Masters of Horror, Edgar Allan Poe and Stephen King battle it out to see who is more horrifing.

Epic Patts Battles of History!



Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary.

I pondered how you would lose this battle and be sent back to Derry.

You’re more pathetic than IT, and you’re crazier than Jack.

I’m the original horror, better be ready for this bird’s attack.

You will be mashed up and your Bones will be thrown into a Bag.

This is the only time that your Stand won’t be acknowledged, you hag.

Your books are slow. They are sad and a horrible bore.

Now Quote the Raven, you will battle “Nevermore.”


Sorry Poe, you won’t win this battle. Not with your weak verse.

You’re a drunken bird, and you can’t fly. That’s even worse.

I’m the one that will write down how you die, that’s the way it’ll be.

You’ll be in a car wreck and killed by someone with more sense than you; Annie.

Your poems are melancholy; stories are just sad. Ones no one wants to read.

You’re more psycho than the combo of your mind and Louis Creed.

There is going to be a new feast at the dinner table. Some fried bird,

Mixed with Cujo'n, add some Misery. That’s you, haven’t you heard?


Ho! The sound of your voice is hurting the dead. Respect the Sematary.

You’re going to be beat up so bad you’ll be looking worse than Carrie!

You write about “Dark Towers.” All you have is your small Jelly Bean.

You fell short of the “King” of Horror; you’re more like the Queen.

I’ll Masque your face with the Red Death. You’ll be calling me The Dark Man.

You are quick to write, but slow to understand. I’m the master, call me Dupin.

I will give you Insomnia, make you suffer from Nightmares. I’m Fear Itself.

This is your Fall, you belong to the House of Usher. You'll just end up shelved.


Your Mummy died and your Daddy left you alone. Oh, that’s so sad.

You’re unoriginal. Within this crowd, you’re just another man whom is mad.

Your stories are Evil, you’re the Prime source. What, did the Gold Bug give you a bite?

Oddly, these Angels are waiting for you; you’re losing your Vision. This is your last Night.

Are you getting Shivers yet? You better. For you, The Mile is turning darker than Green.

Even though this battle was Full of Dark, the outcome was obvious and forseen.

After this battle, your Premature verse will be Buried alive. Right next to Eleonora.

Fact is, you mad bird, that you have lost this battle. “Tis this, and nothing more.”

Who Won?

The poll was created at 22:18 on April 12, 2013, and so far 24 people voted.