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08-21-2015, 11:57 PM
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#1 | |
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¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Join Date: Feb 2015
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Champed - Haiku Writers Challenge
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Week 6: Innovator (2-3) vs. Dr Dog (1-1)-- DOUBLE NS
AOWL Season V, Week 6
SUMMARY OF RULES: Verses are due Monday at 11:59 p.m. Western / or Tuesday 2:59 Am Eastern / 7:59AM UK There are NO extensions. Verses MUST be a minimum 10 lines or a maximum of 48 lines (or 650 words). Votes are due Thursday at 11:59 p.m. Western / or Friday 2:59 Am Eastern / 7:59AM UK. Failure to vote will result in automatic sign out for the next week. All competitors must vote on THREE battles and post links/ references in the voting thread. Read the full rules here! TOPIC: editing in after all matchups are posted Good luck! @Innovator
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08-22-2015, 12:12 AM
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#2 |
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Ad mini tator
Join Date: Feb 2013
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In
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08-22-2015, 12:15 AM
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#3 | |
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¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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in(side of u)
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08-22-2015, 12:36 PM
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#4 |
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Tsk Tsk
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Topic: while riding a trolley in San Francisco you notice an uproar of people running toward the trolley, screaming...
I assume this works? I hope?
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I'm tryna fuck like A-don-is TUPAC SHAKUR |
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08-24-2015, 11:23 PM
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#5 | |
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¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Join Date: Feb 2015
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ugh.
it works. posting tonight
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08-25-2015, 12:19 AM
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#6 |
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Ad mini tator
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Fucking a forget about this
I will try to post tomorrow morning Sorry |
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08-25-2015, 07:59 AM
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#7 | |
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Join Date: Feb 2015
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@Innovator ?
EDIT: If you don't post I won't be taking the no-show win. Just putting what I have out there for critique's sake.
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Last edited by Split Eight; 08-25-2015 at 08:14 AM. |
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08-25-2015, 08:59 AM
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#8 | |
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¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Join Date: Feb 2015
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while riding a trolley in San Francisco, you notice an uproar of people running towards the trolley-- screaming...
as the car is leaving, the walls are heaving, as if by instinct I grab for the stock of the M14 &-- empty air clasped in fist. cold sweat... dabbing drips. my mind has emptied into its own bag of tricks, every setting, blending, synthesized a disastrous mix- PTSD is nothing like you read about. the rain, seemingly receding now, descending, the trolley interweaving with the crowds, emerged. the sound of birds. wait, beeping & traffic lights. my appetite for sound's inert. Surroundings blurred, bleeding into my mask's confines. Picturing the thousand words of my regiments re-imagining of what we'd been to proud to serve. This evidence seems to crack that dream that we'd pounded firm-- with impudence, with sticks and shit, shouting curses at the listless shifting of the Ghaza's dirt, its inability to bound the world we'd detached from // shivering like a mirage's sheen. It was like we never left, until bombs besieged. Fabric of reality, lit with shrapnel and hot debris. Burnholes in this anthem and words switched in song, I can believe in whatever world that I want until the world proves me wrong
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Linear Mode
