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((In a series of tells, a duel of poets; the sickest boxers of beat, heralding from both the light and dark side, faced off. Here is the free-verse edit I put together for the two, since their words inspired me to complete the mash-up. Good job Gamling (Adeodatus Exitium) and Roguethree (Dain Tornbrook). I will post their original 'untouched' words in the next post. Thanks for sharing this with me in the first place Gamling.))
Dain the main:
inane paladin,
slay'dem - someday baby;
maybe, you will sit:
above the drone
my fist moves
to rule.
Adeodatus the Banite whose: hottest,
wants the man; not a goddess,
cunning tyrant, not a thought-less.
Adeo’ Exitium: vex them,
he puts the chains
on the free man; all the heroes want
to defeat him: those cool guys,
want to be him?
Dain not vane, the paladin
with nothing to gain; yet he puts all
the strain on his righteous
paladin brain.
You’ll never see him. . . coming,
that’s Adeodatus, his brush strokes
are the broadest,
equal parts brilliant and modest:
irregular but not the oddest.
Dain, he won’t rest until
all the evil is slain,
the bad guys feel the pain,
the light at the end
of this tunnel of hate,
is his train.
A hate train from Bane,
engineer is Exitium, feel the fear
and then you feel him!
Life is strife, hard and grim
you get? suck it and see,
bit**es.
The black sun had waxed but now it will wain,
because of Dain – the one martyr who could
attain. . . Divinity: Not all who
strive see the light.
But at least they try
despite the insane. . .
Divinity, here:
representin’ the Trinity, Triad.
Paladins sexy like dryads,
hard like wood.
Asking dem Banites
‘Bro you mad?”
In a flash of white light – guess who?
Dain Tornbrook reading your evil
like a worn book, in’ public library.
How very unfortunate:
when you’re diagnosed as in
sin — the only prescription is
an amputation,
of the root of all evil:
at the base of the stem!
decapitation.
Adeodatus shapes the new nation,
puttin axes to necks as lawful compensation!
He’s pleasant to peasants when
presenting his presence
but he gives no quarter
for unruly disorder!
No tolerance,
from the tyrant.
Break an bleed and bend,
it could never be the end,
as evil can not win so long
as the din of battle conquers:
that air oh– a man never rests – the ladies
are just pest. He has no time for swain,
or swine alike – the paladin
Dain marches forward
through the night like a knife
through a sea of ink: bearing through the stink!
in a world over-come with decay.
Who is the next evil to slay?
Dain the main:
inane paladin,
slay'dem - someday baby;
maybe, you will sit:
above the drone
my fist moves
to rule.
Adeodatus the Banite whose: hottest,
wants the man; not a goddess,
cunning tyrant, not a thought-less.
Adeo’ Exitium: vex them,
he puts the chains
on the free man; all the heroes want
to defeat him: those cool guys,
want to be him?
Dain not vane, the paladin
with nothing to gain; yet he puts all
the strain on his righteous
paladin brain.
You’ll never see him. . . coming,
that’s Adeodatus, his brush strokes
are the broadest,
equal parts brilliant and modest:
irregular but not the oddest.
Dain, he won’t rest until
all the evil is slain,
the bad guys feel the pain,
the light at the end
of this tunnel of hate,
is his train.
A hate train from Bane,
engineer is Exitium, feel the fear
and then you feel him!
Life is strife, hard and grim
you get? suck it and see,
bit**es.
The black sun had waxed but now it will wain,
because of Dain – the one martyr who could
attain. . . Divinity: Not all who
strive see the light.
But at least they try
despite the insane. . .
Divinity, here:
representin’ the Trinity, Triad.
Paladins sexy like dryads,
hard like wood.
Asking dem Banites
‘Bro you mad?”
In a flash of white light – guess who?
Dain Tornbrook reading your evil
like a worn book, in’ public library.
How very unfortunate:
when you’re diagnosed as in
sin — the only prescription is
an amputation,
of the root of all evil:
at the base of the stem!
decapitation.
Adeodatus shapes the new nation,
puttin axes to necks as lawful compensation!
He’s pleasant to peasants when
presenting his presence
but he gives no quarter
for unruly disorder!
No tolerance,
from the tyrant.
Break an bleed and bend,
it could never be the end,
as evil can not win so long
as the din of battle conquers:
that air oh– a man never rests – the ladies
are just pest. He has no time for swain,
or swine alike – the paladin
Dain marches forward
through the night like a knife
through a sea of ink: bearing through the stink!
in a world over-come with decay.
Who is the next evil to slay?
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