Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge: EPIC VERSE live blog
Those of you who were reading the blog last year at this time will remember Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge – when, in honor of National Poetry Month, I called upon my LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS to give me suggestions for a whole slew of EPIC VERSE masterpieces. You all stepped up to the plate (well, those of you who were here at the time…and for those of you who weren’t, WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?), and we had a month full of EPIC VERSE goodness.
This year, as I announced a couple weeks ago, I’m continuing the Poetry Challenge tradition with a live blog. Yes, that’s right, it’s the SECOND ANNUAL Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge – sure to be an annual tradition for years and years to come.
For tonight’s lyrical explosion of spontaneous awesomeness, I’m once again calling on you all to inspire your Warchief. Here’s how this is going to work: when this post goes live, you’re all invited to use the comments to post your ideas and suggestions – you can give topics, themes, characters, turns of phrase, ANYTHING you think might make for a good starting point to give me ideas for what I’m going to write. (Try to keep your suggestions here in the comments, rather than Twitter/Facebook/wherever, so your fellow readers and I can see them all in one place.)
Starting at 8:00 PM EDT, I’ll begin the live blog by adding to this post. At that point, I’ll start composing a new EPIC VERSE masterpiece (or masterpieces?) based on the suggestions you’ve given. Feel free to keep offering new ideas as we go along – I might incorporate new suggestions into the poem I’m writing, or maybe use them for ANOTHER new poem before the night is out. We’ll just see how it goes. In any case…once the live blog has started, keep refreshing this page. I’ll be adding to the post incrementally as I write, and you’ll get to watch your Warchief’s latest EPIC VERSE composed right before your eyes, in progress.
Kind of like getting to see how the sausage gets made. If the sausage was made from the ground meat of the SUPER AWESOME UBER-BEAST RAISED IN THE PARADISE FIELDS OF GENIUS AND FED A STEADY DIET OF SOLIDIFIED PERFECTION AND BADASSERY.
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Okay, kids, the show’s about to begin. I’m going to take a moment and take a look at what we’ve got for suggestions so far, and maybe give the latecomers a minute or two to get their initial suggestions in before I get rolling. Keep the ideas coming as we go, and I may still work them in as I’m able…
Remember, keep refreshing this page to watch the live blog unfold in progress.
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The Dontrag and the Utvoch came
To celebrate the season,
And brought such pain to any brain
Imbued with any reason.
The Dontrag and the Utvoch asked
The Warchief for permission
To undertake — for sure, half-baked —
A Noblegarden mission.
The Dontrag and the Utvoch told
The Warchief of their plan:
To gather eggs from hopping legs
That bounced around the land.
The Warchief, for his part, approved,
And told them to proceed.
(He thought, of course, the only source
For this could be felweed.)
The Dontrag and the Utvoch ran
Across the Four-Winds Valley,
And high and low sought eggs to go
Into their final tally.
Then near a burrow, D&U
Saw wrigglin’ and squirmin’,
When to the ground, with mighty bound
Leapt out a giant virmen.
The Dontrag cried, “Move fast, Utvoch!
Don’t let it run off! Grab it!”
For sure, he thought, they had just caught
The Noblegarden Rabbit.
The Dontrag and the Utvoch pounced
And lunged with all their might —
Though in no story was their quarry
Such a daunting height.
They found the Rabbit’s fury one
That not a one surpasses,
So by the end, their hoppy friend
Had badly kicked their asses.
The Warchief, when the pair returned,
Was unsure, sad or funny,
Which best to say, to know that they’d
Been beat on by a bunny.
The Dontrag and the Utvoch mused,
“At least we didn’t die.”
And down they sat on asses fat
And dined on humble pie.
That was weak.
The FUCK? Who the hell is this?!
What, you still don’t recognize me, Hellscream? I thought you were good at spotting me online now.
Wait, don’t tell me this is— Hang on.
What’s up, boss?
The likelihood of me drop-kicking your green ass back to the Lost Isles, for starters.
That’s it. Throw another hissy fit and alienate even more of your own people. That’s a formula for success.
Oh…oh no. Don’t tell me Varian broke into the blog again.
OH I’M TELLING YOU EXACTLY THAT, MOTHERFUCKER
Have you considered anger management classes, by the way?
What the hell happened to the SECURITY thingywhatsises you were supposedly building into the blog, like, FOREVER ago?
Ugh. It must be that wireless connection you have down there. I TOLD you Grizzle didn’t know how to set up a reliable network above the level of aluminum cans and some string.
Goddammit. Well try to get him out of here, will you? I’ve got a live blog to do.
You mean this exhibition of fail? Hah. I couldn’t pass up the chance to look in a watch you make an even bigger jackass of yourself than usual.
Hey, don’t be jealous just because I actually know how to string a few words together, human.
Actually, you know what? Go ahead and be jealous of that. Also of all the fans I have, who’ve turned out to bask in the brilliance (BACK ME UP HERE, PEOPLE). And, oh yeah, of how much smarter and better-looking and all-around more awesome I am.
Hellscream, I haven’t done any writing since I was a kid—
I notice you’re not counting your own blog there.
—but even I could do better than these dimwitted nursery rhymes you’re spewing out.
You know what, asshole? YOU’RE ON. Let’s see what you’ve got.
CUE THE AMBIGUOUSLY THIRD-PERSON LEAD-IN!
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EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
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Come on, bring it, Hellscream – hope you’re ready to lose.
I’m pretty sure a basic campfire could rhyme better than you.
I’m the king! The boss! I was born to rule!
Thrall took his Doomhammer and left the orcs with a tool.
While I was ruling orc arenas with my wolf-god-modding
You were a whiny emo bitch busy whining and sobbing.
I’ll crush you, Garrosh, and add it to our duel triple feature
’Cause I’m the High King – you’re just a substitute teacher.
I’ve got no time for your Alliance propaganda,
Gonna beat you down so hard you’re gonna think I’m a panda.
You’re facing Garrosh, Lo’gosh – I was put here to pwn ya.
My dad killed Mannoroth; yours got ganked by Garona.
So the Warchief will pour grief and settle some scores:
I’m taking the lok’tar, all the ogar is yours.
No “either/or” in the fate that you deserved:
Crushed beneath the Horde – AND the one getting served.
Sure, hide in daddy’s shadow – I knew you’d bring up Grom,
I don’t remember that he ever had to use a mana bomb.
You’re on your own now, worried yet? ’Cause your lackeys you’re lackin’ –
You’re not getting bailed out now by your magnataur and kraken.
I’m coming with a gag order, I’ve had more than enough,
You’re so much talk, even your howling axe won’t ever shut up.
You’ve got a skull that’s all tiny, and your jaw’s extra large –
Between your mouth and your brain, I guess that shows who’s in charge.
You’re one to talk jaws, Chin-Boy, yours could carve out a mogu,
I’d call you Scarface but you’ve got no friends to say hello to.
Your scars and fail and ponytail – you’re like Lor’themar Lite.
I’ll bake your pride in lemon squares: here, swallow both in one bite.
You’re defensive, apprehensive; I’m offensive, gone berzerker –
I bet Tiffin cut you off, that’s why you had to screw your workers.
My rhymes are terse and yours are worse, so curse and next time go rehearse,
Now FUCK YOU, VARIAN – that’s
<drops mic and walks away like a boss>
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EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
[Thanks for coming, everyone. More weirdness soon…]