Week 8 contender match: 3. Mike Wrecka (3-4) vs. 4. El Pancake (3-2) \\ El Pancake wins 4-3

[Certain]

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

Season 3



The Basics | Read the full rules here (http://netcees.co/showthread.php?t=54688).

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 (http://netcees.co/showthread.php?t=65561).

Topic:

http://i.imgur.com/m9NarlB.jpg

Good luck, Mike Wrecka and El Pancake.

[Mike Wrecka]

I used to stand tall, a powerful tree,
casting a giant shadow, with a tower of leaves,
did you know the temperature would be over a thousand degrees,
if I didn't create the oxygen that allowed you to breathe,
every exhale derails the clouds with a breeze,
but that wasn't enough to leave these cowards appeased,
first a carbon footprint left the flowers diseased,
then they pulverized plants into the ground with their feet,
chainsaws formed a circle, then surrounded the weak,
this once calm forest was filled with the sounds they secrete,
trespassers evicted me out of my mountain retreat,
even creatures nesting in branches weren't out of their reach,
I shouted and shrieked, ignored, nobody noticed,
as I was separated from the ground by my opponents,
the ancient Egyptians used to glorify and worship the lotus,
but now modern day man seems to be all out of focus,
I was broken and hopeless, and loaded onto a truck,
taken from my home, by the heartless, corrupt ,
im just a carcass, enough! let me rest in peace,
but that wasn't the intention of these meddling thieves,
they were assembling trees, to be ripped apart,
felt so exposed, after being stripped of my bark,
then I was lifted and gripped with something so sharp,
only to be violently tossed and flipped into a cart,
wondering how did this happen, I used to live in a park,
until lobbyist were given the permission to start,
genocide, now the park is like a prisoners heart,
cold and empty, where nothing ever lives, in the dark,
I was assigned a number , that was listed in a chart,
then left to dry until I was found to be sufficiently parched,
sent on an industry march, down a conveyor belt,
if they hadn't cut off my limbs I would pray for help!,
but there was no one around, I was all on my own,
as they performed an autopsy and created a clone,
smaller and smaller versions of myself were laid onto the table,
then bundled back together and displayed with a label,
how could they be so hateful, I felt betrayed
became someone's property, improperly enslaved,
I asked my soul, how ever will you survive?
as I had nails driven through me, crucified,
used to be alive, until they took all they could take,
now my body parts work together to permanently close a gate,
once again given a purpose, keeping people safe,
first provided them with air, now I keep them out of a lake,
but now I feel a crack, and start to break,
underneath the pressure of somebodies weight,

I hear laughter and then a splash


http://i.imgur.com/m9NarlB.jpg

all I ever wanted was to be in my forest and stand still
but now im deemed useless and headed for a landfill

what a waste of life, will humans ever get it right?
the earth provides them with everything, but at what price?

[PancakeBrah]

Overboard.

I can taste the sea’s salt. Teetering, see-saw in the ocean’s breeze.
All you could hope to see. The vast expanse, underneath; the chorral reefs.
In my mind, a chorus sings. Of freedom, of horrid things;
to jump through these planks of wood and towards the stream.
I’ve played this scene out, this cogent dream,
so many times I felt nostalgia as soon as I broached the beams
with the sun at dusk, the reflected view. So serene.
Suspended
for one moment, enthralled in a wanderlust.
As every restrained synapse erupts, as I ardently summoned up...
...and released. Free. A God in the Summer dust.
Gorgeous; to ignore the math and instead start doing.
Karkosa. Off of the boat, to forge a path of my own choosing

The freedom to move. Salt water and cerulean hues.
Muscles to ache. Stomach and hunger a mate, futility’s ruse.
Freedom as far as I could see. For both crustacean and ape.
As the numb sensation abates to a feeling of nothing at all
while the formerly gorgeous sun sets to change Summer to Fall.
It’s by a toenail moonlight’s gleam that I soak,
as my eyes bleed and I choke with every weak freestyle stroke.
So staunchly alone with just this gauntlet I’ve thrown;
rather a free man dead than one kept alive watching a throne.
How long can a man live at sea? With no form of help to come?
Twice as well as one can than when under someone elses thumb.
Even as the time passes slow as the brine’s passive flow
and the mind’s grasp unfolds to show fine cracks exposed.
Still it’s better. As I gasp for air, with arms light as lead,
and the toenail creeps slowly towards the horizon’s edge.

-

Hour unknown. The sun hangs in the east, sky full of violet,
as death creeps as slowly as me towards a visible islet.
A thousand feet. An age and an era away, at the pace of swim.
You’ll never make it in. A body of dregs, with separated skin,
sodium scoured, head giving in to this elevating din.
Five hundred feet. Exhaustion. The weight of a journey
crushing all at once. Depression. The sensation of burning,
the first sensation in...who can even say? Pervasively yearning...
...one hundred feet. Palm trees, a garden gleaming.
Vision blurred, and hard of breathing. Cathartic wheezing.
The thoughts of leaving.

The tide moved me in, as my body had its fill
and my thoughts gave way to something so...still.
Ever close. Before I felt it all give way, I breathed, one more time,
the purest breath. As I died a free man, hand on the shoreline.

It felt like the warmest Summer night I ever knew.

[Split]

I can taste the sea’s salt. Teetering, see-saw in the ocean’s breeze.
All you could hope to see. The vast expanse, underneath; the chorral reefs.
>strong foreshadowing

In my mind, a chorus sings. Of freedom, of horrid things;
to jump through these planks of wood and towards the stream.
I’ve played this scene out, this cogent dream,
so many times I felt nostalgia as soon as I broached the beams
with the sun at dusk, the reflected view. So serene.
>didnt like "broached" here, couldnt tell if you were talking about the wood grating seen in the picture or the sunlight. also a little weak in details compared to your opener


Suspended
for one moment, enthralled in a wanderlust.
As every restrained synapse erupts, as I ardently summoned up...
...and released. Free. A God in the Summer dust.
> a god in the summer dust sounded wonderful but it seems a bit prosaic. "enthralled in a wanderlust" seemed like it goes against the grain of being content and nostalgic in a peaceful (mental) forest clearing.

Gorgeous; to ignore the math and instead start doing.
Karkosa. Off of the boat, to forge a path of my own choosing

The freedom to move. Salt water and cerulean hues.
Muscles to ache. Stomach and hunger a mate, futility’s ruse.
Freedom as far as I could see. For both crustacean and ape.
As the numb sensation abates to a feeling of nothing at all
while the formerly gorgeous sun sets to change Summer to Fall.
It’s by a toenail moonlight’s gleam that I soak,
as my eyes bleed and I choke with every weak freestyle stroke.
So staunchly alone with just this gauntlet I’ve thrown;
rather a free man dead than one kept alive watching a throne.
How long can a man live at sea? With no form of help to come?
Twice as well as one can than when under someone elses thumb.
Even as the time passes slow as the brine’s passive flow
and the mind’s grasp unfolds to show fine cracks exposed.
Still it’s better. As I gasp for air, with arms light as lead,
and the toenail creeps slowly towards the horizon’s edge.

-

Hour unknown. The sun hangs in the east, sky full of violet,
as death creeps as slowly as me towards a visible islet.
A thousand feet. An age and an era away, at the pace of swim.
You’ll never make it in. A body of dregs, with separated skin,
sodium scoured, head giving in to this elevating din.
Five hundred feet. Exhaustion. The weight of a journey
crushing all at once. Depression. The sensation of burning,
the first sensation in...who can even say? Pervasively yearning...
...one hundred feet. Palm trees, a garden gleaming.
Vision blurred, and hard of breathing. Cathartic wheezing.
The thoughts of leaving.

The tide moved me in, as my body had its fill
and my thoughts gave way to something so...still.
Ever close. Before I felt it all give way, I breathed, one more time,
the purest breath. As I died a free man, hand on the shoreline.

It felt like the warmest Summer night I ever knew.[/QUOTE]
Well written piece, especially rhythmically. I would describe it overall as vividly vague. Not the writer. It very elaborated crafted a simple idea and plot. It was enjoyable to read but it wasn't as succinct as your usual standard, and didn't have the same volume of conceptual intri***ies that upper tier writers such as yourself tend to put forth. Good connection to the topic on multiple levels.


I used to stand tall, a powerful tree,
casting a giant shadow, with a tower of leaves,
did you know the temperature would be over a thousand degrees,
if I didn't create the oxygen that allowed you to breathe,
every exhale derails the clouds with a breeze,
but that wasn't enough to leave these cowards appeased,
first a carbon footprint left the flowers diseased,
then they pulverized plants into the ground with their feet,
chainsaws formed a circle, then surrounded the weak,
> up through here, butter smooth. top notch flow.

this once calm forest was filled with the sounds they secrete,
trespassers evicted me out of my mountain retreat,
even creatures nesting in branches weren't out of their reach,
I shouted and shrieked, ignored, nobody noticed,
>masterful scheme switches here and within next few lines
as I was separated from the ground by my opponents,
the ancient Egyptians used to glorify and worship the lotus,
but now modern day man seems to be all out of focus,
I was broken and hopeless, and loaded onto a truck,
taken from my home, by the heartless, corrupt ,
im just a carcass, enough! let me rest in peace,
but that wasn't the intention of these meddling thieves,
they were assembling trees, to be ripped apart,
felt so exposed, after being stripped of my bark,
then I was lifted and gripped with something so sharp,
only to be violently tossed and flipped into a cart,
wondering how did this happen, I used to live in a park,
until lobbyist were given the permission to start,
genocide, now the park is like a prisoners heart,
cold and empty, where nothing ever lives, in the dark,
>prisoners heart was cornball
I was assigned a number , that was listed in a chart,
then left to dry until I was found to be sufficiently parched,
sent on an industry march, down a conveyor belt,
if they hadn't cut off my limbs I would pray for help!,
but there was no one around, I was all on my own,
as they performed an autopsy and created a clone,
smaller and smaller versions of myself were laid onto the table,
then bundled back together and displayed with a label,
how could they be so hateful, I felt betrayed
became someone's property, improperly enslaved,
I asked my soul, how ever will you survive?
as I had nails driven through me, crucified,
used to be alive, until they took all they could take,
now my body parts work together to permanently close a gate,
once again given a purpose, keeping people safe,
first provided them with air, now I keep them out of a lake,
but now I feel a crack, and start to break,
underneath the pressure of somebodies weight,

I hear laughter and then a splash


http://i.imgur.com/m9NarlB.jpg

all I ever wanted was to be in my forest and stand still
but now im deemed useless and headed for a landfill

what a waste of life, will humans ever get it right?
the earth provides them with everything, but at what price?


last two lines were pedantic but otherwise very solid drop. Best display of rhyming you've put forth since NC's 1.0. A little bit repetitive with your schemes but very smooth and natural except for in one or two spots. Kinda uninspired story but it didnt even matter because the delivery and lyricism was very engrossing. Great piece.



Good battle. I had Mike Wrecka, more impressive verse overall but it was a good clash.

[Adonis]

Cakers - the progression was there, top notch in fact. The flow was mostly on, but had its weaker moments but only because of how I read compared to you, I know this because of the placed comas. I enjoy the detail put in to your every verse. The sentences are strung together nicely and seem aesthetic, but if you read and pay attention and get what your saying the imagery just pops. I enjoyed the reverse drowning section. The inching towards land while simultaneously committing suicide and freeing yourself. Powerful words. Overall a solid read. I've read each verse a few times now and I'm confident in my vote going in.

Michael - the flow....there is plenty of good regarding that portion of my vote that I won't mention. You faltered a few times, not often and never major, but none the less.... I liked the concept, a bit different then your usual take on storyline /linear verses you primarily work with. I saw the tree and the vast greenery from which she was taken from. Saw the assembly line and curing room for creating paper. See the bridge and the fall. Solid imagery. The final bar was not needed. The first ending was a bit more open, or...I guess slightly more vague. I would prefer to draw my own thoughts from the story rather than you explaining what you wrote because I felt like, and then knew, I did fully grasp topic of "stupid humans, always exhausting and destroying resources, natural resources that had earth thriving before they came"



Overall voting for Mike.

This was closer than the first three times I read, but in the end I really did like the concept and loved the execution of concept. Both dope verses, but I do have mike in a fairly close bout

[Three-Planes-Aligned]

Mike Wrecka - starting out fiercely you seemed to run into a bit of an illustrative fatigue as the verse progressed as far as both wording and imagery goes. You kept it conceptually strong througout though and delivered what was a thoughtful and fun piece.

El Pancake - I appreciated this verse more in terms of wording consistency; an even, high level with a couple of gems for good measure. It's fairly straight on in terms of the inner journey and lacks a bit in terms of novelty.

Overall Mike Wrecka gets the nod for his playful take on the topic (the social commentary being redundant). Another good scrap.

[timeless]

Mike, best read you put out this season for sure. Great use of rhyme schemes displayed, your wordplay was the best i've read so far this week. your take on the photo was dope, reminds me of a direction I would take. Only thing id pick at about this would be your use of commas. Just felt like too many times they were not needed. Great read though.

Cake, this was another good take on the topic at hand, loved the tranquil state of mind you displayed your character in on his search for peace living at sea. Kind of a cliche/weak ending, felt you couldve done more there. Writing wise, this was dope though, many quotable lines, flow was awkward at times nothing serious.

Mike had the concept, but I just felt cake developed the more polished enjoyable read. Mike just needed something in there to happen and it seemed like it never did.

V. Cake

[oats]

mother fuck, I had a breakdown written out and then I clicked a link like a fool. I'll try to recapture it in entirety, since both verses deserve it.

Mike: The personification of a tree worked well here. From concept to mechanics, this was firing on all cylinders, I thought it was an extremely clever interpretation of the picture. This is perhaps the most well executed verse I've seen from you, there is very little about what you presented here that I have any quarrel with, an excellent verse all the way around. I would have perhaps liked to see more of a nuance to the character, which could have been done with hinting at a setting (deforestation in s. america vs. n. america is very different, I'd imagine). Also, there was a missed opportunity with connecting just how vital trees are to human existence; it's something that usually goes without saying, so when you do say it in the proper context and tone, it can have a blunt power to it.

Overall, those are small nits to pick in an otherwise sterling verse. idk if it was being in a contender match, knowing how good your opponent was, or just feeling undervalued lately, but this verse is a good reminder of how good a writer you can be. dope shit.


Cake: what makes you a difficult opponent for anyone is that you will almost always have the more refined use of language. there were some truly beautiful descriptions in here, and your knack for capturing idiosyncratic corners of emotions is without parallel in this league. you're subtle, which I personally enjoy greatly. For example, I can see readers breezing through bars like the help to come/else's thumb one without pausing to realize how deftly you subverted your own musings.

You flatly out wrote your opponent here, but what makes this a tossup of sorts is that there's a haze around what happened for me. like, I'm not sure if this man is a prisoner or not, or what kind of prisoner for that matter (IE in jail or just feels imprisoned by meaningless reality, etc), and I'm not sure why jumping in the water=death for him. the raw feeling overpowers these question marks for me, but I do think these things held it back a bit. I'm not sure if it's because I was working on a Civil War lesson for tomorrow or not, but my imagination filled those gaps by pretending it was a slave en route to the Americas - but I can't say there's much in the actual verse that directly justifies that (though plenty to suggest it could be, being hungry, unfree, referred to as ape, etc).


Vote: This really is a tough one, BOTW easy to me. Mike executed his concept in textbook fashion, and had a more unique twist to his verse. Pancake had a high-quality use of language and an ebb and flow of emotion that really sucked me in. Both verses truly are deserving of the W here, for different reasons, but ultimately the verse that really gripped me was Pancake's. I went back and forth on this many times, and read these verses over and over again, but when the dust settled in my brain and I couldn't reasonably argue one's superiority to the other, I had to go with my gut feeling. Again, excellent on both ends, I really enjoyed both verses.

[d0ubt]

mike wrecka - i enjoyed your flow and your diction. there was a good use of vocabulary in this piece. i enjoyed the multis and internals throughout this piece, i wish they were a little more consistent, but i understand sometimes you just can't make it work without sacrificing the content. this was a good piece to read, good imagery and ideas presented. good piece man.

el pancake - this was dope. i enjoyed the flow and the consistent use of multis and internals. good display of vocabulary in this piece, nice smooth diction throughout. good imagery, and overall enjoyable to read.

i thought this was my favorite battle think week, both great pieces, both the type of pieces i like to read and am used to reading, to me this was battle of the week with two solid pieces but el pancake's piece stood out to me a little more, on a close battle like this, i'll let that be the deciding factor.

vote el pancake.

[Frank]

Mike Wrecka

Flawless flow from the start. Phenomenonal pacing in combination with thought provoking ideas is a plus. You either chose not to continue the use of rhyme schemes or you systematically opened up at a high level as a sort of grand style opening scene. The tree going through different stages and personifying an object is vintage Mike Wrecka. Well done conceptually. Only fault was the anticlimactic rhyme patterns instead of the focused penmanship. Felt let down in that regard, but the the actual idea and execution was champions calibre.

El Pancakebrah.

Serene verse here. I actually really enjoyed it. The free spirit of the writing spoke to the picture in a relaxed manner reminiscent of non chalant summer timeness. It was up to the minute mundane, and living in the moment like.

Surprisingly enough, I got El Pancakebrah with the W.