Kyusho Basho 2019 Honour Tanka Day Two: TSURUGISHO (2-0)

Tsurugisho 
and Shohozan have epic 
slap happy battle 

Tsurugisho absorbs 
concussion-like punishment 

and yet somehow he's 
able to grab Shohozan, 
and flip his ass out 

afterwards, for long moment, 
Tsurugisho stands still 

able to withstand 
in the moment, but after 
brain's like "what the fuck?" 

life briefly turns black and white - 
fighting through concussive fog 

sumo protocol 
is you continue until 
you are unable 

masculine traditions which 
are toxic yet intriguing 

wish my own toxic 
masculinity involved 
wearing dope silk robes 

instead, I sit, self-conscious 
in these lavender silk draws 

life slapped me around; 
and still I stand, stubbornly 
existing, goat mind 

noble Tsurugisho's 
fight through slap fog inspires me 

life is often like 
running headfirst into walls 
keeping you confined 

metaphysical slaps from 
all directions… frustrating 

fuck it though - refuse 
to quit; exist simply to 
piss off your masters 

goat minded people shall walk 
beyond End Times (like always) 

Kyusho Basho 2019 Honour Tanka Day One: ENDO (1-0)

writing overly 
simplistic tanka about 
sumo, yet again 

what makes poetry real? is 
it academic respect? 

what makes culture real? 
man, ain't none of this shit real; 
all just relative 

sumo's existed longer 
than either you or I have 

why have I forgot 
to do this ridiculous 
shit past few basho? 

I love sumo's spectacle, 
and girthy dudes flexing skills 

the era of four 
yokozuna is long gone; 
only two left 

each day in this project, I 
highlight one dude as special 

each dude highlighted 
only once per basho, like 
a fucked up honour 

hence title "honour tanka", 
though I'm often times fusen 

haven't completed 
an entire basho's worth of 
these in year and half 

NONETHELESS, HERE I AM - 'BOUT 
TO WRITE SUMO POETRY 

day one, how many 
times I've made the "Endo? smell 
more like outdo'" joke 

Endo's now komusubi - 
climbing sumo's pyramid 

his first opponent, 
Goiedo, is eternal 
ozeki it seems 

Goiedo always does well, 
yet never yokozuna 

Endo fends off his 
defeat, balances at edge 
(like all true wild folk) 

perseverance pays off 
as Goeido's knee gives out 

his ankle also 
twists awkwardly; Goeido 
appears somewhat fucked 

nonetheless, in battle, to 
be fucked means someone else wins 

Endo, whose sumo 
name reminds me of Friday 
movie quotable 

winner of day one's top match, 
and thus now remembered here 

internet content 
or subversive poetry? 
perhaps maybe both? 

I don't know man, I just do 
ridiculous shit, online 

S0M3 F0LKS B0RN W1TH 4LL Y0V C4N...

some folks born with "all you can

ride" tickets, while others ain't,

and we stand there just watching

4STR0N0M1C4L SCR1BBL3S...

astronomical scribbles

on the side of a train - us

simians still worship sky

W1TH0VT D4RKN3SS, TH3 N30N...

without darkness, the neon

wouldn't draw us in like moths,

attracted to strange escapes

S0M3 H0VS3H0LDS 4R3 CH3VR0L3T...

some households are Chevrolet,

others are Ford; some of us

drive whatever fuckin' runs

TH3 M1L1T4R1Z4T10N...

the militarization

of American culture

ain't new; only the guns changed

SONG OF THE DAY: Nothing Compares 2 U

I never really cared for listening to Sinead O’Connor, it just never spoke to me. I remember when she ripped up the Pope picture on TV and everybody had faux outrage, which seemed weird to me because the pope meant nothing to my godless rural American ass, but thankfully the whole world is nihilistic and jaded now, so something like that wouldn’t register a blip. By now we know all our institutions have failed us generally, and everything is doomed in the institutional sense, but fuck it, we can still carve out marginal autonomy somehow, I guess. Anyways, hearing Prince do this song himself really drove home how thankful I am I didn’t fuck around with Sinead O’Connor, because wasn’t this like her only good song? If that’s not true, tell me in the comments, and I’ll get in rectifying my opinion, BECAUSE NONE OF ON THE INTERNET ARE ANYTHING EXCEPT ARCHIVAL CURATORS OF ALL OF POP CULTURE. IT IS THE POINT OF OUR EXISTENCE, TO BURDEN OURSELVES WITH OPINIONS ON ALL THIS MEANINGLESS GARBAGE CONSUMERIST FAUX ART. So help me waste my life, further, because I’m not dead yet. At least not physically.

W33K3ND W4ND3RS 4L0NG TH3...

weekend wanders along the

James River, tapping railroad

ties with my thrift store Nikes

P41NT J0B P0L1SH3D 1NT0 PLVM...

paint job polished into plum

purple mirror, reflecting

a dying empire's leisure

S1MPL1C1TY 0F H00PT13...

simplicity of hooptie

complicated by visions

of candy flake and chrome shine

GR1M4C1NG 4T TH3 PR0SP3CT...

grimacing at the prospect

of buying more button-down

shirts at Goodwill for work clothes

4N0TH3R 4B4ND0N3D B0X...

another abandoned box

store, waiting for fresh master

plans and demolition crews

H0L3D VP 1N CH34P H0T3L R00M...

holed up in cheap hotel room

somewhere in east Tennessee,

calling it "residency"