Challenger name: Zero
Defender name: cafebrulot
Bet: 3K
Judge: Sin Apophis
Subject: Anything taboo
Form: Poetic Prose / Free Verse
“cafebrulot”
my simplistic nature is only a facade,
secreting a weather to erode
the principles behind your pretty face.
and brace you for something worse --
like memories of you with me
that stain my hands like nicotine;
showing my red handed
hold on the ulterior motive
between my fingers.
[boy, you never smile
when everyone else is happy.]
I tell myself to expend my
horizons a little and dance with a
newfound someone; something --
with good drugs and a d**k
and a stance that screams for attention,
affection.
and pretend he is you.
and as we toss back brown bottles,
starched and spinning sideways --
putting us on the spot and pointed at
like that game we've never played,
I'll tell myself to make the first move.
[oh boy, I know just what to do with you.]
the bottle spins --
the fist kiss against cold metal.
the first needle in your vein.
our first ******** in the back seat,
with matted hair and powdered noses
from the night before and before
and before.
I'll wake hung over. pills, bottles --
throttled with downers upon downers.
you making noises in your sleep;
nose bleeding on the sheets.
I'm sure you'll understand why
when I vomit on your shoes
on our first date.
and I'll hold your hair; while
you do the same.
I have to say, I’m taken by the imagery. You’ve really mastered the flow of this poem and it doesn’t lose its power for a second. I had a good picture in my head for every line, ever stanza, and this mini-story was told perfectly. The third to last stanza is my favorite, because the pace picks up and I feel like it’s a small climax for this poem. I like that, because it gives the piece an arch that I don’t find much in poetry. I’m not too fond of the lines in brackets because they seem like unnecessary side-thoughts and I feel like they’d work better as part of the poem, instead of something to pull yourself away from. But it still works, marginally, and isn’t something to make a huge fuss about. My last thought is on the topic, a great use of taboo, but maybe a little too unoriginal for you. I think I would have liked to see something different, maybe not so familiar to you, written here. Maybe something a little out of your comfort zone. But in any case, it’s still a fantastic poem.
“zero the last decepticon”
Robert Downey Jr.
There seems to be power in words....
Power enough to make bleak look pale
and
black become blue, while I
sit a the left hand of a God called "Mother."
We walk through simple lies, while
whats behind stay ever-changing.
The beat keeps changing.
I
call it a bit of bad taboo, but
all things recycled, it seems like miracle.
She keeps passing me by, waiting for "why,"
and remains undefined by a moment.
There is nothing more to say,
yet I write this s**t, anyway, just
so you can skip thoughts over that
black little pond.
This old dust sleeve is carrying the weight of
a neutron bomb, while hiding from the sinister stares of
peers left for dead on top of the grass-covered-hill.
It's not Atlantis, but this seems to make more sense than indifference.
Maybe that's just me, though.
Like usual, your poems have a mysterious quality that has me reading twice. You have a way with words that is just hypnotizing. However, I’m not sure I’m coming out of this poem with the right feel for the subject as I should be getting. I’m confused as what’s so taboo, or what I should be reading opposed to what I am reading. For once it seems your eloquence has me scratching my head and wondering, what’s this all about? I wish I had gotten the meaning out of it that you meant, because it sounds nice, but this is one of the few poems by you that has me completely lost. Out of all the things I think it could be about, there isn’t one I’m sure on. What’s strange, though, is there is still something about this poem that I loved, despite being confused. The lines “yet I write this s**t, anyway, just / so you can skip thoughts over that / black little pond” are beautiful, and seemingly deep. The lines, “We walk through simple lies, while / whats behind stay ever-changing. / The beat keeps changing” are simple, yet powerful, I feel. I think you could use this poem to start other poems, to pick and choose lines or stanzas for other things.
These are both great poems in their own ways. Cafe has beautiful imagery and a keen sense of her own sense of taboo. Zero has a wonderful way of making words flow and instilling wonder through his poetry. They’re both good reads, but after reading them both and taking some time to deliberate, I declare
cafebrulot the winner.
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