Twenty chains, 1320 ft.
660 ft..03125 or 1?640
30 rows of 80 plants
lavender the scent of Lovers
sweet senual labor
Oh she chorest me!
yes she chorest me!
$3000.00 per acre
Hectars 30.
Peak yeild about
$30,000 per acre!
Pretend to act
or pretend to react
wwhat ya'll talking about
The neatfoot oil!
oil my saddle that my
pants won't look aseat.
Pretend actions
the goal to encourage
what ya'll, like the smell
of success or sumthang?
Sweet thang I do!
yeah thats right I do!
Get the Sparwl workers
thinking.
get the old Bouis sangin'
What ya'll wanna mix ya'll oil wiff mine?
sweet profits and and co-mixasation?
in the mix!
Double you em Eye Loved?
Don't ya'll love me?
I look bass and say?
Look right bassoon you?
ya'll groovin?
right, right, ya'll alright!
sumthang like a groove!
get that thang ah workin!
dance yo' whey back to me!
I be Bach !
I bassoon you do!
I groove too !
ya'll love me?
Care I love you!
whiskey scented deoderant and lavender soap makes yo smell
like a drink!
twenty one and over baby!
How high my hopes I
humbly heap
To weed my sorrows,
rest to own
How loneliness, I seem to
keep
How deep in grief, my
heart is sown.
No cue of cheerful
compromise
Nor mercy, vast as land or
sea
Nor velvet clouds a-strow
the skies
To lend me tears and
chastity.
I've sprouted lust off
deary friends
And lost the glorious sea
of love
Whither I rolled in Heav'n
descends
Whither I slept on arms
above.
What webs I've woven,
blindly still
In words so dark, so vile
and vain
And roughly, fast, I fall to
ill
And bath in showers of
growing pain.
The winds of sorrow,
forth and back
Are blown so oft, I pale to
grief
And piece to piece, I
drown to black
And piece from piece, I
lose relief.
Alas! I curl to living-part
To sleep as infants new
to breath
The art I own, I owe to art
In vast regret, I'm swept
to death.
Spring's annual rhythms cerebrally flow
Nature's mercurial splendour to show
Balmy portents o'er icy mantle glow
Earth's axis tilts; hearth to mellow
Helios's furnace with spawning heat doth bellow
Residual beams to brush face so sallow
A glossy, emerald sheen on encrusted folds bestow
A jaundiced hue from airy cisterns doth shadow
Revitalizing streams from seeded pods to strow
Invigorating tides enrich pores once fallow
Christening fauna peeps through stents so shallow
Anon, a clover tent the sodden expanse will hallow
Silken wicks enlighten bristling, woody tallow
Shortly, festive plume recedes; amber gown doth billow
Glittering fauna shades each jaded dale, pensive hollow
Fragrant incense each fleeting step will follow
Spring's fertile currents now through each, nestled channel row
Iris blue eyes that bright, azure beams strow
Lilly white neck with a radiant, translucent glow
Rosy cheeks blanching cotton swabs of milky snow
Viola black hair coiffed; silky strands strung in a tidy row
Magnolia-crescented bosom with a soft, silty furrow
Camellia-shaped paps that with sweet nectar flow
Butterfly Orchid legs; slender willows with tawny curves that billow
Anemone-cupped hands with graceful seams that her dignity doth sow
Please just say no
the way you already know
there is no quid pro quo
the process is painfully slow
your mind's altered from seeds you did sow
a withdrawl fit or two you'll throw
your brain's chasis will flitter to and fro
desiring the pleasure-pain once more to flow
you'll quake then tremor for another blow
but over time more resistance you'll show
the residual effect will linger as you grow
new habits you'll need to plant then hoe
when depression tugs and your mind craves another row
remember your barge already scraped that bridge so low
and shipwrecked your life on the shoals of woe
with steadying hands your anchor widely strow
skirting every pirating dealer; now your foe
Wham bam
thank you ma’am.
This is a slam
and slam I am.
First and formost
I DON’T like your name.
I live in Pee Dee.
How can I slam someone
who has the name of my home.
Nope, I’ll just have to call you
Dis-strower, because you’re
no destroyer, just a dis thrower.
Actually I think you are a wuss
who just pretends
to go off the deepest of the deep ends,
so deep I get the bends
just from reading your fuss.
If you want to strow some of that stuff
my way I’m here any day.
I’ve got you covered.
Just roll those snake eyes
and I’ll throw them back at you,
Full of hypnosis and lobototosis.
Girlfriend, you’ll think you’re brain dead.
That hurtful dirt you normally spread
will clump up right behind your eyes.
You wont be able to see
any of those trashy words.
You’ll think you have verbal lock jaw.
You’ll be outgunned in the raw,
in a snowstorm of inuendo,
pseudo cyber ju jit su,
combined with verbal ka-ra-tayyyyy.
Come on girl, Charles is here todayyyyy
ready to dance on your playyyy.
savvayyy???
© Jul 16 2010 Charles Henderson for PD’s “slam” contest