering whispers that schizo’s got.
^Soft and got barely rhyme.. I would've went with "schitzophrenics got"

soft and got barely rhyme, but i have no problem with "Appeared so Soft / Schi-zo's Got." Kinda like it.

Buddha, in my opinion you should capitalize your multis so as to make it an "easier read"...not necessarily all of them...but perhaps the ones that need to be drawn out or sped up in order to make the rhythm work better.
for example:
Things like “become a faun for your displeased as Faust is”.
The poster child of Flawless Manners began to be Tarnished.

i myself also need work on syllabic tempo...it's informative to see things broken down like this, by Vulgar or whoever else.
@UnbornBuddha @Vulgar

[Certain]

@Vulgar, why can't I get that kind of feedback?

[Vulgar]

^because you post in people's threads like this.

[Split]

willl feed