Apologies in advance. All responses welcome, but please put them in verse. I originally put this in the workshop, for feedback to be directed to the original post. I'd be grateful for responses to still treat this as an exercise in delivering verse critique 1. EVIL D4VE (Drill-dactyls!) Kalliope puts the flow on me 'fore you're born, she feeled D in ancient poetry Now the powers that be stand when I enter the room My tender proposals make the sisterhood swoon You're opposal? On tiptoes you might see up my nose All you got to show for your day on earth is one vote From a classicist, this can't be 'ad hominem' Let's be friends, take our meme t-shirts off, and blend Hold it through reviews doing things you ain't used to New words, (critical tools) New sounds, (break it down) Line-by-line, (critical tools) You'll be fine (thanks to mine) Shorty, we'll lit crit until your opus kicks inside
2. Xoic Yeah I'm tha literary rapper, standing tall and lookin' dapper The ladies see me struttin' ain't nobody else got nuttin' Turn around, hunker down, try to look like you got sup'm Boooooooy Wut you lookin' at fool? Try to keep it goin' Listen to these groovy lines that I be blowin' (funky sax solo) Drop your toys put down your tools, I'm bustin' all your 12-bar rules Don't know what half your fancy words mean, but I'll make your dog turn green Hittin'up tha swimmin' pools, make the newbies look like fools Yeeeaaaah boooooy Yeah thass all I got, ain't got no more, stand back there Jack and clear the floor Don't know where all this is goin' I'm just smackin' rhymes and flowin' Make tha rest look poor when I'm struttin' out the door Awwww, git it!
That was a master drops bars faster than copypasta You eat hot dinners? He checks their plot structure I'll interrupt you - heroic Xoic keeps it real You -høi̯k- up old shit; he's as Jung as he feels This is Double-u Eff's best Workshop thread yet Lyric duel to few rules... Shit, it can't be you next! Hit refresh - Ee Eff Mingo might save you this time. I suggest: hit 'like' while your own mind finds the rhymes.
They say we tell too much When we said nothing at all Goes to show, don’t it Trying to stand but fall They say there is no arc And we cannot disagree It’s not our fault we say That Noah’s gone non-binary Wishing now I never started Poetry is just too hard I mean… What’s the fuck’s a metre And is it longer than a yard?
Meet a thrice-prized writer turned prizefighter Is he ripping off both of our feet? He just might(uh) When he duels, Bee Ee Noo's subtly dishing out beatings With a weapon he chose from his bro Ronan Keating
She lost her cat in the bat of an eyelash with a sigh she got by with a thigh gash Plasticene Patty put the tab on her daddy Come on by and pop your top hat at the pie bash Started by thinking about Eminem, then I switched to the Beatles
Push a pen across the paper, wait, pencil in another date, we got a lotta little lovers on the lakeshore With the tintype truckers pushin' pills onto the suckers, they don't really want to let nobody take more Take a hightown hike on this brokendown bike, pull the pistol put a pin into your eyelid Watch the hammerheads grow in the thirty-second row, boy you just don't want to go the way that I did Springsteen, mostly Blinded by the Light. More concerned with the sounds and meter than meaning. Thinking about psychedelic rock lyrics.
It could have been Yeats, or Joyce or Beckett Not westbone or boys life Inspiring? Nah feck it! I say cats are evil, oh yes I do Go easy there fella You see, this one is new A duel is called for, a duel I see What’s this pointy bit now? Why’s it sticking in me? Hoisted and pickled, no longer I stand Trying hard as I can To bypass the boy band I’ll raise the odds and put forth a notion Half cooked and stagnated Already in motion The feline has nine lives, this one just four Clues in the numeral That it holds in its store Which cat will greet us, please come through the door Tom Cheshire or Siam Or Dave number four Aw gus gohv mu lesh kale maw shay duh hull Knee higgim duh bare la Iss omma dawn may
Who's this expostulatin' griffin, chuck'lin' and sniffin', slamming' slick and fickle tracks about some cats? Boy you better get back, pack a lunch and mix a track, or all your fightin' words will bring on herds of rats Maybe you don't realize, underneath that sick disguise, but a cat's exactly what your look is built on Kick the wicket back and forth, don't know east from west from north, like a wicked game of cut-throat goat-rope ping pong But it sorta does make sense, from the far side of that fence, cause this town ain't got the room enough for all y'all I can understand the plan, no need to 'splain it no more man, cause the second fiddle's headin' for a wall fall ******** I'm using something like Paul McCartney's trick he used for writing Yesterday. He started with nonsense lyrics about ham and eggs just to figure out the meter and melody for the vocals, and then he eventually found the right lyrics. I start by just dropping in whatever sounds right, sense be damned, and then I adjust it (sometimes three or four times) until I find a little bit of sense for it.
Okay boys, step aside, let this Canadian take you for a ride, Maple sorry dripping on me, let’s have peppermint tea, Fundra in the Tundra, and if you get hurt, We got healthcare on alert. Hope you don’t mind the wait, or watching moose mate, A mess, at best, is poutine, messiest I’ve ever seen, Oceans with lots of land in between. A trip, Toronto strip, Prairies quip, Newfie kip, BC drip, Quebec lip, But not all of us speak French. Molson’s to quench, MPs on the back bench, and Yeah, we give a fuck, when Vegas wins the cup.
This thread has been very entertaining! Now what have I been awaiting? Oh, right, I can't write lyrics. So please don't be hating! As I'll be trying. Progressive language form be easily rhyming. God, please take away my keyboard. I can't stop typing! Because yesterday two half past one I saw these Internet guys and gals vibin' And now I'm just trying. Goddamn it, how do people do this kind of writing? Meter? Rhythm? Scheme? All so petrifying. But in times of symphony and challenge I'll always be trying.
Well your name ain't naught but numbers, Anime sends me to slumbers, but your rhymes are vibin' right into the tune Your tales are gettin' better, sip a cup put on a sweater, write like you be fallin' from the moon Keep on writin', rappin', Skypin', far too many words you typin', move them fingers fast and loose across the board Prune that jungle filled with bungle, Cut right through 'em, slice and skew 'em, shishkebab 'em on your literary sword
The fancy pants ants have come to the dance Gonna teach you all like we were in school I got rhythm and rhyme to endure for all time Y'all just sit in the corner playin' the fool. Listen! I was born to improvise I'm a poet with the know-how to extemporize And when you hear me, you're all gonna rise to yo' feet to applaud and gimme first prize. I battled with Frost and crushed Tennyson too Beat Emily Dickinson's rhymes black and blue Walt Whitman came on and tried something new But I popped him off; now I'll do it to you.
Ooooo, the Ant-man is here Let's all tremble in our fear Lest he bring his friends and make off with our picnic Let me do the shuffle-shoe Step all over yours and you Smash you flat then I'll give you just a quick-flick But you know what they all say Ants they always get away You can try but you're never gonna get 'em So I guess we gotta leave Something there for them to reive, So they can feed their little fam'lies, don't forget 'em ****It occurred to me while writing this it's structured almost exactly like parts of On the Cover of the Rolling Stone by Dr. Hook
I say, fee fi fo fum I smell arcana ridiculosum flick your wand harry potter then go trottin' on home 'cause your rhythmical threats don't scare anyone. Skip those shuffle shoe blues My rhymes are acidic, they're formic; like Cormac Mccarthy you on the road nowhere fast, in dead last if you tangle with me I'm bad company. This picnic ain't meant for fun I'ma eat your beats up and leave nothin' but crumbs.
This gladiatorial flashmob's in effect With only two bars left to show my respect Laa-Laa, Poe, Dipsy, Tinky-Winky Those who are about to die: salute me! (No wait... that's mistaken identity) (I didn't just name-check the father of short stories) Learning: the main function of science Gives the controls to moderate bias These skills of debate leave the masses reeling With a critical rating of: no hard feelings Pee Ess One Oh Two takes up half of a bar To even start telling anybody who you are It's a cunning tactic, Kanna copy you? Modesty, rhythm and politeness too. AntPoems, damn I take my hat off... Couldn't find an Ee-Ar-Bee vid that's the end of So I Googled those names, and it got me shaken: Did Brucey transition to an Iron Maiden?
Elegy to an Ant And just like that the shit gets real This clown thinks that he can deal With a real gangsta basher, I'm the master ant masher You better not be messin' with the best boy You got that little-man pride, Just a thorn in my side, But your rep ain't worth the paper that it's writ on Keep on rappin' shit and yappin But my temper might be snappin' And you look like something I could eas'ly sit on Bring it on I ain't afraid, Talk your talk and throw your shade, But I don't believe you're ready for this smack-down Boy you better say a prayer, Dig your grave this fight ain't fair You ain't nothing but a raggedy old crack clown ***** If the mods think this is getting out of hand delete it, or let me know and I will. It's weird how, as soon as somebody challenges you and makes it feel real, you need to respond in like kind. This could get out of hand fast. Nothing personal at all Ant, I love you man! You started making it serious. Or maybe I did.
Lol, no worries, Xoic, ain't no need for the mods to get caught in this battle between two rap gods! Respect for a warrior ready to duel, who can dish it out hard without comin' on cruel. And much love to our host, our emcee Evild4ve, who puts g4ngst4s and w4nn4bes into their gr4ves. You go b4ttlin' him, you're either stupid or br4ve. 4 beats to the bar, he goes hard all the w4y. I love all my rhyme peeps: Nuge, Lou, 102 but the night's getting late and I got work to do I been rapping and rhyming by the light of the moon, but this ant's gonna turn into a bedbug soon. Peace!
Must see a doctor, it’s just getting worse Every word I say comes out in verse My colleagues look over, forlorn and with pity Oh fuck off, says I, and don’t be so sh witty I’ve earned some concession, put it on my tab I’m just a whale in the ocean, gunning for Ahab But first clear these Ants, and the Greek newborn jockey How the fuck does a desert win at ice hockey? No rules apply here, that’s not how we make ‘em No rules apply here, then how do I break ‘em.
Buckle up, cause I'm about to take real jabs. The fuck's a Greek newborn jockey? Your avatar looks like a winged donkey. (Oh my God, I'm so sorry!) No, no, Xoic We all dream in verses boundlessly wordy Cause the mind is one tricky fruity pile But seriously, your avatar is one creepy guy! Now, now, look at the green d4ve His avatar looks like Misdreavus's evil cousin But goddamn it, this doesn't rhyme. Oh well, this isn't worth a single dime!
EVIL D4VE vs. PS102 (2 of 4) Real Jabs: tetanus diptheria MMR (mainly MMR) Now you're safe to take from your ma (what a ma) When our profile pics have come from animation (or magic education) It's nice to come outside for the day (and I may) This form assumes a performance Unlike rock or pop words shouldn't fall on beats Internal rhymes can be inserted on the fly Double-entendres make that fly fly cry Excuse my French: flow is enjambment Literally "arm" as in up to the elbow So the meaning and the cadence reach the next bar And start tickling the audience's libido What the audience would have you do to them Do unto the opponent, it's permission not consent This is only what my mother gave me: language The form is anyone's but language is my sandwich
Not newborn, no longer Donkey with wings? So mean and so hurtful Man, but that stings Not newborn, I tell ya You just broke your duck By posting a message Using the word fuck Get back in yer box With yer Pokemon nation Though the apology was funny Uh…something something Playstation A donkey on the wing Can still learn to sing He’s a poet He knows it He can rhyme All the…occasions when it’s consistent with the story world, avoiding redundancy and doesn’t detract, distract or subtract from the core principles of plot development, instigation, conflict and resolution while precisely and concisely developing the characters and their arks but only from the moment they made a dumbass decision that causes him to go back and rewrite the entire first half, you know…I mean, you gnu, uh-huh, uh-huh To hell with short stories Abandon the prose I may have just farted But it smells Like A Rose
