Playoffs Round 2: No. 4 Mr. J vs. No. 5 PancakeBrah - PANCAKEBRAH WINS 7-(-4)

[Certain]

WELCOME TO ROUND 2


Verses due: Tuesday, Dec. 17, 11:59 p.m. PT

Voting deadline: Saturday, Dec. 21, 11:59 p.m. PT

Line limits: 48 lines maximum unless agreed upon before either opponent posts a verse.

Requirement: Vote on all three second-round battles and post links in this thread. For each missing vote, two votes will be deducted.


Topic






Good luck. @Mr. J @PancakeBrah

[PancakeBrah]

Check.

No Frank votes.

[Mr. J]

Cheque

[PancakeBrah]

Business.

David isn’t Patrick Bateman, no. He isn’t Travis Bickle deranged,
he’s simply kempt. Face bathed in soap, tailored in Valentino layered coats
strictly arranged. Fickle, in gator toes. Lapping the ladder rungs,
watching as colleagues slip from the gable’s ropes back to the cattle run.
Detached, with a smile flashing off of his platinum tie clips
with patented dryness. Can’t recall the last he saw of the back of his eyelids
off on his Zoloft and Ritalin coughs. Driven. Medicated in a millionaire loft,
living in salt. Capitalist chakras in tune. On business, he’s visited Prague
and Ibiza, only to know their every marketable feature. His margins aligned,
a cognizant leader with a slight temper and dulled spark in his eyes.

He meets Ava in a bar, of course. She’s wearing Gothika chic and pockets of lint.
Little tassles, lockets and trinkets. Soft in the cheek, she moves like a walking of winks,
adorned with the gaudiest ringlets. Black sheer stockings with her body anemic,
she frolicks the scene, often caught with a free drink from the Johns she was seen with
while David sat sated, starched. A suit, holding an Old Fashioned fashioned with Maker’s Mark
annoyed that the napkin sticks. Passive. A pacifist in matching wits in a scene so dark.
So when she sits down, it’s an adrenal spark. Flush of face in an awkward pause.
This is no place for business cards. There’s no Action Plan if you can’t chart the cause.
He’s fucked his whore or two. Of course. But there’s a difference between rotten and fresh;
“Want to buy me a drink?” He nods with a “Yes.”

“Your performance has declined as of late, David” says the Chairman.

David doesn’t know gossamer from satin. Is gossamer satin?
Lost in the patterns. Aloft, drinking coffee with her is Latin. Innate.
Naked cross section of passion. Winterlove, winter in cabins. She’s late.
Often. Ava is the watch. Time is so latent. Time is so late.
What is a problem? Cross legged, thatched in a snowy mornings wake.
So foreign, these once pressing capitalization rates.
Cracked fire wood is the pace. Slow. Soaking in every falling flake
outside. Fingertips fire. A single blanket, an ice rink once called a lake
as a view. Teenage dream, renewed. The lack of a ledger,
warmth in Ava. At peace, eyes now undulled, together.


“We need to have a serious talk.” says the Chairman.

It’s an interlock of moonlit fingertips. Surround sound tinnitus. David locked into her. Life's lack of animus. Her locked into him. The big bang phantom dust. Neutron candle lust. Disregard of the rational. She’s his ration, him hers. Each other’s hymn verse. From here to sand, to dust.

“You’re fired.”
“I’m pregnant.”
Freedom. What's to your goal now?
"None. I'm happy."

[Mr. J]

I just parallelled the jet. went to Paris kissed farewell to Annette.
my youngest of two. more sense than a bank teller with a check.
a seller to connect with the depth that held the better of Moet.
the veteran of express. the feistyness of life. the elegance of death.
the rememberance. the never forgets. etched into each letter I read
each measurement stepped. conquerer. we are forever in debt.
but never regret the slump. It helps us remember the "was"
the before. the prequel to what happened if love was never enough
Prideful. greatful. glad about what it did and really meant to us
it prepared us when we are still the least intelligent of cubs.
bear with us and see where learning could take the lesser of us
mold us to be better than just. good. decent. never measuring up
I just. parallelled the jet. and said farewell to the rest
pushed beyond the parallels of the rest. Made wine of water
and supplied my father. living with a heightened mantra
a Titan. a monster. a drive with the eyes of my mama.
a surprise. a doctor. a reason to be alive. the sight of tomorrow
with the hype and the sorrow. The enlightened mind I could borrow
make mine and remind me that I am Apollo
the reason behind the eyes of a tiger. Lion lotto
one in a million built in one of a million
I'm still gonna make the run for a billion



oh well...I got there. your not there
oh on the contrare I'm God rare

[e11even]

Cake- This was beyond describing for me. This was the first time where I've read something this emotionally intuitive. It's fucking wierd. Awesomely wierd. The descriptive prowess you have is amazing and it makes me wish I didn't avoid reading you all season(for the fact that you write a little dense). I really liked the pacing and immersive nature of this read. Great start, great finish. Great fucking job.

J- This piece was a deep weave with a message I couldn't really tie well into the picture aside from that desription of power of oneself. This was very you but a little more a departure from ranting. I'm just not exactly sure what you were aiming for, as I feel bad that I didn't quite grasp the concept below the metaphorical face of it. I love your imagination, but the abstract nature of this piece overshadows what I think your intent was for the reader's impression. Good shit, but I think your focus should be to make it wildly imaginative and intelligent while making the point attainable. I dug the atempt, but really wish I came away with something more. Fuck. Sorry J.

I think the minds were definitely at work here on some major kickass level, but one contender was more grounded in presentation and tangible language than the other. I'm very glad both of you monsters showed up and showed out, but I think I'm gonna go with the overall better experience and encompassing of solid relation to the topic on an attainable level for the closer-to-average reader. MVGT Pancake.

[Certain]

PancakeBrah: You were very much in your element for this verse, toying with rhyme schemes and breaking down the emotions behind the everyday life of the everyday man, albeit in this case a bit on the upper-class side. You once told me The National are one of your favorite bands, and there was some Matt Berninger in this, with the description of a man who seems to have it all but recognizes that none of it matters. The words stood out, though, more than the theme.

Business.

David isn’t Patrick Bateman, no. He isn’t Travis Bickle deranged,
he’s simply kempt.

I wasn't crazy about this opening approach. It reminds me of "Pale. (There's No Twist.)" Instead of telling me there's no twist, you could simply write the story and not have a twist. By being so outright, you're closing my reading experience a little, and you leave me focusing on what isn't there, even if only momentarily. In a way, it reads as an author processing his character for the first time, which could work in some circumstances but doesn't here because the work isn't about the author's perspective at all. But that's a lot of discussion for really only an opening line.

Face bathed in soap, tailored in Valentino layered coats
strictly arranged. Fickle, in gator toes. Lapping the ladder rungs,
watching as colleagues slip from the gable’s ropes back to the cattle run.
Detached, with a smile flashing off of his platinum tie clips
with patented dryness.

This part shoved me right into where you wanted to go with this character. The diction is ridiculously clean for a segment with so many rhymes. But there's also some wit and creative phrasing. You've boiled David's success down to four and a half lines and dones so naturally and enjoyably. There's quite a bit of cliché not in the writing but in the character being built, but that quickly gets countered.

Can’t recall the last he saw of the back of his eyelids
off on his Zoloft and Ritalin coughs. Driven. Medicated in a millionaire loft,
living in salt. Capitalist chakras in tune. On business, he’s visited Prague
and Ibiza, only to know their every marketable feature. His margins aligned,
a cognizant leader with a slight temper and dulled spark in his eyes.

The rhyming again stands out, though it wasn't quite as subtle here. I liked the way you built the rhymes into new ones. Moreover, you've humanized David quite a bit here by showing us the other side to success. This first stanza was a very effective character sketch and prepares the reader for a story.

He meets Ava in a bar, of course. She’s wearing Gothika chic and pockets of lint.
Little tassles, lockets and trinkets. Soft in the cheek, she moves like a walking of winks,
adorned with the gaudiest ringlets. Black sheer stockings with her body anemic,
she frolicks the scene, often caught with a free drink from the Johns she was seen with

This part more than any other felt as though it existed for the rhyming. Obviously, you needed to describe Ava, but almost everything in this description was clothing, very excessive clothing at that. The rhymes were strong, though. It's interesting that your lines noticeably grew for this stanza.

while David sat sated, starched. A suit, holding an Old Fashioned fashioned with Maker’s Mark
annoyed that the napkin sticks. Passive. A pacifist in matching wits in a scene so dark.
So when she sits down, it’s an adrenal spark. Flush of face in an awkward pause.
This is no place for business cards. There’s no Action Plan if you can’t chart the cause.
He’s fucked his whore or two. Of course. But there’s a difference between rotten and fresh;
“Want to buy me a drink?” He nods with a “Yes.”

The interplay between the characters is very strong here. The juxtaposition of their presentations was a little heavy-handed, but it worked because it was supposed to be heavy-handed. I really liked "This is no place for business cards." and "He's fucked his whore or two. Of course."

“Your performance has declined as of late, David” says the Chairman.

David doesn’t know gossamer from satin. Is gossamer satin?
Lost in the patterns. Aloft, drinking coffee with her is Latin. Innate.
Naked cross section of passion. Winterlove, winter in cabins. She’s late.
Often. Ava is the watch. Time is so latent. Time is so late.
What is a problem? Cross legged, thatched in a snowy mornings wake.
So foreign, these once pressing capitalization rates.
Cracked fire wood is the pace. Slow. Soaking in every falling flake
outside. Fingertips fire. A single blanket, an ice rink once called a lake
as a view. Teenage dream, renewed. The lack of a ledger,
warmth in Ava. At peace, eyes now undulled, together.


“We need to have a serious talk.” says the Chairman.

It’s an interlock of moonlit fingertips. Surround sound tinnitus. David locked into her. Life's lack of animus. Her locked into him. The big bang phantom dust. Neutron candle lust. Disregard of the rational. She’s his ration, him hers. Each other’s hymn verse. From here to sand, to dust.

“You’re fired.”

A thought on the switching from the Chairman's dialogue to David's wandering mind: It might have been more effective had there been one more switch and had you used formatting to your advantage and made each mental drift in paragraph style. One more quote from the boss would have made the twist a little less jarring. The writing here is very strong and intricate, a little reminiscent of Split Eight's dreamscapes.

“I’m pregnant.”
Freedom. What's to your goal now?
"None. I'm happy."

The other twist comes, then. And I'm not totally sold on the "I'm pregnant." I think this verse would have been better without it. Also, I'm not sure if "to" is in that middle line accidentally or for some purpose I'm not picking up. Either way, the last line is the important one, and it delivers.

This verse was pretty close to perfect for this picture. The characterization, story line and ending all fit. The storytelling skipped around a little bit, which is why the pregnancy fell flat. We didn't get a grip on where David and Ava were in their relationship, really, but aside from that single line, that aspect was almost completely irrelevant. I'm not sure how to feel about the base of the plot, the sort of off-the-beaten-path woman who opens a man's eyes to truer forms of success and happiness. But this photo was a bit cliché in its own right, so it worked on this topic. This verse was one of your best.

Mr. J: You seemed hell-bent on matching PancakeBrah's rhymes here. I've read a lot of your verses, but I don't think I've seen any this flooded with rhymes. You didn't have the same level of complexity as him, but you did a better job of creating a natural and clear cadence, so your flow worked very well. Unfortunately, unlike him, you sacrificed a bit of content in going for a very abstract approach.

I just parallelled the jet. went to Paris kissed farewell to Annette.
my youngest of two.

Part of me cringed at "youngest of two." But when I got over that, this was an OK image to start off with, and it sets the tone for a verse that never again provides such a concrete image. It's almost the opposite of those storytelling verses that open with a couplet of abstract thought that pertains.

more sense than a bank teller with a check.
a seller to connect with the depth that held the better of Moet.
the veteran of express. the feistyness of life. the elegance of death.
the rememberance. the never forgets. etched into each letter I read
each measurement stepped. conquerer. we are forever in debt.
but never regret the slump. It helps us remember the "was"
the before. the prequel to what happened if love was never enough

This was just fucking awesome writing here. The rhymes and cadence were ridiculously smooth, and the phrasing was unique. This is probably the best writing I've seen from you, purely in terms of putting words together. Unfortunately, it doesn't connect.

Prideful. greatful. glad about what it did and really meant to us
it prepared us when we are still the least intelligent of cubs.
bear with us and see where learning could take the lesser of us
mold us to be better than just. good. decent. never measuring up

The message is clear here, which is nice, but the writing isn't as impressive. I liked the cubs/bear wordplay. Are we talking to some sort of god here? I'm not entirely sure. The connection to the topic at this point is difficult to pinpoint.

I just. parallelled the jet. and said farewell to the rest
pushed beyond the parallels of the rest. Made wine of water

I usually really like callbacks, but I'm not sure what the point is here. The secondary call back, to the wine and the earlier Moet, was slick, though.

and supplied my father. living with a heightened mantra
a Titan. a monster. a drive with the eyes of my mama.
a surprise. a doctor. a reason to be alive. the sight of tomorrow
with the hype and the sorrow. The enlightened mind I could borrow
make mine and remind me that I am Apollo

Here I thought you might be unveiling some sort of twist, but being the Sun really doesn't make sense for the rest of this verse. There's more cleverness here, though, and intricate if forced rhyming.

the reason behind the eyes of a tiger. Lion lotto
one in a million built in one of a million
I'm still gonna make the run for a billion



oh well...I got there. your not there
oh on the contrare I'm God rare

The ending really is lost on me because I still haven't quite figured out what the connection to the topic or even the thread through the verse is. It comes across almost as a freewrite. And though there was one great section and a lot of good ones, the lack of connectivity both throughout the verse and to the topic made this a strain as a topical battle verse.

Vote: PancakeBrah

[patrown]

pancakebruh - smooth. amazingly well written. seriously. best verse i've ever read by you. favorite part..
David doesn’t know gossamer from satin. Is gossamer satin?
Lost in the patterns. Aloft, drinking coffee with her is Latin. Innate.
Naked cross section of passion. Winterlove, winter in cabins. She’s late

absolutely remarkable piece, all in all. sounded so great. i just don't know where you went. have no clue.
he fired a pregnant secretary wot?

mr. j - i like this. off beat. good though. interested to hear how you may have delivered it. in my very humble and honest opinion, i percieve your piece to have started with a great story - and ended in a completely seperate self glorification piece. sounded good enough.

/v pancake - although j was almost on some epic other shit nobody can fuck with, he just stopped. abruptly. and cake won.

[zygote]

Some aspects for PancakeBrah: good characterization things like calling the character just 'the Chairman.' and giving the main character the name David was a nice touch too. Good effort to focus on small details giving an insight into the characters thought process. It's very grounded, often we think about the most inconsequential, insignificant stuff at odd times and you captured that well. "David doesn’t know gossamer from satin. Is gossamer satin?
Lost in the patterns. Aloft, drinking coffee with her is Latin. Innate." Too many references to Gossamer, I read this word Gossamer a lot, you should diversify into different fabrics.

For Mr. J: Good conceptual approach with a lot of potential but perhaps you didn't clarify the different aspects enough to make anything stand out. E.g., I enjoy this part "pushed beyond the parallels of the rest. Made wine of water
and supplied my father. living with a heightened mantra" - perhaps focused on the possible religious iconography of the image, comparing the outstretched arms to the christian crucifixion and cross. It had good potential but I think some parts wandered too far, needed to be more focused, every line contributing more to a clearer main theme. Close one, voted for Pan***keBrah.

[Vulgar]

Typing this on the keyboard I hate so it will be brief:

Pancake - Good work, Giorgio. Nice writing throughout and also strong rhyme schemes. The storyline never really had me. You dress a lot of your concepts in emperor's clothes hoping for a grand payout. I think if you write less muscle-y, it might be more effective.

He meets Ava in a bar, of course. She’s wearing Gothika chic and pockets of lint.
Little tassles, lockets and trinkets. Soft in the cheek, she moves like a walking of winks,
^These lines were wack.

and Ibiza, only to know their every marketable feature. His margins aligned,
a cognizant leader with a slight temper and dulled spark in his eyes.
^These lines were excellent. See the difference? Less detail, more meaningfulness.

I would've ended the verse at "You're fired" because I don't really care about closure and I'm a merciless specimen. Yours was alright. Wasn't too giddy about the cinematic nebulae expose before the closing dialogue.

J - I didn't really get this and thought you were much too neutral. The verse glazed over as one expository grouping without a tangible point, IMO. I like your rhyming and style but it didn't cut it for me this time.

Vote Cake

[Diode]

Can't say anything that has has not already been said. Mr. J went too abstract while Cake nailed the picture.

V/ cake on technical rhymes, story, and feels.

[Frank]

Long story short

Mr J took heed to my advice and came out the box in the Kentucky derby making huge strides but just got winded and collapsed

Vote - Pancake BrH