Gump
Gump sat alone on a bench in the park
my name is forrest, hed casually remark
Waitin for the bus with his hands in his pockets
He just kept sayin life is like a box of chocolates
Hes gump, hes gump
Whats in his head?
Hes gump, hes gump, hes gump
Is he inbred?
Gump was a big celebrity
He told jfk that he really had to pee
He never feels too dumb because
His mom always told him stupid is as stupid does
Hes gump, hes gump
Hes kinda square
Hes gump, hes gump, hes gump
Whats with that hair?
Run... run... run, run, now forrest
Run... run... run like the wind now
Run... run... run, run, now forrest
Run... stop!
His buddy bubba was a shrimp-lovin man
His friend with no legs he called lieutenant dan
His girlfriend jenny was kind of a slut
He went to the white house, showed lbj his butt
Hes gump, hes gump
Hes not too bright
Hes gump, hes gump, hes gump
But hes all right
Is this gump out of his head?
I think so
Is this gump really brain dead?
I think so
Did this gump make lots of bread?
I think so
And thats all I have to say about that
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
It's harder for me to work on a Forrest Gump kind of movie, where everything is invisible.
quote by Dennis Muren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At The End Of My Day
at the end
work is left on the table
it is alone there
with no one to speak to
tonight
as we exit this door of work
and enter the
world of imagination
about dinner with
wife and
(kids if you have any)
outdoor
the stars shine beside
the moon
and then you rest your
head
on the the clean
conscience as
pillow
perhaps tonight
listening on
the theme
song
of Forrest Gump
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Your Stupidity And Gullibility
who can love still
those who betray you?
the relatives take
advantage of your
goodness,
you lose
and surrender
to their
fraudulent fancy
who can still love all of them
despite
the odds?
you are never tired
i envy you
for you still love them
truthfully and
so God in his
Infinite Goodness
too does not tire
giving you all
this blessings
for you can love you
still despite
all your gullibility
and stupidity?
Only God loves
a Forrest Gump.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Riddle Of That Small City (For Singapore)
in that small city
i promised myself
i can take whatever it is
in one day
whatever it is
is still actually undefined
and what is undefined
is always exciting
for it amounts to
anything goes
what falls on my head
like a Forest Gump feather
in that small city
is always welcome
and what was undefined
and what was so exciting
was finally
done
you'll never know what it is
because you have read this
to understand and best
understand the undefined
means you never have
to read whatever it is
it is after all
undefined and yet
i must assure you
it will, and will always be exciting
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Please Do Not Be Disappointed With My Poetry
in the first place i do not really rhyme
not that i can't but i don't because i like it to be just that
like my life, i do not really rhyme with the world
there is more conflict
than harmony, i do not jibe and jam well with
yes, anybody, it simply takes time for them to really understand me
more more time for me too to understand them
and like them
and like me, as though living life is just a matter of liking each other
period, and not really trying to learn and be compassionate
and have this little sense of tolerance
this sense
of perhaps, he is just ekking his way to a steep mountain of his
trying hard
(copycat) of just trying to live in authenticity
honesty, that is the simplest word we can say
i always think of other things
sometimes people are just cruel
they want patterns they want people to be like other people
setting models
and trails made also by men and women with the usual human brains
poor judgments come and we do not bother we simply want others to
live normal lives
nothing deviant, shy away from the genius of ingenuity
trekking new paths
not minding the dangers of the unknown spreading like a red carpet
before our feet
back to poetry, this is my poetry and by now you have noticed
they are written as they come inside my mind
no patterns no molds no shape no expectations no
AA BB CC DD
just plain talk, spontaneous, like a tear falling from your eyes
shaping itself to pain and then falling without style
like a candle melting to the fire and shaping itself
in the air
there is simply no dictation of where and how and what
like ourselves our lives like chocolates in the box
of Forest Gump
we just don't know what we really get
we just let go
and let live and then die and be buried
tears for a while, and then
yes, forever forgotten.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Big Dipper
The national nightmare has begun
Empire of fantasy with a dark gloved fist aloft
While the challenger explodes
Banks are failing coming down hard
The way things are going Im moving to the sun belt
Stars and stripes, forever is a long time
Dont ask me whats to be done
Ask what you can do for your country ?
The big dipper coming down
Miss americas lost her crown
Guess Ive spent too long in this old town
No time to run and hide
Weve been taken for a ride
America leads the world in teenage suicide
I always thought it would have been great
To be a part of the united states
A land of unmissed opportunity
A friend seems so far ahead
A land safe on film
Untouched by reality
But like a well played record seemed to scratch
The news that real life and cinema dont match
Even forrest gump cant save us now
The king of hollywood is dead
I dont care what the president said
I dont believe in everything Ive read
The big dippers coming down
New yorks just a shanty town
That distant sound is l.a. burning down
The golden years of justice
The golden years of youth
The golden years of liberty
The golden years of truth
Laser bombin
Status seekin
Trail blazin
Frontier pushin
Space racin
Earth quakin
Jesus freakin
Serial killin
Cult crushin
Net surfin
Networkin
Fast talkin
Gun runnin
Fun lovin
America !
The big dipper coming down
Miss americas lost her crown
Guess Ive spent too long in this old town
No time to run and hide
Weve been taken for a ride
America leads the world in teenage suicide
The big dippers coming down
New yorks just a shanty town
That distant sound is l.a. burning down
The king of hollywood is dead
I dont care what the president said
I dont believe in everything Ive read
song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Twelve Dancing Princesses
If you danced from midnight
to six A.M. who would understand?
The runaway boy
who chucks it all
to live on the Boston Common
on speed and saltines,
pissing in the duck pond,
rapping with the street priest,
trading talk like blows,
another missing person,
would understand.
The paralytic's wife
who takes her love to town,
sitting on the bar stool,
downing stingers and peanuts,
singing 'That ole Ace down in the hole,'
would understand.
The passengers
from Boston to Paris
watching the movie with dawn
coming up like statues of honey,
having partaken of champagne and steak
while the world turned like a toy globe,
those murderers of the nightgown
would understand.
The amnesiac
who tunes into a new neighborhood,
having misplaced the past,
having thrown out someone else's
credit cards and monogrammed watch,
would understand.
The drunken poet
(a genius by daylight)
who places long-distance calls
at three A.M. and then lets you sit
holding the phone while he vomits
(he calls it 'The Night of the Long Knives')
getting his kicks out of the death call,
would understand.
The insomniac
listening to his heart
thumping like a June bug,
listening on his transistor
to Long John Nebel arguing from New York,
lying on his bed like a stone table,
would understand.
The night nurse
with her eyes slit like Venetian blinds,
she of the tubes and the plasma,
listening to the heart monitor,
the death cricket bleeping,
she who calls you 'we'
and keeps vigil like a ballistic missile,
would understand.
Once
this king had twelve daughters,
each more beautiful than the other.
They slept together, bed by bed
in a kind of girls' dormitory.
At night the king locked and bolted the door
. How could they possibly escape?
Yet each morning their shoes
were danced to pieces.
Each was as worn as an old jockstrap.
The king sent out a proclamation
that anyone who could discover
where the princesses did their dancing
could take his pick of the litter.
However there was a catch.
If he failed, he would pay with his life.
Well, so it goes.
Many princes tried,
each sitting outside the dormitory,
the door ajar so he could observe
what enchantment came over the shoes.
But each time the twelve dancing princesses
gave the snoopy man a Mickey Finn
and so he was beheaded.
Poof! Like a basketball.
It so happened that a poor soldier
heard about these strange goings on
and decided to give it a try.
On his way to the castle
he met an old old woman.
Age, for a change, was of some use.
She wasn't stuffed in a nursing home.
She told him not to drink a drop of wine
and gave him a cloak that would make
him invisible when the right time came.
And thus he sat outside the dorm.
The oldest princess brought him some wine
but he fastened a sponge beneath his chin,
looking the opposite of Andy Gump.
The sponge soaked up the wine,
and thus he stayed awake.
He feigned sleep however
and the princesses sprang out of their beds
and fussed around like a Miss America Contest.
Then the eldest went to her bed
and knocked upon it and it sank into the earth.
They descended down the opening
one after the other. They crafty soldier
put on his invisible cloak and followed.
Yikes, said the youngest daughter,
something just stepped on my dress.
But the oldest thought it just a nail.
Next stood an avenue of trees,
each leaf make of sterling silver.
The soldier took a leaf for proof.
The youngest heard the branch break
and said, Oof! Who goes there?
But the oldest said, Those are
the royal trumpets playing triumphantly.
The next trees were made of diamonds.
He took one that flickered like Tinkerbell
and the youngest said: Wait up! He is here!
But the oldest said: Trumpets, my dear.
Next they came to a lake where lay
twelve boats with twelve enchanted princes
waiting to row them to the underground castle.
The soldier sat in the youngest's boat
and the boat was as heavy as if an icebox
had been added but the prince did not suspect.
Next came the ball where the shoes did duty.
The princesses danced like taxi girls at Roseland
as if those tickets would run right out.
They were painted in kisses with their secret hair
and though the soldier drank from their cups
they drank down their youth with nary a thought.
Cruets of champagne and cups full of rubies.
They danced until morning and the sun came up
naked and angry and so they returned
by the same strange route. The soldier
went forward through the dormitory and into
his waiting chair to feign his druggy sleep.
That morning the soldier, his eyes fiery
like blood in a wound, his purpose brutal
as if facing a battle, hurried with his answer
as if to the Sphinx. The shoes! The shoes!
The soldier told. He brought forth
the silver leaf, the diamond the size of a plum.
He had won. The dancing shoes would dance
no more. The princesses were torn from
their night life like a baby from its pacifier.
Because he was old he picked the eldest.
At the wedding the princesses averted their eyes
and sagged like old sweatshirts.
Now the runaways would run no more and never
again would their hair be tangled into diamonds,
never again their shoes worn down to a laugh,
never the bed falling down into purgatory
to let them climb in after
with their Lucifer kicking.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Psalm 031
Be my
Rock and Castle
Be my crag and stronghold
When my life is wasted with grief
Hear me
© 2009 Forrest Hainline
poem by Forrest Hainline
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So What (for my son Forrest)
Music fills your life
Your soul your identity
So what to all else
© Forrest A. Hainline III
poem by Forrest Hainline
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End of Savings Time
In late October
Savings time ends, quickening
Each day’s birth and death
© 2009 Forrest A. Hainline III
poem by Forrest Hainline
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Warm Day
Thick blanket of fog
Beneath the bridge disappears
As the warm day breaks
© 2009 Forrest A. Hainline III
poem by Forrest Hainline
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Ghost Lights
Lights like ghosts dancing
Along the span of the bridge
Morning fog’s magic
© 2009 Forrest A. Hainline III
poem by Forrest Hainline
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Psalm 010
Why stand
So far from me
In my time of trouble
When will you listen Lord and give
Justice
© 2007 Forrest Hainline
poem by Forrest Hainline
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Psalm 045
Grace flows
From your sweet lips
Our enemies lose heart
Ride and conquer in the cause of
Justice
©2012 Forrest A. Hainline III
poem by Forrest Hainline
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Fairness
You want a fair world?
Then have one without passion,
Love, lust or beauty
© 2009 Forrest Hainline
poem by Forrest Hainline
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Bridge Span
Can’t see the bridge span
In the heavy morning fog
The base a shadow
© 2009 Forrest Hainline
poem by Forrest Hainline
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Winter's End
Winter is ending
And I regret the loss of
Its cold clarity
© 2009 Forrest Hainline
poem by Forrest Hainline
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Fog on the Golden Gate
Fog so thick you can't
See the bridge - Just hear fog horns
Signaling danger
© 2012 Forrest A. Hainline III
poem by Forrest Hainline
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Accept
Accept the future
In all its uncertainties
A gift to open
© 2009 Forrest Hainline
poem by Forrest Hainline
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Head Wind
It's miserable
Running into a headwind
The fog cold and damp
© 2009 Forrest A. Hainline III
poem by Forrest Hainline
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