Remember

[143]

I remember the days...their play was Gaelic....
Freshened musical swaying legs bouncing off the pavement
A collection that drew inquisitive heads from window frame
Openly freeing expression like a thief, relief commit no shame
Even after names call to recall performers to their domicile
These actions were still poetically pure and juvenile....
My sister took center stage as if it was a conquest missed
Rocking to kick drums, hit some spins to end with a split...
All the applause she would get, the ghetto fabulous of childhood
Our patio was the catalyst for her fantastic dreams of Hollywood
Future would open doors but at this juncture we did it for dime pieces
So as our time increases, skills elevated, we became style Jesus
We substituted governmental names for slick monikers
Turntables, mixers, fat laces, Kangols and big monitors
Made flooring companies rich, unknowingly become stage providers
Making limbs wave accompanying breaks, recreating walking spiders
Do moves that made crowds gasp, hitting with our backs exposed
Appearing to lack control, we are the sound's movement, transposed
Personally I could watch my sister rise to the level she mastered
Remember her name beveled with zirconias on a silver chain
She was Mistress B, Brooklyn Breakers, flyers had walls plastered
Riding the limelight, reaping the benefits delivered from fame
It took her...literally...from the projects to the screen
Getting phone calls and letters, she's riding rockets in her dreams
Now a legend that I'm associated to, benefits, I get a few
A new pair of Adidas or free food from Taco Lou
I knew that through this our scene would change for the better
Put in a position where we could brave any weather
But a blizzard hit our shelter, she was dead at 23
I remember because the day was seen crying in the street
Like God's entertainer had been called to the private room
A victim to a zombied mind frenzied and incited by shrooms
Even 20 years from the past, I got those last pair of Adidas
As a symbol of how certain condition could mangle and mistreat us
Thinking of my sister, Mistress B, my personal style Jesus
Loving the Gaelic days, where in the streets, we danced unimpeded....

[143]

http://rapbattles.com/forum/showthre...=1#post8513465

http://rapbattles.com/forum/showthre...=1#post8513479

[SiK]

All the applause she would get, the ghetto fabulous of childhood
Our patio was the catalyst for her fantastic dreams of Hollywood
Future would open doors but at this juncture we did it for dime pieces
So as our time increases, skills elevated, we became style Jesus
We substituted governmental names for slick monikers
Turntables, mixers, fat laces, Kangols and big monitors


^^^The lines I was feeling the most....Yo this was really nice bro no joke....there was a tad bit of shakiness in some of the transitions but overall the content, vocab and meaning behind this piece was dope!....I haven't seen anything else from you but I will definetly keep my eye out....probably the best OM piece that IVE READ so far...good shit

[143]

Thanks for the feed...I appreciate it...

[Emily]

Wow. Yi San Si, I get so emotional with your work.
Yeah, I know you know.
I have this theory that we need to tell the ones we love, that we love them.
We never know what tomorrow may bring.

That’s what you had all through this piece. You had BIG LOVE.

BIG LOVE.

Firstly, being taken back in time was amazing.
I wished I lived in this piece and got a feel of it the way you did.
I wish I had a slice of that, because it’s so poetically alluring, it captures my imagination
and keeps my feet fixed on that pavement you speak of and my mind on your street.

“I remember the days...their play was Gaelic....
Freshened musical swaying legs bouncing off the pavement”

A beautiful innocent intro to this piece.

“A collection that drew inquisitive heads from window frame
Openly freeing expression like a thief, relief commit no shame
Even after names call to recall performers to their domicile
These actions were still poetically pure and juvenile....”

The imagery is perfect Yi San Si. I can see the
open windows, hear the mothers calling out. Beautiful.
I feel like I’m in a remake of Welcome Back Kotter lol.
That bar though, “These actions were still poetically pure and juvenile”-
-Stunning.

Heaps of atmosphere with center stage, and your sister right in
the middle of it all. She shines.
The drums, the spins the split the applause, the “ghetto fabulous of childhood” (what a great way to put it),
and your patio where her Hollywood dreams took place.
Brilliant. Real. Beautiful

“Future would open doors but at this juncture we did it for dime pieces
So as our time increases, skills elevated, we became style Jesus
We substituted governmental names for slick monikers
Turntables, mixers, fat laces, Kangols and big monitors”

That’s so cool. ‘We became style Jesus’
And that line under it, with the substituting governmental names for slick monikers,
Lol, and the turn tables and mixers and BIG monitors has me in stiches.
And I like the way you said you did it all for ‘dime pieces’.
Retro cool.


“Made flooring companies rich” ----- Well put.

‘unknowingly become stage providers
Making limbs wave accompanying breaks, recreating walking spiders’---- lol Yep. Bandstand.

“Do moves that made crowds gasp, hitting with our backs exposed
Appearing to lack control” --- Love that flow.

“Remember her name beveled with zirconias on a silver chain
She was Mistress B, Brooklyn Breakers, flyers had walls plastered”

So much packed into this. With the beveled zirconias, the chain, her name,
the flyers, the walls plastered. So good Yi San Si. So good.

And then her ride to fame took off. The limelight, the work, calls, letter,
I love the way you say “She’s riding rockets in her dreams.”

That’s divine. ‘Riding rockets in her dreams’. I love that.

I like that you talk of the benefits you get from being associated to your sister lol.
The freebies. The Adidas (you still have), free food, what not.

And then the storm hits. And hits hard.
“But a blizzard hit our shelter, she was dead at 23
I remember because the day was seen crying in the street”---

---the day was seen crying? In your street? No way.

‘The day was seen crying in the street.’ ....That makes me fall to pieces.

The day cried. That was wonderfully put. I won’t forget that.

“Like God's entertainer had been called to the private room”

God’s entertainer. Wow. I can see that. See the private room.
See God, your sister, still doing her thing, for him.

“Even 20 years from the past, I got those last pair of Adidas
As a symbol of how certain condition could mangle and mistreat us
Thinking of my sister, Mistress B, my personal style Jesus
Loving the Gaelic days, where in the streets, we danced unimpeded....”


What a full, carefree existence this piece portrayed.
Full of exciting and loving fun.
Uncontaminated by adult worries or stress.
Clean, clear, fresh and crisp in its memorable moments.

It was a pleasure to take a trip down memory lane with you, your sis, the details,
the nostalgia, the honorable, unadulterated past.

Reminiscing was beautiful.

If this story is true, I’m sorry.
Talent runs in the family.
I bet she’s proud of you.
As you are of her.

There’s a lot to be said for untainted love.

Thank you for this.


Amazing Read.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Edit...


I just read it again.

"I remember the days...their play was Gaelic...." -------------- First line
"Loving the Gaelic days, where in the streets, we danced unimpeded...." --------- Last line

You've gone full circle with the word Gaelic, and it starts and finishes beautifully.

"Personally I could watch my sister rise to the level she mastered" ----- That's brotherly love


"Riding the limelight, reaping the benefits delivered from fame
It took her...literally...from the projects to the screen" ------ Check that out.

You probably rhyme like three in a million lol.
What I mean to say is, I don't hear it bombarded with internals and multis.
Not that there aren't internals. I know there are. I don't know about multis.
To be honest the detail got me sucked into the imagery so I forgot about the
norm and read at a slower pace. And there was a serene flow. It was trippy.
And I felt tranquil. lol
It's because your vocab is off the RICTER (not in this piece as much as others though) plus, the way you say your words.
Very humble, they are.
Your delivery is something else. To me, I hear harps lol. I may have said this before.lol
You put me in a zone. And I reckon that's good. When you're a writer.
If you can make me forget I'm reading, and make me see a movie, with amazing characters,
give me an awesome plot....I forgot.