SONG OF THE DAY: Basquiat

Hi. Do you need an angry but positive fuck you anthem after too much extended family and unrelenting consumer capitalism beating on your fucking brain? Good. Relatedly, a couple months back I was in the outlet store and they had Basquiat socks, which I got, because I have a job where I wear fake nice clothes and act like I'm a decent and upstanding member of society instead of the mental degenerate who wants everything to crumble into a fresh progressive apocalypse that I am. So I bought these Basquiat socks for like $3, and it feels pretend resistant, but it's actually just somebody got a licensing agreement for dead Basquiat's art, and I bought some fucking socks, which apparently not enough people bought at the regular overinflated price, so I got them at the outlet store. Trickle down identity, lol, a lower class boy that's done come up in the world, WEARING A MOTHERFUCKIN' THREE DOLLAR PAIR OF SOCKS, LIKE A GODDAMN FAUNTLEROY.

SONG OF THE DAY: Polite

I'm not one of those types to do an album of the year list, because I don't like tying my enjoyment of music into consumption of brand new items only, and also calendars are kinda bullshit. People who make these lists usually wrap them up by the first weekend of December, which eliminated almost a whole month. Fuck that shit. We're not all curators of culture to where we gotta do this shit all the time. That being said, if I limited myself to the calendar on the wall, and thought about some shit I ain't even listen to before 2019 but have played the living fuck out of this year so far (and counting), Bambu's at the top of the list, which isn't even a list to be honest, but just me thinking about it. There's so many faux woke people posturing online to gain woke credits for their little circle jerks of selfish self-righteous people, I can really appreciate the actual don't give a fuck attitude of Bambu, which also really does give a fuck, just not the way we're all trained into channeling our fuck giving. I'm sure "polite" and "politics" got the same root, but I don't feel like googling that shit, and I'm not an etymological encyclopedia, but it was funny to see people posturing about how they was mad at their racist uncles or drunk aunts on Thanksgiving. What the fuck? Go fix your goddamned own lives and families, and stop being out here judging every fuckin' body else for not following your lists of rights and wrongs. Anyways, it's Black Friday, and I ain't buying shit, but I do gotta mail a couple books out that got bought off my site, so I do have to go the post office for that shit, but I'm gonna bump Bambu loud as fuck as much as possible, because it sounds like people are moving into the apartment upstairs, and I've enjoyed the lack of neighbors overhead clomping around on the goddamn floors for a month or so, so I want them to know what the fuck's up. Or not. Fuck being polite all the time. Or politically righteous. Or political at all. I ain't wanna do shit but sit around and play dominoes to be honest, at least this weekend.

SONG OF THE DAY: Jailbreak the Tesla

Jailbreaking an army of cybertrucks to drive into the wireless zones of West Virginia, to leave there to rust. Code name Teflon Rust, working with crow allies to combat starling drones manufactured since at least 1983. There is no technological solution to being human.

SONG OF THE DAY: Bang

the bang of creation, 
inner muse ejaculated upon the world 
oftentimes unnoticed, stains along 
the bottom sides of capital life's secondhand cushions 
easing the existential pain of mundane existence 
common wage slave's resistance 
"LIFE IS PAIN MOTHERFUCKER" 
proclaimed buddha ray moore 
and never have those words been truer - 
that's it… never have they been truer… 
this is what being human is about 
navigating the ridiculously sprawling labyrinth 
of manmade obstacles we've built over centuries 
stale places of mildew and rot 
and devising a way to make it feel fresh 
cultivating bang culturing bang 
to fend off the metaphysical vultures 
by swinging our vorpal blade 
around at the entangling world trying 
to choke us out like kudzu made of burnt copper 
wires snaking through yakubian spreadsheets…
by swinging our vorpal blade 
clearing out a little space 
to take a deep breath 
and realize deep in your heart 
fuck it 

Kyusho Basho 2019 Honour Tanka Day Eight: Ishiura (4-4)

it's a cold Sunday, 
so I made chanko nabe 
stew in big steel pot 

sautee onions and garlic 
in oil, add chicken thigh meat 

I make my own broth, 
frozen, on hand, stored in old
yogurt containers 

one at the ready to throw 
in the big pot whenever 

bought some giant red 
beets the other day, so took 
the tops, chopped them up 

throw it in the pot, along 
with some shiitake mushrooms 

chop up spinach bunch, 
add that; starting to smoke so 
throw in broth ice cube 

everything cooks while broth melts, 
softening, blending, stewing 

I have that "crab meat" 
stuff, which when cooked unravels 
kinda like noodles 

threw in some mussel meat, plus 
medium-sized shrimp, with tail on 

that shit was on sale, 
half-price - ingredients are 
determined by cost 

next time I make it, it'll 
be completely different 

and yet, entirely 
the same essence - slow, simmering 
stew of hearty shit 

all this sat on medium-low 
for a good hour, rightening 

busted out saucepan, 
six minutes to soft-boil eggs, 
runny in middle 

timer goes off, dunk in ice 
cold water until all cool 

I just let it all 
sit there, simmering on stove, 
did my Sunday chores 

washed and hung clothes, vacuumed, watched 
little Anthony Bourdain 

finally, I was 
ready for big fat bowl of 
chanko nabe stew 

in fact, I ate four… it'll 
sit on the stove for few days 

I've often joked that 
Ishiura should eat his 
chanko nabe stew 

so small, always looking to 
do the side dash thing for win 

and yet this second 
Sunday of this basho, side 
stepping didn't work 

Nishikigi clutched him tight, 
gripped for inner position 

Ishiura seemed 
doomed, yet again, when his trick 
failed upon start 

somehow, once Nishikigi 
pushed, Ishiura slipped past 

with upper grip now, 
Ishiura wrapped one leg 
around opponent 

he grabbed Nishikigi's left 
leg, and thrust his head like goat 

Nishikigi's vast 
body fell like oak, carrying 
Ishiura with 

ultra-rare triple attack - 
mitokorozeme move 

me sitting here with 
chanko nabe dribbling down 
blackberry bush beard 

no smack for Ishiura - 
more man than I'll ever be 

I finish it all 
by writing silly poems 
for obscure website 

while Ishiura drives off 
in his green Lamborghini 

Kyusho Basho 2019 Honour Tanka Day Seven: CHIYOMARU (5-2)

Chiyomaru's one 
of my down-low favorites - 
sideburned heavyweight 

born in Shibushi, as a 
child he studied judo first 

by high school, sumo 
chose him, even though he had 
not yet chosen it 

he's got that extra-sumo 
shape, yet extremely agile 

his judo remains 
with him - day seven he fought 
Kotoshogiku 

immediately has his 
man pushed to the dohyo's edge 

Kotoshogiku 
regains footing, so "fuck it" 
thinks Chiyomaru 

he just shoots back other way, 
slapping his opponent down 

I often wonder 
the sense of touch in these men, 
feeling muscle shifts 

naked flesh pressed together, 
feeling the other man's thoughts 

unconscious of mind 
reaction times when one feels 
energetic shift 

using opponent's own force 
against himself - pure judo 

Kyusho Basho 2019 Honour Tanka Day Six: SHOHOZAN (4-2)

Hakuho's tiny 
protege, Enho, always 
fights above his weight 

somehow he does well, despite 
being many stones lesser 

against Shohozan, 
he again did far better than 
his size would dictate 

Shohozan maintained composure, 
got him slipping on the sand 

Enho had strange split - 
sumo dudes practice that leg split 
mobility shit 

the level of specific 
training involved in insane 

thousands of practice 
bouts, pushing giants backwards 
until exhausted 

serving up chankonabe 
for stable elders, for years 

this has been Enho's 
destiny, living under 
Hakuho's strong wing 

Enho's fighting an uphill 
battle, succeeding thus far 

but he's many bowls 
of chanko nabe lighter 
than most of these dudes 

on day six, mighty 
Shohozan caught the young buck 
slipping, sat him down 

on a day where all leaders 
except Hakuho took loss 

Shohozan - wily 
veteran maintaining place 
middle of the pack 

too good for juryo, but not 
quite good sanyaku level 

SONG OF THE DAY: Jump In

Discourse Warning – none of us born here chose to be American, that shit chose us. Any space is only as exceptional as how much effort and work the people occupying that space put into making it exceptional or special, or whatever the fuck. People don’t seem to be “putting in work” but they wanna still expect everybody to give America the accolades of being some mighty shining beacon of whatever the fuck we’re supposed to be a beacon of. One of the greatest strengths of trash culture like poor people or gangs or survivalist hillbillies is that these cultures all know that YOU AIN’T SHIT IF YOU DON’T KEEP PUTTING IN THE WORK. It’s all sand castles and washes the fuck away pretty quickly unless you keep putting in the work. Right now, America is fucked, but it’s mostly fucked because nobody wants to do the work. And I don’t mean manual labor at construction sites, I mean the hard work of fixing a bunch of shit that ain’t working for the benefit of most people. You can’t keep selecting your favorite self-important asshole because they got a blue or red check beside their name, and think they gonna do it. None of those fuckers care, because they don’t understand. But they think they know. People who don’t understand but think they know are the most dangerous human beings around. And that’s about 99.9% of our political class. So we’re fucked in that sense. So I’ll just keep putting in work, try to make alliances for survival, try to carve out a shady corner to be able to take deep breaths without somebody stepping on my head. I didn’t choose this life I’m living, it chose me. None of us picked getting slowly crushed by the corporate oligarchy’s avarice and greed that is the pyramid scam of America in the 21st Century; but we’re here. Putting in work won’t set you free – there’s no escape, unless you’re lucky. But putting in work means you don’t crushed out of existence, hopefully, at least not today. Although it’s crushing somebody else right now, and crushing way more than it’s lifting up.

Kyusho Basho 2019 Honour Tanka Day Five: MEISEI (4-1)

Takayasu's big 
hairy ass is personal 
fave… always has been 

stoic gaze and bulldog frame, 
but the ozeki's struggled 

always injured it 
seems, and there's no break from this 
sumo life (for life) 

Meisei arrived on day five, 
with spirited performance 

they give an award 
out for best fighting spirit 
every basho 

Meisei made an early play 
for its consideration 

Takayasu's five  
thousand metaphysical 
pounds came out thrusting 

Meisei danced the physical 
rikishi tango dervish 

with lime green power aura, 
Meisei's metaphysical 
mystical force rose 

a twist of torso, yank of 
Takayasu - victory 

Kyusho Basho 2019 Honour Tanka Day Four: TOCHINOSHIN (2-2)

if Tochinoshin 
had remained full strength, might've 
made yokozuna 

the Georgian mountain of a 
man could overpower all 

full-strength, he lifted 
even the most gigantic 
men, and carried them 

now, with perpetual sore 
knee, plus elbow, not the same 

and yet, somehow he's 
still able to pull off these 
amazing displays 

tussling Takarafuji, 
no man gaining advantage 

looked like another 
Tochinoshin slow defeat, 
after his strength failed 

as it looks almost over, 
a rare kubihineri 

"head twisting throw" is 
the Japanese translation, 
first time in nine years 

one arm around opponent's 
neck, the other takes his hand 

then Tochinoshin 
twisted Takarafuji's 
neck until he flipped 

"where your head goes, your ass shall 
follow" George Clinton once said 

or something like that; 
but even not at full strength, 
Tochinoshin rules 

can't help but wonder about 
if he had remained healthy 

might we have seen the 
first ever European 
yokozuna rank? 

sumo is relentless; body's 
health will job to mental state 

Kyusho Basho 2019 Honour Tanka Day Three: WAKATAKAKAGE (3-0)

the makuuchi 
debut of another young 
sumo rikishi 

twenty-four years upon Earth; 
grown life in grappling's clutches 

his first basho has 
begun with promise and strength - 
but life can be cruel 

how many young rikishi 
start strong but burn out promptly? 

the weight of broken 
dreams attacks the heart harder 
than red meat vices 

his chankonabe bowl's full 
right now though; enjoy it, prince 

SONG OF THE DAY: No Class

I have meant to post more but I’ve been uninspired. That’s mostly your fault, to be honest. The internet is a bougie ass cesspool of neoliberal pretty vacancies, and that’s just the part I look at. The larger internet is giant strides towards blissful fascism, and fuck both those choices. I take pretty pictures and manipulate words with good practice, but I still think classlessly. I am a dirtgod – thus born ugly and forced to take pride in my wretched nature, because even if fully assimilated and exploited, I can’t be one of y’all. (Unless you’re not one of them either; in that case, did you watch that Dolemite shit on Netflix? That was great, wasn’t it?)

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"