01-31-2013, 07:45 PM | #1 |
Senior Citizen
Join Date: Aug 1997
Posts: 3,871
Battle Record: 4-3
Rep Power: 0 |
Round 1: 2. Cimmerian vs 19. Psychlone
Psychlone:
Topic: A Storm Tracker Redefining the way we’ll later classify hurricanes Passerbys heard the rain splash inside of a Burger King I was first to bring equipment and some heavy machinery To capture the events that would sever the scenery Bad weather always seemed to cause disturbance and panic This version’s manic confirming the laws of thermodynamics I managed to find a vantage for the storm of the century Advantage debris, defenseless, I’m sworn to adventure’s creed, Mother Nature’s vengeance descended, a tremendous steed To smother this chaser with a kiss meant to upend a tree Will entropy eventually retreat like the men who flee? Essentially, unless I sense reprieve it’s the end of me This isn’t just a run of the mill category spied Funnels kill, this front will spill fast, to pass the storied 5’s Doppler saw it coming, with supercells and hailstones Choppers crawl it’s stunning, as crews are felled when gales blown It subsided for a bit but then the storm made a rally, Roarin through the valley like the source was out of Tornado Alley I captured it on camera, F Stop for the press guide I glanced to the west, the crest was topped by an F5 Behind it dust devils crushin pebbles and sediment The suction’s off the charts, brand new levels and measurements The wrath of its path left people trapped in a salt mine And the worst was soon to come, it collapsed on a fault line Devastation’s enormous, epidemic of flash floods Can the nation even afford to send us medics and stashed drugs? In ways it was soothing, I was viewing the sky black While twisting at the end inside a movie from Imax Cimmerian: Being a ghost hunter: Simply, the sense is sixth, As this pen is gripped- These letters twist like Ouija board sentences- In the hint of flesh that a mirror reflects Or the whisper of breath raising hair off the neck Touches cold and callous, The lack of warmth- When grandpa’s chair rocked back and forth Back and forth as generations pass the torch Bodies in the earth were crafts of sorts Back and forth, reformed by the centuries The potter’s wheel squeals the unchained melody Brother, who’s righteous? Poltergeist nights just- Spell for the Hell of She that her soul is never free Out on recon from the grave and be-yond I cross over with John Edwards, cross streams with Egon Hunting for my sister in the dead of night Carol Anne dear, Cimmerian’s here, Go to the light. And I’m ghost. |
|
|