02-22-2018, 10:20 PM | #1 |
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WEEK VIII: ACTIVATE SELF vs Rude[SELF WINS]
Season 8 Verses are due THURSDAY at 11:59PM EST Voting ends SUNDAY at 9:00PM EST Verses may not exceed 48 lines or 650 words Voting on 3 battles is required. Topic: http://www.netcees.org/showthread.php?t=126253 @ACTIVATE SELF vs @Rude Goodluck! Last edited by Inno; 03-05-2018 at 06:47 PM. |
02-23-2018, 09:16 AM | #2 |
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Jesus. Good luck, Rude.
Let us pray. |
02-23-2018, 09:42 AM | #3 |
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No doubt. Good luck to you as well.
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03-02-2018, 12:28 AM | #4 |
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I witnessed his majesty, his code of honor's a strategy. The evidence is weaved along seamless stitches that thread the tapestry ("A Masterpiece!") of elegance to seek applause. That's the - ethics of valor see, the principles are half complete. The precipice we teeter on blur the line of athletes, not a hero - but you have to be, with the precedence we speak upon... "I have fought without shame" I said, on my knees waiting death. "Are you not entertained?!" He shouts to the crowd and keeps baiting guests. The scowls from our Dominus, cut short all the howls from the commoners, Doctore growls out his moniker, reopened wounds smelling foul through the gossamer. Most would cower to Commodore, plea for mercy as he makes his decision, but the turn of the thumb and murder that comes isn't what he envisioned. Imagine a contest to the death, sold to masses, they market as sport, the contestants are criminals or they're slaves, so they target the poor. You owe coin to the senate? A fair trade, they'll darken your door. Sold to a ludus, the lanista spoke of the Rudis, to harvest them scores. The carnage endured by the survivors of Carthage was warned, fourth generation degenerate, I garnished the gore, and bargained for more. Raised by the spatha, I was taught obey the laws of the sand, study your opponents every move from his jaws to his hands. Mimic the behaviors that bring the applause you command, spill blood at any cost and watch them flock to the stands. This opponent, like no other, his stance made of stone, every jab, something cracked, his hands breaking bones. The Undefeated Gaul, advanced on my throne, my crown? a war helmet like those brandished in Rome. My scepter is a gladius, the arena's my castle, my kingdom's the coliseum, where the cheetahs are shackled. Beasts. Wars. Feast? Corpse. Priests. Tours. 'Feats? Yours. Not a tier that I've dropped, climbed but never fell from yet. Any fear that I'll flop - dies, designed to better sell the bets. Two warriors step on the field, bleedin' for these rotten trolls, added up to seem at odds with one another, even for a common goal. But oh the Commodore, he doesn't know - that when he stands at will to call, I will rise up from the sands as we have planned, to kill them all. First the Commodore, his entourage and then we arm his slaves then the legionnaires that dare attempt to sending harm our way! The Dominus I grant no mercy to, all the men we warn today, serve as proof, to curve pursuit or be met with swarms of blades. We are Gods of the Arena, Legends of the fall, In Blood & Sand, amongst the grand - pay penance for us all. House to house we start revolts "Take Vengeance for the cause!" The War of the Damned bares no winner, but Sentenced us to scars. The price you pay for glory, is one bargained for in death. To cut it short, it's the end of a sharpened sword with length. We crumbled the foundation, til the pillars lacked support, humbled a whole nation, until the senate backed accords. And to think it all started as a sliver, of the killing that's enforced, marketed as a mirror match of titans, so a thrilling clash? Of course. Last edited by Rude; 03-02-2018 at 07:21 PM. |
03-03-2018, 02:35 AM | #5 |
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Suggestion: read uttered under breath in NC Dark(skin)
I was only 15 years old when my father died. He was a charming guy, almond-eyed and full of light. The calm and kind and always honest type that lived a modest life. Kissed his wife. Farmed and liked to smoke his bong at night. Provided chai & appetizing bowls of rice. Our home was nice. My only gripes were over times he'd go for wine to soak his throat and sober mind (invoking ghost he hoped to hide). "Zopa, I was only 5 when boats arrived on coastal lines" He'd close his eyes. "...and most of my..... whole family died, like toasted goats and roasted swine, enclosed inside a holy shrine. I moaned & whined then choked and cried - the open sky was cloaked in grime - as Chinese soldiers bolted by and catapulted boulders high like flying coals of molten death igniting homes and scalding flesh 'til only bones and skulls were left of noble folk from Old Tibet that etched the road to Okobek. Where local sects in togas met & buddhist monks with yogis slept upon the steps that cobras stretched." He'd slow his breath. then go in-depth. about the throne & strong protest and how it lead to thousands dead or how he fled and found the land of Shangri-La. His anger stopped once he unlocked the ancient box of elevated train of thought. He'd train a lot. Reframe from drops of alcohol and break the pots. When days were hot. the shade was not. We made the pond our sacred spot. Then shaped a rock into a block to meditate and say our 'oms'. My father passed, but did not die. Instead he managed to survive beyond the frantic hands of time, chronologically devised & romantically inclined to turn the mantis into flies. Cause transcendent elevation comes from stations that you climb and the greatness you can find in trading places if you're wise. The enlightenment he reached at his psychedelic peak was like an atrophy to grief and a practice I believe that I can master gradually, once I'm actually in sync with the natural tapestry. ...and so I sit here. beneath a canopy of trees. As peaceful as a lotus. floating in a stream. I close my eyes to focus. Control my inner ch'i. By soaking in the moment. and solar energy. The leaves begin to rustle. from blowing in the breeze. It's lovely and it's subtle. The poetry of Spring. I'm humble as a bubble. that flows into the Sea. Untroubled like the puddle. along the empty street. My ego has been muffled. (Emotional relief). Unmuddled and unpuzzled. I'm totally at ease. Last edited by ACTIVATE SELF; 03-03-2018 at 10:17 PM. Reason: Omited a typo. |
03-03-2018, 02:02 PM | #6 |
death to amen
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rude- 1st stanza was dope.. 2nd was okay and the third was fuckin awesome. you kept up throughout. your art of storytellin is really enticing it baits me to keep readin. you structured it and flowed it smoothly. theres rlly not too much wrong with this piece, its dope as fuck.
Activate self - you flexed lyrically on this. multi syllables everywhere that never rlly stopped resonating with the inner rapper in me. definitly won in the flow, structure n lyrics department.. this was fuckin sick. rude had the better story telling as well as imagery. Self was lyrically astounding but rude was good enough in that area to put a great story together. this was honestly a pleasure to read. dope battle vote - rude |
03-03-2018, 11:29 PM | #7 |
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Self - I liked this read. It had a somber feel to it given the content, sort of put me in a peacful trance almost. Flow was good, we went heavy multie and scattered 3-4 in each line or so. The flow never truly faltered, and given the amount of actual rhyme going on here, that is quite a feat in my eyes. I say the flow didn't falter as in end rhymes, but you did have to break up sentences between two lines to fit the patterens you wanted to. TO me, this is the easy way out. The challenge is actually finding the perfect schemes inside a structure, which you did, then would break structure in said lines in order to fit your flow. This is a small detail, but a detail none the less. Solid verse about a monk it seems, raised by a man a good man. Not much going on honestly, more scenery than concept. But solid read regardless.
Rude - This reminded me heavily of a TV show "Sparticus", it actually read like a direct transcript of what happened season one aside from the wives death. No matter. The read was cool, a bit long and dragged on near the middle. The flow was cool, but not as clean as your opponent. The story was cool though, not as much gore as I imagined there would be when I first saw the photo and given the begining of verse. You layered and scattered this verse with rhymes, which was cool, you even changed it up here and there, which was cool as well. When you do that you don't allow the reader to grow too stagnant, although, as I mentioned, eventuall I did grow weary of reading because this reall was much longer than most go for on this site. That's not a bad thing, it def can be, especially with the people like me who prefer to keep it around the 20 line limit. but regardless, this was a fun read. v/ Activate self Felt his story simply struck a nerve with me while his opponents gave me no real attatchment towards, that and his flow was better though they were both good.
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03-04-2018, 03:18 PM | #8 |
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yeah I though activate self won this I just felt that I related to his topic a bit more than rudes... rudes felt very cliché even quoting a line from gladiator and I just wasn't really impressed as much as I was with activate self... I think activate self really went in on the topic and was able to bring the picture to life which was really cool I also wasn't a big fan of rudes topic and just wasn't feeling the story of the gladiator who kills the senate and all the romans it was like what for? I didn't understand the backstory to that... I guess you could say because he was a slave or some shit like that but I didn't really get it.. sorry..
vote: activate self
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