"sumo" poems
Kabalo ba mo nga ang love, pag-ibig,
gugma o unsa bay tawag ninyo ana
kay muabot ra nag iyaha?
Di lang jud nuon magsaba
kay wa man gud siyay baba.
Bitaw, unsa man jud tuod diay ng
TRUE LOVE?
O basin THROWN LOVE na ha?
Ana man gud na oh,
sakto na unta!
Siya na unta!
Eh, shunga-shunga man gud ka,
gibuy-an pa jud nimo siya.
Dayon magdangoyngoy ra ba,
maghinuktok ug muingon nga
"Sayang kaayo!"
Apan wa na jud kay mabuhat pa
para ibalik inyong napakyas nga
LOVE STORY.
Sumo biya usahay paminawon
inyong mga pagmahay!
Wa lang jud mi mabuhat
kay bespren biya mi ninyo!
Sige na lang dayon ug hilaka
ug kadugayan PEANUT BITTER na,
hay naku!
Busa, mao ni akong advice sa inyo...
Ana man gud sila nga...
Ang gugma daw mura ra nag itlog...
Basta hugot ra kaayo ang paggunit,
mabuak...
Apan basta luag ra pud,
mahulog ra ug mabuak japun...
busa kanang sakto ra jud...
Unya ako?
Kay danghag man jud kaayo,
busa naa ra ko diri karun
nagsubo ug nag-inusara...
Busa sa di pa mahuman ni akong balak,
naa lang unta koy ipangutana...
Gusto ba ninyo gunitan ang akong itlog?
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 2:15 AM UTC
I'm a Kool g rockin' coogis poppin' coochies
Haters get murked like Colhese my rap lease
Debutin' numero uno the heavy weight sumo
Born on Jupiter raised on Earth my heart's colder than Pluto
Mic judo flows stickin' of ya corticals
Check me in the articles I be the broken particle
Of the universal ya need rehearsal **** goin' commerical
I lay raps like a hearse flow for rappers funeral
I a criminal none keep gats by the abdominal rhymin' phenomenal the mighty Apollo
Blazin' my cocoa flippin' crime like Bardellino
One luv to my nino got it locked like a Vegas casino
We checkin' ya dough at the front door so stop ya show
Fronting and stunting once my nines get the hunting
Bullets spikin' like kickers punting raw taunting
Game hungriest similiar to the lochness
Mon-star far from subpar rhymes ride bizzare
A pharcyde takin' ya into a spiritual homicide converged to the angelic hide
Still a crime shame all of 'em say the same
Thing flexin' diamonds on they pinky rings yet another sad soul that sings sub siblings
To the underworld debators contract initiator so you can create a
Pace between the stage and the audience face
**** that rather keep a gat tucked in the front or the back
With wisdom to rack
Imagine that fools breakin' for stats? see where my heart at?
Diggin' reachin' into the minds of the youth with the brutal truths
Chippin' my tooth
From killin' booths once I plot ya will ya loose
bringin' the ghetto blues and cruising *****
Still a sober jealous God am I call me Jehovah
Tactics of a Cobra one strike it's over
Venomous ridiculous hataz so conspicuous
Hatin' us only to anger my artillery surplus and who bust?
More rounds than Matt Dillion coatin' ya brains
With my lyrical penicillin stealin'
Back the spotlight
Catch the bright sunshine that stares into my mind
A Pharoah prophecy laid in the back of me
Head til I touch my final resting bed I'll embed
The realist **** ya ever heard shooting a bird
To all my enemies I blast at 'em with as the bullets herd
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 12:40 PM UTC
Pensando nos lugares em que estive,
Física e espiritualmente,
Os tormentos de agora apresentam-se desmedidos
Porque dói tanto isto que nem dói sequer?
Que me não causa, isto,
Miséria ou infelicidade, isto,
Que embora a boca, amedrontada,
O não tenha dito
Era precisamente o que desejava para mim?
É certo, não assim…
Ah, cheguei a ousar dizê-lo!
Em confidência à minha mãe,
Sorrateiramente por versos escondidos.
Isto que eu queria!
É certo, não assim.
Não mordendo o fruto
Que me deste, oculto pela mão,
Sobre os meus protestos gritados,
À boca a provar; e, embora eu o cheirasse,
Podre, juravas pelo amor ser são!
O sabor, por não ser desesperante,
Faz-se aditivo; logo estou eu trepando a árvore
Sedenta de o devorar.
Escorrendo-te pelo queixo,
Sumo de laranjas meladas;
A língua que to limpa não é a tua.
Fixo a dor e tombo nela
Como Narciso sobre si.
Sep 28, 2022
Sep 28, 2022 at 5:32 PM UTC
He sat there, same table, most Sundays
If he came alone, he did not stay that way long
His corner table would fill, with nodders and smilers
People with pint glass recognition of all he'd done
His special tankard 'World's Strongest Man'; no year, for that would be cruel
I watched him as I grew, from colouring book infant to
The girl who stood a round for her father
Each year he shrunk a little, those
muscles softening to fat
And still they came and asked him to bend their metal pipes
And carry a man on each shoulder
One handed him a rope for his teeth, and
Asked if he would tow away his junker, they
Laughed and bought him another round, mate, another pint
For the World's Strongest Man
He told me once, when I was 10 and curious,
The stories of his ink marks, the places
He had been and all the strange and wonderful things
He had lifted and bent and pulled and
Training with the Sumo, ice hole bathing with Inuit,
wrestling hobbled Russian bears, the lion that left 'see, this mark here'
A yawn when he'd placed his big, shaggy head
In the beast's mouth because
He too was a king
I asked him once, when I had grew
If he should have been
More like bamboo
Thin and reedy, bending in the wind
No substance to speak off, yet
With a strength belieing it's slender form
He told me, as the acolytes trudged past
In heavy boots and rough winter coats
'All I ever wanted was for someone else to take the weight, even for a moment, but now it's too late'
I smiled sadly, because I understood
Tested strength and how it withstood
And yet I felt his heart-deep sorrow
At looking back, not to tomorrow
I did not buy him another pint, I walked with him instead
Through the door he'd left a thousand times
To his taxi, usual driver, 'home, mate?'
Lean on me for now, I said. I'm stronger than I look.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 12:57 PM UTC
Como ola carmesí
fluye por el mar
de misterios
ocultos bajo tu falda
Narra con sumo detalle
y de manera borrosa
la intensidad de tus intenciones
marchita la sensación de control
y se escabuye frecuentemente
en forma de lágrima
Patea tus entrañas y causa dolor
ciclo de maldiciones e improperios
de alaridos y quejas
te derrota completamente
y caes tendida donde te encuentres
menos mal dura solo unos días
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 7:45 PM UTC
Late evening, wind whipped waves
Slapping against the clay packed
Stone grey harbour wall.
Like two great bellies
In a sumo wrestle
The wind’s getting cold;
As a cloud slashed silver sun,
Dipping below far hazy hills.
New islands will feel its heat
New lands, grateful people, waking to a new day
As our day withers and dies,
Tired, but loved rusty boats
Bob and dance, weaving and turning their tethers
Waiting for their one last turn to sail, to fly
To shine again
And bring home the harvest of the sea
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 8:32 AM UTC
His keyboard destroyed the sidewalk,
Left ideological lines of chalk,
Deciding to discover the one true song,
That makes every soul smile,
He travels from east to west,
Talking with the worst,
And the best,
Doing ******* with drummers,
That are due on stage,
Asking them what song is a miracle?
Then writing them on beer stained pages,
The sumo while singing did that,
He bought the beer,
And they only talked in song,
(they didn't know what they had said till the morning)
He searched through the gutters,
And every disco he was there,
Asking freaks and cutters,
Never finding the one song,
It's been a while since he was home,
How long?
The haze of yesterday's drugs and memories that don't belong to him,
But the search continues,
He ends up learning it all, folk, techno, and blues,
It was in Reno when he said the wrong words,
And a man shot him,
Just to watch him die,
He got to see,
That his dream will never be,
It's not exactly the end,
As time began to bend,
A door that opens to,
Millions of record players,
In layers,
by the billions,
A familiar tune begins to play,
The best song.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 3:03 PM UTC
Me gusta ver el cielo
con negros nubarrones
y oír los aquilones
horrísonos bramar,
me gusta ver la noche
sin luna y sin estrellas,
y sólo las centellas
la tierra iluminar.
Me agrada un cementerio
de muertos bien relleno,
manando sangre y cieno
que impida el respirar;
y allí un sepulturero
de tétrica mirada
con mano despiadada
los cráneos machacar.
Me alegra ver la bomba
caer mansa del cielo,
inmóvil en el suelo,
sin mecha al parecer,
y luego embravecida
que estalla y que se agite
y rayos mil vomite
y muertos por doquier.
Que el trueno me despierte
con su ronco estampido,
y al mundo adormecido
le haga estremecer;
que rayos cada instante
caigan sobre él sin cuento,
que se hunda el firmamento
me agrada mucho ver.
La llama de un incendio
que corra devorando
escombros apilando
quisiera yo encender;
tostarse allí un anciano,
volverse todo tea,
oír como vocea,
¡qué gusto!, ¡qué placer!
Me gusta una campiña
de nieve tapizada,
de flores despojada,
sin fruto, sin verdor,
ni pájaros que canten,
ni sol haya que alumbre
y sólo se vislumbre
la muerte en derredor.
Allá, en sombrío monte,
solar desmantelado,
me place en sumo grado
la luna al reflejar;
moverse las veletas
con áspero chirrido
igual al alarido
que anuncia el expirar.
Me gusta que al Averno
lleven a los mortales
y allí todos los males
les hagan padecer;
les abran las entrañas,
les rasguen los tendones,
rompan los corazones
sin de ellos caso hacer.
Insólita avenida
que inunda fértil vega,
de cumbre en cumbre llega,
y llena de pavor,
se lleva los ganados
y las vides, sin pausa,
y estragos miles causa ...
¡qué gusto!, ¡qué placer!
Las voces y las risas,
el juego, las botellas,
en torno de las bellas
alegres apurar;
y en sus bocas lascivas,
un beso a cada trago
con voluptuoso halago
alegres estampar.
Romper después las copas,
los platos, las barajas,
y, abiertas las navajas,
buscando el corazón,
oír luego los brindis
mezclados con quejidos
que lanzan los heridos
en llanto y confusión.
Quisiera ver al uno
que arrastra un intestino,
y al otro pedir vino
muriendo en un rincón;
y otros, ya borrachos,
en trino desusado
cantar a Dios sagrado
impúdica canción.
Y mientras las queridas
tendidas en los lechos,
sin chales en los pechos
y flojo el cinturón,
mostrando sus encantos,
sin orden el cabello,
al aire el muslo bello.
¡Qué gozo! ¡Qué ilusión!
1.3k
I'm anorexic.
I'm suicidal.
I'm losing control of my temper.
Because of you.
You call me names way to often.
Like sumo and disgusting pig.
That now I'm starting to believe.
I hardly eat and losing to much weight.
You treat me like ****
You laugh at my tears.
That now suicide thoughts dominate my mind.
Many times I've come close to giving in and letting go.
Because of you.
I've always had a temper.
Your constant fights have pushed me over the edge.
That now I'm a danger to my friends.
My hands hurts from punching the wall in fury.
Because of you.
Because of you.
I'm not the same.
Because of you.
Now all I am
Is a shell of the person I once was.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 4:19 PM UTC
Something has changed.
A plate tectonic has shifted inside my heart,
Rebuilding the mountain that she and I used to climb together.
Just seeing her face again reminded me of all the good times.
They outweighed the bad times,
Like a Sumo wrestler outweighs a small child.
I search valleys and hills
For the words to tell her
That I miss the way her eyes light up
And how her smile makes the pain go away,
Faster than three doses of oxycodone.
It is incredible how easily I am falling back in.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 7:35 PM UTC
Blue eyes you are the one,
the hurt, the pain, the sadness,
it's what I feel inside,
everytime I watch you walk out the door,
I find myself on the floor,
tears flood my cheeks I can't take this anymore,
rug burn on my knees,
eyes swollen red,
it burns,
someone help me please,
I hold on tight,
let it all out,
thinking of you,
gone,
I cry all night,
The empty pit inside of me,
it defines who I am,
It tells me who to be,
with it I'm not free,
If you leave me here,
don't come back,
hope is what I lack,
I'd try,
but cry,
don't lie,
love me now or let me die,
Big black hole on my heart,
when I saw you what was I suppose to do,
pass up the greatest thing that could ever happen to me,
just to be free,
to give up the pain,
what would I gain,
loving you opened my eyes,
in my cereal box you were suprise,
changing my life inside and out,
we danced on the roof,
screamed and shout,
movie nights,
sweatshirt hugs,
sumo fights,
smooshing bugs,
you were my one and only,
best friends,
together,
never lonely,
too bad it's all over with and done,
boring memories,
you left none,
if I wait for you,
will you stay true,
my heart broke not once,
many times,
shattered into pieces the size of dimes,
I love you it's true,
come back to me soon,
I'll be waiting here,
having no fear,
because you're it,
your profile fit,
searchng for love,
I'm done,
blue eyes you are the one.
Sep 18, 2010
Sep 18, 2010 at 4:23 PM UTC
(はっけよい)*
HAKKEYOI !
two stout armchairs squat
like Sumo wrestlers
the room holds its breath
* "PUT SOME SPIRIT IN IT!"
The phrase shouted by a sumo referee during a bout, specifically when the action has stalled and the wrestlers have reached a stand-off.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 1:49 PM UTC
Mr. Lotto
Went to Kyoto
Clicked a Photo
Turned Right
Found a Sumo
Entered fight
Returned home
With a Prize
Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 5:49 AM UTC
I’m not good enough to write
this poem. these ******* words
won’t come. here I am, feeling
like a dried **** on the grass—
all hard, white and shriveled
obstinately sitting there, surrounded
by all that lush green.
this resistance is a real ************
sitting on me like a sumo wrestler,
smiling in its power over me.
looking down on me
and controlling me effortlessly.
*“you can’t write poetry,
you’re a nobody.
a real lukewarm leftover special.
no one will ever love you.
no one will ever like you.
no one will ever see you.
no one wants you to succeed.
no one wants to read your poetry.
don’t waste your time doing
something you’ll never be good at.
you’re not good enough.
you’re not strong enough.
someone like you could never
be someone like that.
someone like you could never
do something like that.
someone like her would never
love someone like you.
you’re gross,
nobody wants to look at you.
stay home.
don’t do anything.
don’t even try.
give up.”*
I mean, this guy’s got a million
of these bumper stickers
and he slaps them all over
the inside of my car
all day, every day—
that is, when he’s not using
my chest as a seat cushion.
it’s gotten to the point where
I now can’t see out of my windshield.
I just wanna go somewhere
but he won’t let me see
where I’m going.
he won’t stop talking.
I can’t hear the music anymore.
I don’t know where I am.
I can’t breathe.
I just know that this car feels
more like solitary confinement
than freedom and the a/c
stopped working a long time ago.
I think I need to stop the car.
I need to open the door
and step out into the light.
I don’t even need to take
off the bumper stickers,
I think I just need to walk
for a while—
move at my natural rhythm again.
like children do before
we start in on them.
before we start building their car
around them and teaching them
to believe in it.
this is you.
you are this car.
except when you’re alone,
then maybe you can leave
the car but never in public,
never in front of other people.
this car will protect you from
them, from the world—
from yourself.
hide in it.
well, I left my car
on the side of the road
some ways back
with the keys in it
and a full tank of gas.
the door’s open,
take it if you need it.
hell, take it if you want it,
I don’t give a ****
just don’t try
to pick me up in it
if you ever catch up.
signed,
nobody
P.S. watch out for the fat guy in the diaper.
Feb 26, 2025
Feb 26, 2025 at 9:34 PM UTC
Fue sueño Ayer; Mañana será tierra:
Poco antes nada, y poco después humo,
¡Y destino ambiciones, y presumo
Apenas punto al cerco que me cierra!
Breve combate de importuna guerra,
En mi defensa soy peligro sumo:
Y mientras con mis armas me consumo,
Menos me hospeda el cuerpo, que me entierra.
Ya no es Ayer; Mañana no ha llegado;
Hoy pasa, y es, y fue, con movimiento
Que a la muerte me lleva despeñado.
Azadas son la hora y el momento,
Que a jornal de mi pena y mi cuidado,
Cavan en mi vivir mi monumento.
856
Scent of pine lingers
over the deep labyrinths
beneath the trees.
Black beetles bump chests
like Sumo wrestlers
as they try to avoid each other
in the warm scratch
of detritus dark with shade.
Baby snakes lace the meadow grass
where deep sunshine heats their cold bones.
A deep hush is suspended
by the erratic leaps of pond frogs.
One sails on a limb through
water yellow and noxious as nicotine.
The day carries its own rhythms
and paints them on a peaceful canvas.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 8:38 PM UTC
*change is a constant
motion in life's instant
organic factory of growth
thus the folds at the back of my head
are a recent intrusion against my image
so are the hairs in my ears
and in my now dilated nostrils
you used to have these lovable dimples
and a delectable bounce in your walk
but now all you ever do is talk and talk
about the fictional excellence of your life
and how you're much sought after
even in this, the twilight of your days
head bald as an egg
walk a dawdle
mouth a dark cavern
physique like a sumo wrestler
memory like a closed book
and demise like a meteor
will i know you when i see you again?
my heart has kept you frozen and young*
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 3:42 PM UTC
I will say what must be said
Sugar coated lies,
There just not me.
I see what I see,
I say what must be said.
The truth may hurt,
But its better than
lying to your face.
Do I look fat in this,
YES,
The sumo suit it
adds 150 pound.
My new Hair cut
CRAP,
Train tracks
Went out in the 80's,
That'll teach you to fall asleep
Around my house.
Its better to say it
As it is,
But all isn't as it seems.
First listen to the facts,
Because sometimes
All is not what it seems.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 4:38 AM UTC
El uno total menos
plenicorrupto nones consentido apenas por el cero
que al ido tiempo torna con sus catervas súcubos sexuales y
su fauna de olvido
El uno yo subánima
aunque insepulto intacto bajo sus multicriptas con trasfondos de arcadas
que auto nutre sus ecos de sumo experto en nada
mientras crece en abismo
El uno solo en uno
res de azar que se orea ante la noche en busca de sus límites
perros
y tornasol lamido por innúmeros podres se interllaga lo oscuro
de su yo todo uno
crucipendiente sólo de sí mismo
715
/ the overarching principle of tao:
which is not even a maxim
to investigate -
unlike scientific truths and
propositions -
philosophical maxims?
are they presuppositions,
or mere suppositions?
presuppositions you have
to attest to, finding out -
not some willy-nilly half baked
croissants...
nonetheless... it all balances
out, as the world always does:
begining with the tao principle -
*the only way to aid the world
is to forget the world,
and allow the world to forget you*...
why was ezra pound an anti-taoist?
well...
thankfully we can all see
the mastering of zen by the americans.
"schools" of thought do not exist
in state insitutions...
fwee wack a birweedee!
like, like, i mean like: free like a bird...
silicon valley is decrepit zen...
motorcycles and **** and fixing them...
why was ezra pound so anti the principle
of ταo?
missing diacritical marks?
(i.e. punctuation marks within a word?)
if he'd wake up and
spot the ζεν (or ζην if you're sharp, crisp:
samurai movie pronunciation tactic type)...
if china holds a grip of hollywood,
as the americana "conspiracy theorists"
believe...
dig deeper...
ζεν contra ταo...
i'm what ezra pound would
hate... as the 20th century came to a close,
ταo was out, ζεν was in...
maybe that's the problem...
teacher?
got kicked in the ***** by one
of his disciples, and he said very little
to begin with...
so he was a ****** teacher
to begin with,
given his disciple kicked me in the *****
now my turn...
i already presumed you
have no testicles... so why
bother doing anything with you,
other than allowing you a rigid gluttony
super-structure that becomes a sumo (wrestler)?
honest to god:
that's a heidegger primo value
elevation...
because this question?
is question-worthy, since it is
a momentum.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 11:26 AM UTC
Dios del venir, te siento entre mis manos,
aquí estás enredado conmigo, en lucha hermosa
de amor, lo mismo
que un fuego con su aire.
No eres mi redentor, ni eres mi ejemplo,
ni mi padre, ni mi hijo, ni mi hermano;
eres igual y uno, eres distinto y todo;
eres dios de lo hermoso conseguido,
conciencia mía de lo hermoso.
Yo nada tengo que purgar.
Toda mi impedimenta
no es sino fundación para este hoy
en que, al fin, te deseo;
porque estás ya a mi lado
en mi eléctrica zona,
como está en el amor el amor lleno.
Tú, esencia, eres conciencia; mi conciencia
y la de otros, la de todos
con la forma suma de conciencia;
que la esencia es lo sumo,
es la forma suprema conseguible,
y tu esencia está en mí, como mi forma.
Todos mis moldes, llenos
estuvieron de ti; pero tú, ahora,
no tienes molde, estás sin molde; eres la gracia
que no admite sostén,
que no admite corona,
que corona y sostiene siendo ingrave.
Eres la gracia libre,
la gloria del gustar, la eterna simpatía,
el gozo del temblor, la luminaria
del clariver, el fondo del amor,
el horizonte que no quita nada;
la transparencia, dios la transparencia,
el uno al fin, dios ahora sólito en el uno mío,
en el mundo que yo por ti y para ti he creado.
731
I grapple with the everyday
nothing smooth
a sumo wrestler on ice skates
a one armed juggler
a 4 eyed ******
the muck and slime
that passes for normal
has overtaken my well
climbed my wall
I'm unfit to fit
too unscrewed to view
through a filtered lens
don't smile at me when you pass
but stop and ask what the **** is wrong with you
wake me up
and maybe I'll speak
maybe I'll peek around the corner this time
to see how high the **** has gotten
to see my childish dreams forgotten
and buried in the lies
that I've become
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 8:09 PM UTC
Lo que conoces
es tan poco
lo que conoces
de mí
lo que conoces
son mis nubes
son mis silencios
son mis gestos
lo que conoces
es la tristeza
de mi casa vista de afuera
son los postigos de mi tristeza
el llamador de mi tristeza.
Pero no sabes
nada
a lo sumo
piensas a veces
que es tan poco
lo que conozco
de ti
lo que conozco
o sea tus nubes
o tus silencios
o tus gestos
lo que conozco
es la tristeza
de tu casa vista de afuera
son los postigos de tu tristeza
el llamador de tu tristeza.
Pero no llamas.
Pero no llamo.
676
green on a mood ring means ***** so I say it to everyone with green.
young salmon are called pink
Pizza Express: Bull ring party disaster
I am not stopping learning every day and that makes me happy and comfortable.
Everything you ever wanted to know
I'm also worried because his not-really-girlfriend seems... controlling
no reason..get frusterated and extremely emotional...and can be a huge bitch..i feel horrible
You know, in the "Ugh, I feel so fat in these jeans" vein of griping
Pretend the Hello Kitty truck and sumo wrestlers are here just for you
Seems like you had fun when you were drunk~
No, but seriously, we're living in an actual dream
there are reasons people aren't reading your blog posts.
It's better to live in agonizing mystery
Because only then you are actually living your own life and showing your style without hiding
yeah, let us die slowly in peace, you vulture
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 1:01 AM UTC
Hahaha..where are all the pip-squeak bullies
those cock-less keyboard ***** playing warriors
against Hamlet and excellence
while across the pond and in hallowed halls
our Man in Washington doing his job
is bullied and expunge unceremoniously
by that bully with the weave over corn-hair
and the trade-mark irreverent tongue of bullies
so where are all our pip-squeak bullies
from our green and pleasant land
fear not for the cowards will not speak up
why speak and lose your chips and burghers
whats international affairs to dumb bullies
whats dignity and integrity to scums and thugs
the Empire has become a laughing stock
first in Europe and now all this
bullying by big blond
pip-squeak cock-less bullies where are you
fighting sumo wrestling with one MAN
and he's taking the almighty ****
of you cowards!
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 4:07 PM UTC