[Frank]

I've read both verses in their entirety. I'll just scribble between the lines, here, some comments.

Certain.

The imprints of tears appear like a time lapse of past fights.
Her lipstick is smeared on the wine glass from last night,
^i like the backwardness of the schemes here. almost like writing on a mirror.
but she's gone now.
She came into my life like a rainbow,
all colors and sugar and spice.
^sugars and spice, although good descriptions, do not relate to an image of a rainbow.
I let my pain go. It's not the same, though,
rubbing the glitter from eyes.
^unorthodox schemes so far. glitter from eyes/sugar and spice don't add up. just being technical in the grand scheme of things. although the visual had appeal, I don't think it panned out the way you intended it too. still cool nonetheless.

This was day seventeen since Eternity
by Calvin Klein
had flirted me into trying this mountain climb.
^mountain climb?
I hadn't known she'd existed.
I liked her clothes.
She liked my cheekbones and how they rose when I grimaced.
We went to clubs. I never went to clubs before, reclusive-type
whose evenings usually concluded in Four Roses fused with ice.
I needed more open room to write.
^this room to write line seemed out of character, almost a personal moment, if you will,
She needed the party life and attention.
So we went to clubs and danced while others offered blind resentment.
They couldn't see us. They only saw her,
as she basked and glowed.
^schizophrenia?
She stood six-two in those heels and swayed like Axl Rose.
And so we danced. From Thicke to Thin Lizzy,
we'd spin, dizzy —
engaged in a personal Sin City.

She started coming home late, with the scent of men's cologne
faintly lingering on the small of her back.
The emptiness of home kept me from calling her tack
^calling her tack? tack? tack isn't the worst thing you could call someone.
even if I'd have been better off alone instead of swallowing acts.
And this all was just that.
I knew it somewhere, beneath the frilly dresses.
But when we'd hit the town, nothing seemed to kill her essence.
Charisma consumes all in its path.
I was becoming obsessed.
We could sit for hours, soaking in the rush of her zest.
^writing here is more refined, to the point even.

There's a quiet silence in watching yourself disappear.
^i liked this. profound line, could be the underlying theme.
My identity slipped at an untenable clip.
^untenable clip?
Enveloped in tears,
I stared at the face in the mirror through opal contacts.
The blonde wig reeked of cigarette smoke and cognac.
The mascara was trickling over pointed cheekbones.
The legs were shimmering in the light from streaked hose.
I looked into the mirror. I looked at a Perfect 10.
I shattered it with a single blow,
and I never saw her again.
^potent writing here. highlight of the verse imo.

you portray all your characters as if they are an extension of yourself. It is truly incredible, I marvel at your depth and your ability to place yourself completely in the shoes, or heels, for that matter, in this instance, of your characters. You are an open book with infinite possibilities. You 'method acting' way of writing is one of diabolical selflessness. A writers writer Hats off,


Vulgar.

One of the car bombs peeled the lawn, then the smog cleared up
Anton stood palmin' a beer mug, molotov in his pocket, balaclava & earmuffs
^great opener.
His parents feared him for obvious reasons: contras, arson, accomplished theft
was even dubbed a son of a gun...he used on his father when he shot him dead
^nice.
Aimed white phosphorous at convents & consulates, dishonored catholocists
^little wordy which is cool but it deviates and jars the reader. Little more back drop before you start dropping the specifics in such a way. Let the ''story'' breathe so to speak before you get the magnafine glass and start burning the ants.
A martyr in h s solemnness with the mark of the apocalypse
Now he's out to make sure the carcasses of Sodom writhe
Used to be a postmodern kid, but now he's not so nice
Sold the type of weapons Tom Clancy wouldn't dare use to implement a plot device
^vintage vulgar with the left field reference here. although here it really isn't that far fetched.
And his mom was like...
^haven't seen this kind of line from you, ever.
"I grow tired of M1-Carbines blastin' through the Springfields,
enough bullets for a thorough portfolio of evil - it's been real
^mom is g'ed up saying its been real
How many innocents have been killed, sniped, splattered onto your windshield?
^good visual and good line, in general, stands alone.
I thought I taught you how to be more sentimental at least
^so , she was the true gun slinger?
When you pump the lead, adrenaline peaks...too much berettas & heat
I should've known when I breastfed you... you seemed ready to EAT
First you chased skirts and bombshells, then the metal levels increased
^bombshell idea was dope metaphorically.
Kalashkinov knishes with a side of hollow tip babaganoush
^lol
is what I used to cook for you...
Now you're on the world's most wanted list of arms dealers -
Everybody's tryna look for you...
I remember you collected comics, now it's the damn Gatling catalog?!
I remember when you were just a school boy with your little hat & satchel on
^I remember, I remember... seemed like false bravado
now you roll with Rudeboy's who carry AK47's with the magnums on
The days of the car-seat ceased - you became impartial to RPG's
Pistols barked at your Barkley tee,
but you had enough Houston Rockets to spawn debris at no costly fee
^barkley was on the rockets or the suns? Again another obscure reference, vintage vulgar there.
I'm all for peace, and a mother's love knows no bounds
but my heart froze when I saw your snubnose go BLAOOOOW
^could've done more with snubnose concept.
You wore a full metal jacket for Halloween, I wasn't conscious of who to blame
^this continuing remeniscient style is funny considering the subject matter, almost seems like a spoof to me
So I thought with a bazooka's range...
Your friend's costume foreshadowed the monster that you became
I packed your lunchbox with Dole, rice chips and grain
^dole, rice chips and grain? no wonder he shot up the place. sounds like a hermits diet.
as you slowly indulged in rifles & flames, your whole life was a plague!
Components likely obtained by stolen nitrous; hormones exploded like a grenade
^"hormones exploded like a grenade'' this line and the bombshell line were where you should've tooken this piece
My son, I truly wish your conception was less horrid..."
"--Listen, mother. I brought infamy to our family, got you the best mortgage
^mortgage?
until you decided to betray your son & hand God my arrest warrant
This is what I do for a living. I collect mortar at the Czech border,
I've got enough pages in my Book of Sins to pen the next Torah
Too many men in my set gettin' wetboarded...am I the next target?
Why are you so depressed when I digress that I'm lawless?
I'd sell your fucking TEARS if I could fetch something for it..."

Then I must abandon you, my child...
Don't leave me, ma, I'm warning you
For too long have you played ransom with lives,
Now you'll exist, motherless, in fortitude...
Don't leave me, ma, I'm warning you
Understand why -- don't go!
I rigged the lawn with land mines

and I never saw her again.

quintin territino of netcees. very action oriented with a slight hint of spoof. but be real how many times did you read my michael jackson verse -

Overall, was a great read from both parties. Both writers played to their strengths. Certain is a conceptual mastermind while Vulgar was the outlandish genius. Tough battle to judge really but if I had to choose, which I do, I'd vote for Certain. The streamline writing of Vulgar didn't quite drive home the final line like the definitive approach take of Certain.