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"hoffman" poems
I moved a few years ago To the upper state of Vermont Although the place is beautiful At times it can be one great big yawn That's when we put our heads together Me and my best friend Shawn And came up with the great idea To start a Hippie Farm Our noggins were a knocking Not sure how this could be done Do Hippies come from packs of seeds Or like flowers, in a bunch And can you start them off by grafting Like they do on Apple Farms Where you get rows and rows of Hippies From just a single one That's when Shawn remembered this mail order magazine That we took out and took a look inside It came with an assortment of Hippies From Raw to Roasted to Highly Deep Fried So we sat and weighed all of our options And ordered a bushel of Hippies alive Then we set out cultivating the fields Till the day our Hippies arrived The package  arrived a few days later In an old beat up VW Bus With psychedelic smoke pouring from the windows Pretty sure they all came buzzed Of course Hippies don't come with instructions Only bell bottom jeans and old Jefferson Airplane tapes Can't tell you how many Hippies we went through Before we learned from our mistakes Like don't plant a Hippie face first in the dirt They need a bit of air to breath And they don't like to be over watered Just dust them off when you feel the need Now that the farm is up and running We seem to have come into our own We've even come up with  a way of branding Some of the Hippies that we've grown We started selling them in flavors Like Ben and Jerry's down the street From our Abbie Hoffman Radical Cherry To our Hendrix Hazy Purple Berry Treat But it's our Groovy Rainbow Roundup Hippie Whose sales have never let us down In fact I'd put that Hippie up against Anybody else's Hippie in town I've never been much of one to brag But we're known on the East coast, up and down We've had people as far away as Florida Come and buy our Hippies by the pound So next time your up in Vermont Stop in and take a tour and watch us grow Don't forget to stop by our gift shop And purchase your very own Hippie to take home
0
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
~Hippie Farm~
I moved a few years ago To the upper state of Vermont Although the place is beautiful At times it can be one great big yawn That's when we put our heads together Me and my best friend Shawn And came up with the great idea To start a Hippie Farm Our noggins were a knocking Not sure how this could be done Do Hippies come from packs of seeds Or like flowers, in a bunch And can you start them off by grafting Like they do on Apple Farms Where you get rows and rows of Hippies From just a single one That's when Shawn remembered this mail order magazine That we took out and took a look inside It came with an assortment of Hippies From Raw to Roasted to Highly Deep Fried So we sat and weighed all of our options And ordered a bushel of Hippies alive Then we set out cultivating the fields Till the day our Hippies arrived The package  arrived a few days later In an old beat up VW Bus With psychedelic smoke pouring from the windows Pretty sure they all came buzzed Of course Hippies don't come with instructions Only bell bottom jeans and old Jefferson Airplane tapes Can't tell you how many Hippies we went through Before we learned from our mistakes Like don't plant a Hippie face first in the dirt They need a bit of air to breath And they don't like to be over watered Just dust them off when you feel the need Now that the farm is up and running We seem to have come into our own We've even come up with  a way of branding Some of the Hippies that we've grown We started selling them in flavors Like Ben and Jerry's down the street From our Abbie Hoffman Radical Cherry To our Hendrix Hazy Purple Berry Treat But it's our Groovy Rainbow Roundup Hippie Whose sales have never let us down In fact I'd put that Hippie up against Anybody else's Hippie in town I've never been much of one to brag But we're known on the East coast, up and down We've had people as far away as Florida Come and buy our Hippies by the pound So next time your up in Vermont Stop in and take a tour and watch us grow Don't forget to stop by our gift shop And purchase your very own Hippie to take home
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56
it's inherent ontology, it's not even necessary to process inherited ontology; inherited ontology can be riddled and lost to abstraction like the invention of crosswords as antidote to the drilling-in of the Bible... but inherent ontology? inherent is a tautological invitation to italicise the word ontology - tautology anti synonym - the doubly stressed, point origin secured, but from two adjacent / adjective angles - well, might as well be a compound, the adjacent-adjective, when language meets math and math meets.... d'uh... or simply arithmetic, because that's how it's easily translated, arithmetic is grey people and math the rich... language the poets and grammar the farts. a shortened critique of pure reason -                                                                   a) based on phenomena                     (things most likely talked about) and                                             b) based of noumenna                                         (things least likely talked about).... i.e.                    a) and the ego implant, and                                                      b) the god implant - likewise the zealots on either side, bleep bleep beep r r e r s.... and muslims... i forgot to mention that Kant forgot to mention the trigonometric foundations as justifying owning a villa or whatnot, the same foundations of having the implant ego secured and willed are the same parameters of the implant god secured and thought the point being dynamic parallelism, mid-way between cosine and sine rigid fluctuation tangents occur, the ridiculous abbreviations, the p.s., and ibis.; you're basically born with ego or you're born with god - there's no woof woof Pavlov chime chime in between - ring-a-ding-ding-surprise? there's no side-winding to create cinema - being born with ego is explained clearly, coerced with monetary affairs; being born with god is explained "clearly", coerced with murderers, lastly - no psychological theory will box-me-in given the lost tribalism and the usage of the trans-valuation of the synonym of thing - with money came slang - and all thorough evils, with slang, synonyms, antonyms, critique of vocab., Arizona in the ******* Amazon - i'm basically saying what Kant said: god isn't uncool or whatever atheism tends to forget, it's an implant of functioning, we can't rid it by argument, and we certainly can't accept it by prayer - unless we're dumb enough to do either for worth of understanding tornadoes; because that's were Seymour Hoffman started for me, filming Twister.
0
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 7:29 PM UTC
a shortened critique of pure reason / adjacent-adjective compound
it's inherent ontology, it's not even necessary to process inherited ontology; inherited ontology can be riddled and lost to abstraction like the invention of crosswords as antidote to the drilling-in of the Bible... but inherent ontology? inherent is a tautological invitation to italicise the word ontology - tautology anti synonym - the doubly stressed, point origin secured, but from two adjacent / adjective angles - well, might as well be a compound, the adjacent-adjective, when language meets math and math meets.... d'uh... or simply arithmetic, because that's how it's easily translated, arithmetic is grey people and math the rich... language the poets and grammar the farts. a shortened critique of pure reason -                                                                   a) based on phenomena                     (things most likely talked about) and                                             b) based of noumenna                                         (things least likely talked about).... i.e.                    a) and the ego implant, and                                                      b) the god implant - likewise the zealots on either side, bleep bleep beep r r e r s.... and muslims... i forgot to mention that Kant forgot to mention the trigonometric foundations as justifying owning a villa or whatnot, the same foundations of having the implant ego secured and willed are the same parameters of the implant god secured and thought the point being dynamic parallelism, mid-way between cosine and sine rigid fluctuation tangents occur, the ridiculous abbreviations, the p.s., and ibis.; you're basically born with ego or you're born with god - there's no woof woof Pavlov chime chime in between - ring-a-ding-ding-surprise? there's no side-winding to create cinema - being born with ego is explained clearly, coerced with monetary affairs; being born with god is explained "clearly", coerced with murderers, lastly - no psychological theory will box-me-in given the lost tribalism and the usage of the trans-valuation of the synonym of thing - with money came slang - and all thorough evils, with slang, synonyms, antonyms, critique of vocab., Arizona in the ******* Amazon - i'm basically saying what Kant said: god isn't uncool or whatever atheism tends to forget, it's an implant of functioning, we can't rid it by argument, and we certainly can't accept it by prayer - unless we're dumb enough to do either for worth of understanding tornadoes; because that's were Seymour Hoffman started for me, filming Twister.
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45
I offer a few quiet words under my breath. (1) “I wish you a tongue scalded by tea.”(2) “I was born of the fist. The hot Irish Temper.”(3) “I am a master of Escape. Show me a body, I’ll show you an exit ramp.”(4) (For,) I want everything to call me night.(5) This is the dream where I play God. And the front door opens(6) In lakes, floating logs ignite, burn. All the fury is finally here:(7) Once wayfaring strangers(8) as tall as steal as the New York Times(9) that once they sang from our dark street (10), the song goes: Heart. Ribcage. Envelope.(11) ____________________ (1) Adam Falkner, Poem for the Lovers at Pickerel Lake, http://friggmagazine.com/issuethirtysix/poetry/falkner/pickerel.htm (2) Jeanann Verlee, Guilt, Not Grief, http://www.wordriot.org/archives/4780 (3) Jeanann Verlee, The Brawler, http://www.radiuslit.org/2011/04/09/radius-roger-bonair-agard-jeanann-verlee-adam-falkner/ (4) Joanna Hoffman, On Learning to Open My Eyes, http://www.pankmagazine.com/three-poems-37/ (5) Kallie Falandays, If Morning Never Comes, http://www.pankmagazine.com/two-poems-75/ (6) Benjamin Sutton, Notes from the Daydreaming, http://anti-poetry.com/anti/suttonbe/ (7) Jenny Sadre-Orafai, Treasure In Timber, http://www.pankmagazine.com/two-poems-74/ (8) Lauren Yates, The World According to My Heart, http://usedfurniturereview.com/2013/03/20/the-world-according-to-my-heart-by-lauren-yates/ (9) Robert Gibbons, These Mean Streets, http://www.poembeat.com/fall2011/RobertGibbons.html (10) Michael Lauchlan, Unseen Larks and Immeasurable Intervals, http://www.thrushpoetryjournal.com/march-2013-michael-lauchlan.html (11) Leigh Philips, Dear New York City, Learn Gentle, http://www.thrushpoetryjournal.com/march-2013-leigh-phillips.html (*) Jeanann Verlee, Good Girl, http://www.thrushpoetryjournal.com/january-2013-jeanann-verlee.html
0
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 11:45 AM UTC
So the city won't rattle.*
I offer a few quiet words under my breath. (1) “I wish you a tongue scalded by tea.”(2) “I was born of the fist. The hot Irish Temper.”(3) “I am a master of Escape. Show me a body, I’ll show you an exit ramp.”(4) (For,) I want everything to call me night.(5) This is the dream where I play God. And the front door opens(6) In lakes, floating logs ignite, burn. All the fury is finally here:(7) Once wayfaring strangers(8) as tall as steal as the New York Times(9) that once they sang from our dark street (10), the song goes: Heart. Ribcage. Envelope.(11) ____________________ (1) Adam Falkner, Poem for the Lovers at Pickerel Lake, http://friggmagazine.com/issuethirtysix/poetry/falkner/pickerel.htm (2) Jeanann Verlee, Guilt, Not Grief, http://www.wordriot.org/archives/4780 (3) Jeanann Verlee, The Brawler, http://www.radiuslit.org/2011/04/09/radius-roger-bonair-agard-jeanann-verlee-adam-falkner/ (4) Joanna Hoffman, On Learning to Open My Eyes, http://www.pankmagazine.com/three-poems-37/ (5) Kallie Falandays, If Morning Never Comes, http://www.pankmagazine.com/two-poems-75/ (6) Benjamin Sutton, Notes from the Daydreaming, http://anti-poetry.com/anti/suttonbe/ (7) Jenny Sadre-Orafai, Treasure In Timber, http://www.pankmagazine.com/two-poems-74/ (8) Lauren Yates, The World According to My Heart, http://usedfurniturereview.com/2013/03/20/the-world-according-to-my-heart-by-lauren-yates/ (9) Robert Gibbons, These Mean Streets, http://www.poembeat.com/fall2011/RobertGibbons.html (10) Michael Lauchlan, Unseen Larks and Immeasurable Intervals, http://www.thrushpoetryjournal.com/march-2013-michael-lauchlan.html (11) Leigh Philips, Dear New York City, Learn Gentle, http://www.thrushpoetryjournal.com/march-2013-leigh-phillips.html (*) Jeanann Verlee, Good Girl, http://www.thrushpoetryjournal.com/january-2013-jeanann-verlee.html
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31
Your liquid is leaking all over my table yet you stand tall beckoning me 4:13 with no mercy please save me drink me drink me light another cigar ...ette Miette? Miette? Me yet? How does this make sense to a Frenchman? How come some people get fat but then stop at a certain point? Is it possible to not lie? :Tell the truth all the time We're all liars bigots ******** creators of filth Will my hair stop falling out? Will my hands stop shaking? Will my feet stop pounding? Will my thoughts quit pouring out? Will this beer stop flowing down my throat? Will the Cure stop making me cry? Will Tool ever break up? What do people do when I'm sleeping? Who do I like more Black Sabbath or Led Zeppelin? Dead Kennedys or The Misfits? Mozart or Beethoven? Philip Seymour Hoffman or Daniel Day Lewis? Natalie Portman or Scarlett Johannson? Goth chicks or Nerdy chicks? or both or all of the above? Do my eyes perceive reality? Do my fingers feel gravity? Does my tongue taste sarcasm? Do my ears dare to fathom? Can I trust my friends? Should I trust my lover? Mother should I trust the government? Who do I hate more Nicholas Cage or Ben Affleck? Nickelback or Linkin Park? George W. Bush or Adolf ****** Money or Women? or both or all of the above?
0
Jun 1, 2010
Jun 1, 2010 at 2:07 AM UTC
High Gravity Questions
America, you never had a chance America, you and I both know there's only one way this ends America, you aren't going to like it America, what did you do to deserve the millions of revolutionaries in your streets? America, whose bones are in the ground beneath your feet? America, what did your father say before he left? America, what did your sons bring home  from war? America how holy was your birth that you can't move on? America, who will be left behind when you do? America, I'm too sentimental about you and I know it America, I watched the workers hold the line for months and you locked the doors America, I watched those people starve America, I watched you build a cage and call it Chicago, call it Missouri, call it Baltimore, call it Dayton call it what you want and forget America, I watched you forget America, you forgot your angels America, the saints want to destroy you and I don't feel sorry for you not anymore America, I let go of you in pieces America, I watch your flag burn to cinder and drift away America, I watch you die every night America, I loved you once and now I'm nothing America, how did you repay Ginsberg's love? America, where did you bury Eugene V Debs? America, did you follow Abbie Hoffman to hell? America, where are your heroes? America, what did you do to the workers who never crossed the picket lines? America, what did you give the black kids for Christmas? America, what price do the immigrants pay for your freedom? America, who do they pray to? America, what do you pray for? America, I pray too much for someone who doesn't believe in you America, you never had a chance America, I pray you get one, I owe you that much at least
0
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 3:17 AM UTC
Late December, 2016, Somewhere in America
America, you never had a chance America, you and I both know there's only one way this ends America, you aren't going to like it America, what did you do to deserve the millions of revolutionaries in your streets? America, whose bones are in the ground beneath your feet? America, what did your father say before he left? America, what did your sons bring home  from war? America how holy was your birth that you can't move on? America, who will be left behind when you do? America, I'm too sentimental about you and I know it America, I watched the workers hold the line for months and you locked the doors America, I watched those people starve America, I watched you build a cage and call it Chicago, call it Missouri, call it Baltimore, call it Dayton call it what you want and forget America, I watched you forget America, you forgot your angels America, the saints want to destroy you and I don't feel sorry for you not anymore America, I let go of you in pieces America, I watch your flag burn to cinder and drift away America, I watch you die every night America, I loved you once and now I'm nothing America, how did you repay Ginsberg's love? America, where did you bury Eugene V Debs? America, did you follow Abbie Hoffman to hell? America, where are your heroes? America, what did you do to the workers who never crossed the picket lines? America, what did you give the black kids for Christmas? America, what price do the immigrants pay for your freedom? America, who do they pray to? America, what do you pray for? America, I pray too much for someone who doesn't believe in you America, you never had a chance America, I pray you get one, I owe you that much at least
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32
i drank one whole river of bourbon on this very night i smoked two and a half butterflies and now i can speak in colors i took three hits off this cloudy chick and now i can sing like a sparrow i snorted four lines of sunshine and now i can pull an all-nighter i freebased five pearls from the ocean and now i can smile much brighter i injected six fireflies into my arm this very night i took seven dandelions, and mixed them in a bowl and now i can tell you all the secrets of my soul i swallowed eight droplets of Hoffman's best blend and now i can tell you how this world will end i ****** nine of nature's best nymphs on this very night i infused ten different sunsets and now i can tell you the time
0
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 11:33 PM UTC
i can speak in colors
Venomous slithering silk gown Adressed the chandeliers in the Marrakesh's dusky evening, just To outshine the simmering glass There were gentelmen and ladies Chit chating politely, uninterested Awaiting on a dinner to be served. He noticed the scarf, she thougt to Herself. Unending in memory are Hoffman's grand thrilly fairytales. I wish he'd gather the bold pirates Of his conquering intentions and..
0
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 5:48 PM UTC
Seven years of a parlor vow
The drone swept silent between the maple tree and the shed zapped my dog Shep with an electric bolt that vaporized him instantly while Mr. Stone next door laughed I told you, Hoffman to shut that **** dog up just as my drone launched a fire grenade up the exhaust pipe of his new Lexus yet somewhere in the akashic record of my sweet country a muleteer helps pull his neighbor’s wagon out of the mud that follows a torrential rain
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Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 6:06 AM UTC
DRONE
How many heroes have chosen this path, Of least or no resistance? In the face of overwhelming odds, Or staring at cubicular, corporate submission; Elect instead the stance Of simply Doing Nothing? Victorian ladies thought it amusing; 20th Century Centurions and Puritans condemned it. The spoon-fed rich live it and lose nothing. Russian aristocrats sometimes recommend it… When spurned in love & up against it. Oblomov, for instance, whiled his time away, In bed, or staring out at the wood, Writing meaningless letters and ignoring the day, Yet it still did him some good. Marat in his bathtub, Proust in his bed, Still accomplished SOMETHING Or we’d have forgotten them instead. Is there still no virtue in doing nothing? Against the tide of corporate work, Aquarians rebelled with dance. Later on, Generation X Came to work in a greedy trance. Peter Gibbons was hypnotized, To escape his lifeless job, Destroyed the office as it was downsized, But was promoted by “the Bobs”. Some lesson there, for those who strive, That work alone is not enough. Attitude is more important to our lives, That revolt by nothingness is not that tough. Abbie Hoffman was thrown through windows, While preaching peace instead of wrath. Despite nobility of cause, does humanity still go, The inexorable way of sloth? Sharon Talbot
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Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 8:43 AM UTC
Amusing to do Nothing...or Dolce far niente
I wanted to be like Abbie Hoffman before, until I built a prison of my own. Now I am trapped within the usual circle that I have grown tired of, even before I start, even before everything ends.
0
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 3:30 AM UTC
Spit on me, Abbie
So shut off the lights and close your eyes The demons come crawling in Their creeping deep inside These shallow thoughts now becoming so vivid during the eerie nights It’s definitely not alright Can’t seem to escape them or break the chains they display in your mind Constantly battling the urge to feel the pain their causing you inside It’s taking such a toll on one’s daily life Missing the bright crystal blue skies in the days we often felt alive Moods constantly changing like the seasons and in our heads their telling us “trust it’ll be fine” Can’t seem to shake them in the darkest of times Can’t seem to break them out of the chains that they live shackling inside Getting tired and restless it’s becoming so hectic Don’t sleep well most nights Should we just slip and let them rip us alive? -Brian Hoffman (9-13-20)
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Sep 13, 2020
Sep 13, 2020 at 9:49 PM UTC
Accepting the Demons within
Fade in: Ext. Theater - Day Cue clouds: gray shrouds blanket the sky and the sun's last remaining rays Cut to: Ext. Theater - Noon Cue crowd: no sound, no song comprise the mise en scene of this somber scene Fade in: Int. Theater - Night Cue sound: few gasps, some oohs and ahhs, some cries comprise the mise en scene of this joyous scene Cut to: extreme close up Their eyes reflect the faces on the screen: Newman, Hoffman, Brando, Ledger Pacino, De Niro Penn, Caine, Dean Fade out
0
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 8:02 PM UTC
Let's All Go to the Movies
Like an expectant batter at the plate, sitting on the Pitcher’s change of pace, Philip took the speedball for a strike. Imagine the surprise upon his face. Found by a friend upon his bathroom floor, The last used needle still stuck in his arm, Philip heard the Speedball called strike three. Inevitably, the addict came to harm. Some will weep to see such talent wasted, while Realtors will inquire on his space. Philip Seymour Hoffman burned too brightly; some other star will come to take his place.
0
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 9:43 AM UTC
SPEEDBALL
Seymour Phillip Hoffman: The World Is Crying For You If he’d known The world would mourn his passing, Would he have overdosed on ****** How much self-love does it take To break the habit? Would you grab it, if you could? I think I would. Even kids and wife Can’t make that change in life: The skid, the slide, The gliding down and down And even more… Until you’re on the floor, A needle in your arm, Unconscious of your heart’s alarm Whispering “Stop – or else your time is up!” SPH, you never knew They’d mourn your passing As they’re doing. That it would cry: the bylines, headlines Sounding, bounding, ‘round the world in living print. If you’d been more intuitive, more self in-touch, less self-indulgent, Drugs might have been out-of Thought and need, thought and greed, but… Habit feeds on thought And you were caught. And so, We throw No stones at windows, Even if and though We know the world will not cry at our passing. We’ll mourn And learn. Seymour Phillip Hoffman: The World Is Crying For You 2.3.2014 Special People, Special Occasions; Small Stories Book; Birth, Death & In Between II; Arlene Corwin https://arlenecorwinpoetry.com/2017/02/03/seymour-phillip-hoffman-the-world-is-crying-for-you/
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Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 1:46 PM UTC
Seymour Phillip Hoffman The World Is Crying For You
The friend I know is not the friend I knew His once open smile - focused, pleasant - has become a fast fade, changing instantly into a serious unforgiving expression, a Dustin Hoffman smile, fleeting, formidable, a solemn face that closes gates, builds walls, seals fate, the expression of an enigmatic character in a strange novel speaking endlessly with great authority and then just like that vanishing with a turn of the page... never ever appearing again
0
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 4:54 PM UTC
Fast Fade
He smokes. Lips pull thin white clouds of relief into his lungs but when he is done he will head back in to the dark den of machine men. There used to be better days. Now strange alchemy has turned his soft body hard, smooth skin wrinkled, white teeth cracked and yellow, and soul into a mutilated mess. The fence vibrates with his passing frustration as one foot cracks the corner. Would have been a ****** mess if not for the tight steel toed shoes, that add about half a pound a piece. His fatigue weighs so much more. A heaviness stops him at the door. It is like he is walking in a world of gravity set at twice the normal rate. Safety goggles, lunch lady hair net, and ear plugs have become his nighttime uniforms. “Five hours and twenty-three minutes to go.” He recites like Dustin Hoffman’s rain man. The mechanical madness beckons him in with a thud da dud, thud da dud, thud da dud. “At least it is a midnight shift and not a hot summer day shift.” He thinks as he shrugs off the last remnants of his reservations.
0
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 4:31 PM UTC
The Worker
It has happened again While I'm not looking... Snow drops and crocuses tumbling into tulips and azaleas The slow muted understory of color on the snow Traipsing toward the waking sun that herald robin V of the geese ever-pointing the direction out of darkness into life ...to reach the crescendo, yet again Leave behind the bud ~ exquisite ~ Hope of mere possibility of dew jewels scattered in the green And never grow tired of this procession to love life to love life Love ~ Inexpressible Love inaccessibly fragile fool of a child we always long to be Love ripped apart at the V
0
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 4:58 PM UTC
The Herald for Barbara Hoffman
gender neutral pronoun application, and... and an awareness for the "concept" of... space...   like...          being inquisitive of   a spatial standard...    of...                  he: ought to do and she: ought to take... men do better cooking than women... i am to blame, as what point? now? **** you, cubicle Humphreys!          i die by the solid tactic of subscribing to paying tax... you ******* increment of i.q. worth!                i'm your friend, am i?       friendly as a ******* mosquito...          i don't want to be part of this, "war", no more than i want to be involved in, "it"... savvy?       i forgot to chant... is that a "bad" thing?             i keep forgetting to ensure... that...    piling on skulls in a pyramid fashion was a...      good "thing"! **** "wasn't, wasn't?!" afghan rebels, all readied to misgender the crop of...    waiting for the vagina-cock ****** & **** dynamic in the obstruct format for teenagers... but hell... let's rebel contra grammar...            you are, dear, mother, your father's wishbone... and what am i?        wish... a...              hotel abdandoned to encompass filming the shining...                                you are, most, most, welcome, in claiming to focus on a diatribe; yes? i call it a leisure... to fake anti-gravity levitation tactics... activity... a streisand-hoffman effect... born a jew: never die a redford... or a tony curtis... or a newman... blue eyes... blue tongue... ate more testicles' worth of a circumcision in the parade of humor.... gimmick than... the allowance of extracting ******** for... the skin leaving scoop of allowed tattoos! plenty of alt-fiction sci-fi b-movie templates... and that house is in order... do we have to fake playing bargain economics for the remains of Damascus? no? good... i don't want to visit tel aviv either.
0
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 9:48 PM UTC
titdal, if it wasn't a wave (the boogie boogie man)
gender neutral pronoun application, and... and an awareness for the "concept" of... space...   like...          being inquisitive of   a spatial standard...    of...                  he: ought to do and she: ought to take... men do better cooking than women... i am to blame, as what point? now? **** you, cubicle Humphreys!          i die by the solid tactic of subscribing to paying tax... you ******* increment of i.q. worth!                i'm your friend, am i?       friendly as a ******* mosquito...          i don't want to be part of this, "war", no more than i want to be involved in, "it"... savvy?       i forgot to chant... is that a "bad" thing?             i keep forgetting to ensure... that...    piling on skulls in a pyramid fashion was a...      good "thing"! **** "wasn't, wasn't?!" afghan rebels, all readied to misgender the crop of...    waiting for the vagina-cock ****** & **** dynamic in the obstruct format for teenagers... but hell... let's rebel contra grammar...            you are, dear, mother, your father's wishbone... and what am i?        wish... a...              hotel abdandoned to encompass filming the shining...                                you are, most, most, welcome, in claiming to focus on a diatribe; yes? i call it a leisure... to fake anti-gravity levitation tactics... activity... a streisand-hoffman effect... born a jew: never die a redford... or a tony curtis... or a newman... blue eyes... blue tongue... ate more testicles' worth of a circumcision in the parade of humor.... gimmick than... the allowance of extracting ******** for... the skin leaving scoop of allowed tattoos! plenty of alt-fiction sci-fi b-movie templates... and that house is in order... do we have to fake playing bargain economics for the remains of Damascus? no? good... i don't want to visit tel aviv either.
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114
I hate you! I screamed at Dustin Hoffman As he sat with Elaine On the back of the bus At the end of The Graduate I was angry because he found Something real Something fulfilling And someone Who cared about him All I have is an IPad And another day alone!
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Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
I'm Glad You're So Happy Dustin (I'm Not)
"this is hoffman, what's going on, where can i find her?" "there's a nursery rhyme delivering your baby in 114." "wait, what are you saying, ma'am?" "nurse heimlich is delivering your baby in room 114!" "oh sorry, i've been under the weather (chasing the dragon)."       the fog finds you,       it'll take your place in time,       there is no rhyme or reason,       or even frame of mind.       the fog blinds you,       it can't segregate,       it'll capture all your secrets,       it doesn't hesitate.              memory recalls you,       don't procrastinate,       synapsis fire like machine guns,       in the middle of the day.       sensory remembers truth,       better claim your fate,       this ain't the time to run,       new life won't cleanse your slate. "jane! i'm here. how is our girl? where's doctor klein?" "she's..." "shush! mr. hoffman, i'm nurse heimlich. please take a seat. there were complications with jane's umbilical chord." **** "your baby's lung collapsed, causing her to suffocate. now, we did the best that we could, but the air and blood just wouldn't flow back to her heart." "i was told there was a nursery rhyme delivering my baby in 114. this isn't a nursery rhyme!" "then learn something from it, mr. hoffman. I sure am."
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Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 8:27 PM UTC
paging mister hoffman; circa 1958
"I'm sorry," I remembered saying. "I'm having a hard time with words right now." My brother nods his head, unsurprised and worried. "I'm going to go get another drink," he says, and I understand that much, before words lose all meaning again.
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Jan 28, 2020
Jan 28, 2020 at 2:21 PM UTC
Hoffman's Palsy
Knowing today is the best day of your life —a terrible thing to know (To Philip Seymour Hoffman: April, 2021)
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Apr 20, 2021
Apr 20, 2021 at 12:12 PM UTC
Cresting The Hill