Week 8: 11. timeless (4-3) vs. 12. Frank (5-2) \\ Frank wins 5-0

[Certain]

Season 3

The Basics | Read the full rules here.

Verses are due Friday at 11:59 p.m. PT. THERE ARE NO EXTENSIONS.

Votes are due Sunday at 11:59 p.m. PT.

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

Voting on three battles is required. If you win and don't vote, you will receive a loss instead. If you lose and don't vote, you will receive a one-week suspension. Please post links to your three votes in this thread.

Topic:



Good luck, @timeless and @Frank.

[timeless]

"Hear This!"

They say I’m an attractive sin
saddled in for a ride through life.
Latched in, I spin, rewinding
times until day entwines night.
Soon, the cellar doors open,
hoping for a chance to see
a hell of a stellar performance.
Street dwellers had stormed in.
She had type 2 helter skelter,
all I could do was help her absorb it.
She swore in dormant vibrations because
my signing always left her hazed and defunct.
I prayed that she’d run away with the sun,
so she could taste and embrace what she loves.
Instead we would fuck and mix our rushed pace with our luck.
Friends would say, “Ace that’s what’s up!.” Or “Ace, pass the blunt!”
And so I did… then found more haze and unwrapped a dutchmaster.
Clutch!
So then I would blaze and grab some lunch for her to eat at home.
She didn’t like the public much, let alone the disease she’s grown.
That’s what she called it, I told her it was merely a disability.
More so a wish of being free. I speak, “At least you have mobility.”
She screamed wearily, “You know there’s such great bliss in killing me.”
I told her I didn’t agree, to stop with the threats and to show tranquility.
Anyways… let’s get back to the show, where we sit last in our row.
We didn’t know his name, but his tunes packed some miraculous flow.
Her passions sits in tow behind each strum of the man’s guitar.
I planned my part : to get drunk and seek love in a damn cigar.
Wish I had the balls to start a riot, but she wouldn’t be budging.
She’s the soil underneath the tree for my seeds to breathe…
…and I’m just the wooden beam fuckstick.
That’s all I’m good for, we’ve established we have no fun in public.
I wouldn’t take her to the moon if I proved such a budget.
Even on the way here she told me there was no room for my luggage.
That it’s just her boom boom I’m in love with,
though that ass does makes tunes when I jump it.
If I rub it she’s entrusted, her ignorance I’ve grown to known
as simply insignificant, difference is I’m known to grow.
She uses me for sex and a good time, I guess I do the same.
I’m the best at my own game, but if I lose then who’s to blame?
I don’t know sign language, and my lips don’t stretch when I talk.
Only thing she knows about is sex, a true deaf dialogue.
Enough of my rambling, our relationship is dismantling.
What’s worse is that this whole time I never knew how to handle it.
“If you want to take a deaf girl out, don’t take her to see live music.
You’re useless, you don’t even ask what I want, you just assume it.”
Peaceful we are not,
shocked? I feel regal
reeling in what’s deemed
see through or blocked.
Our differences are lethal.
They breathe through causes
that decide what’s equal
or what’s been eating
away at her thoughts.

[Frank]

I played this here guitar for years, and never did I ever have me a lesson
I could remember the long, rectangular, gift wrapped box - leaning up against a stack of presents.
The wrapping paper had been thrashed in seconds. It piled, piling into ceramic heaven
"What's all that bantering and yellin" My grandma said from upstairs- snapping to the rackets snazzy rhythm
Nat had a knack for expression. He'd play until the wee hours of the night: wooing to clapping reception.
In the smoke lit, moonlight - he'd strum notes through the fog of cancerous drafts through the dimensions.
He'd pluck passionately with perfection as if playing for the Gods, basking in his resonance.
The sound was trapped inside his head and it played out to the masses in attendance -
Infectious melodies grabbing at your senses, and holding on to you, like a gravity projection
The candle flickering at the night club, to the guitar licks - lash of it is deafening
The spotlight casted shadows across his black complexion in erratic flashing, seconds of mastery detected..
The audience could be heard packing their cigarette, like drums in the back up section.
Nat would tap his toes and tap the mic, and the bartender would fill the glass with what was on tap for the event and
His acoustic guitar had to be electric, on the night he blew the roof off the joint of the jam session.
Nylon notes - fanatically fretting, the love of music in the air, and the ash of deception -
The cigars glow while the guitars soul falls apart slow, out of whack with the essence.
Death dips you out on the dance floor, while Nat holds the guitar by the back of the neck and
The chord chokes you up, while you gasp -
Grasp your neck and manipulate the instrument until your craft is your profession.
Practice until your movement comes natural, and you've adapted to your dependence
My mother would smoke packs when she was pregnant, while the room was packed, I had their attention
Inhale the second hand smoke as it passes through my septum, my fingers straddling with tension
Creating a killer sound for the jazz club, as smoke attacks acting like a weapon
Your circulation is trapped and redirected. Your blood is squeezing through the slack in the compression.
You played 30 years in an unventilated sold out show.
You're Nat King Cole and you've left an ever lasting impression
You're missing half your fingers, and that's only half of the legend
You Amputated your history from your destiny, because that is redemption.



You're up

[Three-Planes-Aligned]

timeless - the writing from a purely technical standpoint was solid and a more-than-sufficient vehicle for your account here, but I found the tie-in to the picture a stretch. That aside it had a quaint charm in terms of character interaction.

Frank - strong, vivid descriptions tied together in sequences of businesslike, run-on, syllable-packed schemes. Add to that an English sensibility of yore used generously and it reads like a Baron Mynd piece.

Overall, Frank delivered a more chohesive product both in terms of pacing and emotiona relatability

[oats]

Excuse phone-related brevity of votes

Timeless: it was an interesting idea, but I had some qualms with it. First, the tone of the piece wasn't quite...appropriate? Like, it felt serious at times, with a sprinkle of melodrama, then goofy and almost comedic at other times. Just didn't mesh right with me. Also, I get that going to see a musician was this guy's attempt at a date night with his deaf gf, though that required me to suspend my disbelief quite a bit, but what was the end result? I didn't key in on the significance of the event. Overall this just lacked focus. The rhyming was good, though at times it felt like some lines came out of left field to keep the (albeit impressive) rhyme scheme going. All the pieces were present, just not put together well for the final presentation.


Frank: I thought this vintage frank. Your verse was a brushstroke, and you create the atmosphere in vivid detail, starting with the home life of his grandma telling him to knock off that snappy racket. It's interesting because in many ways, the actual story was fairly boring, but you brought it to life effortlessly that you don't even really realize how little actually happened. You pack a lot of depth into these sequences of Polaroids. I didn't like how the end broke the wall and spelled it all out, felt a little tacked on.

Vote: frank just outperformed overall here, much tighter focus on his concept and a greater authority over his writing.

[Zombie]

I liked both pieces in different chemistry. Timeless had a linear movement throughout a cohesive thought, and frank brought about thematic elements to describe a rather obvious picture with inanimate stuff sprinkled throughout. Pretty classic on both ends. Timeless withered away mid paragraph and sort of tried to tie up a far-fetched story. Frank stayed the same throughout with an abrupt finishing. Overall I think frank created the image that was most liked between the two.

[Certain]

timeless: For some reason, there was all this suggestive language that made me think this might be an extended metaphor in which the narrator was the deaf girl's vagina. But there were too many other parts that made that not work, so if that was your intent, then it failed. And if that was not your intent, then I think you needed to clear up some of your wording. The rhymes have been overwhelming your writing the past few weeks, and some of it has read and even flowed awkwardly, like the 10-or-so lines after the "Clutch!" interjection. I think pulling back on rhymes could help. This was a tough to comprehend story that seemed very light on content.

Frank: Nat King Cole played piano, and I have never heard of anything about him injuring his fingers. Other than that, I really liked this verse quite a bit. It easily could have been about a fictional person rather than a fictionalized version of a real one. "The cigars glow while the guitars soul falls apart slow" was some great writing, very much what makes you such a good writer. I feel like you've been missing this level of emotive and soulful writing for most of this season, so it was good to see this. It captured the topic well aside from the Nat King Cole thing.

Vote: Frank

[d0ubt]

timeless - good piece man, loved the flow and the rhyme scheme. a plethora of multis and internals in here, and at times scattered at random, keeping the reader on the edge of his seat as he reads, stirring things up and not letting it become a stale, predictable rhyme scheme (which i wouldn't really complain about because i fucking love rhymes). you developed a good story with descriptive imagery. i enjoyed the diction used throughout the piece. pretty good vocabulary used, nothing over the top. overall a good piece.

frank - i really dislike the use of long bar, but this was a really good piece. good rhymes throughout, good diction and a good display of vocabulary. great imagery and overall it was well written.

i thought this was a close battle, and i really hate to condone the use of long bar but i enjoyed frank's verse a little more here, i thought it was slightly more polished. could have gone either way though.

frank