Contendership: Dancake (1-1) vs. Rakontur (2-0)-- DANCAKE WINS 3-0

[Split Eight]

AOWL Season V, Week 6


SUMMARY OF RULES:

Verses are due
Monday at 11:59 p.m. Western / or Tuesday 2:59 Am Eastern / 7:59AM UK
There are NO extensions.

Verses MUST be a minimum 10 lines or a maximum of 48 lines (or 650 words).

Votes are due Thursday at 11:59 p.m. Western / or Friday 2:59 Am Eastern / 7:59AM UK. Failure to vote will result in automatic sign out for the next week.

All competitors must vote on THREE battles and post links/ references in the voting thread.

Read the full rules here! (http://www.netcees.org/showthread.php?t=119848)

TOPIC:
STORY PROMPT WEEK:
"There's often one individual that shapes our lives more than any other outside influence. For better or for worse, that person in my life is..."

Good luck!
Dancake Rakontur

[Woke]

Dear John,

You're a good dude and we go way back. Remember playing hooky, man, school was made whack. Spitting on parked cars as we'd walk. Chucking rocks down the block just as a car would pass, god, every ding was laughing gas. We were nuts John, Putting gum under the latch so when they'd open up their car... Not sure why, but we would laugh. Never nothing serious, though we sure came close. Demons on the loose purchasing balloons, we tied them to a cup with a lizard and a string. Aghhhh! Worth remembering. When he jumped he must've been a hundred feet, and that SMACK! Just think man, guy hardly weighed a thing. Or how about the time we made that trip, only this time filled them up with piss. Now the trick was blowing up the balloons before putting them around your dick. I remember you chasing Liz, that butch bitch, and when she finally was cornered, SPLAT!! One just missed; but that splatter off the brick hit her in the face. HA! and she licked some of that shit. That summer you left a kid, visiting your cousin on a trip. When you returned you were a man with the taste of living just a bit. You smoked your first sack, a good night started right. You toked that wooden pipe and coughed til you dropped a lung. You never told no one, about how you lay'd convulsing as you breathed. Struggling just to raise up to your feet. Strange, cuz, your thoughts were running free. Your brain tingled til it let you go... Oh this feeling was appealing to your soul. In just a finger snap you were looking to relapse. You returned bragging bout some dome but should've known. When you played tag you'd let them catch just so you could grab some ass. Rosie cheeks were oh so sweet, you kissed and always told. Under twenty one without control. Them flashing lights, such a fucking bitter glow. You lost a car and license but gained a different type of bar that also failed to enlighten. I'm saying, what the fuck happened? Once upon a time you were a good one. Living life but probly shouldn't. Well listen, angels aren't just Christians. In fact, one is yours and she's about to blow a piston. She's a perfect gift, she's pure and she exists. Don't fuck this one up or your dead to me.



Sincerely,
John

[PancakeBrah]

"You're always mine to keep when you're gone."

i hear her piano in my pocket of coins. as my fingertips trace,
and fiddle, in the pews. studying each, at such a lingering pace.
ten years, is ten years. they've given me tokens for you,
each a gradual step. there's ever more, even after (ever after) i'd tired of this emotive milieu.
still, i stayed for these offings.
through the driest of donuts, the stalest of coffees,
and the cigarette breaks (most prefer a pack of lies, with a maelstrom of coughing).
tonight was mostly the same, as ever. the repeated, lame endeavors;
'one too many long islands.' etc. the first speaker stood plaintively,
not even old enough to hold the whiskey sours you used to make for me.
i hit on her during a break. i thought our eyes had exchanged
she left abruptly,
either i've lost it, she's gay, or the rules since the nineties have changed.
i don't know. nor do i care, really. it was only a test run, that.
a test. to shake off the rust, for when my best comes back, for romantic rejoinder.
it gave me a smile. the thought gave me a buzz. i danced in the foyer.

You brought me my drink, as I took a sip of yours.
You laughed, and I embraced every syllable as if each was course.
Naked on the black leather, we attempted at etudes

i only enjoy the porn when i pretend that it's you.
another monday night. after i'm done, there's nothing left to do.
ten years, is ten years. i've already changed. The notice is striking,
others will tell you. struck from me, the notion of fighting,
verbal or otherwise. Another life, a sober so knuckle white,
so distant. so distant from those nothing fights.
i'm an arranging of sobriety coins, already arranged.
i've already cleaned. it's so dry without you, and I've readied for rain.

She played a steady refrain.

[Split Eight]

up & vote edited here.

[Mr. J]

Rak, I understand that you are going for a more 'letter' based idea
but as I start reading it I feel like I'm listening to DMX, which is cool
it's like minus the ad libs, & I can't really quote too much without it taking away from something else
it had it's ups & downs but you powered through that shit and made it work
which I admire, it came with a point from the beginning & you have to make it to the end to understand
which makes the piece work with it's faults & it's peaks, very admirable work here brah


through the driest of donuts, the stalest of coffees,
and the cigarette breaks (most prefer a pack of lies, with a maelstrom of coughing).
tonight was mostly the same, as ever. the repeated, lame endeavors;
'one too many long islands.' etc. the first speaker stood plaintively,
not even old enough to hold the whiskey sours you used to make for me.
i hit on her during a break. i thought our eyes had exchanged
^^^^^^
This is what makes reading your work so entertaining when you show
I really enjoyed the descriptive layout that you had brought to your piece
it shows your versatility to weave such a pattern of ideas and make them rhyme
this felt like I'm standing in a crowded bar while an old jazz musician is tellin' a story on stage
smoke filling the room & shit, this was a dope way to draw the person in though

either i've lost it, she's gay, or the rules since the nineties have changed.
i don't know. nor do i care, really. it was only a test run, that.
a test. to shake off the rust, for when my best comes back, for romantic rejoinder.
it gave me a smile. the thought gave me a buzz. i danced in the foyer.
^^^^
This was smooth, the transitioning was powerful here & seemed fun
I enjoy how you dance around with the scheme & bring that emotion to your character
this is neat..
I really enjoy the working you did in your verse, very nice stuff

v/Dancake, brah this battle was nice, but I feel like Dan stole the show here
he really brought some different dynamics to the league with this verse
it had all the enjoyable uses of verbiage as well as a decadent story as we progressed
I thought what Rak went for was cool, but you already know how it would end
when you do a 'letter' based concept you pretty much prepare yourself for tunnel vision
you unfold the story calmly and add some really 'human' aspects to the topic
while Dan comes across more technical and smoother you just couldn't compare...

v/Dan

[Split Eight]

Rakontur.

Strong depiction of the topic through pure reminiscence. The narrative was mostly a casual walk through an old friendship, interspersed with more telling descriptions of their character. I feel like you never gave this person substance. You quickly transitioned into the ending and alluded to more serious trespasses against the idea of truly growing up, but kept us at a distance from understanding why or how this person ended up on this path or how it affected you. I feel like a more solid direction with one of those ideas in mind might've given your piece finality, but I feel like I just read a hurried nevermind by someone who realized they might not want to lay out all the details.





Dancake.

I really liked the repeated tie-ins to the AA coins, it centered your writing in the present day and made it very clear that this complacency is from wanting to return to happier times and preserve them. Perhaps on the surface, the conviction appears to be that drunkenness was the cause of the breakup in the relationship being described. And that by becoming sober the narrator believes he can recapture the desires of his ex, if/ when they cross paths again.

Kind of a common theme amongst breakups: make yourself better because the type of hurt from being left, if the relationship is serious, is tied to who you are at some level. Not just one trait that's discovered when you open up, but to the reflection of yourself as a whole over many moments, over the entire relationship. Something's off.

Memories of the lover are intertwined with alcohol. Whiskey sours/ sipping each others drinks/ nothing fights after some light drinking (described among things listed as very distant from sobriety).

The feeling of want for this person and this relationship inspires an urge to let go of progress that is practically hotwired into seratonin pathways like a familiar alcohol buzz. A sensation you try so hard to forget, but has a footing in your memory via every drunken memory you have.

The speaker's possessiveness of this memory echoes the opening quote and the topic, and is reflected in the coins again.

This verse expresses the need for a new addiction, a new anything to become a fixation to tether yourself to. The motifs of dryness and the aural reminder from tumbling coins are paralleled by the anticipation of that thirst being quenched, and here we find our narrator at the tipping point- that failed attempt to flirt with the other attendee.

Not mentioning a desire to have a drink implicitly gives the connection between past love/ drinking more resonance, and I think was a deft move by Cake to reinforce the topic's bearing on the piece.

not even old enough to hold the whiskey sours you used to make for me.
i hit on her during a break. i thought our eyes had exchanged
she left abruptly,
either i've lost it, she's gay, or the rules since the nineties have changed.
i don't know. nor do i care, really. it was only a test run, that.
a test. to shake off the rust, for when my best comes back, for romantic rejoinder.
it gave me a smile. the thought gave me a buzz. i danced in the foyer.

^^^the heart of your verse, especially the zig-zag at 'she left abruptly'


Vote: I like Cake's verse much better, I think it was a little bit emotionally sparse but framed the topic perfectly.

[Clutbuck]

Rakontur: I loved the format actually, I pointed out a Pinot Grij drop of recent that opted for the paragraph style in league competition and he did exceptionally well with the rhyme placement etc to give it a natural rhythm and cadence which carried the flow.

I almost agree with Mr. J here in that the letter format does tend to give you a conclusion in mind prior to having read it, but I don't think that fully does you justice here. I enjoyed the piece. It opened up well and told its own story, almost like a snippet in time if not the whole thing with every detail - but hey, how much do we really know about someone, other than what they let us in and see or know? I guess we never really, truly, do and I give you a little leeway in that sense here because it made the character more true to life for me that way.

Dancake: I love your knack for twisting a turn of phrase, making something I've never read or heard sounding like an idiom I'm already aware of somewhere in my brain. Your opener was a great one here in that sense, lulling me in with "I hear her piano in my pocket of coins" great visual. Superb writing.

You came back stronger than you left I think, there's little rust here at all. It's a very polished performance and (purely from your personality on the board and whiskey musings) felt regaled than you perhaps meant it to be. This hits right in the feels.

Great battle but I'm going with Dancake here bruhs!