RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.
Showing posts with label project explanations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label project explanations. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 3

NEW BOOK RELEASE: Just Another Mark


It’s been about a month since I released my new book of haiku, called Just Another Mark. These are selections culled from writing five haiku a day over the course of an entire year. It’s a pretty great collection, of haiku written from both a natural and chaotic perspective, along the edge of the Blue Ridge mountains. There are three ways you can get it:
NUMBER ONE – Go to MY WEB SHOP and get a signed copy directly from me. I’ve got other books there, as well as art and zines and all sorts of stuff.
NUMBER TWO – Go to your favorite local independent bookstore, and get them to order it. It is set up through proper distribution channels so that indy stores can acquire it directly for you. You can also use bookshop.org.
NUMBER THREE – Go to Amazon, the evil place, and get it there.



Thursday, January 29

SONG OF THE DAY: Easy Evil (kudzu'd)


The reason I love slowing down music is because it can take something entirely familiar, and reshape it in your experience. We are three-dimensional creatures (don’t let the “time travel is possible” types try to fool you otherwise), and thus when our notion of those three dimensions is even slightly shifted, it refreshes our attention. Anyways, this is a pretty chill AM soft rock classic, which then becomes even more chill, although maybe ominous, when slowed down. I make all these videos, grabbing clips from the wayback archives of one sort or another, then slapping them together with my favorite slowed down colors, and putting the music over top. Because it technically violates the copyright of the music owner, I don’t get no yakubian youtube play credits – all rights reserved by whoever ripped off the musicians back in the day. But art is not about profit, unless you are a born asshole. Anyways, we live in a great time of easy evil, so I hope you are still fighting the good fight, on all fronts, and in all metaphysical planes. If you have powers beyond the three dimensions, I humbly request you ask the Universe to smile upon me. I know I will encounter a thousand robot skims, at the minimum, before even one set of real eyeballs reads this whole paragraph. And likely millions of web trawlers, scraping the net for data, before an actual bona fide beyond-the-earthly realm power type sees this. But I like to put it out there. I feel fairly blessed in life already, but Universal sunshine is not like abstract human wealth – you can’t hoard it and it doesn’t pile up and become a burden. It’ll be like an extra half ounce of sunshine on an already sunny day. Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Tuesday, January 6

Monday Night Rumble of The Discourse - Winter 2026 - Week 1


Just wanted to give a head's up that last night, a project called Monday Night Rumble of The Discourse returned, for a new 7-week series. We've had a few seasons of these before, but the last one was in the Spring of 2024. This project takes place in an abandoned concrete factory at the edge of town near where I live, and 27 different characters from across the political spectrum come and fight each other, to control The Discourse. For the first 6 weeks, they battle to accumulate points, to be entered into the season finale in Week 7. So we should have one of these every Monday night for the next 6 weeks as well. This is one of the bizarre things supported by my Southern Gothicc Futurism Patreon.

Monday, December 2

dirtgod's illegitimate artz emporium (aka online shop)

Last week, I updated MY ONLINE SHOP to be more of everything I have. Mostly, I’m glad to be able to have all the available haiku spikes more easily organized for sale, with an option to order custom ones as well. Earlier this year, I had some friends request a pair of spikes to commemorate their marriage. It hadn’t been too long after going to a poetry slam in Charlottesville, and hearing Breeze the Poet talk about playing with contrapuntal poems, where two or more poems also combine to form a separate poem. So it made sense to me to try and write a pair of stand-alone haiku that also combined into an intentional poem. I really love and appreciate this couple, as they have a number of interesting projects going on, including visiting old cemeteries for “vernacular graves”, and they grow a lot of food where they live, with a consciousness towards climate change (because the mountains around them were literally on fire not too long ago).
Sometimes though, the Universe just lines up for you. Two haiku came to mind pretty quickly that also interlocked as a larger poem, and honestly I had it all written the day after their request. I know being able to do stuff like that takes practice and me putting in the work at trying to be attuned towards it happening. But it’s also really hard to take credit on an egotistic level when something like that happens, because it feels beyond me. It’s as much (or more) the Universe in action as it is me consciously doing anything. Here’s the first haiku spike:
walking together
finding inspiration and
strength in a path shared

And then the second one:
in difficult world
cultivating hope to grow
futures intertwined

I thought a lot about them growing food, and writing “futures intertwined” also called to mind the three sisters method of growing. The two haiku spikes go together as such:
walking together
in difficult world
finding inspiration and
cultivating hope to grow
strength in a path shared
futures intertwined

I think this is a great example of how magic haiku spikes can be, especially for custom requests about specific subjects. The past year, I’ve been working to lean more into them as intentional magical objects. So if you’re financially able and interested, go get some magical art at the new shop.
I also launched a new thing, which is an extension of what I’ve been doing here already, where folks can order postcards with tanka poems on them. I have stacks of vintage postcards with various themes (and seriously a box of thousands more to sort through to create more options). I figure with the changes we’re shifting into in America, it’s going to be a taxing ass time, and the digital doomscroll is gonna feel bleaker than it already does. So getting actual physical mail will hopefully be a welcome thing.
Copies of most all my books are on there for you to get directly from me. I’m hoping to get versions of the two most recent books up on IngramSpark soon, so they can be distributed at book stores as well, even if the quality of IngramSpark seems to be less than Kindle Publishing. I’ll still use Kindle Publishing for my copies I sell at events, which means I’m still dealing with Amazon, and they’re available there. I have friends who run independent book stores, so I’m completely understanding about boycotting Amazon. But even if they bought up the old Create Space, the remnants of that is still the best for having physical copies of self-published books. Once I get the books on IngramSpark, I can at least feel better about pushing folks to buy the books at book stores.
To be honest, everyone shilling “small business Saturday” or black Friday stuff this year feels more desperate than ever. I think things are harder than most folks realize out here right now, and I also fear they’re going to get very worse before they get any better. I had wanted to be set up at some markets to try and make some income, but I didn’t know where to apply, and I’m not really connected with folks who pulled me into their little loops. That’s fine though. I’m probably better off outside of those realms anyways, as my shit is kinda fucked up and not real trinkety or matches well with vintage mentality. Nonetheless, I’ve got a shop up and running now, so share the link if you feel it, or poke around. And as I always say at markets, if the price of anything feels like a burden, reach out to me. I’m usually willing to work with folks who genuinely love and want my art, because I don’t think wealth should be required to beautify your life with magic.

Monday, September 19

SONG OF THE DAY: Cheating In The Daylight


Been doing a radio show called Slow Hand on WTJU out of Charlottesville, where I play old 45 singles at 33 speed. I was going in every other week, then got knocked out by covid for a month, but have been doing it weekly the past few weeks, and really enjoying the vibes of it all. I'd say it's been over half old funk, but a lot of other stuff feels funkier slowed down, because the bass thickens and the vocals turn into ghostly warbles. Last night, I dip dip dived through some old country, because I ate some fried chicken gizzards from the Valero last week, and it reactivated my bumpkin soul. I love that stretch of southern Virginia/eastern or central North Carolina that has unique vibe to it, where you're bound to still find chicken gizzards at a gas station, and the racial mix between black and white was always a lot closer to an even break than the rest of the country. It's Swamp Dogg country.

Wednesday, August 3

SONG OF THE DAY: Mama He's Crazy (chopped & kudzu'd)


At one point on my patreon, I was chopping and kudzu'ing old country songs fairly regularly. I got a twelve-pack of them together, which I released on my bandcamp, and then began doing southern rock ones for the second twelve-pack. But I got stuck somewhere along the way. I tried a number of songs, and some were okay, but none were slamming. I'm too much of a perfectionist in some ways, in that unless something is hitting me in that moment, I can't let it go. Which is strange, because in my other creative endeavors, I literally do whatever without thinking, or thinking as little as possible. Not sure why fucking with remixing old songs is different. Anyways, the first twelve-pack is nothing but bangers, including this track. I always forget to hype my patreon or bandcamp on here, or the haiku spikes I do, or the fact I've been writing poems on bottles I find in the woods. It's kinda hard to catalog what I do, because I'm chaotic good in human form. The point of all this is to say there is no point. I'm not a store. I'm not perfect. I'm not even consistent. I just am.

Monday, February 1

SONG OF THE DAY: s0Vl p0W3r pt 11


When songs I write about for song of the day from the J.J. Krupert machine don’t exist inside youtube, because it’s a 45 I’ve recorded at 33 rpms (like this one), or some weird ass vaporwave from Lithuania, or beats my boys have made, or shit it might just be some fucked up shit I came across inside the dark tunnels of the internet, and no video exists on youtube for it, then I make one. This used to be just stitching gifs together with the audio, but gradually I started taking chunks of clips from elsewhere and slapping the music on it. It’s very little effort to be honest, but looks pretty great when you blur it out and glitch it up and throw it all together – kinda like knowing your way around a kitchen, in that if you get all the right ingredients and throw them together with even a little bit of competence, then the shit tastes good. This old Maceo & the Macks jam slowed down to 33 speed with a bunch of clips of Jim Kelly kicking people’s asses is the perfect example. This shit is like the fried egg sandwich of digitalia.

Monday, June 29

SONG OF THE DAY: Pesse Mi Buntare


I still download mp3s, because I am an old “ok boomer” man from seven years ago. There are still a number of decent music blogs I check, plus I’ve been spending more money on bandcamp this year for sure. But the problem is, my method for music, not streaming, is I have these chunks of downloaded music that get lumped into my external hard drive, then sort of battle royal their way out of the clusterfuck. Those songs that get played the most on a few month basis end up as a song of the day. That means there’s shit like this, that I have no idea why I have it, who the group is, any of that. Shit just showed up in the mix, unheralded, but I played the fuck out of it. Like a 7th round NFL draft pick, barely known, nothing expected, then all of a sudden it’s a special teams hero and you’ve got dumbasses ordering custom jerseys of it. I could probably be a legitimate faux-music journalist online and look them up and write up a 200 word description of some non-American music that’s probably once popular but unknown now somewhere else and completely obscure here. But nobody reads the internet. We look at the headlines and scroll social media timelines. In fact, this link will appear on multiple social media feeds, and like 75 people will go to the link with these words, but 60 of those will be East European or South Asian cyborgs just data trawling. The other fifteen will scope the video, and maybe a third of them will click the video to see what it’s about. Like two people will actually read the words to the very end. Which means you. Thanks. I appreciate you making it this far with me.

Tuesday, April 14

dirtgod transmissions and a patreon reminder

Hey, consider this a friendly reminder that I operate a Sovthern Gothicc Fvtvrism patreon as well, that you can support. I've made the majority of the posts I've been making recently public instead of patrons-only though. I had thought about doing a podcast again, even though I hate podcasts, so instead I did a quick recording of some thoughts over top an older Boogie Brown aka Blue Globe Beats beat, and then generated some visuals using weird freeware. These are called dirtgod transmissions. I may do them every day for the rest of my life, or I may not ever do another one...

dirtgod transmissions 001: riptides & pyramids

dirtgod transmissions 002: I regret to inform you...

Monday, January 14

Monday, May 1

Red Pitchfork Green Fields

(A thing I wrote about May Day, related to the ONGOING GOFUNDME BIRD TRIBE GOT regarding acquiring the land that surrounds our current compound. PLEASE GIVE if you are able to. PLEASE SHARE with others who might be able to give if you can. And PLEASE PUT GOOD THOUGHTS into the world for us to achieve this goal.)

Today is May Day, which has both a green and red tradition. The green branch is the earth fertility rituals associated with spring rebirth of the plant world after seemingly dormant winter period, and the red branch is the worker’s rights holidays significant to more communal/socialist societies. Interesting enough, culturally we associate the red flag of communism with the Soviet Union, or perhaps China at this point, but the original place on Earth the red flag was ever flown in honor of the workers was western Wales during the Merthyr Uprising in 1831. Coal miners took to the streets in protest against unemployment and low wages and generally poor quality of life in the region, and the protestors flew a red flag to symbolize the blood of the workers. The original philosophical basis of socialism is really not all the different than the original philosophical basis of what we call in the United States democracy, as both – in their pure origins – were envisioned as guaranteeing everyone had equal provision and opportunity. Of course, once ideals are put into practice they become corrupted by human greed, and both socialism and democracy have been perverted as their histories unfolded. As civilization has gone unchecked at the global level, both the people (red branch) and Earth (green branch) have been collaterally damaged by unchecked greed. And this is seen in our local environments.
The road we live on takes its name from a defunct family dairy farm. The front two-storey portion of our rambling home was built in 1905, and was one of the original houses in this area. When we moved here in 2000, the far end of the road, headed to town, was a cattle farm owned by local family. Once the elders passed on, including the aging farm caretaker, there was no one from the next generation to take up farming, as most of the next generation had made their livings in logging locally (and continue to do so). The cattle farm at the end of the road has since been sub-let by a factory farming operation from the next county over that leases any acreage it can in the area. We’ve seen a steady cycle of factory corn and soybeans be cycled through that acreage at the end of the road the past few years.
Additionally, the Trans-Atlantic pipeline runs less than two miles from our home. A compression station is situated within two miles of us as well. This pipeline was built back in the 1950s, and has largely been overlooked as energy industry corporations attempt to build new pipelines through our region now, to export natural gas overseas, though the promise of local jobs and local benefit is always used to entice local areas to get on board with corporate profiteering. Where this cattle farm used to exist at the end of our road has seen some extensive pipeline work in the past six months, in what I’m assuming is repairs, but honestly we have no idea, because the entities in charge of such things don’t have to let the people know. They do what they feel is best to the Earth, without giving the People any awareness of what is happening.
This tends to be the modus operandi right now. But for us at our Bird Tribe home, which includes both Suzanna’s Owlcraft Healing Way herbal school and practice, as well as Raven’s Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts shineface resistance factory, both the Earth (green branch) and the People (red branch) are important. We do not believe in the Man vs. Nature dichotomy, because humankind and the natural world are actually intertwined in a far more complex relationship than simple conflict. The land has healing power for the people, and the people have tending capabilities for the land. This is how we’ve always viewed the land we live on – we let it lead the way to an extent, but we also have to take care of it to help maintain balance. This is not all that different than the indigenous philosophy towards the land which used to be the modus operandi here up until a few centuries ago.
A modern update of the red flag of the people that has been used in Wales in recent years is a simple homemade design of a red pitchfork on a green field. The green field was added to represent the land, and how it is what gives us life. The red pitchfork symbolizes the people, specifically those who work the land, or tend to it so that it provides for us. We love this flag for what it symbolizes.
Even out in the middle of nowhere where we live, plots of land have been “developed” into micro-suburbs, little parcels of the United States dream manufactured and marketed to those with the proper credit to be approved to pretend they’ve moved to the country, without actually having to tend to the land, or have it tend you. Manicured lawns with marine cuts maintained at worst weekly, plus impersonal houses with fresh vinyl siding and complementary shutters screwed beyond functionality that become obsolete before a single 30-year mortgage is ever paid off. Those mortgages are rarely paid off entirely too, as most of the houses built within a few miles of us have been sold and re-sold, or foreclosed and auctioned, and never does anybody fully own any of these houses, so much as maintain the payment to the bank.
The land next to us is a 10-acre plot that may or may not suffer that same fate, but as it stands now it is just Earth, without a single human structure. We really hope to add it to our 4.5 acres, and let it be land alone, with maybe a few simple off-the-electric-grid structures at most. We want it to be an extension of the work we’re already doing, and help us create a plant Sanctuary as well as a natural workshop space for various creative arts. We’re working towards that goal, slowly but surely, but are much further away than we need to be to make it happen. Anything folks can give (who are in a position to do so) helps us resist what is happening all around us, both locally as well as globally. Our campaign here is not to “buy” this land but just to get the down payment. We will finish the deal after that, on our own, just as we struggle to finish our current mortgage payment on a place that is valued, by the banks, at less than we owe. Ultimately that doesn’t matter to us, because we’re not re-selling this place, and we won’t be re-selling the land next to us, when we get it. We want to unify these plots because we are already unified with this place. Our roots have taken hold, regardless of assessed values or current market or any of that other devilish tomfoolery.

Sadly, that was also the case with our neighbors who are forced to leave this land behind now. They held this little chunk of land together for 20 years, but the devil math came back and reclaimed it as resource and collateral and ignored the larger truths of the Earth and the People. It is our turn though, and we hope to be able to fly our own homemade red pitchfork on a green field flag on this little plot of resistance against business as usual, against “development”, against all that overlooks the simple complex relationship of human and land, and tries to unnecessarily over-complicate it behind the abstraction of wealth. We do not want this land to get any more abstract than it already is, because it is already a really beautiful place, and we’d like to help leave it that way.

Tuesday, January 17

thousand digital snapshots
of various candid trees
in natural habitat

Wednesday, April 27

1st of The Month Rojonekku WFA support drive

So I am about to drop another two new issues of Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts zine (V and VI), and also about to mail about all the back issues of the first two issues I have left out this weekend as well, so wanted to throw this rock into this empty digital creek in the middle of the fogged out cyber-woods here… (so quiet, the birds are making noise, though you can hear them boys on their dirtbikes roaring off in the distance, at least it’s not hunting season, at least not legal hunting season).
Essentially this is me reminding and encouraging you to support Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts, which is a way of saying subscribe to the zine, except along with four issues of the zine you also get:

  • free copies of the ebooks versions of whatever I put out
  •  chance to be the one person a month who gets a railroad haiku spike
  •  plus your copy of each issue of the zine will have a personalized haiku
  • probably other shit too



Or you can paypal me direct to ravenmack at gmail.com - $30 for US ppl for 4 issues (plus all the other stuff), $40 for international for 4 issues (plus other stuff - a dude from Australia won the April haiku spike).
As for the free ebooks, I just started a new endeavor of $2 ebooks called N.E.W.tourneys a couple weeks back. The first one is called Sumo of BOOM! and is a sumo tournament, sort of, which takes place on New Earth, which is just like True Earth but also nothing at all like it. The second one (hopefully out by the end of April) is Mountain MystixXx, and is also a tournament but a poetry competition between mountain recluses as judged by crows. Each N.E.W.tourney will be a tournament of 8 entities, and the style is uh hard to explain, not really experimental so much as no fucks given. But you also get ebooks (as supporter) of all the old shit I’ve released too. It’s there for the asking if you subscribe/support Rojonekku.

(exhibit 69: railroad haiku spike)

The railroad haiku spikes are this thing I love to do where I wild harvest railroad spikes from alongside the James River where I power my spirit during these depleting times, and then I carve fucking haiku into the spikes. I am likely giving myself some horrible form of future cancer using the processes I use to engrave these things, but what is not giving us all horrible future cancer at this point? And if everything’s gonna give us future cancer, I’d rather make art than hot dogs, know what I mean? I used to sell these, and people have always loved them, but I decided to just do them for supporters, one a month, drawn random lottery style from the list of subscribers. In other words, it’s pretty much the only way to get a railroad haiku spike, at least from me. And anybody else doing them probably ain’t doing them right.

The Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts zine itself is one of my favorite things, but also fairly obsolete. I mean zines themselves are archaic, but my zines in particular are text heavy and I don’t really give a fuck about comics. The text is likely going to be broken up by cryptic images I tore out of some old book, or something worse. For example, this upcoming issue VI, I was about to lay out old images as the background for the text as I was literally cutting and pasting (actually taping – paste is for eating) and thought “man, taping old cryptic images is played out” so I took them outside and spray painted them with stencils and railroad spikes and scrap metal and shit. The master looks beautiful, and once depleted by inferior photocopying techniques it’s gonna be even more beautiful.
Ideally, if I could get ten new subscribers/supporters, it’d cover over half of how much I blow on two issues. (Previous subscribers can also re-up whenever they want.) I know it would make sense to be like “I’D LIKE TO GET ENOUGH NEW SUBSCRIBERS TO SUPPORT THE ENTIRE THING” but realistically, people don’t necessarily support things like this too easily. It’s not traditional, like you can’t be like, “Oh I gave $20 now I’m gonna get a comic book and a thank you card” like a traditional crowdfunding. Not even sure I’d consider this crowdfunding. But there are only 150 copies of each issue, and I’m subscribed out at like 30 I think? If I could get 20 new subscribers or re-uppers each two issues, I’d have that part covered at least. But I’ll be lucky if nine people have clicked the link to this page, and even luckier if even three of them read this far. Of those three, I bet two are already subscribed and the other one is broke.

So if you don’t want to or can’t subscribe, spread the word. SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL PAGAN MC (which is my way of saying if you can support what it is I’m doing – financially if you got it, but spreadaliciously with the word if you can’t).

Monday, January 18

2016 Royal Poetry Rumble: Introduction


The Royal Rumble is a stupid professional wrestling event where 30 people are thrown into a chaotic clusterfuck of bad wrestling, in a way that seems like it could never work, and yet somehow it’s perhaps the most entertaining of all stupid professional wrestling events (which tend to get stupider and stupider as you get older and older). I hardly watch wrestling at all any more, and if I ever do it’s usually something with nostalgic value buried inside the youtubes, but man when I was younger, I used to love that shit. But it remains one of those shameful things I’d never admit to anybody, though I don’t try to hide it necessarily either. It just sort of floats out there in the aether of personal experience, like a bad trip (drugs, not travel, though that Venn diagram has large crossover potential).
Similarly, I guess I’d be considered a “poet”. People have introduced me as such. People have consulted me as such. And yet every time that word is applied to me, it makes every molecule of my being cringe in embarrassment. Poetry can be as wretched as professional wrestling, and the deeper into the ESTABLISHED POETRY INDUSTRY (if you could call it an “industry”), the more wretched and horrible it gets (much like pro wrestling). And though at its true nature and in the filthy underground tendrils of it, poetry can be amazing (much like pro wrestling), it’s mostly known to the average person as this ridiculous spectacle that tends to live up to the horrible stereotypes about it (again, much like pro wrestling). 
Well, rather than write an unnecessary thinkpiece in the longest of forms about all this, and perhaps examine my own self and personal biases and shortcomings, and try to untangle some of these issues I obviously have (exemplified by my shameful love of both pro wrestling and poetry), I decided to make it a “you got your peanut butter into my chocolate” thing, and throw the two together. Thus is born the first (and perhaps only) annual ROYAL POETRY RUMBLE.
I did some serious research (fucked around on Wikipedia at work) and came up with AN EXTENSIVE AND SERIOUS (looks good I guess) list of the most important poetry positions, awards, and honors. And through this, a field of 30 competitors was developed. They are, as follows:
#1: The current U.S. poet laureate, which does not necessarily change each year, but it’s considered an important and prestigious position, sort of like being the World Heavyweight champion in wrestling, so they are included. (That’s one.)
#2-3: The poet laureate of the U.S. gets two appoint two people as Wytter Bynner fellows, which is like being the under-laureate I guess, though it’s done yearly. (That’s two more.)
#4: The National Book Award winner for the previous year in poetry. This is one of the highest awards for poetry books. (That’s another.) #5-8: Plus, the winner of this award is taken from a short list of five books, so all those other short-listers get added as well. (Four more.) #9-13: And the shortlist is culled from a longer longlist of ten books, so let’s add those other five folks as well. (I probably don’t need to do these parenthesis add-ons, counting up, when the numbers before the listing are already doing that work.)
#14: The winner of the Pulitzer Prize for book of poetry, which is another MAJOR AWARD that a poet aspires to, because even though nobody heard of you, suddenly after you win the Pulitzer, there are newspaper articles about you, and people who are fringe poetry types (perhaps from embarrassment) are suddenly like, “Oh hey, here’s a poet fucker who sounds cool, I guess. Let me see if I can get their book for cheap as fuck on half.com.” (But I enjoy the visual aspect of the parenthesis too much to completely give it up.) #15-16: There are always three finalists for the Pulitzer, which means two people don’t win the award. But that doesn’t mean they can’t be READY TO RUMBLE! (Through poetry though.)
#17: There was this dude who was some sort of shipyard executive but he loved to write poetry, and was featured in various high-brow poetry places (New Yorker, for example). But then he died, so his wife sold off all their shit and created the Kingsley Tufts poetry award in his honor (because now I can tell you his name was Kingsley Tufts). It is given not for a book of poetry but to somebody who has a body of work already, thus established to some extent. It’s a $100,000 prize though, so it’s kind of a big deal if you’re a starving ass writer (though perhaps this brings up the elephant in the room in that what type of person can afford to go to graduate school for an MFA in Creative Writing, and can afford to dick around with words all the time). But even if you are successful, and firmly embedded in academia as a teacher (the only way to make money as a writer of Serious Literature, imo), an extra hundred grand buys a lot of pink crystal salt from the local Whole Foods alternative run by yoga practitioners. (Kingsley Tufts is a fairly immense name, so you knew that dude was gonna have some sort of award named after him, regardless.) #18-21: There are four other finalists for that award, so might as well include them here as well, because we have to have 30 poets. (I mean, we don’t “have to” really, but that is the arbitrary ruling I have made from the beginning, so that this Royal Poetry Rumble at least matches the actual professional wrestling Royal Rumble in number of competitors.)
#22: The Wallace Stevens awards is another hundred thousand dollar award, given out annually, to somebody who has a “proven mastery of the art of poetry” (according to their website), so that’s obviously some serious business, and this poet should be included as well.
#23: Similarly, the PEN/Voelcker Award for Poetry is given to somebody who has represented the fuck out of poetry, to a level that has effected American literature. That’s totally like Jeff Hardy in pro wrestling, so probably somebody who in the world of poetry is a certain Intercontinental champion, but not may or may not develop into a World champion (poet laureate), because that’s more exclusive level of dominant presence. (The PEN/Voelcker Award is only given out every other year, which means if I do this a second year, that person will get to return to the fracas next year!)
#24: The Bollingen Prize (given out by Yale) is like a mash-up of all these things, in that it also is given out every other year, and MAY recognize a notable book of poetry put out in the previous two years, or it MAY recognize an overall greatness of getting poetic shit accomplished. So naturally, I include that person. (And naturally, they’ll get to go through two years of this, perhaps, depending on my own motivation to do this again as well as my fleeting mortality.)
#25-27: The Ruth Lilley Poetry Prize is another $100,000 check doled out yearly to somebody who is exemplary “whose lifetime accomplishments warrant extraordinary recognition.” It is given out by the Poetry Foundation, whose website is where I got that quoted line about how awesome this poet is sposed to have been. (I don’t know about finalists, so I’m just gonna include the three most recent previous winners in our field.)
#28-30: And finally, the Lannan Literary Awards are the big payday of all prizes, at $150,000. They are given out in various genres, including poetry, and yet not given out annually necessarily. It’s not real clear how that all works, and what triggers giving out the awards, beyond trying to give poets some financial breathing room and public recognition for their shit. (So I’ll include the three most recent recipients in the field of poetry, to fill out our field of 30 for this ridiculous endeavor.)
In the actual professional wrestling Royal Rumble, the entrants draw numbers from 1 to 30, to determine their order of battle. (Yes, this is all worked according to the strange cultural theatrics of professional wrestling, but let’s put all that aside for sake of word flow, okay?) For the purposes of the Royal Poetry Rumble, I’ve just thrown the 30 poets onto a spreadsheet, and then randomized them some numbers. I’ll pull out pairs to go head-to-head through a single poem, in groups of six, thus by luck of the (randomized robot) draw, a poet might have to battle multiple times over and again to stay alive in this thing, while somebody else might not get drawn at all yet. That’ll eliminate folks down in batches of three, until we get to six left (30 to 27 to 24 to 21 to 18 to 15 to 12 to 9 to 6). Then, I’ll randomify two pairs (to take it down to 4), and then two more pairs, which will leave us with our final pair of poets. Each time they are drawn, they get represented by a different (and new to this nonsense) poem.
But how to decide who wins? And where to get their poems? Well, I can answer that second question first. Being this is the internet, I’m gonna do my best to find the poems used on the internet. There’s a slightly shitty website full of poems called Poemhunter. I’ll use up whatever poems by the poet is there first, simply because you can list their poems on the site by which one’s been hit the most (in terms of page views). That’s a skewed and fucked-up away to pretend you are using their best poem. The Poetry Foundation (which gives out one of the above awards) also has an extensive database of online poems by many poets, so I’ll go there second. They have more poems, but they’re just listed alphabetically, which means I’ll have to arbitrarily decide which one to use next. If at some point I use up all the available poems on both those sites, then I’ll figure some other shit out to keep it going.
Now obviously (as you can tell by this intro), I’ll probably write-up some longform stream of unconscious gibberish nonsense about the head-to-head match-ups of poems (and thus poet). But I didn’t think it fair to just let me decide. I mean, who the fuck am I? (Just some guy on the internet, writing about writing, or something like that, I guess.) So I’ve enlisted the help of a friend who is a noted and trusted scholar, and yet also keeps their perspective fogged properly by popular culture. They will be known throughout the course of this nonsense as the kvlt scholar (he can be found inside the twitters as @badtracking). They lost their teaching gig at a university (like most people have in recent years) so they’ve got extra time on their hands. I’m gonna send them the poems, with author removed, simply formatted in a word doc, and let them decide completely arbitrarily which one advances. This will be referred to as “the kvlt scholar’s hantei” and will be the final decision in each match-up. Thus, my long-winded nonsense gibberish may not even match who wins. But whatever.

So I guess this is how all this ridiculousness came to be, and will go down. We begin tomorrow, WHEN THREE POETS WILL BE ELIMINATED, and will whittle down the field, until the final two are left, and one of them will win, and then there will be a weird wrestling event, and you can think about poetry and wrestling or wrestling and poetry, but either way the two will be intertwined forever in your consciousness, along with perhaps me (hopefully), and we will be done for the year, having crowned our ROYAL POETRY RUMBLE WINNER OF 2016. (Note: I had anticipated starting this to go daily in the weeks before the actual Royal Rumble, and to end on the morning of the actual rumble, but you know how shit goes.)

Sunday, January 10

assorted detrituses
from my life tend to combine
into repurposed beauties

Wednesday, December 9

NEW Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts zines (issues 3 & 4)

I have had two new issues of my zine called the Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts zine for like over a month, but free money and free time are a Venn diagram of reality and my intersection is small. I readily admit I am of a position in life not necessarily what I felt born into, and thus my intersecting Free Time and Free Money Venn Diagram of Life Comfort is far larger than probably ever before since I’ve been a human being, but it still does not afford mailing shit out in a timely manner. No worries, I don’t have too many subscribers anyways. BUT GUESS WHAT – YOU CAN SUBSCRIBE TO MY ZINE 
Sure zines are archaic and somewhat counterintuitive to our current cultural trainings, but I am a rock solid master of archaic counterintuitive arts. (More like slave, if we are being honest.)
Also I decided to no longer offer selling individual issues. These are limited print runs of 150 each issue, and subscribers start with #001 and whatever is unsubscribed upon I’m just gonna mail out to whoever I feel like. You are certainly able to email or write me and suggest places I mail these extra issues out to, even if it’s just yourself, but likely I will follow my own witless whims and will (of the wisp). This is going to be a losing proposition most likely so fuck it, I’ll send them wherever I see fit outside of subscribers.

Oh hey, speaking of archaic and nonsensical, I’ve decided that with the beginning of the new year in 2016, there will be a ridiculous nonsensical gibberish blog I’ll be doing which will be accessible to subscribers to the zine as well. Most likely most subscribers will not bother checking that site, as most people don’t check this site, as we don’t really see ourselves culturally trained to “check” websites any more, outside of our supercenter one-stop social media shops. THE DAYS OF THE SIMPLE MOM-AND-POP RAMBLING CONSPIRATORIAL WEBSITE ARE GONE, YO. But this is a thing that makes me happy, this nonsense blog which will be called New Earth Writing, so I am going to do it as a subscriber bonus, although it won’t really be a bonus but your native born right as someone who gives me money for the weird shit that comes out my brain (or heart, or even gut… I am not sure of the origins to be honest).

So here is what is in these two new issues, which you will receive as the beginning of your subscription if you subscribe from any point between now and when I finish issue 5 (which may be next spring, or next week… no predictions).
ROJONEKKU WORD FIGHTING ARTS ISSUE 3
INTRODUCTION (where I say hello)
BLOSSOM OF THE REDBUDS (nature’s screwed & chopped tree)
NATURE OF THE ELECTRIC STAPLER AT WORK & WHAT IT SIGNIFIES (not even my current work no more)
VULTURES & EAGLES (I saw some vultures)
BUDDHA DUMP TRUCK (tiny Buddha army in action)
THE PROMISE OF RAVEN MACK’S TILLER (neighbor neighbor, why you bugging)
DREAM JAGUAR (car, not spirit animal)
THE NATURAL URGE TO WALK (innate ache)
MADE-UP WOMAN NAMED HETTIE HITCHENS (a new place in my made-up worlds called Chuckrock)
TOP SEVENS (pointless lists)
WORK VAN BLOOZE (an ode)
TOO MANY KEYS (more blooze)
FACE TATTOOS (another ode)
ROJONEKKU T-SHIRT (not for real, more an exploration of possibilities)
FIRST UMBRELLA (sad pathetic realities of Raven Mack life)
OUTRO (where I say goodbye)

ROJONEKKU WORD FIGHTING ARTS ISSUE 4
This issue has an intro and outro, like always, but it is the 45s on 33 list from last summer as seen on this website, except two things came together like peanut butter and chocolate: 1) You can’t really write about the actual music online when you are sharing download links because devil ass corporations get jacked up and send you threatening emails which mean nothing so long as you never acknowledge them; and 2) I felt like the three people who subscribe who might actually have read parts of the list on the website as well deserve more than that. So what I did was write a whole shitload more about the actual records, or just more nonsense, probably as much added new as was already there, and there was a shit ton of beautiful nonsense gibberish speaking in tongues the devil’s algorithms can’t understand Raven Mack bullshit in the list already. So it’s a giant compendium of even more nonsense. In fact, I only got to #73 on the list, which is why if you click it on this website now, it stops with #72, because I am deleting them from the cyber version as they appear in zine version. IT’S A BRAVE NEW WORLD, YO.

Anyways, I hope you will consider supporting whatever the fuck it is I do.