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Old 04-14-2015, 10:52 PM   #1
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Default Semifinals: 3. UnbornBuddha vs. 2. dead man \\ dead man wins 4-0

Semifinals


The Basics | Read the full rules here.

Verses are due Monday, April 20, at 11:59 p.m. PT.

Votes are due Saturday, April 25, at 11:59 p.m. PT. Voting on the other semifinal in a timely manner is required.

Verses may not exceed 48 lines or 650 words unless agreed upon by the opponent.

Topic





Good luck, @dead man and @UnbornBuddha.
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Old 04-23-2015, 12:29 AM   #2
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“The silhouette’s darkest shadow”

The hour is 1:10, but at this point time is irrelevant
Only thing that matters is to decide my penitence
A taste of the ultimate delight that heaven gives
But, like any other man I’m scared. The fright a sedative
That bestows onto the spectator’s mind’s eye my narrative.
I’ll summarize for those with blind eyes as measurements
All my life I saw children as the highlight of benevolence
So, I pursued my desire one night and never regretted it.
But that’s not entirely true, at this moment I’m a delicate stem
Not blossoming, but descending into the deepest meditative Zen
Moon and water reflection, as every neuron puts on their contemplative lens
But, not in an esoteric sense, just immersed in emptiness, rest.
In it, my constrained diaphragm lengthens in flesh,
As my personal trainer once recommended
Parasympathetic breath calms like exorcists do to devilish temperaments.
Yet, my enlightenment’s death occurs focusing on my negative wretch
A socially derived impressionist sketch based on my deprived sexual conscience

How many times do I have to say it?
My prepubescent conquests were not mere pleasure florets
I sought to actualize heaven’s garden, I never “molested” out of selfish fondness
I sought to fulfill the role of a hellish prophet
A project that required merging with innocence in the experimental process
That statement itself will be taken out of better context.
My defense has always been that as an energy worker I fondled auras,
I do not recall coming to the proximity of your daughter’s flora.

Conflict at large is said to be inherent, an inherence of lesser profit
I was never convicted, yet the loathing and peer pressure constant
Neighbors only perceive me as Pedo- toxic, a snake who sells you tonics
I tried to suppress my urges and be a normal hetero erotic through pseudo-logic.
My androgynous anima has its own vendetta often; its animal wounds are chronic
I’m told pandemonium doesn’t judge, so I look to its promise
So now I’m in this platform leaning one hip on this umbrella object
A tool I only carry for show, as you can see from the weather’s calmness.

Don’t fault me, I’m here aren’t I?
Subconsciously confessing topics, a malefactor with offensive content
Then again, everything is relative at the desolate end,
Where you’ll be dragged as resident guest depends on what resonates best.
For not one eminent friend comes to help when stuck in the material web;
Burdens have turned me voiceless, my spirit infected with ethereal strep
Contagious thoughts that hurt others is like walking in a bacteria’s steps.
I’m halfway between rational and the brink of delirium’s edge
Hmmm, my regularly punctual train is late, what a mysterious event.

Ah! I hear the train; I head to my melancholy destiny
At least, I’ll smell like Bach flower essence remedies
Walking forward, I bid myself my farewell,
Jumping into the tracks, my plan bears well
The moving train never stills. But my impacted nerve cells will.
As my plasma spills, I feel a scattering of all my stagnant germ cell ills
But, I’m still sick & I foretell I’ll see you, in the netherworld’s stairwell.
And so the darkest part of the silhouette’s shadow killed.

Last edited by UnbornBuddha; 04-23-2015 at 01:15 AM.
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Old 04-23-2015, 02:30 AM   #3
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Default what a shame.

you

were always my favorite. we discovered and roamed
pressed blood, vowed to never leave the other alone
called eachother on our very first cellular phones
our parents bought on wells & monroe. let it be known
my best memories are listening to next episode,
barbecues in parking lots and alleys and roads
cement grove baseball diamonds using puddles or stones
to signify like dumpsters set together as goals
it's safe to say i loved you, friend. dearly departed
years after that apartment. adolescent adults
stole your mom's cigarettes straight out of the carton
breaking what they told us just to see the results
construction sites, the latest nights we couldn't resist
games of SKATE. 50/50 grinds and varial flips
holy shit. what a trip just to remember the times
when December was a pine tree we threw off of the side
of your balcony in January, presents we'd buy
for our families at Osco with allowance and dimes
i sigh again and listen to the music we'd play
sitting on the porch during our winter vacation
with nothing to say. only time to waste gracefully
before we "took advantage" of a beautiful day
it happened so fast. i can hardly recall
how hastily you vanished once the hospital called
i wonder what she thought would happen? nurse in the hall
stealing opiates to shoot into her stomach and arms
we knew your mom was alcoholic. mine was the same
it all changed inside the pop of a vein. they cut you off
your number disconnected and we lost what we gained
lost everything your father could claim. you never called
or wrote. or logged into AIM. no one to blame
you left the state for shelter from a toxic arrangement
re: bruises when she felt disobeyed. knuckles and canes
showing up at playgrounds sporting fractures and sprains
all you ever said was everything was okay
and we believed you.
i believed you cause whatever you'd say
was honest. maybe childhood is remembered that way
what a shame. even after all the wrinkles we've gained
i recognize your shadow as we wait for this train.
it feels like winter break again
with nothing to say
so i wait. staring silently. still anxious with age
my mind is playing games. maybe? maybe i'm sane
and haven't fallen towards seniority's grave. a spectral gray
hear the train. you're Platform A. I'm at C. what a shame
to wallow in self-consciousness the homeless sustain.
light a cigarette and watch you walking away
choking back a breath to call your government name
your suit and tie. i'm crucified on smack and cocaine
twitching tumor brain. all my circuits are frayed
so i let the train pass and hear your memory fade
i followed in your mother's path

you'd be so ashamed.



dead man.
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Last edited by dead man; 04-23-2015 at 02:36 AM.
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Old 04-24-2015, 03:08 PM   #4
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braaapp.

Dope battle. UB nice lines in there like:

I’m halfway between rational and the brink of delirium’s edge

^^^good wording

I tried to suppress my urges and be a normal hetero erotic through pseudo-logic.
My androgynous anima has its own vendetta often

^^ dope flow and cool @ androgynous anima reminds me of Jung but anima is supposedly a feminine aspect so how can it be androgynous unless it's a mix of animus and anima? Probably saying the anima is in turmoil would be more accurate here.

All in all I thought it was good. I didn't think you developed the character enough here and I felt no sorrow or emotion at all to be honest when he killed himself. Thought u should've focused more on maybe his pedophilia than a train of thought. Some of it came off as superfluous. I liked your verse from the other round better to be real, but it's still a pretty good one. Thanks for the read.

Deadman's was dope. Seeing his childhood friend, reminiscing of their days playing tony hawk then not saying what up due to the incipient chasm created by age and pathways chosen. Thought it was a great depiction of Dostoevsky's underground which I prefer to Frued's ego/Id because Freud was a loser obsessed w dicks but Dostoevsky was a straight G and could write like a champion. The insecurities, the subtle shading of thought, even the way you brought shit like AIM into it was cool. Thought the ending was really good. Lotta dope rhymes like varial flips and what not. You do a really good job at changing atmosphere to set up a dope ending here.

V/ Deadman
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Old 04-26-2015, 03:45 PM   #5
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UB - A hyper self concious look at the dilapitated psyche of a pedophile. The sketch was kind of all over the place, at first it seems like an ego-driven desire to be some 'hell prophet' and rape kids just for the sake of being terrible. Then it seems inward looking - "Im here arent I" - where the character admits that his darkside needs to go and jumps in front of a train. The internal imagery and metaphor worked well although it was quite dense, and sometimes redundant. As in, each line didn't take the reader some place new - the key in engaged reading.

Black - I read this a while ago - very personal. I couldn't tell if this was a platonic relationship or not, and eschewing any focus on sexuality focused on the shamefulness of the downward spiral - maybe that wasn't intentional, but it was noted. The trip through memory lane was dope, the return-to-present dichotomy was kind of cliche, but how the situations related over time was a nice touch that brought your piece from a trite drug addiction portrait to something that evokes a unique shade of shame, where the reader feels a little bit dirty and might need to take a shower soon.

Vote - blacketh
his story brought me more places, while ub's sort of circled around before settling on a trope ive seen done and probably written myself
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Old 04-26-2015, 08:50 PM   #6
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UnbornBooty: You have great single lines, like allot of them. The line about children and benevolence was great, and the flow on the diaphragm line was very, very good (I will say the follow up line was a bit awkward though). As always, this was a verse with a message, and as always it has a very Buddha message about trying to not be sooooo human. I feel ya. Urges are terrible, man.

I really have two main complaints about this verse. One, is there were some typo’s in here which is fine if you’re writing a verse unlike this, but when you’re using big ass words (which are spelled right) and you write “do” instead of “due”, I’m like why should I listen to this guy? Lol It’s not that big of a deal, just a small gripe. The second complaint is the length. This verse could’ve been allot stronger if it said the same amount in fewer lines, and I know that’d be difficult but it’d be worth it, brah.

dead man: Wowzer.

From the start this was epic. The first two lines is one of the best couplets of yours that I can remember but it was solid throughout. You’re great at painting pictures with words. The goal, the cigarettes, hell I even saw the alcoholic mom without a description of her. You’re good, man. Real good, and if I’m being honest I’ve got nothing bad to say about this except that maybe it was a little weaker towards the end. A little.

Cool battle guys.

V/dead man with the fear in the back of my mind that he continues to write sad odes to SKATE and we might miss out on some of Buddha’s epic works.
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Old 04-27-2015, 12:22 AM   #7
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I’m going to give all four verses a much more proper treatment in the championship magazine, so I’m going to be a little brief here.

UnbornBuddha: This was a terrific take on the topic with a lot of really interesting thoughts on morality and the way we perceive ourselves even in our darkest moments. But it also was colorless. It’s tough to tell a story with so little imagery or description because it makes it harder for the reader to connect. I understand the detached nature of the narrator, and I’ve grown to enjoy some of your weird verbiage and verbosity (though your grammar could use serious work), but I think the academic nature of most of the verse made the ending seem unfitting and clumsy, since you tried to transition into more conventional storytelling only for this cliché closer. The leaps you’ve made this season were so impressive, but this is a logical conclusion.

dead man: Really great work here. I think you could have developed that last line a little more tightly, but I enjoyed the narrative voice so much and it made sense to not focus on it. This was a perfect example of speaking from the perspective of the narrator and only the narrator. You let the details explain the bigger pictures and hinged everything on the bitter taste of nostalgia. You’re really hitting your stride as far as melding your freewriting style with storytelling lately, and it’s immense. You remind me of Andre 3000 when you get like this, and he's my favorite rapper.

Vote: dead man
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