hightide in the moon's eyes

there was a man
who spoke soft like velvet exhales
and sold ivory by the glance;
he wore his heart on a sleeve
that he left rolled up,
to keep the wolves at peace.

he was a spiritual man
who held seances in his bones
so as to never forget
about the man he used to be,
before the years turned old
and fell from the calender like pine coffins
into their soiled homes.

he spent a lifetime collecting darkness
from the split seconds of blinking eyes
- he justified his actions as
borrowing the pennies
no one thought to ever find

- he was a wealthy man;
miserable like every one before him.

in the winter
he exhales onto sheets of glass
in the sky and begins
trying to tally his way to infinity before he falls asleep.
he never makes it.

there is always an ending
- always a point at which
we give up
all hope of forever
and give in to one second before the minute,
our days are only months inside a year
counting down to frailty
of all lives within it.

he fears death.
but is deathly afraid of living
up
to the gravity of the situation
and it's sum.

so he keeps collecting darkness

- stealing moments
of blackness from batting lashes
and timid sleepers: pennies
to build a door to infinity
right there
in the sky.

he keeps the pennies
in a box beside his bed
- so that when he falls short of tallying eternity
he wakes up to remember
every day is one day less

until there is only
more.

he sews square seconds of nighttime
into each other
until he has enough to hang above his bed.
he stares so deep
that he sees right through himself.
there is everything
and nothing at all at once
and all the time

a piece of forever
built on borrowed time.

he's becomes obsessed.

every second spent
is one waisted on a relative ending
to a frame of time
he wishes to leave behind-

but the night's run dry.

there are no more pennies
and he's gone bankrupt on time
- forever is so close
but the seconds without it
weigh heavy on his bones.

he begins to sob

he sits at the end of his bed
as his sorrow brings the sea
to its feet.

the waves swallow the shore;
they raise as hands from the ocean
and slam themselves together
to reach his attention

he looks down
as the ocean lifts her skirt
and he can see her as she is.

she sings to him
the siren's song free of charge
- she sees the beauty in his depression
and hums to the rhythm of his misery.
she raises her hands from the sea
and whispers

"death."

he smiles.

he begins collecting
nightshade from the ashes of the dead
and pitches the pennies
into the box along his nightstand
as if it were a wishing well.

but this isn't borrowing;
you cannot repay the dead.

forever came too late
and now their peace
is at place in a piece of art
they will never see
at the expense of eternal sleep.

they speak in echoes
faint and desperate
- the dead look to the sky
and stare directly into the sun.

they tell the sun stories
of forever night
-his face swells with hate
and the air begins to ripple
in it's place:

"nevernight, nevermore."

the sun sets out to steal every inch
of midnight from moon.

he waits until the moon
tiptoes into the backside of his forehead
and finds sleep behind the dream
of infinity
- and the sun creeps into the room.

he runs to the box of pennies
but he is too bright to hide in the midnight
painted room

the moon raises from his bed
and eclipses the sun;
they lock eyes so long
the edges of the room blur

the sun sprints for the door
and trips along the trim
he spills every second of night
into the world
and as it shatters it catches his reflection
and replays

the night is scarred.

the moon weeps
as it stares into forever
and only sees shrapnel of the sun
- each and every star
marking time
where there should be none.

the sun slinks back into his room
and the moon to his;
midnight decorated in the reminder
that forever

is never going to come.


http://i59.tinypic.com/2ztksjt.jpg

http://rapbattles.com/forum/showthre...8-donna-louise
http://rapbattles.com/forum/showthre...riday-the-13th

a round of applause to you Atti. I don't know where to start here as this piece is packed with insane imagery and description, every line stands out on its own and holds an image worth its weight in gold. right from the start your description of the character is perfectly written and thought out and backed up by outstanding storytelling. It was great as you described the relationship of the two characters and used the sun and the moon as imagery, even the ocean. I really enjoy things like this and I loved how much detail you were able to get into the piece there. This was a long read but the piece did change direction half way through and for me that helped, you changed things around and changed the setting and imagery of the piece but still kept the roller coaster of emotion. as I said every line stood out but for me this was epic.

Quote:

---

he was a spiritual man
who held seances in his bones 
so as to never forget 
about the man he used to be

---

I thought the image here was outstanding. I have nothing but praise for this piece Atti, it goes down as one of the best pieces I have ever read on and outside of rapbattles. I hope this feedback is good enough for you because with a piece like this you could be here all night. thank you for the read.

Nice intro into this piece Atti.

“…there was a man
who spoke soft like velvet exhales
and sold ivory by the glance…” Velvet exhales is full of imagery, it’s dense descriptively.
You can see the exhales with that picture you give. Stunning wording.

“… he was a spiritual man
who held seances in his bones…” See, stuff like this gets me excited. ‘Held séances in his bones’ is great, unexpected and entirely original. Top stuff.

“… he spent a lifetime collecting darkness
from the split seconds of blinking eyes…” Imagination overload here. The darkness collector of blinking eyes…I hate to say I love it, but…I do.

“…he was a wealthy man;
miserable like every one before him…” I bet this gets a smile from everyone who’s ever known a miserable rich man. This hits home and takes your piece into reality and gives us a little touch of every day life.

“… in the winter
he exhales onto sheets of glass
in the sky and begins
trying to tally his way to infinity before he falls asleep.
he never makes it…” ‘Tally his way to infinity before he falls asleep. He never makes it…’
I like that you give us insight into his state of mind and let us explore his mental world.
We empathize with him, try as he might, he never makes it. That’s a beautiful way of showing his struggle for freedom in sleep.

“…he fears death.
but is deathly afraid of living
up
to the gravity of the situation
and it's sum.

so he keeps collecting darkness…”

This darkness collector thing gets me revved. What a great character. How intense is his
Thought process that he should discover that darkness can be collected in the most bizarre places.


“… - stealing moments
of blackness from batting lashes
and timid sleepers: pennies
to build a door to infinity
right there
in the sky.…” Imo, that’s perfection. Right there. Poetic R.E.M’s played with while people doze.


“…he sews square seconds of nighttime
into each other
until he has enough to hang above his bed…” Who ever thought of a quilt of nighttime? It conveys an image, so crystal clear. ‘…sews square seconds of nighttime…’ v original.

“… there are no more pennies
and he's gone bankrupt on time
- forever is so close
but the seconds without it
weigh heavy on his bones…”

I like the soft rhyme here. The piece flows nicely and this stanza has a cloud like fashion. Floaty.
Even though you have words like ‘weigh heavy on …’ I still feel like I’m floating in transit.

“… he begins to sob

he sits at the end of his bed
as his sorrow brings the sea
to its feet.

the waves swallow the shore;
they raise as hands from the ocean
and slam themselves together
to reach his attention

he looks down
as the ocean lifts her skirt
and he can see her as she is…”

The personification of the ocean works so well here. I like the way you say that the ocean wants his attention. After raising hands and slamming them together, the ocean lifts her skirt, and he can see all of her. That’s worded so well. There’s a beautiful serenity in that stanza. And I can feel love from the ocean. Isn’t that strange? That the ocean should want more. More attention.

“… she sings to him
the siren's song free of charge
- she sees the beauty in his depression
and hums to the rhythm of his misery.
she raises her hands from the sea
and whispers

"death."

he smiles…”

‘She’ is stunning. You have penned her like a war bride. Full of emotion and understanding with no words needed to be spoken bar ‘death’ which entices feelings to stir. I’m left contemplating what ‘she’ or ‘he’ will do next.

“…into the box along his nightstand
as if it were a wishing well

but this isn't borrowing;
you cannot repay the dead.

forever came too late
and now their peace
is at place in a piece of art
they will never see
at the expense of eternal sleep…”

The wishing well line is cool. Also the art depiction of the dead, priceless.
The fact that the dead won’t ever see it, because of their eternal sleep just shows
How deep your imagination goes and how well you’re able to reflect that on paper.

“… they speak in echoes
faint and desperate
- the dead look to the sky
and stare directly into the sun.

they tell the sun stories
of forever night
-his face swells with hate
and the air begins to ripple
in it's place:

"nevernight, nevermore."

the sun sets out to steal every inch
of midnight from moon…”

lol The struggle between the sun and moon makes the emotions of the dead stand out even more and exacerbates the feelings of the man, who’s filled with hate making the ‘air ripple in its place’
Great imagery Atti. I can see all of that so clearly. It was painted.

“…he waits until the moon
tiptoes into the backside of his forehead
and finds sleep behind the dream
of infinity
- and the sun creeps into the room….”

Yeah, that’s nice. The stanza makes pulses pump blood through this poem. Everything is alive and has a human quality about it. Even his forehead is a warehouse of space for the moon to tiptoe through.


“… the moon raises from his bed
and eclipses the sun;
they lock eyes so long
the edges of the room blur…” With your personification, we step out of reality and into the fantastic world of Movies. Where everything is possible and it’s on a huge scale in high d, and you are demonstrating, how to aluminate personified forms of suns and moons and oceans, aiding our understanding of personified versus objectified relationships with Earth.

“…the sun sprints for the door
and trips along the trim
he spills every second of night
into the world …”

You keep our attention with these human characteristics of yours, increasing my interest
Every time the sun or moon comes to life with vibrant details of everyday life.
You illustrate a reason the writer may use this technique. It also makes the story more interesting and lures us deeper into it until we’re truly stuck on your words, like a web of make believe.

“… the moon weeps
as it stares into forever
and only sees shrapnel of the sun
- each and every star
marking time
where there should be none.

the sun slinks back into his room
and the moon to his;
midnight decorated in the reminder
that forever

is never going to come…”

Beautiful outro Atti.
The sentence ‘The moon weeps as it stares into forever…’ is poetically pretty and leaves an essence of bittersweet flavour where you sympathize with the moon.
The personification forces the reader to visualize the story, drawing us deeper in and allows us to
gain new perspective. We care for these subjects more because we experience an emotional response to them. You have made powerful points with phrases that aren’t drawn out and long.
The short descriptions work well in this poem and it works with the flow and rhythm too.
I think the key here is ‘subtlety’ and you’ve got that. Letting the piece breath naturally and not forcing wording in any manner by over the top imagery or descriptions allows it to stay so pure and clean, it really does glow. I love this piece. Absolutely love it. And no, I have no negative critique to help you…grow lol. Sorry for the blow.

Great talent Atti.

Beautiful read.

oops...mega feed...oh well

I was about to go to sleep so this won't be as long as theirs lol. Not one of my favorites from you. Though still better than 98% of the poetry I've seen here since probably 2010-2011. The only thing I got really nit picky with was the repetitive of some of your vocabulary. I know in poetry there are some styles where you repeat a group of words often as they are sort of the main subject matter but I've never been a fan as reading the same word several times in a poem drives me insane. Lol. But otherwise the imagery and wording was precise and I enjoyed it even being tired as fuck and reading this with one eye open lol. Great poem man.

Wowww for reading my first piece ever from you I must admit Im very fucking impressed. It is rarely I come across any true to the art poets and I have done just that in finding you. We definitely need to work together in the near future. First and foremost which I think deserves just as much credit as your imagery was your story itself, it was so on point and vivid I seen it taken place right before me as I was reading this, I think that's what made the imagery flow so good the great plot, I assume that consumed you and put you into a zone that all poet's know about. I commend you on being able to be so descriptive, without taking away from the writing ive seen people destroy the full potential of there work over playing the detail to detail card. I will definitely be nominating this if it isn't already please check out my first drop here looking for some constructive feed. Great work

*applause* damn this was dope and i mean fucking dope..the way you worded it was solid throughout..i dont know if you were using his pennies as a metaphor to his pain of existance but it seemed as though to be somewhere along those lines to me..i really dug the first few opening stanzas, be it they were jam packed with emotion, imagery, vivid wording and solid flow...i also enjoyed how you kept the piece moving along yet staying consistant with his discription of his life..i thought that the ocean waves hand line was some of the best imagery i've read in yrs..i would like to have broken this down more but seeing as though you have a fair amount of solid feed i wont simply because you know how great this piece was...all in all very solid drop from a great writer...i enjoyed it my dude..thanks for the read.

thank you so much for all of the detailed feedback everyone. greatly appreciated.

i fully intended to feed this until deterred by the length so sorry, i do not have the time right now and might revisit.

^should slam this nigga in his neck for that lmao.

I thought this was pretty sweet. I really enjoy how much emotion
and imagery you can pack into your words. Your style is also so
unique and like nothing I’m able to do. When I attempt to read poetry books,
which is rare because I can’t stand modern poetry, I always find
myself thinking that people like you should be in those books
instead of the hacks that actually get published. When you and Mindless
get you book made, you can count on me purchasing multiple copies.
Anyway, here are a few of my favorite sections.

Quote:

---

there was a man
who spoke soft like velvet exhales
and sold ivory by the glance;
he wore his heart on a sleeve
that he left rolled up,
to keep the wolves at peace.

---

One of the things I love about poetry is that every sentence can inspire different images and emotions to each individual who reads it. For me right at the opening I pictured an old man with a bright smile, sun tanned leather skin with fading tattoos.

Quote:

---

he spent a lifetime collecting darkness
from the split seconds of blinking eyes

---

This is wonderful

Quote:

---

- stealing moments
of blackness from batting lashes
and timid sleepers: pennies
to build a door to infinity
right there
in the sky.

---

The blinking again.

Quote:

---

he sews square seconds of nighttime
into each other
until he has enough to hang above his bed.

---

I feel like night and darkness are a reoccurring theme here so far.

Quote:

---

the waves swallow the shore;
they raise as hands from the ocean
and slam themselves together
to reach his attention

---

This inspires amazing imagery and sound

Quote:

---

the moon weeps
as it stares into forever
and only sees shrapnel of the sun
- each and every star
marking time
where there should be none.

---

I love the characters of the sun and moon and the metaphorical values of night and day. I noticed the second half of the piece picked up the pace immensely and gave me a sense of impending panic. Very nicely done.
It’s been a long time since I have read or fed a piece from you and I’m glad I took the time to sit down and read this. You write with a style and maturity that I can never reach and it makes unbelievably impressed.

really enjoyed reading this piece, it's impressively calculated, vocab is delightful and presented with a sense of urgency, dark and whimsical, the story was edgy and grounded, dug the duality of the symbolism and themes throughout......thanks for sharing it

I love poems that have such a meaning that overtakes your attention. Pure genius with this drop. I can say that there is nothing that I find wrong with this. It's pretty hard to carry emotions in different layers all the way through the poem. And they were not like any layers becoming one piece but different tones and pitches that make up a descriptive aria for an imagination to fall through. Even the movement was layered by the characters action in finding wealth to be the end all to be all but also coming back to the actions of counting pennies and storing them next to the bed. You brought out the hues of all colors of the rainbow descriptively in the and this could be the poem of the year.

I wanna go in depth with this at a later point but just know I've read and think this is some great work. Can't wait to give more extensive feed over it.


To be able to keep such an interest with such length is a feat in itself. Your language, your diction, your use of literary elements seem so much like taking a breath of air. It's nothing. You portray such an intellectual speaker. (that I'm sure is backed up) yet still manage to make it simple and elegant for the audience without hindering or taking weight from the words.

I think what seals the deal for me is just your style of writing. The formation of everything; similarity that I can connect with easily. I like being able to read this aloud without words feeling awkward or the line breaks not being in the right spot but you nailed it. Anyone enough with technicalities.

On to my favorite parts..

...to be continued...