Got any Go poetry? Put in here.
They Said It Wasn’t Tournament Legal
I found myself a game called Go,
It seemed to have no hassle –
Half the pieces are just mentos
and you never have to castle.
I made an OGS account
but stray cats stole my mouse,
so I found a local Go club
50 miles from my house.
I went into the city for to see what I could find,
Got lost inside a swimming pool but ended up in Argos.
They said to me they knew for sure just what I had in mind –
and sold me CS:GO with a controller and an XBox.
I kept getting sniped on Counterstrike so the console had to go,
I thought I’d look in London for some Oriental things;
Above a Greek taverna in the middle of Soho
was a little mahjong parlour by the name of Mister Ching’s.
When I went in through the doorway, the smoke it filled the air
Mister Ching had just gone mahjong and the sight it made me green,
He had a pipe between his teeth and ribbons in his hair,
Playing East against Prince Harry, Boris Johnson and the Queen.
He took me to the storeroom and showed me all his wares,
Kitani’s old kotatsu which he’d got just yesterday,
the shell stones were from turtles and the bowls were all unpaired,
the table boards were bloodstained and the legged ones ran away.
I bought a board that wasn’t square and a cursed tesuji book,
Now I’ve almost said my story and there’s not much more to tell –
My bowls came with free rice in but that wasn’t all I took,
For stones I bought some marbles, I just hope they balance well.
.
