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Old 08-24-2014, 05:39 PM   #1
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Default The Finals: Richard Schwartz vs. Seymour BUTTS [Seymour wins, 6-0.]




Verses will be due Saturday at 11:59 p.m. Pacific / 2:59 Am Eastern / 7:59AM UK. There are no Extensions. No Exceptions.

Verses must be a minimum of 10 Lines and maximum of 48 Lines or 650 words unless agreed upon by both competitors.

Voting Ends the Following Friday at 11:59 Pacific

View Other Rules Here

Goodluck

@Richard Schwartz @Seymour BUTTS



Topic:



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Old 08-31-2014, 02:43 PM   #2
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The Splendor of Yggdrasil

Pillared beams of sun, burning purgatorial flames
dance through the bark - he faces this immemorial claim
eternal recluse; his smile morphs into a vernal salute
ode to Spring. Mr. Chevalier ties this luring, murmuring noose
he climbs slowly, then reckons with the length of his rope
this Last Judgement's fluttering veil...questioning the strength of his hope
the drifting snow: monochromatic crystals blanketing bliss
as an earsplitting tempest - shrieks suddenly in this baffling mist
...it rises with his breath's imperceptible, gradual hiss.
Behold! The disquieting splendor of this heavenly aspect
Portends an unknown. Cosmic malevolence beckoning madness
...he leaps, learning the depth of a second's compactness -

Float.

He notes each transcendent geometry suspended in space
as every single belief he ever held commences to break
the veracious precision of life: immense is its face
and Jean-Paul Chevalier recognizes - he can amend his mistakes
sensing Adelaide rocking nearby as she ascends into flakes
she's swinging softly. A gentle otherworldly pendulum's trace,
when suddenly -
a horde of spirits sinister announce their menacing wake.
Stretched shadows hum a rising, barren melody great
the eerie tune blooms - all meaning and mystery bellowing grace...
a sudden, searing white light.
The branch breaks! Sprawled, he deals with this murderous pounding
the vortex of death's gate: he hears its call and its murmurous soundings...
pulled toward this venerable portal's endless, beckoning call
he sees the field - charged with an esoteric, blessed morale.
Adelaide swings...his dead daughter leaves his senses appalled
her emaciated face rasps a darkened, semi-sentient drawl
ring-like, she draws near. Panicking, Jean presently crawls
to the wood's edge. It's somehow...so forged; evanescent, egregious
these spirits and his daughter gone - the tension increases
a field of roses! He and Adelaide shared laughs in this sumptuous terra
its beauty's intensity rises, and he's consumed by an encompassing terror
memories blend with landscape, and all presumptuous error
growing at a distance - he sees the pupiled abyss of God's functioning sclera
this searing light takes him again...witness his climb and ascent
preacher of madness; creature of habits...mind of a saint.
Here's the wretched, beautiful view at the height of his zen:
Wraiths surround him, their socketed eyes ladeling flesh
Adelaide, smiling wickedly grabs the nape of his neck

In that terrifying moment...Jean reels during their savage rapport,
face contorted, she's screaming "I love you Dad" in a roar...
four of his vertebrae shattered, all of these mighty sentiments reel
...and Jean-Paul hangs. Finally finished in this desolate field.






.

Last edited by Seymour BUTTS; 08-31-2014 at 09:07 PM.
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Old 08-31-2014, 10:40 PM   #3
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My final chapter’s uncompleted but I’m asking you to read it
Neither pastor nor the deacon could succeed to pacify my demons
Nay, I can’t provide the reasons for my sullen, morbid state
It’s like my mind’s horrid estate was tended to by Norman Bates
The chorus sang, I kneeled and prayed, but failed to seize the day
Painted brightly but inside I’m hardboiled like an Easter egg
Got a chip on the shoulder that’s a little bit more of the cry-on-me sort
Cuz life’s put me in more pressing situations than an ironing board
I’m not striving towards enlivening rewards on my broken path
Hopelessly overmatched by the open gashes from my stolen past
My emotions’ total lack of full compassion holds me back
It’s got me frozen in a child’s pose without the yoga mat
My woeful tact in social acts grows, in fact, I’m acting crazy
Been hampered lately by excuses thinner than packaged gravy
My hapless frailty has a way of aggravating my poor judgment
I’m like a snail, when outside my shell, I just feel more sluggish
My shortcomings get more crushing and soul sucking every day
Wish this fettered state was swept away by the heavy weight of a trebuchet
Suppress the rage and stress impatiently, wishing all this was done
But I’m too proud to take the pills, too scared to swallow the gun
Plus it’s a godless affront to the omniscient one who gave us breath
So I’ll wait, bereft, until fate collects its gainly bet on my tainted flesh
With waning strength, and unease I fight the struggle to sleep at night
As I sway through these days between the branches on the tree of life



Last edited by Richard Schwartz; 08-31-2014 at 11:53 PM.
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Old 09-01-2014, 01:13 AM   #4
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I want to start off the vote by congratulating you two for reaching the finals of the Alias Topical Tournament. To showcase your skill set in a cloak of style is truly liberating and especially rewarding knowing you did so, on your verses, rather than your merit.

As Red Glare, I had the pleasure of battling myself in the championship and can't tell you how exhilarating that is if you ever get the chance.

This was a classic battle. A dark druid like drag to trudge through because of the utter nature of this solemn picture and its susceptibility to the arsenals of each writers imagination on such a dreary day and these two recaptured that havoc that lingered through the streets today with such fervent hatred for one another that they completely shredded their pieces respectively to itsy bitsy pieces and I'm just the first voter luckily enough glue it all together.

Vote - Seymour BUTTS

After internalizing each writers efforts I have come to a conclusion I can stand behind with impeding evidence .

Quote:
eternal recluse; his smile morphs into a vernal salute
ode to Spring. Mr. Chevalier ties this luring, murmuring noose
he climbs slowly, then reckons with the length of his rope
this Last Judgement's fluttering veil...questioning the strength of his hope
the drifting snow: monochromatic crystals blanketing bliss
as an earsplitting tempest - shrieks suddenly in this baffling mist
...it rises with his breath's imperceptible, gradual hiss.
Behold! The disquieting splendor of this heavenly aspect
Portends an unknown. Cosmic malevolence beckoning madness
...he leaps, learning the depth of a second's compactness -


a field of roses! He and Adelaide shared laughs in this sumptuous terra
its beauty's intensity rises, and he's consumed by an encompassing terror
memories blend with landscape, and all presumptuous error
growing at a distance - he sees the pupiled abyss of God's functioning sclera
Judges Mallet

Add the mans accomplishments
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Old 09-01-2014, 10:40 PM   #5
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SEYMOUR - great submission. i will air my grievances with the verse first and foremost. your adjective and adverb usage to complete your rhymework is being overdone. the end of so many lines consist of an adjective/noun combo (ex. first 4) it becomes redundant to read. the adverb could use some restraint as well. writing something like 'presently crawls' is far beneath your skill level at this point. stretch your language a bit further if you can. you have the vocabulary and written talent to draw us in much further than you are here. in all honesty, this felt more like a study in descriptive verbiage more than a topical final verse. however you did the picture justice and then some with your snapshot into the suicide of Jean-Paul, a man who sees his dead daughter flash before his eyes at the moment of his death. very visceral and cool to read. i would even say fun, as strange as it sounds in this context. i like a few key details most. Adelaide gripping his neck at the moment of death was fantastic imo. i imagined her as the rope itself. to be more precise, her loss of life being the reason he decided to make that noose in the first place. great from a framework's perspective but need to tighten up some writing habits that are less advantageous competitively.

richard schwartz - fuck man. you had me latched at first. a glimpse into the suicidal minded man, a la pictorial cue. straight forward and well done. solid as a rock but certainly no diamond yet. something did not feel necessarily genuine or honest about this. i think it was all your allusions and similes which were entertaining and clever (in part) but almost served to soften your overall tonal message. there was no connectedness, and far too many semi-dope punchlines about your depressive state. however there were some major highlights rhyme-wise

Quote:
Wish this fettered state was swept away by the heavy weight of a trebuchet
which i really enjoyed. also, i could've sworn i've seen that snail/sluggish line in a joke book somewhere at some point. idk. to be clear, it was a good verse. on topic, technically sound as could be. just lacking any OOMPH factor that i admittedly expect from a tournament finals submission.

for this reason, though i am highly critical of both verses for different reasons, i have to award this one to SEYMOUR BUTTS by a fairly slim margin.

thanks guys



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Old 09-04-2014, 01:09 AM   #6
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Richard Schwartz: This topic really didn't play into your strong suit, which was unfortunate. But last week's didn't, either, and you made the most of it with one of the best verses of the tournament from anyone. Here, you seemed determined to put up a strong verse even though you didn't have your typical out-of-the-box approach. And you did so with rhyme. The rhyming was tremendous from the start to the finish here, while your diction remained spotlessly crisp. The one-liners were a bit disarming at times. I didn't like the gravy line at all, and the snail line struck me as very clever but a bit unearned in the spot that it was in. (Perhaps the reason for that was because the gravy line came right before it.) But through the crisp writing and rhymes and the clever one-liners was pretty thin content. And the verse never felt like it really evolved. The ending was just an ending, a moment in time that the verse decided to come to a close. Storytelling is your forte, and while it was great to see you step outside of yourself, this was a strange time to do so. And to do so when you present a somewhat rudderless depression rant that doesn't feel all that depressed stands out as a lesser performance than we know you're capable of.

Seymour BUTTS: Everything about this represented everything you represent, from the bookish reference of the title to the final image of the hanging. There was a lot of attempted (but not false, entirely) intellectualism and overwrought verbiage here, but it served a purpose for the most part. Your esoteric style connected better here because of the intensity of the image created. Essentally, you stayed within one image and wrote an entire verse about a few seconds passage in time. One of the things that I dislike about many of your verses is the seemingly irrelevant use of italics and bold. It doesn't seem like you're using it for emphasis or to shift tones or to shift narrative points. Everything is being told from the perspective of Jean-Paul's head, through third-person limited perspective. That's actually a good thing, but it makes the italics a little unnerving in a way because I'm looking for changes that don't seem particularly present. Maybe I'm missingsomething with that. Anyway, there were a few moments where clarity was an issue on first and second reads, but by the fourth and fifth, I found myself digesting everything this verse represents. The third-person limited was a very nice touch, a profession narration that seldom gets treated properly in this genre. The intensity that built throughout the second stanza came to a strong close. The awkward word choices and excessive use of adverbs and adjectives clunked things up more than adding to the aura, but they did both to a degree. I'd love to see what you could do in stripping back your writing to a degree, as you did in one of my favorite verses from you (the tree verse). But here, this is your style, your flair. Anyone who's read much from you should immediately recognize it. You wrote with intelligence and grace, though not the sparing type of grace but rather the more florid method. And for pushing so forward with your own, unique style in this tournament, you may find yourself finishing in the winner's circle.

Vote: Seymour BUTTS
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Old 09-05-2014, 04:05 AM   #7
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Seymo - im quite a fan of this style of verse...a flash in the pan/momentary granduer type reflection or occurance . In one moment you were able to weave motive, character and emotions. There was an uneasiness in getting through some of the descriptions due to the vocabulary. At times it felt spot on and at times it felt somewhat high nose for the voice of the verse.

Richard -- im at a loss for words right now. I love this verse for what it is. Technical, lyrical, encompassing and poignant (relatively). Its strange to follow up that sentence, but with all that said it fell flat on delivering the power of your topic. It lacked an empathatical connection I could grasp onto and call my own. Its downfall is what I loved about it...the style of writing it is...

Vote seymo

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Old 09-05-2014, 10:28 AM   #8
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Seymour, these were the standout lines of your verse..


he climbs slowly, then reckons with the length of his rope
this Last Judgement's fluttering veil...questioning the strength of his hope
the drifting snow: monochromatic crystals blanketing bliss
as an earsplitting tempest - shrieks suddenly in this baffling mist
...it rises with his breath's imperceptible, gradual hiss.
Behold! The disquieting splendor of this heavenly aspect
Portends an unknown. Cosmic malevolence beckoning madness
...he leaps, learning the depth of a second's compactness -

Float.

He notes each transcendent geometry suspended in space
as every single belief he ever held commences to break
the veracious precision of life: immense is its face
and Jean-Paul Chevalier recognizes - he can amend his mistakes
sensing Adelaide rocking nearby as she ascends into flakes
she's swinging softly. A gentle otherworldly pendulum's trace, when suddenly -
a horde of spirits sinister announce their menacing wake.
Stretched shadows hum a rising, barren melody great
the eerie tune blooms - all meaning and mystery bellowing grace...


Richard, these were your standout lines..


My final chapter’s uncompleted but I’m asking you to read it
Neither pastor nor the deacon could succeed to pacify my demons
Nay, I can’t provide the reasons for my sullen, morbid state
It’s like my mind’s horrid estate was tended to by Norman Bates
The chorus sang, I kneeled and prayed, but failed to seize the day

My shortcomings get more crushing and soul sucking every day
Wish this fettered state was swept away by the heavy weight of a trebuchet
this bar was dope af
Suppress the rage and stress impatiently, wishing all this was done
But I’m too proud to take the pills, too scared to swallow the gun
Plus it’s a godless affront to the omniscient one who gave us breath
So I’ll wait, bereft, until fate collects its gainly bet on my tainted flesh
With waning strength, and unease I fight the struggle to sleep at night
As I sway through these days between the branches on the tree of life



Conclusion: Seymours strengths were the narrative approach he took to the topic and attention to detail, along with solid rhyming structure and multi use intertwined. Richards strengths were more simplistic by the way he constructed an easy enjoyable read with metaphors for a bit of a funny twist to a serious topic, combined with cleverly placed multi rhyme scheme usage


Seymour took this with a more impactful rendition of the topic. Props to both for great reads
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Old 09-05-2014, 12:46 PM   #9
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Seymour BUTTS View Post
The Splendor of Yggdrasil

Pillared beams of sun, burning purgatorial flames
dance through the bark - he faces this immemorial claim
eternal recluse; his smile morphs into a vernal salute
ode to Spring. Mr. Chevalier ties this luring, murmuring noose
he climbs slowly, then reckons with the length of his rope
this Last Judgement's fluttering veil...questioning the strength of his hope
the drifting snow: monochromatic crystals blanketing bliss
as an earsplitting tempest - shrieks suddenly in this baffling mist
...it rises with his breath's imperceptible, gradual hiss.
Behold! The disquieting splendor of this heavenly aspect
Portends an unknown. Cosmic malevolence beckoning madness
...he leaps, learning the depth of a second's compactness -

Float.

He notes each transcendent geometry suspended in space
as every single belief he ever held commences to break
the veracious precision of life: immense is its face
and Jean-Paul Chevalier recognizes - he can amend his mistakes
sensing Adelaide rocking nearby as she ascends into flakes
she's swinging softly. A gentle otherworldly pendulum's trace,
when suddenly -
a horde of spirits sinister announce their menacing wake.
Stretched shadows hum a rising, barren melody great
the eerie tune blooms - all meaning and mystery bellowing grace...
a sudden, searing white light.
The branch breaks! Sprawled, he deals with this murderous pounding
the vortex of death's gate: he hears its call and its murmurous soundings...
pulled toward this venerable portal's endless, beckoning call
he sees the field - charged with an esoteric, blessed morale.
Adelaide swings...his dead daughter leaves his senses appalled
her emaciated face rasps a darkened, semi-sentient drawl
ring-like, she draws near. Panicking, Jean presently crawls
to the wood's edge. It's somehow...so forged; evanescent, egregious
these spirits and his daughter gone - the tension increases
a field of roses! He and Adelaide shared laughs in this sumptuous terra
its beauty's intensity rises, and he's consumed by an encompassing terror
memories blend with landscape, and all presumptuous error
growing at a distance - he sees the pupiled abyss of God's functioning sclera
this searing light takes him again...witness his climb and ascent
preacher of madness; creature of habits...mind of a saint.
Here's the wretched, beautiful view at the height of his zen:
Wraiths surround him, their socketed eyes ladeling flesh
Adelaide, smiling wickedly grabs the nape of his neck

In that terrifying moment...Jean reels during their savage rapport,
face contorted, she's screaming "I love you Dad" in a roar...
four of his vertebrae shattered, all of these mighty sentiments reel
...and Jean-Paul hangs. Finally finished in this desolate field.






.
this was the best composition of writing I have found on this site. I'm going to continue to read this section of the forums, as it seems to be more of my likngs.

*if I could vote* it'd be for Seymour BUTTS
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Old 09-07-2014, 12:02 AM   #10
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Seymour Butts wins 6-0.

Closed.
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