Week 5 - PancakeBrah (1-1) vs. breathless (1-2) - PANCAKEBRAH WINS 7-0

[Certain]

http://i.imgur.com/uAJesXX.png
Season 2

Rules

Verse Due Date - Thursday 23:59 PST

Voting Deadline - Sunday 23:59 PST

Line Limits - 16 - 48 Max can be higher if both agree

Voting - Must vote on 3 battles and post voting links in this thread, preferably all in one post.

If you don't vote on 3 battle you will be given a loss. If you lose by votes and don't vote on other battles you receive a one week suspension.


Topic

http://i.imgur.com/txOnKix.jpg




Good luck PancakeBrah, breathless

[PancakeBrah]

Chick

[breathless]

Chalk

[breathless]

If the end is the beginning,
and the beginning is the end,
then I was dead before I ever breathed.
Now I gotta live this all again.

I've been stuck in limbo, trapped in purgatory,
had some opportunities... had... stupid me.

When I shut the window, the pain latched permanently,
but, winds of change can break glass, personally.
I can't squeeze my way free of this frame of mind. No one's blame but mine.
Stacks of shattered, stained clean slates combine, stabilized.
It's a race to find the wasted time I keep takin' to save face and unwind.

I had to watch this clock tick from analog to digital,
but I thought quick, and often, tried to plan it all traditional.
Shocked that I lost potential yet still amped up to get it through
my head, like a cannonball that hits the truth, but missed it too,
I ended up in this present rut, standin on my principles.

Handin' off these ritual actions was miniscule
compared to the fact I'm the last character in this parable.

I've shared my half, relapsed, stared into the terrible,
but where I'm at now is passed bein' barely even bearable.
I don't care about miracles, wouldn't dare to rely on clerical
errors, I need concrete proof to see what's fair to most.
Screw smellin' the roses, I'd rather eat the marigolds.

Been in the dog house, tryin' to get my thoughts out the fog clouds,
brought down to earth, caught ground and burned,
livin' the big city life in a small town concerned.
If this is the shit we find when false doubts converge,
then I'm sick of what's been minimized and crossed out to purge.

If the end was the beginning,
and the beginning was the end,
then I am dead before I ever breathe.
Now I'm gonna live this all again.

[PancakeBrah]

Austin White - 2013

He preferred black and whites, the dark and drab,
and a Blick palette knife for the arts he'd tag
on naked concrete slabs. Crouched in faded jeans,
spraying slouched maître d's with empty shopping bags
who pout "Delaying the Dream"; he popped the caps
like an aerosol fiend, free, sovereign, brash;
a student of Banksy's themes with a backlog racked
with the pain he'd seen; depressed, his coffee black
painting life on subway cabs to Mogwai tracks.
He dreamed, with the duress of a suppressed insomniac,
of sunlit days filling causeway cracks with vestiges sprayed
with mirth, that his melancholy message'd change,
free to express his form away from these desolate days on Earth.
An addict to sedatives. The way it worked; he'd inject then plunge,
then nightwalk. Pick through his bottles, each separate one,
and stalk his sidewalks to pick the next section done.
And that's how, on the wrong night with the right cop, weapon drawn,
he'd set upon his next path, of somber mannerisms
during a couple years in jail, for a drug charge and vandalism.

He stared, affixed and straight, to one wall of the cell
of the six by eight, and ignored the waveless minute's wake
where he was accosted to dwell. He kept to his own,
cleared his dinner plate, and welcomed this home.
When the lights would quell, he sat cross legged on the cot,
stare still affixed, and imagined the sights he'd spell
with his grips on a valve, dispelling his thoughts.
He'd mime the motions. The diagonals and cross thatches,
odd patterns, new shades and gloss patches;
he grew. Gave to new palettes. The freedom of blues and reds,
off hues of grasses. Revived, he exhumed the dead,
and let go of sadness and the misused guile of his art,
picturing depth in joy, and he smiled in the dark.
Pastures of wheat, oak trees grew in his sleep,
he'd imagine them on that wall, those square miles of park.
Plying his trade, without touching a lid,
just through rewinding his brain. He loved through his bid,
and left with only one tag; signing his name
on the best piece that he ever did.

http://i.imgur.com/y6d4cjd.jpg

[NYCSPITZ]

Cool battle. Pancake's was just better though, cool concept by him and although the color square doesn't really capture (at all) the unevenness of a prison wall which in my mind would be transformed into a myriad of images, I thought the concept was executed well. Breath you still need to develop your writer's voice. I recommend reading good writers on this site like Black, Cake, Oatmeal, vulgar, topicaldood, pent up, frank, genocide and others to gain a more distinct style.

v/ pancake.

[zygote]

For Breathless, enjoyed the cyclical beginning and ending device that was a good way to show the 'continuous grind' grey atmosphere. Did not think that the portrayal of bleakness was backed up enough by language choice especially in some of the middle sections. E.g., "Shocked that I lost potential yet still amped up to get it through, my head, like a cannonball that hits the truth, but missed it too," - it was some nice language play (the 'shocked' and 'amped up' part) but it does not feel like it is fitting. While reading it I wanted the language that was more bleak, more pointless, less fancy and more depressing. This is a good example of language that was better; "I had to watch this clock tick" More parts like that would have been nice.

For PancakeBrah, enjoy the character study where the focus is not so much on any plot but rather on the characters internal motives. It was similar in style to a few good ones you've written like this (the one that stands out most is the "Gloves and hammer" one). The first half works well for what it is, the character description/set-up and the second half was a great portrayal of phantasy mind trapped within a bleak environment. The comparisons of reality; "He stared, affixed and straight, to one wall of the cell" and internal wish "he grew. Gave to new palettes. The freedom of blues and reds" were the deciding factor. Voting for PancakeBrah.

[Geno]

This was a dope fucking battle.
Breathless killed his verse. Had dope schemes and loved the darkness he brought to the verse. Not sure if the emotion was his tie into the shade topic. Not a big fan of the center screen format tbh, but it surely doesn't take away from the work you layed down. I really don't have much to complain about with what you did

Cake
You took an approach I've used before. The gaffiti theme was dope. Always dig the idea of it. Used to be heavy into it as a highschooler so it it interests me
Read your first verse, thought you layed your character out well, I was beginning to get a a little bored though, tbh.. that's when the second verse comes and the direction you went in with the different colors and how you painted it just stole the battle for me. Excellent second verse to follow up a well layed first one

All in all, not much to nitpick about here, though I normally don't tend to do that anyway. This was a great thread, two good writers. But I have cake here with a more conceptually appealing take the topic

V_cakebrah

[Mr. J]

This was an interesting battle, Breathless is becoming quite the writer
and I find it great that he is putting so much effort into his work
Pancake is a man of many words and few comparisons...quite the writer
both came correct with an interesting topic to tackle

breathless, I enjoyed the verse you had due to your approach
one I may have taken myself if I was sure what I was going to work with
the ideas are quite interesting with the theme you chose
the metaphorical approach is often a great one especially with topicals
you achieved quite the feat in the time it took to drop this
it was a great approach

Pancake, I enjoyed your piece as well, a great avenue to take
the topic you wrote out was quite interesting due to the build up
you brought me back to the golden era of Hip Hop with the plot
to me "tagging" feels like a long forgotten art form, one often abused as well
and the approach was quite the task due to the flow and storyline
you always have a keen way of sorting out your story and it's great
you didn't seem to let up and your second portion was the cream to the coffee
very well done my good sir...

my vote usually boils down to enjoyability at the end of the battle
and both have seemed to entertain as well as keeping my attention
both verrrry different writers clashing for another W added to their record
one up & comer, the other a well seasoned writer in his own right...
I feel even though breathless had quite the verse that it had its faults
it didn't seem thoroughly laced or weaved together enough to stick
you had the time, but most choose to let their first draft work as their final
you could have, should have put a better attachment to your meta's
it would have done you good in the end....see what I did there...

v/Pancake

[patrown]

breathless - i did enjoy the fact you separated your verses tenses in halves to complement the slight changes in wording of the chorus'. however, i don't see anything in your verses content to coincide with this fact. but i'm looking. still.
thoughts as i read/wiki : lost opportunities, a prison of skewed self reflection.. understanding a point of no return has been passed. finding solace in adherence to principles. left alone, with yourself and decisions. /AND you would like to dine on marigolds, Calendula officinalis. native to europe, "rubber gloves" in British English, commonly used in greek salads and shit. idk. don't see any relation to content. felt it was needed.

quote..
brought down to earth, caught ground and burned,
livin' the big city life in a small town concerned.
If this is the shit we find when false doubts converge,
then I'm sick of what's been minimized and crossed out to purge.

your piece has ended up here. sounds great, in my honest opinion.so, with principles laid to waste and ignored.. you were left with a gritty ass slate. of your own making. and it basically sucks. that's all i can really pull from everything. i really tried looking deep. anyway. i liked how you worded a few things. like,

I had to watch this clock tick from analog to digital,
but I thought quick, and often, tried to plan it all traditional.

that was pretty f'n catchy. and this..

Been in the dog house, tryin' to get my thoughts out the fog clouds,
brought down to earth, caught ground and burned,

at the point i read "caught ground," i was definitely entertained. just like how that sounded. but ..

livin' the big city life in a small town concerned.

.. in my opinion, your verse/layout/rhymes call on that particular line to say more than it did. i do respect the fact living in a large city will lead you to making some decisions a smaller community might shun you for, but i really don't see anything specific allowing me to relate to this fact. (that's what i think would have helped this verse, as i understand it.)

you're worried about your decisions, and where you're at and it sucks.. but, what are you concerned about? your past life? i don't see anything to justify "concern" when you're perfectly aware of the circumstances which led to "the character's" grey outlook. you pretty much hit the feeling of the color on the head. i just think you could have gone much farther into an aspect of small town living. maybe, one that may lead to decisions that end in this state of mind being okay to repeat endlessly. as your verse suggests. but - for the record - i do think you hit the topic, head on.

/v PanCakeBrah- you know the saying, don't throw your name up, or you'll come back to see it again! that's some shit. the whole piece. i can just picture a smoked out dude sittin there in a two man working on his style on a gray wall. really like that concept. grasped onto it, imagined it easily. great piece, just from the feel of the verse and what i took from it at a glance i could give you the /v this week. but you really came through with some intricate lines...

like an aerosol fiend, free, sovereign, brash;
a student of Banksy's themes with a backlog racked
with the pain he'd seen; depressed, his coffee black
painting life on subway cabs to Mogwai tracks.

sounded great. related your characters experience and put it to some audio. some smooth shit btw. different from what i would have imagined the character listening to from my first read through the verse. i remember sitting there on on my bunk wishing i had something to do. something to mime .. something to create. this guy had it made. idk. all around you really fed me something i could believe in. a character i could grasp ahold of, chew on for a bit, make my own, and come to terms with. great job man, all around.
favorite lines...

and let go of sadness and the misused guile of his art,
picturing depth in joy, and he smiled in the dark.

[symetrik]

breathless:
fave line:
Screw smellin' the roses, I'd rather eat the marigolds.

decent closer/opener, and general flow to the piece.
I'm not a fan of big words as rhymes (as opposed to multisyllabic rhymes with smaller words), as it reads like you opened a thesaurus and just connected them.


Pancake:
the connection to the topic was unexpected and really well done, it took me a second to realize what it was.
fave lines:
Crouched in faded jeans,
spraying slouched maître d's with empty shopping bags
who pout "Delaying the Dream"; he popped the caps
like an aerosol fiend, free, sovereign, brash

flowed well, use of "mannerisms" and "vandalism" I frown upon only because big words, but it worked much better than constantly throwing them in like the other piece.

vote: pancake

[Split]

If the end is the beginning,
and the beginning is the end,
then I was dead before I ever breathed.
Now I gotta live this all again.
>wat?

I've been stuck in limbo, trapped in purgatory,
had some opportunities... had... stupid me.

When I shut the window, the pain latched permanently,
but, winds of change can break glass, personally.
I can't squeeze my way free of this frame of mind. No one's blame but mine.
Stacks of shattered, stained clean slates combine, stabilized.
It's a race to find the wasted time I keep takin' to save face and unwind
>....wat?

I had to watch this clock tick from analog to digital,
but I thought quick, and often, tried to plan it all traditional.
Shocked that I lost potential yet still amped up to get it through
my head, like a cannonball that hits the truth, but missed it too,
I ended up in this present rut, standin on my principles.
>...............wat????

Handin' off these ritual actions was miniscule
compared to the fact I'm the last character in this parable.

I've shared my half, relapsed, stared into the terrible,
but where I'm at now is passed bein' barely even bearable.
> what
I don't care about miracles, wouldn't dare to rely on clerical
errors, I need concrete proof to see what's fair to most.
Screw smellin' the roses, I'd rather eat the marigolds.
>what the

Been in the dog house, tryin' to get my thoughts out the fog clouds,
brought down to earth, caught ground and burned,
livin' the big city life in a small town concerned.
If this is the shit we find when false doubts converge,
then I'm sick of what's been minimized and crossed out to purge.
> i dont get it

If the end was the beginning,
and the beginning was the end,
then I am dead before I ever breathe.
Now I'm gonna live this all again.



okay. the main thing your story lacks is any concrete details in anything. you have a lot of description directed at the meaning/nature of your punishment in purgatory, but zero information about the Actual punishment in purgatory.

like, metaphors and figurative language are completely ineffective when theyre painted on a blank canvas... theyre supposed to frame things in relative terms/ make complex ideas relatable. here you just complicate a whole lot of vague. if that makes sense.

i think concrete details or specifics intermingled with your metaphorical language would really make things better. you employ a wide range of devices though, which is certainly a strong suit.


rhymes were okay. maybe not in a style i found aesthetic but they werent severely lacking. small town converged verse had the best rhymes.


i think you're halfway between writing a descriptive topical about condemnation and writing a story topical about condemnation, and it would serve you really well to pick a side.


i didnt dislike it, but it frustrated me because it seemed like this verse was merely describing another verse FILLED with detail and shit that described the topic... and what you wrote didnt quite adequately describe it


sorry to bea. negative nancy



Pancake


thought you murdered this verse. the characterization was meticulous, the plot advancement was clear, the flow was nicely metered. You did something cool with the topic, and it was moderately clever. cant quote specifics and dont want to quote entire verse, only one or two spots in the verse i had notes and they were technicalities.

V/Pancake.