RD 1: Pinot Grij vs Eng - ENG WINS!

[sral]

https://s12.postimg.org/pl0jlggx9/sti.jpg



Welcome aboard motherfuckers!

This is the netcees.org S.T.I - named primarily because the majority of the board believe the topical side consists of homoerotic man poetry about rainbows and unicorns. We're here to hopefully dispel that myth once and for all! ...or confirm it, which would be equally lulzy for the casual reader but not so great for your reputations, I'd imagine.

Regardless, if you find yourself still here you can put that down to either my utter stupidity, blind belief you'll show up, or the fact you're a pretty sought after writer. Take your pick. I've assembled the greatest talent to still be doing this hallowed hobby of ours. This may well be the final opportunity for some of you to go out with a bang before retiring from text all together. For others this may be their greatest crowning achievement so far. Whichever category you fall into, I promise to pit you against some of the very best writers online and over the coming month I want you to prove why I was write to have invited you here ahead of an array of other writers that were denied their spot. It's time to show and prove, ladies.

This is where shit gets real!

House Rules:

16 lines minimum, 48 lines maximum. (if agreed upon by both participants, you may go beyond the limit at your own risk.)

Check Ins are due: Wednesday 11:59 PST (You MUST check in!)
Verses are due: FRIDAY 11:59 PST.
Votes are due: The following Monday!


PLEASE VOTE ON EVERY OTHER BATTLE! I'm not here to police you guys, but it doesn't hurt to vote and it also helps ensure we keep things moving around here - these tournaments are nothing without the support of you guys. Modding is often a thankless task, and I've put in a lot of work to make this happen for you all, don't let me down!

There is NO RECYCLING, BITING ETC. Pretty standard. I shouldn't have to tell you folks that.

First to post may edit verse until opponent posts his verse. Second to post may edit their verse up until the first vote is received.

TOPIC: https://s17.postimg.org/pn8951vaj/image.jpg
Pinot Grij Eŋg

[Pinot Grij]

Check.

[sral]

THE TOPIC IS A CLICKABLE IMAGE IF YOU WANT TO SEE IT FULL-SIZED BRUHS!

[Eŋg]

_lit

The filament is right here; light-years protest the seed.
Incandescent spirit is fire, fire is synecdoche.
I’m blinking with ideas perpetually;
perspectives gleaned from the perplexing beams I cast.
There’s ecstasy through the looking glass,
exiting sands pass inexorably through porous hands.
Pouring, as some sort of author plans
though it’s dawning this might all be the force of chance.
Man, it looks unnatural: the tie, the suit and subway line commutes
provide the gel cap for the bureaucratic capsule – you swallow it,
I might if I had that orifice, or some kind of tooth to bite the con
but I’m busy kindling love for torches: lighting books of right-on
with my sidearm. Recognize it’s bright if the sense isn’t numb
or stoke your fires by the warmth of the Empyrean.
It’s all aetherial -- ad infinitum,
except we’re too worried about bills sinking the funds
and the cost electricity runs to ever have that symphony done.
That’s ok, not bothered with it - I’m constantly lit; literally, Sun.
A half-cocked old concept waiting to flash flint from a gun.
The heat of three AM whiskey liquors that dig in your lungs
to sit on your breath, but I’m best when thinking upon
notions of feeling, theory, meaning - opinion.
It lights me up, being dim’s insistently dumb.
Filament wires tie us, then in sequence we’re spun,
chain-linking hands to fence in seeming oblivion.
Seven point four billion
currently conducting currency, no current weaves between us.
Mind’s bent towards Time spent despite charge being intravenous.
La petite mort relates to more than just that which leaves your penis.
Still, I can’t say much – dispossessed of the most loyal intent:
sparking up cigarettes to discuss the post-coital tristresse.
One flick of ash, cinders crash into moist soil. It’s dense.
I’d collapse the light into Earth in hopes it’d reflect, just
to know it, I guess. I confess to be a blunder.
Necessity’s mother elucidates the path – abrupt in ending.
The light at the end of your tunnel’s not intention, but invention.

[Pinot Grij]

https://s17.postimg.io/4dkmu7ezz/image.jpg

“Hello, I’m Joey Bulbhead, it’s nice to meet ya
Maybe we could grab some coffee or a slice of pizza”

The dating game ain’t easy when your head is a bulb
Whenever Joey went to pick up girls… pathetic results
He was sexually repressed, with no seductive solutions
It’s ironic, he’s a lightbulb but nobody would screw him
Stepping foot in a nightclub was such a horrid idea
All the drunk chicks would ask him if he was born at Ikea
He’d pour them tequila, but it was just a matter of time
Before they’d laugh and ask him if his favorite rapper was Shyne
Not to mention there was tension and he was down to start a fight
Every time somebody laughed and said, “Hey buddy… got a light?”
Joey left in anger, stormed straight out of the damn place
As the bartender yelled, “Hey freak! You forgot your lampshade!”
He was ready to rampage, you could say he took it badly
So he hit the ATM then stumbled down to hooker alley
He went to the first prostitute, not trying to be pushy
And said, “Hey baby, hows about you let me light up your pussy”
Back at his place, no questions asked, they got into it fast
She was lickin’ his glass while he fingered her ass
Down on all fours, he pleasured that whore with his tongue
One problem: his bulb lit up when he was horny as fuck
The electrical current made lava out of his saliva
And she howled like Ginsberg as he burned her vagina
That bitch slapped him with a lawsuit for worker’s compensation
And his paycheck was wrecked after the lawyers docked the payments
He lost his patience, feeling helpless in his tries at romance
The fire in his head kept him from extinguishing the fire in his pants

But just when he thought it was game over for his hopeless penis
There’s a reason lightbulbs are synonymous with strokes of genius
He set up a booth at a BDSM convention, all draped in leather
And sold his services to sadists who believe that pain is pleasure
Masochist bitches lined up for his electrifying cunnilingus
And they’d be fuckin singin while his molten tongue was flingin
He paid off the hooker, his new job had him making ends
And “bulbing” became the porno industry’s latest trend
See, Joey’s the fuckin’ man as he steadily pounds muff
Now that’s something Thomas Edison can really be proud of

[big baby]

Ahh, the most interesting battle on this thread. One dissevers the topic completely, riding parallel with the image. Hand in hand. The other combats the original practice of storytelling and loosely swings in demarcations of a what a story entails- can embody, and will do to a reader. A few writers in this tournament have done the same and I'm glad an eerie contrast between the two exists. Eng VS Pinot Grij is my favorite battle, not in terms of how fascinated i am with the match-up clashing, but how I believe this will be the most voted on battle, and the closest. Now....


“Hello, I’m Joey Bulbhead, it’s nice to meet ya
Maybe we could grab some coffee or a slice of pizza”

The dating game ain’t easy when your head is a bulb
Whenever Joey went to pick up girls… pathetic results
He was sexually repressed, with no seductive solutions
It’s ironic, he’s a lightbulb but nobody would screw him
Stepping foot in a nightclub was such a horrid idea
All the drunk chicks would ask him if he was born at Ikea
He’d pour them tequila, but it was just a matter of time
Before they’d laugh and ask him if his favorite rapper was Shyne

This. I was wondering how you'd approach the topic, with a more serious, undercut tone. Or if you were just going to go with your regular approaches and hope to captivate a larger audience. I feel like, You're Shel Silversteinesque. You can captivate an elderly person, or an 8 year old - which is in no way saying your verse is childish, but that it could make someone with a young mind, laugh. Everyone here is solid. My only qualm with how you deliver pieces is, that it's templated. That's what makes you so good, but also makes you predictable. Easily countered if one were to take that route. You could make a book of these and I'd buy the book. I'd read the book. I'd laud the book. I don't know if I can say that about your opponent, and that saddens me. It's just that entertaining. It's so simple, and it just works. It just falls into place and I honestly think you don't spend much time tampering with anything.

1. look for stanza subject, look for scheme
2. create the line, use the correct wording
3. buff out the edges.
4. post line.

this whole process, I feel takes you about a minute or so, if that.

Not to mention there was tension and he was down to start a fight
Every time somebody laughed and said, “Hey buddy… got a light?”
Joey left in anger, stormed straight out of the damn place
As the bartender yelled, “Hey freak! You forgot your lampshade!”
He was ready to rampage, you could say he took it badly
So he hit the ATM then stumbled down to hooker alley
He went to the first prostitute, not trying to be pushy
And said, “Hey baby, hows about you let me light up your pussy”

This is where, silently, you encompass a lot of details, a lot of feelings, and a lot of whats going on. This is awesome, the process of you getting here just shifted with a change of scenery, the club/disco/bar. Loud music. Lights. Lightbulb. Joey. I wonder who you know named Joey that made you name the character that. Again, what I dissect, is your lines seem so fluent, it just seems just a tad bit lazy, at times, but its so funny, so involving...that... i almost don't care? It's not even funny in the sense that I burst out wtih laughter. It's something I read and go, cool, slight grin, slight brain tickle. Cool. What I also noticed was...your constant references to light/shade and idiomatic turn of language that almost made it too consistent. The story is there, the concept is there, but the redundancy, in some cases (not necessarily mine) may become dense. The reason why is because in the bulk of your verse you've referenced this many times, but have done little to progress the story. While this may not seem to be of detriment, you're still competing against a skilled writer. I just think things like these shouldnt be overlooked. Maybe its because the first round usually results in about a 100% win rate for most of the writers involved, but then again with those odds being the very subject of this tourney, I think we may have to adjust some of our strengths and tread carefully. Again, awesome.

Back at his place, no questions asked, they got into it fast
She was lickin’ his glass while he fingered her ass
Down on all fours, he pleasured that whore with his tongue
One problem: his bulb lit up when he was horny as fuck
The electrical current made lava out of his saliva
And she howled like Ginsberg as he burned her vagina
That bitch slapped him with a lawsuit for worker’s compensation
And his paycheck was wrecked after the lawyers docked the payments
He lost his patience, feeling helpless in his tries at romance
The fire in his head kept him from extinguishing the fire in his pants

here. Right about here is where I wished you took a risk. Without dabbling in your regular prestigious signature style. If you approached the topic with just a slightly serious tone, with serious language. I think you wouldve, and couldve actually been much more of a force. Especially against a writer like eng. All this was hilarious. Everything clicked. Nothing seemed force. It was all natural. Too natural. I laud you for the ease in which you do all this. It's awesome, intense and entertaining. But I can't see you progressing against a stacked group of writers without taking a bit of a risk, whether that be length, placement of topic, or anything else. It just seemed like you were comfortable in being yourself (thats okay, honestly). And while the story is top tier, the language is funny, the topic is spot-on and you did everything right. It seemed too comfortable. You felt unperturbed. And while your poise is enviable, and your prose is good. Right about here I felt you shouldve taken another route, from the start. Also, I'm sure @deadman will appreciate the Howl reference. I did too. Just very impressive stuff, high level of writing.

But just when he thought it was game over for his hopeless penis
There’s a reason lightbulbs are synonymous with strokes of genius
He set up a booth at a BDSM convention, all draped in leather
And sold his services to sadists who believe that pain is pleasure
Masochist bitches lined up for his electrifying cunnilingus
And they’d be fuckin singin while his molten tongue was flingin
He paid off the hooker, his new job had him making ends
And “bulbing” became the porno industry’s latest trend
See, Joey’s the fuckin’ man as he steadily pounds muff
Now that’s something Thomas Edison can really be proud of

I don't know man. Just very impressive. Entertaining. Am I getting boring yet? This is all weaved so tightly you can call it perfect, but that would be a disservice to actual critique. Like I pointed out earlier, redundancy may get the better of some vote casters. Bulbing was a pretty cool tally to it. Shel Silversteinesque. Albeit with tinges of vulgar, intense language, and overall topic resolution. I'm glad Joey found his niche. I'm glad he found resolution. I'm glad the topic was executed as it was. Really nothing much else to say. We go to Eng.




The filament is right here; light-years protest the seed.
Incandescent spirit is fire, fire is synecdoche.
I’m blinking with ideas perpetually;
perspectives gleaned from the perplexing beams I cast.
There’s ecstasy through the looking glass,
exiting sands pass inexorably through porous hands.

Wording. Thick. I like the wording, the descriptive emotive here might stream past a lot of people, but the last two lines in particular, ecstasy, looking glass, I think are paramount to the setting of scenery, the feeling, the emotion. Whenever a body part has something attached to it (porous hands) I think the reader needs to pay very close attention, which is what I did. And it payed off, though, i'll tell you why in the forthcoming paragraphs. The thing what most won't get is this - and what I think you purposely did, blinking, perspectives, looking glass, perplexing beams (i didnt like that phrasing, but the scheme made it acceptable, usually, when i use the word perplexing, it isnt to describe an object, but more so the emotion of the stanza itself, for example if someone were to write, perplexing. how the turn of society blah blah blah, granted, you described something, it just seems like an overused phrase, especially in online arenas such as these) ecstasy, existing sands, porous hands, all this word usage is connective and very intense, it sets up a display, and the display is gorgeous.

Pouring, as some sort of author plans
though it’s dawning this might all be the force of chance.
Man, it looks unnatural: the tie, the suit and subway line commutes
provide the gel cap for the bureaucratic capsule – you swallow it,
I might if I had that orifice, or some kind of tooth to bite the con
but I’m busy kindling love for torches: lighting books of right-on
with my sidearm. Recognize it’s bright if the sense isn’t numb
or stoke your fires by the warmth of the Empyrean.
It’s all aetherial -- ad infinitum,
except we’re too worried about bills sinking the funds
and the cost electricity runs to ever have that symphony done.
That’s ok, not bothered with it - I’m constantly lit; literally, Sun.
A half-cocked old concept waiting to flash flint from a gun.
The heat of three AM whiskey liquors that dig in your lungs
to sit on your breath, but I’m best when thinking upon
notions of feeling, theory, meaning - opinion.
It lights me up, being dim’s insistently dumb.
Filament wires tie us, then in sequence we’re spun,
chain-linking hands to fence in seeming oblivion.

it's fucking outrageous that I quote this entire bulk. But it has to be done, it all syncs in perfectly, and not only did you use keywords, light, sun, heat, dim, numb, lighting, bright, empyrean, warmth, aetherial (lol british), electricity, lit. you get where i'm going. See, the first quote doesn't extend this deeply, this is where you put gloves on and went to work. You're staying close to the relatable image, but you definitely aren't encompassing the EXACT image, more so, it's how you feel. Where as your opponent encompassed the image in itself, he is the image, literally, where you grab the figurative language and mold something differently. Artistic. You started and ended, delving into the apathy and morose situation thats life, that more or less holds a depiction of the image, which is prettty impressive.


Seven point four billion
currently conducting currency, no current weaves between us.
Mind’s bent towards Time spent despite charge being intravenous.
La petite mort relates to more than just that which leaves your penis.
Still, I can’t say much – dispossessed of the most loyal intent:
sparking up cigarettes to discuss the post-coital tristresse.
One flick of ash, cinders crash into moist soil. It’s dense.
I’d collapse the light into Earth in hopes it’d reflect, just
to know it, I guess. I confess to be a blunder.
Necessity’s mother elucidates the path – abrupt in ending.
The light at the end of your tunnel’s not intention, but invention.

I liked this a lot. I also found it ironic how you used the word invention in your last line and Pinot alluded to Thomas Edison. Well, not alluded, but you know. The language here is high tier. I quoted this to another writer in this tournament saying that it's really good. I also REALLY like the use of the word tristesse, even though, it's spelled wrong, but I may chalk that up to you being british or something. You sort of tapped into some bohemian bummer bar cinematic scenery here. I like the carelessness of the flick of the cigarette. Turn of language may confuse or turn off a lot of people, but it may not. Not really sure how you progressed a natural 'story' here, which may actually hurt you, but I think in describing scenery with beautiful language, tightly woven, concentrated couplet, that you actually did just that, you told a story, in language, and of a figurative, illustrative sense. But being that your opponent did that so precisely and beautifully, easily, it may actually hurt you more than intended, but that works both ways, which is why this is my favorite battle this week. this is insanely close. Also I feel a lot of self-hate this round because a ton of writers will actually have to choose who won, when in reality nobody really lost. But, if I have to go with my gut, and with what I feel was harder to pull off, and stuck to the confines of the meaning behind this tournament, i'll go with, with a heavy heart, that would be Eng. It pains me, to say this, but I just really loved both verses but I guess voting is my duty. Either way, any writer can win this.


thanks.

[UnbornBuddha]

Sorry gentleman, I will not be able to do the thorough break down this deserves, due to time constraints, but will say I highly enjoyed this battle. Two very different approaches.
Pinot went with the premise of the tournament, a story. And he excels at this quant short stories that are comical and yet capture the essence of the story.

Eng on the other hand, relied on his literary style to give us a more of an imagery driven topical. I also thought Eng's wording was more fluid, it morphed into this elegant manner that was nice to witness, like a dragon tail's ebbing and swaying back and forth but with words, in this rhythmic yet chaotic manner. I don't know if I described my impression well, but that's the impression I received. And like I hinted at, I didn't really pick up on a story here, more so a thematic depiction.

Pinot, on the other hand, told us a tale. A funny one, and in a certain sense that was expected. The story was written as another commentator mentioned in a very idiomatic manner. Therefore it is very relatable and easier to decipher. But in all honesty, the one I enjoyed the most was Eng. Mostly because of the way he weaved his words so seamlessly. There's this alluring quality to it that I find more intriguing.

Vote: Eng

[Cimmerian]

Eng

Eng, I read your verse three times. You had some cool lines in there. For example, "There’s ecstasy through the looking glass." Despite the multiple reads, I could not figure out the precise topic you were touching on. It was cool you had some references to light, electricity, and a suit and tie. But I couldn't relate it all together. It flowed pretty well, thought.

Pinot Grij

Lately, it seems you have been taking the humorous approach, which has been working to you. I'm probably just too much of a prude, but some of the humor was a little low brow for my taste. It flowed pretty well and I was engaged through the entire read.

Because I felt Pinot more fully addressed the topic, my vote goes to him.

Vote: Pinot Grij

[dead man]

i wish i had the time or patience to offer a better breakdown for you guys.

pinot: as a pure storyteller, you are just about the most consistent i know. you don't dabble in the abstract or the gray. you stick to what you know and do it well. it's almost like reading a limerick, or the lyrics to one of those catchy songs we used to hear as kids that would teach us something. there once was a man from nantucket. i really liked how you tied it into the "idea" portion of the picture, which i did not catch until after reading your submission. bright idea indeed. clever as always and very tight in all technical aspects. you are a master of your craft for sure. you and copypat are almost similar for being the most lighthearted and fun writers here. its genuinely refreshing and all around excellent to have you here contributing artistically. the nicknames were funny. the turn at the end was well done. very easy to digest. not something i necessarily would feel the need to come back and read again, however.

i think this is where ENG sort of excelled. its a preference of mine to dissect and reflect on written works and this was something that requires a slow burn. you took the word "idea" and the image at hand - and put it through the ringer. casted every shade (pardon my wording) available onto these singular concepts, bound them together and made it something spectral and grand. it really was the little details you used that made this worth picking apart. you continued to recall that same image: heat and sun and current and charge. lighter flick. ash, cinder. holding a slab of ordinary and fleshing it out until it fills the room. this was one of your best showings as of late. i think that is a testament to the what people can produce under the right circumstances. ie, a tournament of this magnitude.

i'm not entirely sure on this but i need to cast a vote one way or another. i dont know if lars intended this to be a "story only" tournament and if that is the criterion we should be gauging the work by. obviously pinot would be the choice here if that was the case, and would likely be the person to beat moving forward. as for now though... voting ENG.

[Frank]

Pinot Grij, Telegraphed Pinot. You got the formula. It's heavy on the calories. Quickly digestible, and satisfying, but it's empty calories, though. Everyone has their niche in this tournament and you played to your strengths here as expected of you. Slapstick comedy with a Rodney Dangerfield set up/punch attack. Cimmerian said (unlike dead man I read votes occasionally before voting) that the comedy was low brow. It was corny funny. I like the constant barrage of light bulb idioms line after line after line after line, but you missed a line. The Hookers Alley line did not have a light bulb idiom, which threw me off a bit, because you were so consistent. Familiar with the Howl poem by Allen Ginsberg. That line threw me for a loop cause I know some of the beats personally. Little vulgar in the last few lines but it definitely got your point across. Sometimes curse words can depreciate a piece, but in this case it added a pent up angst of a lightbulb man who hadn't blown his fuse in a few hours. Liked how you put up the picture on the top of the verse. Gave the verse a domineering look. Approach was clever and creative but the subject matter was a bit tacky and crude to my liking. Teenagers would eat it up.

Eng, I had to look up the pronunciation of synecdoche & inexorably. Your vocabulary is spectacular. Thick, dense, maze like wording. Enj has arrived and is being awarded recognition from an array of voters who are being enlightened by the penmanship this man Eng possesses. You can't even duplicate his name correctly because it has a British ŋ. Crafty and introverted, introspective. Showed stylistic traits of those who frequent the open mic. (deadman, bigbaby, etc) Lots of self talk (I'm, I, It's okay, etc) Their is an introverted appeal to that. This verse was like a jarring image. Like waking up and seeing the morning sun through the strands of your eyelashes. Overall its journalistic.

The stylistic clash lived up to the hype. Having an extremely difficult time picking a winner here.

Re-reading.

Studying picture for 5 isolated meditative minutes.....

Hovering......

Re-reading in opposite order.

Processing....

More thoughts. Eng and Pinot both mentioned their penises which was weird. Eŋg left the picture out of the equation and alluded to it. Pinot put his picture on top of his verse. Pinot Grij was ranked number 1 in the power ranks and is down by a few votes here. This is the heated debate between Topical and Story based verses. As a storyteller myself, I have to vote Pinot Grij here.

[PancakeBrah]

Quick vote. Had a whole long breakdown written for this last weekend but said fuck it. Read both verses a few times.

Pinot went humorous. Had 50% hit rate. Large section of the verse was almost battle verse in format. IKea was funny. Straight forward, very literal take on the topic was funny in and of itself. Eng wrote at a higher level. Easier to do when you do an OM style, but facts are facts. Schemes, rhymes, level of thought were all stronger. Pinot gets points for writing a narrative but I can't in good faith say he wrote a better verse.

V/eng

[Certain]

I held out voting on this battle until last because I absolutely see it as the closest of the round. I also am breaking with my normal voting format to discuss this battle in a more contrast-heavy manner.

I’m not sure any two elite writers on this website have more opposing styles than you two, other than your remarkable polish. (I suppose big baby vs. Pinot Grij might be a bigger contrast, for instance.) But one of the fun elements here is that you probably don’t get why your opponent is getting votes right now, since your tastes both run similar to your own writing.

What results is something that, on paper, appears to be a battle of story vs. topical and a choice based entirely on preference. I don’t have a preference, though, between the two forms. My goal with each read (this battle got five) was to suss out where you each went wrong. Because if there’s one thing I think is important to note here, it’s that this was not a great battle because neither verse lived up to its writer’s potential.

For one, the topic was bizarre and constricting, though I do feel as though you both immersed yourselves in it. The takes on the topic were overt to the point of dullness, though. Of course Pinot Grij was going to interpret it literally and write from a point of dismissiveness. Of course Eŋg was going to settle into an exploration of light and humanity and fill his verse with clever minor wordplay. Both of these verses ended up relying on cleverness in a way that was a bit offputting, as you came off aloof.

But the verses entertained. Pinot Grij’s rhyme schemes were immaculate, and the storytelling style emphasized funny with in-your-face, original punchlines to go along with weirdness. The very concept was so weird and unique that I laughed the first time I read the verse, which is not a common thing. Meanwhile, Eŋg’s verse stood up well to multiple readings and offered a number of really nice turns of phrase. I loved “the tie, the suit and subway line commutes.”

There were flaws in each verse, though. Pinot Grij had a bit of a plot hole in the notion that Joey Bulbhead could not figure out how to get around his head being a lightbulb during regular sex. (You know, vaginal intercourse seems like it shouldn’t be a problem.) Eŋg’s issue was a few redundancies and times when the connectivity of the lines felt forced and clumsy. Pinot Grij definitely had better flow, both because that’s easier to accomplish with a simpler vocabulary and because his rhyme schemes were more fluid and consistent.

Neither ending was particularly strong. Pinot Grij’s ending wasn’t as funny as the first half of his verse, instead relying on shock-value humor more than cleverness. Eŋg had a great concept to drive home, but that final couplet was worded and rhymed so clumsily that it took away from the impact of the line on every read.

As far as take on topic, you have the hyperliteral translation vs. the pretty obvious metaphorical interpretation. Both of you seemed totally confident, perhaps even cocky, about your ability to execute those properly, perhaps to the point of obnoxiousness as you both seemed to reference the topic at least once every couplet in your own ways.

What wins me over here, then, is ambition. Pinot Grij took the character presented to him and very cleverly inserted him into our world, had him go on some dates and told a quick story. I certainly appreciate the hell out of a good story. But Eŋg held himself to much loftier goals in his approach of the topic and built his verse into something that spoke beyond its single layer. Had Pinot Grij built out a world or told a more robust story, that probably would have been a deciding edge. That wasn’t the case. This battle was extremely close and required a lot of reads. But I’m voting for the verse I feel more impressed by.

Vote: Eŋg