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Old 08-29-2016, 01:25 PM   #1
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Exclamation RD 1: PancakeBrah vs Richard Corey - RICHARD COREY WINS!





Welcome aboard motherfuckers!

This is the netcees.org S.T.I - named primarily because the majority of the board believe the topical side consists of homoerotic man poetry about rainbows and unicorns. We're here to hopefully dispel that myth once and for all! ...or confirm it, which would be equally lulzy for the casual reader but not so great for your reputations, I'd imagine.

Regardless, if you find yourself still here you can put that down to either my utter stupidity, blind belief you'll show up, or the fact you're a pretty sought after writer. Take your pick. I've assembled the greatest talent to still be doing this hallowed hobby of ours. This may well be the final opportunity for some of you to go out with a bang before retiring from text all together. For others this may be their greatest crowning achievement so far. Whichever category you fall into, I promise to pit you against some of the very best writers online and over the coming month I want you to prove why I was write to have invited you here ahead of an array of other writers that were denied their spot. It's time to show and prove, ladies.

This is where shit gets real!

House Rules:

16 lines minimum, 48 lines maximum. (if agreed upon by both participants, you may go beyond the limit at your own risk.)

Check Ins are due: Wednesday 11:59 PST (You MUST check in!)
Verses are due: FRIDAY 11:59 PST.
Votes are due: The following Monday!


PLEASE VOTE ON EVERY OTHER BATTLE! I'm not here to police you guys, but it doesn't hurt to vote and it also helps ensure we keep things moving around here - these tournaments are nothing without the support of you guys. Modding is often a thankless task, and I've put in a lot of work to make this happen for you all, don't let me down!

There is NO RECYCLING, BITING ETC. Pretty standard. I shouldn't have to tell you folks that.

First to post may edit verse until opponent posts his verse. Second to post may edit their verse up until the first vote is received.

TOPIC:
@PancakeBrah @RichardCorey
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Old 09-03-2016, 05:58 AM   #2
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2025/Present Company



two hours ago

He picks a piece of lint from the logo on his left breast.

The camera is off. Tabletop granite, cement walls in a backroom.
David paces alone. "Do you know about ax wounds?
No, FUCK--no." Sitting down now, legs crossed, perfectly coiffed.
He mimics an uncapping, an imaginary tumbler to quaff.
"Do y-you understand ax wounds? FUCK YOU YOU STUTTERING TWAT."
Fist to the table jars the supposed glass, fumbling rocks.
"Great, and that's a waste of hundred year scotch."
A breath. "Composure. Confidence," muttering thoughts.
"It's easy. Just, easy." A breath. "...what else could you latch to?"
"Do. you. understand. ax. wounds?"

two months ago

"...and I've seen the best minds of my generation immersed in commerce
feasting in such coercive concert
who nod off in a sedative taper while signing off insurance
for medical favors. Non-emoting converts
who live in shining houses on hills so eldritch in nature
who beget. Then beget. In such eclectic behaviour
producing nothing at all. Who move in lockstep congress
in forgetting you and me, to dismiss us as 'nuisance' or 'lawless'
for easy eulogy. But. But and; I have a nuke in my pocket-"
Harris reaches in his jeans, holds in the air a translucent chip.
"We have a nuke in my pocket. For hope their movement skips
for one computer's blip against all sentient odds;
a hope against the present mirage."
Harris nods,
and exits the stage of the smoke filled bar to tepid applause.

two weeks ago

David hangs a portrait of four, in his double door entry.
A mumblecore sentry for a two story foyer. Built in
19-something last century. Thumb across a son's pictured brow,
a smile. He would sit awhile now,
to admire, in a contemplative whim, leisurely impaired,
in the absence of light his company pays to dim.
Farting once or twice in the leather of his chair.

--

"It holds some code, or some such."
Harris takes a bite from his waffle. "Guy called it a 'Numb Touch'.
Wipes out data, what have you." Both ate breakfast for lunch rush.
"Okay. But how did you come to have it?"
An extra dollop of syrup. "Well, I suppose, I'm viewed as a maverick.
You know, not much for the status quo. All for the chaos and madness."
"So, a hacker, or hackers, gave a low grade slam poet a, quote, "nuke" chip?
Because he's a 'maverick'?"
Harris looks towards the table over, pancakes with mousse whip,
playing a drumline on the edge of the table.
"Hello? Harris? I didn't call you asking for me to tape you..."
"Of course." A pause. Inhalation of maple.
"Look," a laugh. "Look at what a situation will make you."
"Digitized DNA. Course correction. Dog whistle eugenics.
All of it. Aren't you lost, now? A life writ as a Sentence-"
"Don't rhyme on me."
"Okay. Look around you. I hate these people. Their watches,
their phones, their need." Head follows a couple's leave.
"Okay, well, yeah, I wrote the code, everything." He continues as such,
she marks just as quick.
All hushed breath, with pregnant pause. Then
"Leslie, honestly, these waffles are shit."


two days ago

He walks the street, scone in hand,
in his broke-in Vans as the van pulls up beside.
The usual scene. Masks and grabs, fight for escape;
"NO BULLSHIT" "YOU'LL DIE." Etcetera right into fate.

now

"Fucking BREATHE, Harris."
as he drops the handle takes off the glove
sits at the table opens the bottle.
"C-Choke on the throttle! C'MON! Vigor for life now."
A quaff aimed for the middle of high brow.
"I don't enjoy this. I mean, well, I kind of do-"
answered in kind by writhing moves
by a victim of a sucking wound in nauseous react
"-sometimes, but, for you, I mean, what kind of nuke is stopped by an ax?
It's like a riddle. To me, this here just lops and debraids."

The camera is off. As they usually are when progress is made.



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Old 09-03-2016, 10:02 PM   #3
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Quote:
by Gustavus D. Pike, 1873
and quoted in "The Music of Black Americans. A History"
by E. Southern, 1983


No more auction block for me
No more, no more
No more auction block for me
Many thousand gone

No more peck of corn for me…

No more driver’s lash for me…

No more pint of salt for me…

No more hundred lash for me…

No more mistress’ call for me…

The mindlessly stagnant stutter-step along the store fronts
Corralled in corporate corridors, compete for what the hoards want
Corpses with their cards out, horrid with the horror-core
Coroners are banks now, burrow while others borrow more
Insisting that the cysts and abscesses of excess and avarice
don’t infect the sons of slave traders and the Appomattox rich
But the mud – yes the mud sings of the blood that saved me
And the blood – O’ the blood of the still enslaved free
leaches deep beneath the streets where the hobnobbing shine
like the bony finger tendrils of the loblolly pine
In the swamp, on the swamp, “Massa built it on a swamp”
Down the river where they sent us in the blessed name of Want

They shamble down the boulevard, drawn by the mirage
of the Bloomers building built on bones; and behind the façade
lay the bodies, Christ the bodies, O’ they came in by the thousands;
locked in cages, in the basement – buy consignment Eisenhower
buy at Starbucks by the harbor, Old Towne market with the farmers
buy the sundress, buy the bonnet! Don’t you want it, O’ you want it
Sing a sonnet, seek asylum from the nigger genus phylum
and build economic promise on black backs filed and piled on
that mud – yes that mud sings of the blood that saved me
And the blood – O’ the blood of the still enslaved free
leaches deep beneath the streets of the zombie apocalypse
and the brain dead oblivious skip to Abercrombie Fitch
In the swamp, on the swamp, “Massa built it on a swamp”
Down the river where they whipped us in the wicked name of Want

This is commerce. This is money; it’s the backbone of our country
It’s the haunting of The Wanting, it’s the running somewhere sunny
It’s the hunting of those running; it’s the servile minds of servants
It’s the looking at a person, on the surface, seeing: purchased.
It’s the looking at a person with her purse out for a purchase
in a building that sold chillun but has since then been repurposed
Cause the mud’s oversaturated with innate grief
and the blood – O’ the blood of the still enslaved free
reaches deep from out our veins, up the water tanks and drains
while the zombies, blind and stupid, stumble over baby graves
from where they first taught niggas how to post up on the block
Alexandria, Virginia,… It’s an lovely place to shop!

****

His name
How it sounded, tumbling from his father’s lips
While the chains
and the yells melt in ***ophonic fits
with the screams and the tears
of the teens and his peers
all shuffled in a line
to the street, from the pier.

“Zeshawn!” He’d screamed,
when they pulled them up into the sun
He hadn’t seen Zeshawn in weeks
so he rushed to touch his son.

On the bow of the ship with the waves in the air
and the mist kissed their skin and the braids
in their hair

And the fear
It was mixed
defecation’s stench
and their bodies stayed clenched
in emaciation’s grip

he collapsed to the floor, Lord he couldn’t make the trip
Five feet to his baby, to his boy
to his prince

And they beat him and they beat him and they stabbed him and they shot

And Zashawn

Yes, he cried and he screamed, yet he watched

O’ my father, O’ my father
He cried out and he implored
In the darkness, head to toe, among the strangers on the floor

Now he’s naked in the square
Under every pair of eyes
and the name his father spoke is just a number
just a price

horrified and confused
just a nigga on the block

Alexandria, Virginia

What a lovely place to shop.

.


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Old 09-04-2016, 03:46 PM   #4
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PancakeBrah - This was like a cross between Burn After Reading and Fight Club. It denoted modern social conventions in favor of the prehistoric. Not completely, but enough to work in the picture. With your style, I feel like you try rhyming more than you have to. You write like a novelist, you've got some extra gears in your functional software, for sure. Sometimes you over-commit to elaborate rhyme schemes that throw some dust on the overall effectiveness of a piece, because as the reader, I think to myself, "okay, that multi was kind of a stretch." The vocabulary use is also a little Split Eight-ish. You and Split lead the site as far as I'm concerned. It can get overboard too, i.e. tumbler to quaff - completely threw me for a loop and had to look it up immediately.

I don't get the title, which takes away from it a bit. It's a vital hint I'm missing. 2025 could be the year, or a play on 'hindsight is 2020' as in the main character is sketchy about the company he's keeping. Spies, nuclear chips, IHop mistresses.

Yeah so the opening sequence reminded me of Fight Club because there's eye catching dialogue, a deadly weapon, and the plot is confronted/set out off the bat.

So hackers give a slam poet a nuclear chip, hoping he destroys the world or something. Some expert wording thrown around in there. Mumblecore sentry was sick. Numb Touch was terrible. Rhyming names or terms is kind of a no-no, IMO. Leslie is a friend of his, maybe his girlfriend, who he's asking to film his talking about everything. Or she's a reporter for Viceland - which reminds me of the topic image, a subject matter their documentaries would cover. David is a domestic terrorist (clue: light his company pays to dim... or obscure him from the rest of the world?) David could also be Harris' dad, but there aren't really any other indicators for this aside from the picture of his son he's hanging over his door.

This verse was very Pancake-ish. Not just because there were pancakes. It sought to be hip and sophisticated, hitting the topic from an interesting angle. The world becoming corporate, everyone concerned with their time-recording devices, a critique of consumerism, a la Palahniuk. He gets captured by rogue assassins/interrogators or just the FBI, and gets axed by one of them. He's wounded and drinking imaginary flasks, trying to cope with the pain. He talks to himself a lot, because he wants to or because it's easier for you to narrate the story that way (lol). The camera isn't filming at the beginning or the end, which is usually when progress is made. Human progress from the ape to the now, yet savage weaponry still trumps atomic blast, somehow, someway.

Harris just sort of struck me as an idiot who liked to hear himself talk. A 'low grade slam poet' doesn't really encompass the capability of someone who can get their hands on a powerful chip, but I think it was a metaphor for a caveman who eventually comes to hold large dominion over the Earth, and possess some hefty weapons in the process too. A very technical, unconventionally structured approach, with conceptual merit. My biggest qualm with it was I wasn't really buying the identity of the character. Creating a believable character using so much dialogue is a challenge because you are filling in the blanks or creating complexity which opens you up for more resistance in terms of that believability. There's a lot here though, I may have missed something - which is a credit to you as a writer.

RichardCorey - I could definitely see this becoming a track, and that's because the voice was really strong in it. The first time I read it I thought it was a bit of a safe approach. The 'Abercrombie' part in particular didn't strike me as hard hitting. On the third read, I realized how thorough you were with this. Great use of the history of the Alexandria slave trade to contrast with the Old Towne shopping area of today, in a protest piece which brings back the relevance of the dark/bizarre history of the colonial weirdos of yesteryear. I didn't know Alexandria used to be a slavetrading hub, but it makes sense. I liked the rhyme scheme in this one, the highlight being the loblolly pine line, pretty exciting momentum. The writing was quality, the references a good touch, and the style of flow itself was a protest of the sing-song antics of slaves who founded gospel to cope with being human property. Something that might've been cool to include (I'm no historian so pardon me) might be how African products would appear on American shores and sold to the public - an ironic import, considering men, women, and children are also on the catalogue too. My critique: the zombies motif is a little played out at this point. I think if you really explained and got into the sociopolitical/economic standing of those shoppers, and ditched the zombie aspect (even though consumerism does usually equate to the undead) I think something less conceptually shallow would greater serve your purpose. Otherwise, aside from that device, great job here.

Vote - Richard Corey

His verse answered more of the questions he posed in a solid protest piece. Pancake's verse had fireplug potential, but I didn't respect it enough to diagnose it as a full circle effort. More like a half-crescent this time, methinks - see feedback for more explanation. BOTW.

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Old 09-04-2016, 05:10 PM   #5
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Pancake, I agree with Vulg that this read like a Coen Brothers movie. Inasmuch as I was intrigued by it yet had trouble following at points. I've honestly read it about 4 times now. I got the most out of it when I literally ignored the rhyming and read it as straight prose. In that sense, it felt like a screenplay - the scenes were endearing and smirk-worthy, but as a whole I can't help but feel I'm missing something. There is a simple joy in reading this and trying to decode it.. but at the end of the day, I just feel like the requisite details to get into the heart of the story aren't there. I liked this line - "19-something last century." Just wanted to point that out.

RC, I don't think I need to peel back the layers here - your narrative was very strongly developed - the former slave territory that's become a consumerist mecca and its previous atrocities all but forgotten. It was exquisite. Borderline goosebumps moments throughout. This felt like a text piece that I would've read in like 2006, and I don't say that negatively... it's got like an old school rhyming and structure feel, the style is fresh out of a time capsule. I must say I truly did like it a lot.

Vote -- Richard Corey
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Old 09-05-2016, 10:54 PM   #6
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Pancake this had a lot of depth. It read exactly like a screenplay, I don't know if that was your intention. And if I'm being candid, sometimes it was hard to follow. This is probably the verse I've read the most, just so I could judge it correctly. I love some of your wording, "eldritch in nature", really beautiful. But then there is other times where some of the vocabulary is awkward, like quaff, at least for an end rhyme. Plus the rhyme schemes themselves were dispersed at strange junctions. You are very meticulous in your descriptions and its impressive, but sometimes you go overboard with it and it becomes offputting, particularly the fart line. Not just because of the noxious gaseous image, but it kind of distorted the narrative rhythm of your piece. But it was bold, but at the same time strange. I enjoyed the read though, but it read more like a script of some kind, and void of the formulaic Hip hop elements that are expected.

Richard: The way you words things, your tone, is really awesome. I really have no criticisms at all. I enjoyed the verse completely. You really know how to encompass a scene and delve into a character's societal upbringing. One thing that felt like off was the zombie part, it was brought into play okay, but the piece could have been even more natural if another twist was added to it. I mean growing up enslaved is already haunting in itself.

Vote: RichardCorey
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Old 09-07-2016, 04:13 PM   #7
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MVGT: Richard Corey

Self explanatory j/k @Pent uP

PancakeBrah seems like you coif your hair in every verse. I like the intimate discombobulated interaction between your characters, though. A herky-jerky type flow. Unsettling and scatterbrained for a good portion, your rhythm is unnerving and extremely sporadic. Lots of staccato. Almost reads like a continuation of your season 2 finals verse. Honestly, I'm just not a huge fan of the quotations, but I guess I can appreciate it for the sake of this tournament. The choppiness of this piece has little to do with you ax protagonist. I just don't get all the coiffing, and quaffing. Being brutally honest here. It's not my cup of tea.

Richard Corey, :). Well gosh darnet, he is is who he says he is. VOTW. Welcome to Netcees. Powerful excerpt. I look forward to our inevitable match up.

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Old 09-08-2016, 01:37 AM   #8
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PancakeBrah: This piece, everything about it, is so distinctly PancakeBrah Getting Up For But Also A Bit Paranoid About A Big Battle. There was nothing nonchalant about this verse, and the extracts that hinted toward coolness were very clearly intentional. You had massive, massive ambitions. You aimed to literally move text rap storytelling forward with this verse, to prove that the cinematics that you and Richard Corey and me and a small handful of others have incorporated successfully into our stories could transcend the written word while still being the written word. I applaud the hell out of the audacity that you showed in this verse.

It just didn’t work. I found myself deeply confused by the lack of context clues. Even what I picked up as assumed and learned knowledge, the triggers that I know in no small part because I’ve read just about every verse you’ve written here for three years, what I got was a disconnected story that was missing major chunks. Artistically, that would have worked better had the writing been more interesting. You set up scenes and used a few cool techniques, but no single aspect of this verse stood out as memorable or individually enjoyable as I tried to piece together everything that happened.

You’ve pulled off very complex narration techniques —medium considered —in the past. Here, I think you felt the pressure you knew your opponent would bring and tried to do something new and different and risky.

RichardCorey: There’s a museum dedicated to lynching that is going up in Montgomery soon. There’s a black history museum from the Smithsonian that is getting a spot on the National Mall, too. The New Yorker has written extensive stories about both museums in the past month, and they’re worth seeking out. The slave trade seems like the next target. I lived in Alexandria for a year, and it’s a fascinating, segregated city with its own history and its own revised image. It’s the one suburb of D.C. that feels like something more.

You did a great job here of representing the suffocation that comes with this kind of story. The repetitive first three stanzas reinforced the overbearing load carried by those who walk these grounds and can’t help but feel the history in each step. There were times when, particularly because of the aggressive alliteration, the words came out in staccato. On first read, that made things clunky, but I began to appreciate it in the context of the content.

I loved that in the storytelling section, you had given us a duality of images. I think you perhaps could have more forcefully worked in the modernist setting into that closer. It was interesting to read about the slave trade with no outright villain portrayed, as though slavery itself was the villain (which feels like a very passive point of view on the issue, quite frankly). But overall, this was an excellent verse, showing its creativity in execution rather than concept.

Vote: RichardCorey
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