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Old 05-30-2023, 01:13 AM   #1
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Lightbulb Championship Match-Up: Diablo (8-0) vs. Master Rock (7-1) [DIABLO CHAMPS!]




Season 11 XI


VERSES DUE: Sunday, June, 4th, 11:59 P.M. Western / 2:59 A.M. Eastern / 7:59 A.M. UK. 24 Hour Ext: Mod/Opponent Discretion

VOTES: Monday, June, 5th, 11:59 P.M. Western / 2:59 A.M. Eastern / 7:59 A.M. UK. 3 Vote Requirement Enforced/Penalty

MAXIMUM: 48 Lines: 64 IF AGREED UPON!

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Old 05-30-2023, 02:21 AM   #2
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They say guitars are like women — In that you can rent a spare
but good ones are hard to find, and bad ones are everywhere.
I can still remember where our eyes met.
The moment feeling so surreal.
Your whole appearance was cold and steeled yet it still held its own appeal.
I motioned nearer, balance shifting beneath my feet from one to the next
while lost in the mesmerising magnetism your body possessed.
You were a model exemplified, looking hot in any case,
your frock accentuating the curves set atop your slender frame.
You belonged on centre stage.
You had such a perfect arrangement tonally
that even though not a word was exchanged,
You spoke to me.
I only realised later on that this fool was out his depth,
when the same strap used to bound your head became a noose around my neck.
I should have threw you out instead of bringing you into my home
I never had you pinned as controlling,
but I did as you told me while you pulled the strings for us both.
You were instrumental in goading me to force my hand in obeying your command
If I ignored you at home, it struck a chord so bad — of course you snapped!
I hadn’t always had performance anxiety;
Now I was devoid of all energy.
My aching joints were already bleeding, yet you needed to destroy what was left of me.
Your voice, once a melody, always rich and honeyed before
became a noise that was bellowing into a guttural roar.
A strumming of chords pinged and twanged with unusual weight and key
- it was no longer me orchestrating things, but YOU that was playing me!
You were so attuned to my way of being that you were soon able to play
from the hand movements I favoured to the complex chord changes I made.
I became a mere plaything, your most loyal nominal subject,
that followed instructions as your vibrato pulsed through my body’s percussion.
You controlled each one of my functions as the screams grew louder within
and you constantly pushed me to perform out of my skin.
You overpowered my instinctive touch to make me play as desired.
Every hour,
Every minute,
Every second take I required.
We laboured so tirelessly I hardly slept a wink for a month
Yet you insisted the strumming continued even though my fingers were numb.
The habitual becoming ritual, my fingertips blackened and burnt,
as we practiced infernally until I performed like a master at work.
I’d damaged the nerve-endings in my right hand and could no longer feel any pain
— not like that would discern you from insisting on hearing me play.
Drying blood congealed on my nails where I’d worn my fingers to bone
Every signature solo was like a jolt of electric current as I picked at the notes.
You hissed at me slowly, the sound reverberated inside my skull fearful with shock,
You give me your own directives as my open sores plead you to stop.
Instead you’re increasing the volume while my skeletal frame
was desperately playing with what little remaining oxygen was left in my veins.
My legs would give way, causing me to drop to my knees,
my body so weak its brittle bones broke on impact with the concrete beneath.
None of my features remained. I lived guitar but never thought I’d be dying from it
and the only head that rolled would be mine separated from spinal column.
My mind was conscious even at the point of it hitting the floor
Some musicians have swore to put their heart and soul into this.
Yet few truly give it their all…

Last edited by Diablo; 06-03-2023 at 06:08 PM.
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Old 06-04-2023, 08:26 PM   #3
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I'm a legend being born, through this treacherous storm, being left to fend myself as a child was the norm,
I fight against an enemy, that's attempting to get my spirit torn... out, I feel been scorned
I been cold and alone in this world, now sounding off the horn,
the day the music died is when I first mourned, feasting on American pie,
and discovered a way to escape the pain and trauma that's been plaguing the inside of my mind,
so bye, bye, hopefully, it goes away and dies,
I need an escape, disrupt the timeline, fine, intertwined the past and future, rewind,
a dimension bind now I'm inclined to find my voice,
the passion intensified, mixed with affliction dripping into my musical choice
Words, I rock with stars, intergalactic like Mars,
I milk these ways, I rise for another day,
height beyond your sight, this thunderous cat is roaring, suffering pain,
formed a group of like minds to play the parts of my wrecked chain,
guitars, drums, basslines, we took flight as the "Astral Plane",
float on
reaching into souls tugging on...hearts strings, we felt the love from the crowd that was being attained
We all go through the anguish of gain, this release is in our rugged lane,
The drive is what I ascertained, peace of me, we are not the same,
I am a vessel that the emotionally unconstrained,
my only lament is for the ones who have refrained
I bow to the ones that consider me acclaimed, this fame has messed with the gears of my brain,
expectation's frame, vibrating the strings of my lane, headbangers ball is my reign, dang the fame,
it's tightening its grip, the pressure inflamed my mental facilities are still struggling to maintain
our strains, raw lyrics, plus rocking the stage
leaving crowds shocked... amazed, like wildfires through towns we blaze
sold-out shows with thousands screaming, many praised
not sure exactly about what's the cost of this fame
secluded deep down as the demons peep out their hideous head attempting to take their claim
enticed by the dope, drinks toxic links to attempt to escape the past pain
the wild nights consuming my veins, overshadowing the bits of talent that shallowly remain
my dream was the escape, now a treacherous wound is opened as it scrapes
meteoric performance, every boundary we break, rock wild new challenges leaving me at stake
success's pressure is viciously forcing me to innovate
but at the same time, it's disconnecting my state
the inner demons are rattling loudly screaming as they escalate
threatening to dismantle the bond I formed with my bandmates
Amidst the chaos, I met Fate, she and I had similar monstrous traits, that we both equally hate
together our souls entangled from our depths from the music we'd create
she believed that I could overcome the demons, telling me, "It's not late"
I find myself in the rehab state, struggling, arguing with the nurses screaming, "Please, please wait!!! I can't take this break!!!"
But these withdrawals are giving my body uncontrollable aches
They hold me down attempting to sedate, the days pass to weeks as the torture peaks, till I hear the sound of music so sweet,
I begin to wake, through an open door, a bright light breaks, and there I see a silhouette of my Fate
she takes my hand out the door to "Astral Plane" ready to rock reunited with bandmates
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Last edited by Master Rock; 06-04-2023 at 09:31 PM.
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Old 06-05-2023, 06:27 PM   #4
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mvgt Diablo

Diablo:
Excellent piece metaphor about a relationship turning sour, carefully playing between guitar/girl. Describes a journey from attraction to infatuation to destructive obsession to loss of self.

Quote:
If I ignored you at home, it struck a chord so bad — of course you snapped!
You tell a straightforward story with a journey from start to finish, from the meeting to being destroyed by the object of your affection or perhaps being driven to destroy yourself. Good use of free verse while keeping things a compelling read, and although there's been metaphor-object-like-girl before, it's not overdone.

Master Rock:
Nice story, talking about the struggles/fame/pressure, the highs and lows of the musical journey; I'm seeing drug use and self-destruction and, finally, redemption or at least convalescence.

Quote:
success's pressure is viciously forcing me to innovate
Solid story; all music stories tend to lean towards self-destruction, and although this one was a little more common of a theme (fame, spiral, etc.), it was all good.

Choosing:
Both did a solid job of conveying a narrative with at least some emotional resonance - if you've been in either situation, the piece will connect, and as I've been in both, it's hard to weigh this factor.

Diablo takes a slightly more detailed approach in depicting the relationship between the narrator and the guitar, which creates detail in the metaphor of a toxic relationship. It holds the metaphor throughout, and the sense of destruction and loss is rendered well. Immersive wording helps here, and the free verse style of the varied sentence structure gives it not just the dynamic rhythm a poem might want but also adds to the ebb and flow of the story itself.

Master Rock also gives a clear narrative arc, with a relatively abrupt and immediately-in-the-action portrayal of the truth of many famous experiences. The narrator's struggles and eventual redemption provide the reader with a good emotional journey; importantly (in my opinion), the redemption helps the emotional element connect even with people who haven't experienced this kind of struggle.

mvgt Diablo, who swings a little harder here, with fewer mistakes across the pedantic stuff like grammar/syntax and a slightly more immersive piece.
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Old 06-06-2023, 10:58 AM   #5
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I see a lot of potential in both vs

Both stay on topic
I felt deep emotions in both vs

Diablo vs deeper compare to Master


Vote Diablo
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Old 06-06-2023, 02:01 PM   #6
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my vote go to person losing
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Old 06-09-2023, 09:55 PM   #7
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Old 06-10-2023, 05:11 PM   #8
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@Frank vote?
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Old 06-13-2023, 04:13 PM   #9
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I got master rock for better verse
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Old 06-30-2023, 09:24 PM   #10
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