Back then it didn't matter who was right or wrong.
What mattered was who had the fastest gun.
The untamed Old West lived by a code back then. "I'll Die Before I Run."
An 18 year old boy wanders into town. All of the locals stare the young stranger down.
All of his instincts tell him to turn around, but he can't turn his back and run.
The youngster can't afford any fear. The kid's found himself much needed work here,
but the competition's greed is ruthless. That's why he wears a gun.
Young William Bonney was just another cowboy looking for work to earn an honest day's pay.
He rode into Lincoln County, New Mexico as a simple hired rancher's hand,
but he'd ride out to become a legend one day.
Today he's America's most famous bad boy, but he left us more legend than fact of all he did.
His legend continues to live on in stories, movies, books and song.
Who hasn't heard of BILLY the Kid?
BILLY the Kid's life of crime for many it seems
has been greatly exaggerated to the extremes.
He never robbed a bank, stagecoach or train.
He never harmed an innocent for pleasure or financial gain.
He was just a common stock thief. He'd steal horses and cattle
from corrupt, rich Cattle Barons who'd respond in ****** battle.
It was a lifestyle that Billy truly didn't desire,
but when your wanted by the law employers don't hire.
Yes he did **** but it was a justifiable sin.
If Billy hadn't killed them they would have killed him.
Some say he killed for vengeance but that was never his means to an end.
If he killed for anything it was for Justice for the ****** of loved ones and friends.
Many don't speak of or even know this, but back then this is what all who knew him saw.
Legally sworn Deputy William H Bonney, sworn to uphold the law.
Billy was once a bonified lawman with full authority to issue warrants and make arrests.
He could **** in the line of duty without fear of prosecution, imprisonment or arrest.
The Law Was Sworn First To The Lawman To Ultimately Serve And Protect.
Billy was one of many lawmen known as The Regulators.
They were law that Lincoln County would not soon forget.
Many today jump to the conclusion that Bonney was Billy's birth name.
He actually didn't begin to use the name Bonney until a few years before he was slain.
Where the name Bonney came from is still the unanswered question that continues to remain.
This issue alone has been known to drive historians insane.
Billy was a lad of many aliases. William Henry McCarty is believed to be his birth name.
Alias Henry McCarty, Alias Henry Antrim, Alias William Antrim Jr are all one and the same.
Kid Antrim was another alias that Billy became known to be.
His most common alias was simply The Kid.
Then one day suddenly he was William H Bonney and finally,
The Most Legendary Billy the Kid.
At the age of 12, legend says that he stabbed a man to death
because the man insulted his mother.
Legend also says that he killed a man for every year of his life.
It's been said that he was killed by a man once his friend.
Both were always seen hanging around with each other,
but it's also been said that The Kid was shot dead
because of his love for a woman that night.
Billy always fought to stay alive, when others would just accept their fate.
He did back then what he needed to do in order to survive.
It was **** or be killed if you dared to hesitate.
The Kid may have done some things that many can't justify.
Even so, his young life ended far too early to die.
Was he a victim of his time or was he truly the bad guy?
His entire truest to life story is about to unfold. Afterward you can decide.

vrai dire .celui-ci était difficile pour moi .Il m'a fallu un peu plus de temps pour mettre en place les conseils pour ce poste .Non pas parce que je n'étais pas complètement enamouré .fait tout le contraire .Je ne pouvais pas choisir entre toutes les images superbes de Corliss Photographie .Les fleurs de Paisley Petals Studio de fleur .cette grange incroyablement rustique .chaque détail a été en lice pour mon affection .donc j'ai fini par passer un peu de temps en leur disant tout combien je les aimais .C'est normal .non?\u003cp\u003e

ColorsSeasonsSummerSettingsBarnStylesRomantic­

du designer floral .Nous sommes tous pressés ce tournage en droit en plein milieu de la saison de mariage parce que dans le Nord-Ouest .notre fenêtre de temps décent pour un tournage en plein air est limitée .Les résultats ont été bien elle .nous vaut tous passé un super de travailler ensemble sur ce projet !

La grange rénovée sur cette ferme à seulement 35 miles au sud de Seattle fait un endroit parfait pour aa mariage de pays inspiré séance photo .Holcomb Mariages \u0026Evénements achetés ensemble une équipe de rêve pour exécuter le concept de l'élégance rustique et de romance douce .Les couleurs claires et des notes métalliques complété avec un peu d' étincelle supplémentaire à la grange ' histoire et de charme .Nous avons décidé de laisser la grange fournir l'élément rustique tout en gardant le décor sur le côté élégant .Lorsque tout s'est bien passé .les résultats ont été tout ce que nous espérions qu'ils seraient !

tables artisan magnifiques tableaux de Seattle agricoles étaient ornés d'élégants vases en verre transparent débordant d' une prime de local.fleurs de saison dans les arrangements luxuriants conçus par Paisley Petals Studio de fleur .Les tableaux ont été finis avec la chaude lueur de verre au mercure à partir des détails significatifs .plus de Paisley Petals créations dans de petits vases d'argent et place des cartes artisanale par Itsy Belle .Le cadre rustique de la grange et la ferme était la juxtaposition parfaite contre la romance douce du décor .La météo imprévisible qui fait de jour pour une belle lumière .et les portes de la grange ont été ouverts pour laisser illuminer le réglage.En dehors de la grange .des tables ont été placées dans le paysage pour créer une ambiance intime .Chaque table paysage est légèrement différent de l'autre tout en conservant le sentiment de romance rustique .

la robe de Notre modèle de mariée de Something Blue Bridal Boutique était douce et féminine et arrosé avec l'étincelle de son bijoux guillotine à son correspondant bandeau .Ses magnifiques yeux verts ont été portées à la vie par l'artiste de maquillage Korrine Claxon robe de mariée courte .Le bouquet de la mariée était un mélange frais de la ferme des dahlias .roses de jardin .astilbe .lismachia .scabieuse .dentelle de reine anne .des rosettes .origan .menthe ananas .l'achillée millefeuille .adiante et vignes finis robe de mariée courte avec un ruban ric rac de pêche de luxe .La boutonnière assortie utilisé principalement des herbes et des textures de prêter une ambiance plus masculine .

Une cérémonie simple a été mis en place à l'aide de tables bancs agricoles Seattle .L'emplacement au sommet de la ferme a profité pleinement de la vue panoramique sur les champs ci-dessous.Notre

http://www.modedomicile.com

photographe a su capter les dernières images de plein air comme un orage a commencé à rouler à travers .ce qui a pour fin passionnante de notre journée ensemble !
Nous avons été ravis d'avoir Corliss Photographie à bord pour capter magnifiquement l'essence de ce que nous avions créé .C'est toujours inspirant de travailler avec des professionnels du mariage de talent .Nous étions tous ravis de faire partie de celui-ci !Dans notre petit coin du nord-ouest du pays .nous sommes entourés par nature .donner.professionnels de la collaboration dans tous les coins de l'industrie du mariage .Mettre sur pied un tournage comme celui-ci nous donne une chance de fléchir nos muscles créatifs .apprendre à connaître l'autre un robe courte devant longue derriere peu mieux .et de mettre nos talents à travailler pour créer quelque chose de beau juste pour le plaisir !

Photographie : Corliss Photographie | Planification de l'événement: Holcomb Mariages et Evénements | Floral Design : Paisley Petals Studio de fleur | Robe de mariée : Something Blue Bridal Boutique | maquilleur : Korrine Claxton | Place Cards : Itsy Belle | Locations : tableaux de Seattle ferme |Locations de vacances : AA Party | Location : Les détails significatifs | Lieu de mariage : La Ferme

"He was a brave, resourceful and honest boy. He would have been a successful man under other circumstances. I loved the youngster in the old days and can say now after the passing fifty years that I still love his memory. He has gained an unfair and undeserved reputation. Most of the stories told about him are simply not true at all. He was born into poor circumstances and did what he did to get by. He was a thousand times better and braver than any man hunting him, including Pat Garrett." - Frank Coe, close friend

"He stayed with me at my home for most of one winter, during which time we became staunch friends. I never enjoyed better company. He was humorous and told me many amusing stories. He always found a touch of humor in everything. He never seemed to care much for money. He never drank. He would go to the bar with anyone, but I never saw him drink a drop, and he never used tobacco in any form. Always in a good humor and ready to do a kind act for some one." - George Coe, close friend.

"I liked him very much. He had his share of good qualities and was very pleasant. He had a reputation for being considerate of the old, the young and the poor. He was loyal to his friends and above all loved his mother devotedly. He was unfortunate in starting life and became a victim of circumstances. In looking back to my first meeting with him my impressions of him were most favorable and I can honestly say that he was a man more sinned against than sinner." - Miguel Otero Jr, friendly aquaintence

"Today he is featured as a mean man, as dark as a Mexican. He wasn't. He was a light complexioned boy who was always smiling. He was very brave and loyal to his friends. He's gone now, but many Spanish girls mourned for him." - Carlota Baca Brent, resident

"He was a remarkable boy. Far above the average of the young men of those times and he undoubtedly had the making of a fine man in him." - Susan McSween, close friend

"He had a great personality and could ingratiate himself in people's good graces very quickly. He had laughing blue eyes, always smiling or laughing, very accommodating and good hearted. He had an innocent timid look and all of this took with the girls at once."
- Lily Casey Klasner, resident
Personal Note: Ms Klasner was Bob Ollinger's girlfriend when Billy killed Ollinger during his great escape, and apparently even she had kind words for The Kid. Furthermore, when news of Bob Ollinger's death reached his mother, his mother was quoted to say the following. "Bob was a murderer from the cradle. If there's a hell, he is surely there."

"All the wrongs have been charged to him, yet we who really knew him know that he was good and had fine qualities. We have not put our impressions of him into print and our silence has been the cause of great injustice to him." -  Martin Chavez, close friend

"He (Garrett) was afraid to go back into the room to make sure of whom he had shot. I went in and was the first to discover that they had killed my little boy. I hated those men and I'm glad I've lived long enough to see them all dead and buried."
- Deluvina Maxwell, very close friend

"He has gained an undeserved and unfair reputation to this very day,
and so his truest to life story written poetically is my mission to set the record straight."
- BILLYtheKidster, Me

*******************­*

I hope what you've read will put some falsehoods to bed
regarding all of the untrue things that Billy allegedly did.
This concludes my truest to life story of William H Bonney,
The Forever Legendary BILLY the Kid

BILLY the Kid was truly a kid when found in the company of children.
Many children of his day would go on to say
how much they wished their playtime with him would never end.
Good Guy/Bad Guy were one of the games Billy would play with the children in town.
"Bang! Bang! You're dead Billy!"
Billy would then grab hold of his chest and comically fall down to the ground.
Salsa Bocca recalls her playtime spent with her playmate Billy Bonney.
"He used to bounce me on his knee for what seemed like hours as if I were riding a pony."
The following story might not be true but I'll still share it with you
because it certainly fits Billy's profile.
This young boy in dismay kept following Billy all day.
Wherever Billy went he was followed by this star struck child.
"Do you know who I am?" Billy asked the young lad.
The child simply nodded, "Yes" was all that he said.
Billy took off his hat, dusted it off and placed it on the young boy's head.
The innocent young child was overjoyed and smiled
and then this is what Billy said and did.
"If anyone ever asks you who gave you that hat,
you tell them you got it from BILLY the Kid."
Billy was also very respectful of the elderly
and very sympathetic towards they who were poor.
Many times he would extend acts of kindness towards them.
He was a true philanthropist at heart to be sure.
The newspapers portrayed him as this dangerous desperado,
someone to be hated and feared and appalled,
but to all the residents of Fort Sumner, New Mexico
Billy was very fondly adored by all.

I put a baby inside
Of the belly of my Bonney lass bride
Twice
Say the ****** covered by placenta
Looking through her *** to deaths eye
She may live he may die
He may live I'll lose my wife
Through the cream pie I stare down death
Between her ***** holds hemorrhage and life

Bleeding down her c-section

The acreted blood sac could cause infection
Already has
My baby gave multiple blood poisoned hits to her kidney

He's already a fighter I think he'll beat me up. He's going to come out with bigger boots than mine, prolly a bigger ****.

Hope they both make it.
I can't fix it
My hands are tied in the cervical opening, my minds wrapped in the emboli cal cord, and my fingers are twiddling thumbs nauseously in Beccas ******.

I should take Lornhes place in the amniotic fluid and gag myself in the fetal position


Or I could do what no one does these days.
Be a man of character.
Show him passion, knowledge, courage, and integrity.


Be a Father.

P.S. Son. All dads are letdowns, when you read this one day. I hope I have done my best. I Love You.

                                  Lendon Partain

In the times before the current ontology being right was easy; a gift from a dextrous God. On the other hand, the world was beautifully sinister. The ‘metaphysics of the sinister condition’ propelled Immanuel Kant to conclude, that: ‘Looking at your right hand in the mirror you see a left hand, identical to right, but unable to replace the other, which, like God is right.’ Wittgenstein, a patient soul, was rightly amused and replied 200 years later, (that’s the kind of guy he was: prepared to wait a couple of centuries in order to deliver a dexterously sinister reply), ‘A right hand glove could be put on the left hand if it could be turned around in four dimensional space’. (Neil Armstrong, Captain Kirk and Doctor Who have ordered two paisley patterned pairs each).            
Machiavelli absconded from this digital count, citing an ‘a priori’ engagement with the Inquisition as a not unreasonable excuse for his point of departure. Aristotle replied: ‘Might is Right’ was true Philosophy
and fitted the world like an un-left handed glove, but he didn’t want to hang around to debate it, because his brilliantly sinister protégé, Alexander, played a very destructive ragtime with his band and was quite decidedly a great southpaw, who got dextrously cross being labelled ‘sinister’ and imagined himself to be rather charming, in that mirrored image kind of way.

Julius Caesar like Jimi Hendrix before the fall
Playing a right handed empire upside down
Until only decadent ruination was left
Second handed down to instant history
Carved in stone upon an ancient broken glory
The experience never left his soul alone
Unlike it left the beautiful Saint Joan
True righteous in all her blossoming
Left to solitary incineration at the end
Leonardo always painted in the mirror
Reflecting images from right to left
And made the distant appear quite near
A smile gazing in the closer distance
But there’s miles of mystery in the eyes
Everything else is just as he rightly left it
Beautifully left vertical on the right horizontal
Restoring your faith in renaissance artistry
Bounarroti worked the Sistine ceiling
With God outstretched in dextrous touch
Toward Adam’s innocently sinister reach
In that other Eden; Adam was left handed
Not dissimilar to the artist and the vision
Set high above the holy sepulchred floor
With its tabernacle likened door
Left so far and distant down below
The hell of all those dazzling heavens right above
Inspired Napoleon to abandon his rags
For a brightly coloured bespoke coat
And a gorgeously tailored left-ways hat
The woven garb to free a continent
And safeguard the very precious joys
Of Liberté, Justice and Egalité
The food, wine and song of democracy
In a very left handed kind of way
That was so right-on you loved him for it forever
And Moscow never looked the same without him
It’s much more Left Bank now in its Russian ways
Catherine thinks it’s Great, and in that style she left it
Then left was right an’ wrongs were righted leftly
Until everything left was rightly wronged in cruelty
And left a scar that rightly shamed a century
Nothing lasts as all things pass to dust and history
Yet the phoenix flies in the face of burning misery
While the ever salient Homer left us his republic
And his equally luminous sinister revelation
That Jack the Ripper and the Boston Strangler
But worst of all, Ned Flanders were all lefties
As it is in the end, so it was in the beginning
The ever brilliant Elvis has left the building

"Quien es? Quien es?" Billy called out into the dark.
He then heard the sound of thunder and glimpsed briefly a faint spark.
A powerful force struck him and spun him around.
He then found himself face down on the floor.
There was extreme pain within his chest as he struggled gasping his final breath
and then BILLY the Kid was no more.
Pat Garrett would gain power, money and fame for the killing of BILLY the Kid.
He shot an unarmed young man in the dark without warning.
That's all Sheriff Pat Garrett did.
Garrett ran out of the room nearly tripping himself over the bed.
If it was The Kid and he missed he knew he'd be dead.
As he fled out the door into his deputy he ran.
"I just shot The Kid! I just shot The Kid!" he exclaimed again and again.
"That wasn't The Kid," said his deputy man. "Garrett, you've gone and shot the wrong man."
Jesus Silva and Deluvina were the first to arrive at the scene
to inquire as to what all of the noise and comotion had been.
"I just shot The Kid," is what Garrett said.
"Could one of you go back into the room to check to see if he's dead?"
"Go to hell Garrett," is what Jesus Silva said.
"You went and shot him. You check to see if he's dead."
Deluvina however immediatly went into the room to see what she could never un see.
She slowly approached the lifeless form on the floor.
She knealt down, turned him over and gasped in horror at who she saw.
"Is he dead?" Garrett asked. "Is it The Kid?" he asked again.
Deluvina rose to her feet and lounged out at him.
She violently pounded her fists on Garrett's chest
as she screamed the vilest curses she could bestow upon his head.
She wanted to scratch his eyes out of his skull.
She wanted him suffering. She wanted him dead.
Garrett's deputies and her friends tried to pull her away from him
but even with their combined strength it was a task difficult to employ.
Interspersed between her tears, Deluvina Maxwell cried out to all who could hear,
"They've killed my little boy!"
Billy's body was then carried to the carpenter shop
and carefully laid down on top of a table.
Lit candles were placed surrounding The Kid.
The village then held an all night long candle lit vigil.
Women and children, the old and the poor,
even manly men were seen openly weeping,
as they all walked by giving their final good bye
to their fallen young friend now eternally sleeping.
"Duerme bien, Querido" or "Sleep Well, Beloved" are the words that were engraved
on a small wooden cross that Deluvina Maxwell placed at Billy's grave.
This would be the first of many visits she would pay to The Kid.
She would visit him well into her senior years.
Many times she would be seen kneeling down at his grave
with her hand on her heart and often in tears.
Perhaps it's just me but none of this appears to be
the treatment of a feared and hated outlaw.
The feelings expressed by those who knew him best
were feelings of mourning, of loss and much more.
A wanton killer? An unconscionable human being?
BILLY the Kid was none of the above.
All who were his friend displayed it on the night his life did end.
Billy Was Someone Who Was Very Much Loved.
And so, close to midnight, on July 14th in the year of 1881,
William H Bonney was shot and killed, compliments of Pat Garrett's gun.
Pete Maxwell's house is where BILLY the Kid became Billy the deceased.
Billy, may your reckless and restless spirit finally
Rest In Peace.

Judge Bristol pronounced his sentence with the following words and said,
"The said William Bonney, alias Kid, alias William Antrim
shall be hanged by the neck until his body be dead, Dead, DEAD!!!"
Shackled Billy left the courthouse smiling, almost as if in glee.
"Why are you smiling?" an interviewer asked him inquisitively.
"What's the point in dwelling on the dreary side of life?" the Kid responded,
"Today the joke is on me."

A true tribute to The Kid's charm, humor and endearing personality.
The above is not legend. The above is true documented history.

Sitting, curved down
with my legs folded.
Dark cold, in ragged gown,
I've been scolded.

Hatred poised the innocent flower,
wilted the bud before bloom.
Eluded from its growing power,
and vased me in this dark room.

Several days without water and food,
the flower froze as in a frame.
Bonney structure lay as good,
player was done with his game.

No ashes sprinkled in my name,
No final words uttered in grace,
No one even came to claim,
And thus, closed went my case.

But I am, still not free,
from this bound of hope.
My spirit, searching for those three,
who later tied me up with a rope.

My spirit would not rest,
till all three are dead the same way.
Making them feel at their best,
I'll make sure, they all pay...



©sim

It ain't gonna be me the stinking state pigs will be a-cuffin' because
I ain't licensed at nothin,' not even bakin' a sweet, California muffin
with big raisins, orange sprinkles & whatever else I feel like stuffin'
so as not to yank out prematurely before I gets more than enough in
Sometimes I cry as pigeons peck my *******, other times I just tell
them to stop it & not to do it ever again because I don't like it much
Fattened cows ate our tomatoes & starving pigs then ate our posies,
so don't you dare take a huge, reekin' **** on our colorful tea cozies
'cause lovin' you's like fressing cherry pie from a gal with 1 bad eye
while I sit cocked sideways needing a yardstick 'cause I ain't so shy
Mary Ellen Judy Norton Taylor Walton your ******* are too flabby,
so I will go down on your furry tuft below, that I jokingly call tabby
as Judy suffers from, & is afflicted with, an obtusion of farm senses
that interrupt her monthly charges regardin' normal-flowing ******
For Hef's ******* Judy was feverishly hot on a bear rug naked bare
after flinging aside T.V. pretend bro' Jim Bob's farm-boy underwear
that he wore when they rocked the house in grandma's rockin' chair
1 day I was viewing The Keiser Report starring ugly ol' Max Keiser
which would detract from my sexiness yet make me so much wiser,
& cause great-toe-jammin'-pecker stiffness & irritate either eye sore
while grindin' down 4 canines, 8 premolars & a middlemost incisor
I'll sing 8 days on the road in my big truck like I'm ol' Dave Dudley
running from Jesus God and hiding with waitresses as I rave studly
of a manly prowess using stiff asphalt laid thickly to pave mud free
like the wife support payments forked over by singer Neil Diamond
that would be burdensome to a poorer Jew like the shill Neil Simon
Boldness & beauty, blackness & blue, I am stupid, just not like you
'cause as my cornflakes sog in milk, I don't sell my nuts for a *****
anywhere where life spells death there is a cloudy heaven to pursue
It was hard push, yank & pull, talk ***** to me don't talk ***** to me
I like you or likely I love you, I try too much, better just wait & see,
while I give up at changing you into the woman I long for you to be
in the image that schmo Bobby Darin wanted for ****** Sandra Dee
whose big ******-numbed ******* nursed Bobbie's raw-milk brutality
pitched on a bowling lane of broken-leg bone & severed-hand ****
what made him stolidly 910 million times more serenely handsome
under the guilty shadow of the gay Bruce Jenner gender switcheroo

that could very well be his surgical whoops slip up Waterloo before

he would sexcite sike **** Hillary Clinton's homosexy affairs anew
whilst his hot peas thawed, hair pack jelled & old girl caught a clue
beyond clues given for cows driven to spit up cud for another chew
in kingdom halls where witnesses disfellowship guys seen fartin' &
queer-drunk on Mexi-gasser beans poured from a lime-green carton
that was endorsed by ******-ball Dino Crocetti A.K.A. Dean Martin
who liked pancakes, hotcakes & flapjacks with blackstrap molasses
as he denied hotcakes for burnt pancakes, griddlecakes & flapjacks
& proctologic exams for nothing that probed his chafed crap cracks
that looks like a flounder, that with a *** cleaver, a crazy *** hacks
at my red wiener, warty cucumber, candle stick & old orange carrot
as witnessed by my chimp, quokka, gerbil & clipped African parrot
that is so selfish with gooily-raw rat meat that he'll not even share it
with the hack Bob Browning & his ***** monkey Elizabeth Barrett
****** hid her vaginal emptiness from Richard Cory, Kyle S. Bruce,
Daisy Lou & Garett Hobart's lost nephew whose quarry tile is loose
You screamed like an unwashed **** when I pinched your lard ***,
I can't stomach your sister, because she is such a whining, hard lass
conjuring up old Crowley occultism, but what makes her the worst,
she wants me to sign a ****** suicide pact that states that I die first
as self-****** is a sin & she cares little about my soul being cursed
in realms that count not among its angels William Randolph Hearst
& Marion Davies & accused wife-snuffin' millionaire Robert Durst
whose hunger for Malay tail was sadder than greasers dyin' of thirst
I slumber in greenish ***** ill puked hard *****-woozy & drunken
too sick to down gooey, greasy doughnuts I shoplifted from Dunkin
'cause I purloin cream topping & jelly filling better than anyone can
now o' when Smith, of the fake Titanic, knew he was a man sunken
to televise (tele advise me telly television tele-visionary uncle Ken)
my nose from the vantage point of me red **** is funky-funk funkin'
or my ear from the fall-off point of a thin *** sins funky-funk funkin'
or brow from the terminal point of **** lips is *****-punk punkin'
or toes from a tiny point of 2 **** tips that're chunky-chunk chunkin'
& triggered at the apex of ******-**** ***** for a clunky-clunk clunkin'
once ragged atop the peak of Clinton's ****** of dunky-dunk dunkin'
& crap beyond a holt of pretty ******* to ***** a bunky-bunk bunkin'
My ultra-favorite, back-******* monkey loves me me me but
I love my bonnie Bonnie who lives across the ocean & over the sea
in a palace with Sparky Marcus who spreads a cruel, spooky mucus
over a toady staffer popularly known as crazy Luke or kooky Lucus
whose stratospherical id raced far beyond whatever Sparky ever did
long after Henry McCarty & William Bonney became Billy the Kid
Confess & grovel before the Lord, for on asphaltum your ***'ll skid
because dark spots on my shaded parts means that I got a headache,
that's got more killin'-power than a Malaysian/H.A.A.R.P. seaquake
I know that what you now know is on a need-to-know basis, and so
I counted them twice to I see that you amputated my left largest toe
to **** foot-bred animalcules unfelt as my atrophy trots paraplegical
in ****** labs of agriculturalists, whose studies are parthenocarpical
I love the challenge of a chic freak as it makes my pocked **** tired
7 days in a usual Haitian work week like quitting before being fired
which was her fat-*** way of losing a new job just after being hired
as this stunnin' **** ruptured me because she was so sexually wired

with white ***** makin' my Jacmel Beach tragedy 100% uninspired
Ol' men know that plastic Barbie doll dolls want G.I. Joe men, ever
since genital-lacking Barbie Roberts had the baby of *****-free Ken
whose naked 11-count stood unnaturalized as he could not reach 10
as cruel bears are bear-tricky like Smokey Bear & T.V.'s Gentle Ben
in ol' Kowloon City where Nancy Kwan sleeps with me as Ka Shen
who smoked Raleigh cigarettes for cancer & sailed north for scurvy
to enhance her perky nay-nays & to make nip-wide hips more curvy
on the roof to the floor, beneath the attic in my dungeon topsy turvy
On rough seas no boy sailor knows what a Chinese cargo ship'll do,
'cause in a tight D cup bra a raw-rubbed lawyer **** may ****** sue