Open Mic: A Boxers Chronicle.

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   twisted thoughts like Stephen Hawking in he's chair,
I look out the window as Im talking and just stare,
I've just lost a friend to cancer but not many will care,
in life he was tough like an anchor I remember he's premier,
12th round knockout from an uppercut that came from nowhere,
lifted the man from the canvas and sent him up in the air,
he's 2nd 3Rd and 4th all came with a win in the same Manor,
a prospect with a grin on he's face when he saw he's 1st banner,
by he's 15th fight in him I started to notice a stammer,
In he's last fight was against a fin who hit him like a hammer,
he then lived in sin with a bottle despising the glamour,
people forgot him quick when he lost he's wife and home,
Out on the corner like a trick but he'd always be alone,
crawl in the bottle kick out the ship he was no Sylvester Stallone,
no fairytale ending the older he got the more he's heart became stone,
loss of emotion and care he's life in disarray turmoil and despaire,
still viewed himself as proud in piss stained jeans and unkempt hair,
then started talking to himself aloud about how life ain't fair,
still drawing in crowds but now they just point at him and stare,
started to talk to him on passing offer him a drink but never a beer,
then we started to reminisc about the highs and lows in he's career,
I reveled to him I'm a sports writter for a local paper around here,
and that I once interviewed him for a radio station live on the air,
I began to get to know him as man when the following months went by,
but even I'd sometimes come away from him with a tear in my eyes,
he'd tell me through drink and circumstances he lost he's life,
like water down the plug hole in a sink along with his wife,
then one day he confineded in me that he's cancer was causing him strife,
7 weeks to live the cancer became aggresive he knew he's time was near,
so I took him off the street gave food and a bed but a bottle always here,
it's like it was stuck in he's hand the way they would both appear,
time ticked by but he tried to keep mellow he's skin now turning yellow,
always tried to remain stout deep in pain but he never cried out,
knowing this is he's hardest bout withering away like water in a drought,
then came the day whilst shuffling to the toilet he fell on 1 knee,
to me it seemed to take an eternity to fall like the chopping of a tree,
rolled over onto he's back started to gulp and gargle tuning white like marble,
drew in a breath there was no release checked for a pulse but he was deceased,
now I'm looking out the window whilst they carve up he's whole estate,
hundred bucks here a watch there they'd take like it was pie off a plate,
a warm thought of him gives me a glow as Im still talking looking out the window,

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Crimson Juice Members Profile Send Private Message Find Members Posts Add to Buddy List Site Moderator Joined: 20 December 2015 Location: U.K. Status: Offline Points: 3258 Crew: Lyricist Inc. Text Rank: Unranked Stats: 6-11-0 Form: LLWLW	Post Options Post Reply Quote Crimson Juice Report Post Likes(0) Quote Reply Topic: A Boxers Chronicle. Posted: 28 January 2016 at 3:08pm
	twisted thoughts like Stephen Hawking in he's chair, I look out the window as Im talking and just stare, I've just lost a friend to cancer but not many will care, in life he was tough like an anchor I remember he's premier, 12th round knockout from an uppercut that came from nowhere, lifted the man from the canvas and sent him up in the air, he's 2nd 3Rd and 4th all came with a win in the same Manor, a prospect with a grin on he's face when he saw he's 1st banner, by he's 15th fight in him I started to notice a stammer, In he's last fight was against a fin who hit him like a hammer, he then lived in sin with a bottle despising the glamour, people forgot him quick when he lost he's wife and home, Out on the corner like a trick but he'd always be alone, crawl in the bottle kick out the ship he was no Sylvester Stallone, no fairytale ending the older he got the more he's heart became stone, loss of emotion and care he's life in disarray turmoil and despaire, still viewed himself as proud in piss stained jeans and unkempt hair, then started talking to himself aloud about how life ain't fair, still drawing in crowds but now they just point at him and stare, started to talk to him on passing offer him a drink but never a beer, then we started to reminisc about the highs and lows in he's career, I reveled to him I'm a sports writter for a local paper around here, and that I once interviewed him for a radio station live on the air, I began to get to know him as man when the following months went by, but even I'd sometimes come away from him with a tear in my eyes, he'd tell me through drink and circumstances he lost he's life, like water down the plug hole in a sink along with his wife, then one day he confineded in me that he's cancer was causing him strife, 7 weeks to live the cancer became aggresive he knew he's time was near, so I took him off the street gave food and a bed but a bottle always here, it's like it was stuck in he's hand the way they would both appear, time ticked by but he tried to keep mellow he's skin now turning yellow, always tried to remain stout deep in pain but he never cried out, knowing this is he's hardest bout withering away like water in a drought, then came the day whilst shuffling to the toilet he fell on 1 knee, to me it seemed to take an eternity to fall like the chopping of a tree, rolled over onto he's back started to gulp and gargle tuning white like marble, drew in a breath there was no release checked for a pulse but he was deceased, now I'm looking out the window whilst they carve up he's whole estate, hundred bucks here a watch there they'd take like it was pie off a plate, a warm thought of him gives me a glow as Im still talking looking out the window,

Nigma Members Profile Send Private Message Find Members Posts Add to Buddy List Site Moderator Joined: 25 March 2013 Location: Canada Status: Offline Points: 4077 Crew: Elision	Post Options Post Reply Quote Nigma Report Post Likes(0) Quote Reply Posted: 29 January 2016 at 10:37pm
	The emotion in this piece was the highlight. Several sections conveyed strong emotion, seemingly written from somewhere real. Mechanics were the main thing holding it back though. You missed on a lot of metaphors, the anchor one near the beginning stood out poorly. Gotta be a bit more picky with what words you use and how you arrange them. Aside from that, the only other big change that would make the read exponentially better would be multi-syllabic end rhymes. Instead of rhyming one syllable, try rhyming one word, or one small phrase. Instead of something like bat, fat rap, chap, try something like bat in the dark/phantom at heart/fractions of art. Keep the pen moving


Crimson Juice Members Profile Send Private Message Find Members Posts Add to Buddy List Site Moderator Joined: 20 December 2015 Location: U.K. Status: Offline Points: 3258 Crew: Lyricist Inc. Text Rank: Unranked Stats: 6-11-0 Form: LLWLW	Post Options Post Reply Quote Crimson Juice Report Post Likes(0) Quote Reply Posted: 29 January 2016 at 10:55pm
	Thanks Nigma that was quality feed...and yeah I've seen and felt what cancer is about...peace.

Real Hip Hop Members Profile Send Private Message Find Members Posts Add to Buddy List Groupie Joined: 18 March 2014 Location: London Status: Offline Points: 278	Post Options Post Reply Quote Real Hip Hop Report Post Likes(0) Quote Reply Posted: 30 January 2016 at 12:01am
	I'm feeling this. Great storytelling kept me intrigued and wanting to read more. I couldn't catch the flow thou, maybe more metaphors/similes would've helped. Poetically great, rap-wise decent.
	Jay-Z: "I just tackle the subject, the flack of the public/ Nothing!I know real N***** just happen to love it"

Venomonology Members Profile Send Private Message Find Members Posts Add to Buddy List Standard Member Joined: 23 October 2012 Status: Offline Points: 674 Text Rank: Unranked Stats: 9-2-0 Form: WWLWWW	Post Options Post Reply Quote Venomonology Report Post Likes(0) Quote Reply Posted: 30 January 2016 at 1:04am
	nigma covered off most of what I'd say here, the only thing I'd add regarding being more picky with words and hitting with metaphors is research! if you've got an idea for a metaphor that you'd like to play out, look into the actual subject of it and most of the time you'll be able to draw a lot of words, terms, phrases, etc. that can be played with and you'll end up with something much sharper. not to mention you'll be retaining a lot of knowledge in the process which can only ever help you moving forward.