"hoffa" poems
When you paint houses
bring your little brother
Hoffa couldn't keep his mouth shut
Mannlicher Carcano carbines
cleave off
the tops of skulls
Cosa Nostra prove
The idiocy of convertibles
Pretty boy politicians
sprayed across Jackie's face
Kennedy never should have rocked the boat
Bufalino brotherhood born for bloodshed
Irishman knows that
.32 goes in but doesn't come back out
Turning grey matter into brain sauce pudding
Hoffa couldn't keep his mouth shut
Got what he wanted
kept demanding more
Stupid Sicilian stooges get sliced up in pork store backrooms
limbs spread to the four corners of Michigan
Irishman painted his house
Hoffa couldn't keep his mouth shut
Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 6:22 AM UTC
Call me mad if you must
But please first hear me out
I just got back from the Cryogenics lab
And guess who's head I picked from the crowd
If your thinking Jimmy Hoffa
No, he's somewhere deep asleep in concrete
I grabbed someone much more spectacular
I grabbed the frozen head of Walt Disney
You see years ago he had himself chilled
At least that which contains the brain
The useless part they put in a casket
And far be it for me to dig up a grave
I've now got Walt packed on ice in a cooler
It wouldn't do to have his head melt
What kind of operation do you think I'm running here
Some kind of Mickey Mouse?
First on my agenda find Mr. Disney a body
One that won't give out on him too soon
Cause once we thaw out Walt and he starts to talk
There's no telling what he'll want to do
So I let my fingers do the walking
Here's something interesting...Bodies By Jake
I just hope we find Jakes place in time
Before the ice melts and we are to late...
...talk about false advertisement!
Jake the snake didn't sell bodies at all
Walt and I are more than a little disturbed
There really should be some sort of law
Guess I should have thought this all over
Long before I thought of it now
So as a special treat I thought Mr. Disney and me
Could go see his "World", so we headed South
Standing in line to purchase tickets
The cooler shakes when Walt hears the prices by chance
No need to tell you that if he had lower extremities
He would crap them if he wore any pants
We decided to do something a little cheaper
And with a Disney movie just out today
It was kind of hard to follow along though
When all you could hear was his body spinning in the grave, miles away
Guess it's to early to try and bring back Walt Disney
Maybe one day I can try it again
But before we leave for the trip back home
We stop at the concession for diet soda and Jr. mints
Once we got back to the Cryogenics lab
They're looking for me so over the fence I let the head fly
No need to worry, one of the guard dogs grabbed it
And I'm sure drug it right back inside
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 10:51 AM UTC
Dynamic Duo
I write you this letter,
hoping to make things better.
Not really sure what happened,
it wasn't quite what I imagined.
We were once the best of friends,
what can I do to make amends.
You don't answer my telephone calls,
did you suddenly loose your *****
Not sure what I did so wrong,
thought our friendship was very strong.
We used to do everything together,
not a storm we couldn't weather.
Now I'm bored and feeling alone,
will you please just throw me a bone.
My once pal, I hope you're not my enemy,
remember when we planned to **** Kennedy,
Then we killed and buried Jimmy Hoffa,
we drowned our guilt with a bottle of *****
I'm starting to worry, maybe you're missing,
remember all the girls we shared kissing.
We had a menage a trois every night,
our future was so bright.
I miss our random killing spree,
nothing made us feel more free.
We were called the dynamic duo,
now I'm just riding solo.
I picked up a newspaper and what did I see,
you were found at the bottom of the sea.
Now I know why you never returned my text,
I better run or I'll be next.
No reason to send this letter now,
then one day while milking my cow,
the F.B.I. gave me a visit,
I had no get out of jail ticket.
I got sentenced to the penalty of death,
I wish we were together when we took our last breath.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 3:22 PM UTC
Daisy, Daisy give me your answer do........
boy! That Cadillac was one hell of a piece of engineering.
Burned a long time, like it enjoyed the pain of the flames.
He smiled at the thought.
Handmade by union men the way it should always be.
Not those ******* up ***** like Jimmy Hoffa either.
That ******* probably a ****** like hoover.
The image of him in a basque stuck.
Made him angry, but he soon reined it in.
Lecter was never angry. Not in the books.
He prefered the books, no change-the -ending for the mass appeal.
******* movies.
He was cautious now, the fake i.d. for the rental would fool most.
He was pushing things, her blood in the trunk even burnt black worried him. Next time will be better.
In Daisy's book was a circled name with hearts drawn around it.
Louisa. Her address as well. Nice and easy. 200 miles to go.
Make like Rutger in The Hitcher, move west....
The VW Rabbit was a ****** car after the Caddy.
The two kid's didn't want to give it up easy, but they did in the end.
They looked so silly, tied back-to-back in the rear seat, legs broke to squeeze them in.
Made him smile all through the night.
No blood this time, not yet anyway. Playing Slipknot to **** him off, little *****
Well write a song for these two, clown boy.
He had looked on their lap-top at the poetry site.
Saw the latest post from the pub landlord. He was a little confused, this poem didn't seem to be telling him his next move.
He dragged them out into a ditch before dawn, stood on their necks to **** them, like the coyote trappers did, cruel ********
No blood, just **** all over each other as they died.
Maybe he'd get a reward poem for doing it, in the meantime finding Louisa would keep him occupied.
The vw had a cheap sat nav, hope she's home.....
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 3:20 PM UTC
A magical place in the forests of old
Where thoughts have wings and,
Souls light up the paths,
Rain floats in midair and laughter runs around playing with childish stories
Why you ask where such a place exists?
Well dear in your dreams
What dreams? My dreams died with Hoffa long ago
Now I'm slaving over a lawn mower and feeding 5 kids with a shovel and a ***
I can't tell stories, unless it's about work
Daddy can you tell me a bedtime story?
Yeah... If it's about grass cutting and dung thrown into dirt
Sweet dreams, well that's only make believe. Want a sweet dream look in a fairytale, because they're only for when you sleep, when you wake its back to reality
So no more dreams just hard work with reality. Well everyone has a dream even you it's something no one can escape. So what dreams you say...
Well sleep and see there's dreams
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 12:31 PM UTC
Seems like the only breaks we catch are the ones that follow hearts
We’ve known little glory and volumes of disappointment so far
Every time it seems happiness is within our grasp
Some external forces continue our beleaguered past
We’ve been the best, only to finish second
Held defeat in our hands when it seemed victory beckoned
And the moments may be few, but we’ll hold them tightly
Packing the Ralph by day, and HSBC nightly.
Jimmy Hoffa, Legion of doom and scary good
Reliving those moments as much as we could
Building houses in Pominville, brick by brick
Hoping to bring home the Cup for Rick
Remembering when RJ cried, “Who Else?”
Briere eying the cookie jar on that uppermost shelf
And with Vanek and Roy and Sekera and Weber
We’ll say our chances look better than ever
We are one, we are many, we are young, we are old
We are still believing, because We Are Buffalo
Mar 8, 2010
Mar 8, 2010 at 12:34 PM UTC
Is this like art? No, sister. This is self-centeredness, a soap opera.
*
Time, the incongruous snail. How quickly it moves.
I need new folklore, a new change purse to hold the eyeballs I ****** out of thinness.
Nod to panicked thickness. Nod to talk radio. Box fan in my window ******* in the same air
the dinosaurs breathed, the air jimmy hoffa breathed, the air the rosenbergs breathed.
It feels wet.
*
This mineral spring smells like jellied summer. All of my hanging plants are dying without fear.
The air above my head is cancerous. I live in a birdhouse, powered by phantom glories.
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 1:07 PM UTC
Resistance is futile.
Your fate is concrete.
Just like Jimmy Hoffa
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 9:48 PM UTC
Do you want to know a secret
& can you keep one,
'cause I've got a story to tell,
it's so mysterious,
it will make your
imagination run wild.
I certainly can't
reveal it all on paper,
then it wouldn't be secret,
but I can give you
a few clues sweetness.
I can tell you about
Sasquatch & Atlantis
& the dark side of the moon
just for starters.
I'll even throw in
the pyramids & Jimmy Hoffa
for a treat, but
it's my heart that melts
when our eyes meet,
when our lips touch,
that's hard to keep quiet.
Sssshhhhhh, please kiss me darling.
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 5:37 AM UTC
“So, some ******* tells me that I should thank all of the men and women who have served our country and allowed me to have this glorious three-day-weekend. I says to the goon, Yeah? Do you know why we’s are able to enjoy these fine bratwursts on this, a spectacular Monday afternoon? Sure, sure, he tells me. It’s because’a all the service men and women. What? So, I asks the guy…What exact holiday are you’s celebratin’? And, he says to me: Why, Labor Day, of course! So, finally I says to the guy, I says listen here you ****** goober, I says if you wanna thank dead or living soldiers for your freedom all day long, every day, you’s go right ahead. Hell, I tells ‘em; I’ll even join ya! Lord knows them guys deserve it. But, I says, but…If you wanna thank a poor dead ******* particularly for a tree-day-weekend, known specifically as Labor Day, then you gotta tip ya ****** hat and say tanks to Jimmy ****** Hoffa. May he rest in peace, cement and peace, but mostly peace.”
-JBClaywell
©2015 P&ZPublications
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 10:15 PM UTC
four months and twenty some days
the big 4…….Oh, as they say
thinking of practically applying
a lifetime of research
for a more complete
version of myself
better to see
healthy 85 –
nutritionally
there are changes
ways in which I could
eat free of preservatives
chemical laden un-digestible
hormone fed environment killers
but that would be just one way of change –
I could also take up some form of regular exercise
once upon a time I was active and healthful
playing city league basketball and roofing
getting my sweat on as a lifestyle choice
now, less and less after the injury
which has become but an excuse
to allow fat deposits
to grow freely
extending
my belly –
it is always
just a choice to make
we all have that special power
to simply choose again, at any time
and recreate or earthly experience anew
this is the big truth the government hides away
locked in secret vault next to Hoffa and the Roswell UFO
humanities greatest gift from the universe is the ability to make choices –
the ultimate question is what, now, will you do with this information
will you examine your life and perhaps make some changes
as I have and most certainly continue to do
can I lead you to a new promise land
in which we all truly live free
it's really an easy answer
a simple statement
………………...
…………….
………..
yes –
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 2:34 PM UTC
Where do old couches go?
And old TVs?
The ones that weren’t born as HD,
They go into our nearby river,
Sadly,
Along with fish,
But fish in fact are s’posed to be there,
And maybe
Jimmy Hoffa too,
Who ain’t,
To speculate would be unfair,
The river doesn’t say.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
You know what *****
not having anything to write about because you're full of doubt about your life and the way it's going
when you have to consider giving it up to get those creative juices flowing
You know what *****
when you're one of the few loyal mothafxckas out here but no one gives two fxcks
when your the type to buy your lady flowers but **** her in the car at her parents house
the type to compliment her blouse then rip it off when we get hot
you know what *****
when one thing happens and your whole day is shot down the tubes and dead like Jimmy Hoffa got,
when you try to play to sweetness but get led on instead
when there's nothing but insecurity and loneliness residing in your head.
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 3:07 PM UTC
Jimmy always said to
look in the mirror to see a rat
& they never found him.
Some say he's buried in a barrel
in one of the Great Lakes,
I'm just trying to make
sense of it all.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 5:54 AM UTC
You're not pretty anymore,
well actually,
on the outside you still are,
it's the inside that's questionable.
I must had been mistaken,
swindled by my lying heart,
the one that's been cracked
forever it seems.
So often we stuff the clues
like Hoffa,
in barrels of denial,
never knowing
how we got here.
And even if we did,
it doesn't make it any better.
Jut ask his family.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC