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"jed" poems
Rumors are swirling about what that little shepherd boy is doing with those sheep on the other side of the hill. He has been watching that flock for far too long and no one has seen Old Jed for quite some time. He said he would come back for his sheep, but I have a sneaking suspicion Old Jed is dead and that little ******* shepherd keeps all the wool for himself.
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Feb 18, 2011
Feb 18, 2011 at 9:44 PM UTC
The Little Shepherd Boy
Roses are red Violets are blue I **** at writing poems But I shall make one for you Roses are flowers Violets are cool I can't help but wonder Why you look like a fool Roses are blue Violets are red No I don't loaf you HAHAHA you look like Jed Roses smell good Violets are food Sophia is a poopie head Potato.
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Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 10:44 AM UTC
A poem for sophia paredes
She cooked the final meals at the gaol, Collected the hangman’s clothes, For he inherited everything Of the hanged man, heaven knows. She gave the widows the twist of rope That he’d used to hang their men, It all came down to the widow Crope And whether she liked you, then. She’d interview the widow-to-be With a questionnairre or two, About her man, was he handy, and What did he like to do? Then later, in the condemned man’s cell She’d say that she’d cut him free, ‘You’ll never see your woman again, So all you have left is me.’ Her husband had died on the gallows, so She’d known of that final ***** A widow Kerr had done it for her Before she was widow Crope. Then down beneath that terrible drop She would wait for him to appear, Hang on his feet, as well as not While he kicked at the air in fear. Then once that the corpse was pale and still She’d take it down to the morgue, Lay it out on a slab, and then She’d borrow the gaoler’s sword. And while they were pouring the candlewax For a later hanging in chain, She’d slice a couple of fingers off For the rings that were hers to claim. But then she might, in an act of spite Cut off a dead man’s hand, Dip it well in the candlewax And walk it late through the land. She’d light the end of the fingertips And carry it like a torch, Making her way where the widow lay And spike it, out on her porch. And wives would say as their husbands lay, ‘Don’t mess with the widow Crope, If ever the hangman comes, that day She may be your final hope.’ And those awaiting a capital case Would sit with their husbands there, And tell them that it would be okay In that final act of despair. She’d never worn anything else but black, She called them her widows weeds, But never, she said, felt safe from attack For her husband’s evil deeds, She finally married the hangman, Jed, And handed the job to her, An hour since she’d hung on his legs And made her the widow Claire. David Lewis Paget
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Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 9:51 AM UTC
The Widow Crope
She cooked the final meals at the gaol, Collected the hangman’s clothes, For he inherited everything Of the hanged man, heaven knows. She gave the widows the twist of rope That he’d used to hang their men, It all came down to the widow Crope And whether she liked you, then. She’d interview the widow-to-be With a questionnairre or two, About her man, was he handy, and What did he like to do? Then later, in the condemned man’s cell She’d say that she’d cut him free, ‘You’ll never see your woman again, So all you have left is me.’ Her husband had died on the gallows, so She’d known of that final ***** A widow Kerr had done it for her Before she was widow Crope. Then down beneath that terrible drop She would wait for him to appear, Hang on his feet, as well as not While he kicked at the air in fear. Then once that the corpse was pale and still She’d take it down to the morgue, Lay it out on a slab, and then She’d borrow the gaoler’s sword. And while they were pouring the candlewax For a later hanging in chain, She’d slice a couple of fingers off For the rings that were hers to claim. But then she might, in an act of spite Cut off a dead man’s hand, Dip it well in the candlewax And walk it late through the land. She’d light the end of the fingertips And carry it like a torch, Making her way where the widow lay And spike it, out on her porch. And wives would say as their husbands lay, ‘Don’t mess with the widow Crope, If ever the hangman comes, that day She may be your final hope.’ And those awaiting a capital case Would sit with their husbands there, And tell them that it would be okay In that final act of despair. She’d never worn anything else but black, She called them her widows weeds, But never, she said, felt safe from attack For her husband’s evil deeds, She finally married the hangman, Jed, And handed the job to her, An hour since she’d hung on his legs And made her the widow Claire. David Lewis Paget
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Jacky John jugs juice jungle Jim's juggle Jumping Jill's jabot Jeff's June Jay Jed Jud Jid"s jade July's jabberwocky jabiru Jan jabs Jake! Jack's jackaroo Jackson Jacob's jubilant Jacket! jAcKpOt!
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Apr 17, 2010
Apr 17, 2010 at 8:06 AM UTC
J
Hush now Baby, don't you cry. Momma's gonna sing you a lullaby. Daddy's gonna stay up all through the night To keep those Creepies from creepin' in. Easy Darlin', rest your head. We'll check the closet, and under the bed. The front door's bein' guarded by our old hound dog Jed To keep the Creepies from creepin' in. (When I was small I wasn't too tall at all, In fact I was a tadpole like you... My Dad and Mom stayed up all night long To keep the Creepies from creepin' into my room) So hush now Baby, close your eyes. Mommy's gonna' sing you some sweet by-and-bys. And I'll be right here, next to your side To keep the Creepies from creepin' in.
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Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 2:59 PM UTC
The Creepies (a lullaby in G)
Barely made it to bed in my drunken stupor Close to being dead **** don't know if I made it to the right homestead Hell for all  I know it could have been someone's shed With the bed spinning, "Lord a waterbed"?? The way I feel I think I have become the undead .. In this drunken stupor Passed out Woke up And the cutest little Redhead was laying next to me Someone that I have wed ???? Maybe dreaming instead? Might drink some more getting ready for what might be ahead.. No!! She turned over and looked at me and said "I thought you were Jed" Oh **** I am dead !!! I ain't Jed I said But you can stay right here next to me "In your bed"?? **** this girl was fine a purebred Redhead No it could not be, a knock at the door She looked over at me and said "Honey" " I think it's Jed" I jumped out of bed grabbed my pants, shirt and boots Naked as a J-Bird Ran out the back door Thinking **** you Jed!! I wanted that little Redhead                 !!
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Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
Drunken stupor
ed med head shed ped jed led dead bed ted qed yedi ved zed ied pled said sed wed yhed snnjsndderped bfjnskjnkjnknkfnodosjnfkjdnksfnned ned nnnsanjnskjgnweojfnoenofgnowenofjoshogowornfewiuogniwied ewkbveihqiuvehiwgihg13g4gkbkjfbsdkfbjhdbf87sy87ysded !#@REDFGV#JKUIL&(&^Y%TEWRFGFDHFJHKGUL)^+_)OZXC>ed IHAVEAPhD-ed wazup-ed imsmartererthanu-ed ifurreadingthisurweird-ed
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May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
superer ryming poem
I found a skeleton of a bus so far into the pines, I knew it had been dropped from the sky, to save me   they had to be far behind, the other side of the stream, where those hounds lost my scent     Jed and Tonto didn’t follow me across the shallows, and I’d bet all the money I ever stole those curs and the posse ate them up     there was almost half a moon, though inside the bus was black; outside was freezing drizzle pattering on the roof   the coat I filched was soaked     my trousers too--nobody told me Alabama got this cold   if they had I wouldn’t have believed them until that night   I curled up in a ball behind the driver’s seat, shoved my frozen hands in my shirt     then I heard that hiss, and saw those eyes--I stayed quiet, more quiet even than when I hid from John law     then she growled, deep, slow but I kept watching her eyes--emerald and still, still in the place I first saw them     then we were both silent   I’d  *** my drawers before I’d move freeze outside... get ate inside   the hours passed fast; I drifted, dreamed a little of being back inside, and woke when the sun hit the cracked windshield     she was still there with two cubs nursing, now used to my smell I suppose, since she didn’t jump   when I slid down the bus stairs into the frosty grass, where I saw a doe chewing forbs, close to the roots   lucky the lion had her babes stuck to her teats, lucky I was between the cat and prey, lucky the bus was in that grove
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Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 11:50 PM UTC
deliverance
I found a skeleton of a bus so far into the pines, I knew it had been dropped from the sky, to save me   they had to be far behind, the other side of the stream, where those hounds lost my scent     Jed and Tonto didn’t follow me across the shallows, and I’d bet all the money I ever stole those curs and the posse ate them up     there was almost half a moon, though inside the bus was black; outside was freezing drizzle pattering on the roof   the coat I filched was soaked     my trousers too--nobody told me Alabama got this cold   if they had I wouldn’t have believed them until that night   I curled up in a ball behind the driver’s seat, shoved my frozen hands in my shirt     then I heard that hiss, and saw those eyes--I stayed quiet, more quiet even than when I hid from John law     then she growled, deep, slow but I kept watching her eyes--emerald and still, still in the place I first saw them     then we were both silent   I’d  *** my drawers before I’d move freeze outside... get ate inside   the hours passed fast; I drifted, dreamed a little of being back inside, and woke when the sun hit the cracked windshield     she was still there with two cubs nursing, now used to my smell I suppose, since she didn’t jump   when I slid down the bus stairs into the frosty grass, where I saw a doe chewing forbs, close to the roots   lucky the lion had her babes stuck to her teats, lucky I was between the cat and prey, lucky the bus was in that grove
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42
I've always ment to tell you that you weren't my first love you weren't the thing that took my breathe away I remember my first love it was the first time I smelt a Bonfire and saw my friends playing there bongos and singing silly songs. I remember them ashes dancing in the sky as I took my shirt off and felt the wine run down my belly. I remember hearing the fire crackle with the sound of our laughter I remember seeing Jed throwing big *** wood logs into the fire God he was strong (dead now from a car surfing drinking and driving accident) I remember falling in the love that moment It was such a simple night but that night was the last time all of my friends were together before life suffocated everyone before school schedules and baby showers took over before everyone turned to ******* Life Chasers instead of Dream Makers. Now I'm sitting here and wondering do we all just forget how to live one day do we all just give in to the way society wants us to be do we all just forget how to live. I miss that night and I dream about it every night and if I could relive that day I'd replay it over and over and over because we were all free that night we were just kids singing,dancing,and laughing.
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Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 1:05 AM UTC
Just Kids Singing,Laughing,and Dancing-
Charleston Fashion Week added $3.5 million to the local economy this year, an increase of 20 percent over 2014. Organizers of the event, sponsored by Baker Motor Company in the spring, announced Thursday attendance grew to more than 7,500, a new record. The five-day event also boosted the local economy, according to Wayne Smith of the College of Charleston. According to the college’s findings, total expenditure per out-of-town attendee averaged $1,900; the event drew more than 275 million media impressions including TV, print, radio and online; its social media reach was more than 6.5 million; and 85 percent of those sampled said they would return next year. Since the event in March, eight of the participating models have signed with national model agencies, including Directions USA, Elite Direct, Elite NYC and Wilhelmina Miami. “We are thrilled with the continued success of Baker Motor Company Charleston Fashion Week and the recent survey results reinforce the growing economic impact of the event,” said Jed Drew, president of Gulfstream Communications, which owns and produces Charleston Fashion Week. Dates for the 2016 event will be announced later this summer.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/pink-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/blue-formal-dresses
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May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
Fashion Week adds $3.5 million to Charleston economy, up 20%
Kav's arrow struck clear and true The Legend Jedediah fell Spurting blood a scarlet hue Knowing this would not end well Kav ran to the Legend's side Stared at him with bright blue eyes Watching as the Legend died Tears of blood the young boy cries News of Jedediah's death Causing city final rest Reached the eager ears of Beth Kav would be named Legend's Best Upon return the young man carried The body of the Legend Jed Face was red, the boy was weary Knowing his worst foe lay dead Beth approached the boy on steed To see the face of Forsaken One Squirming with a thwarted need She turned to Kav, said "Thank you son" Standing over Legends face She couldn't stifle out her cries Her husband lay in burlap lace Her husband lay in his demise Closing shut his bright blue eyes Withered hands and jeweled shield Simple silent sordid sighs Death of love this day did yield
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Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
Forsaken One - Part V
Anytime i've had a little wine, and i'm feeling as if the world is against me, certain memories like to flood my brain. One time I almost told you I loved you because I knew you wanted to hear it. and another time I let you put your tongue down my throat, because I knew you wanted to do that, too. Who was I to say no? You were nice. You let me pick all the records out. You bought all the wine. You let me talk and complain, and talk and complain. So who was I to say no? Want another ***** cranberry? yes Want to take this hydrocodone? sure My friend is in town and has real good coke! ok lets do it Motels. Boxed wine. Cigarettes. Pills. (my love language apparently) I can still see myself wandering the narrow halls of a highway budget motel, looking for an escape, but knowing there wasn't one. You were passed out on the bed, exhausted from a night of drugs and drunk *** (Oh, you poor, tireless thing!) You looked dead almost. Dead but pleased. It pleased me to think maybe you were dead. Then I realized that would be a complete **** situation. I sat there and poured a glass of wine and stared at you. (by glass of wine, I mean cup of wine. The thin plastic mouthwash cups that come with the motel room) Nope, not dead. So I took the hotel key and snuck out with the plan of not returning, as if I could actually get away with it. I found myself at the motel pool. I lit up the last cigarette and sat there. I think my soul left my body as I listened to the cars zoom by on the highway. The freedom they had. They were going home to their loved ones. Or, at least they weren't stranded at a 1 star motel with a master manipulator. I sat there, wrapped in the invisible chains of lies and regret. Just sat there. Soul-less. And then it dawned on me.. I can't leave. I can't make this grand escape I had planned in my head. So out went the cigarette, and out went the light in our motel room. As I crawled into bed, You were snoring and the sun was about to come up. I had never wanted a sunrise more in my life. And you just laid there and snored, as I lied there wishing I had more drugs to put me out of my misery
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Jan 3, 2022
Jan 3, 2022 at 12:55 AM UTC
jed
Anytime i've had a little wine, and i'm feeling as if the world is against me, certain memories like to flood my brain. One time I almost told you I loved you because I knew you wanted to hear it. and another time I let you put your tongue down my throat, because I knew you wanted to do that, too. Who was I to say no? You were nice. You let me pick all the records out. You bought all the wine. You let me talk and complain, and talk and complain. So who was I to say no? Want another ***** cranberry? yes Want to take this hydrocodone? sure My friend is in town and has real good coke! ok lets do it Motels. Boxed wine. Cigarettes. Pills. (my love language apparently) I can still see myself wandering the narrow halls of a highway budget motel, looking for an escape, but knowing there wasn't one. You were passed out on the bed, exhausted from a night of drugs and drunk *** (Oh, you poor, tireless thing!) You looked dead almost. Dead but pleased. It pleased me to think maybe you were dead. Then I realized that would be a complete **** situation. I sat there and poured a glass of wine and stared at you. (by glass of wine, I mean cup of wine. The thin plastic mouthwash cups that come with the motel room) Nope, not dead. So I took the hotel key and snuck out with the plan of not returning, as if I could actually get away with it. I found myself at the motel pool. I lit up the last cigarette and sat there. I think my soul left my body as I listened to the cars zoom by on the highway. The freedom they had. They were going home to their loved ones. Or, at least they weren't stranded at a 1 star motel with a master manipulator. I sat there, wrapped in the invisible chains of lies and regret. Just sat there. Soul-less. And then it dawned on me.. I can't leave. I can't make this grand escape I had planned in my head. So out went the cigarette, and out went the light in our motel room. As I crawled into bed, You were snoring and the sun was about to come up. I had never wanted a sunrise more in my life. And you just laid there and snored, as I lied there wishing I had more drugs to put me out of my misery
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37
I go off again, a bit Jed Clampett, wrapped in my blanket oil on my hair. Hillbillies everywhere. Millionaires the lot of them, mountain men come down to town to spread their money, ***** brown hair,long lank greasy,there's a one with no shirt on. I go off again into Beverly, it's very loverly, Ma, is making tea in china cups.
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Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
'A man named Jed..'
Elly May, It used to be you were one click away, But no longer so I'm bound to say,, How much I miss you Elly May. Suddenly, I'm not half as fond of old TV, There's no subtle sexuality, Oh, Elly May where can you be. Why'd she Have to go I don't know, they wouldn't say. Now there, Is no Jed or Jethro or Elly May. Elly May, In the ce-ment pond you used to play, With your private zoo in lingerie, Oh, how I miss you Elly May. Why'd she Have to go I don't know, they wouldn't say. Now there, Is no Jed or Jethro or Elly May. Elly May, Love for you was all that made my day, Now I need a place to hide away, Oh, how I miss you Elly May. Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm.
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May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
Elly May
Living a life of hate fighting impossible battles unable to defeat it. My hate continues to grow nothing worse than fearing fear itself. Scared of the possibilities cowered in fear the smell of must and mildew crisp in the air managing life or death caused by my own hands never before a battle ever won trying to tame Jed always wanting out to hurt love ones not caring for their feelings wanting to destroy, incapacitate especially the one named William when will we reunite becoming one instead of split for he is a part of me a part that wants to wake hated among men Jedadaya my demon my brethren my father my cousin my best friend for without him I would be nothing but a figment of the imagination.
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Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
Jed
Bright blue eyes and withered hands Jedediah took his swing Steel cut sword with ****** bands Steel on steel again it rings Solotris was not new to dance The dance of battle he knew well Caught in swordplay's gripping trance Silent, he ****** Jed to hell Fast they moved without a thought Wordless plays ran through their head Remembering what they'd been taught Though Solotris would soon lay dead Jedediah could not lose Not before he knew the truth Doomed to either sword or noose He just wanted to know who Who his star-crossed lover was He'd fought through all of hell to find He never had the chance because He left his loving past behind Spirits low and bounty high He slaughtered might Solotris But withered hands let arrow fly The arrow, it had found it's niche
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Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
Forsaken One - Part IV
Jed charged forth with a mighty roar Karadain was first to fight Thunder ripped and skies they tore The clash of swords was an awesome sight Karadain, he moved with grace Jedediah stood his ground Every slash and ****** a waste Parried with a ringing sound Jed's claymore soon made it's mark Silence played a simple song He ****** it through Karadain's heart To take a life was never wrong Solotris bowed his head in shame Friend or not he didn't care Life was gone as soon it came It seemed the fight was hardly fair Drawing faith in many spades Solotris began to march Courage was what courage made He raised his sword in a deadly arch
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Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 1:28 PM UTC
Forsaken One - Part III
In Spanish class, my teacher told me to answer the question "When you were a kid, did you tell lies?" I answered, in Spanish, "Yes, I lied a lot." And the class laughed. The teacher exasperated, "Ohhhhh, well then." With a smile embedded on his face. And I smiled, too. Because it wasn't a lie. She told me to stop protecting her from what I do Because she would always find out And I guess it would be easier to hear About it from my lips Than in a poem or on social media Because then, I'm guessing here, She could hug me. And I could possibly let her in. And I want to do that. But, When I was a little girl, I lied a lot. And now, I'm not such a little girl And lies spill from my mouth And I really don't know why. She almost had me in tears today People don't do that to me I cried when Rebecca found out I cried in front of White I cried when I told Kristi, both times I cried when Ali and I talked back in June about it I cry at the thought of Jed and Eric finding out I cried the day after I started because of Savanna And now she has me crying And I can't stop and I don't want anything To break because I can't stop being broken But what are you supposed to do When shards of glass keep being Thrown like knives at what I love I never think it will be me doing the throwing. I've got seven years bad luck And a broken mirror in my art box.
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Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 7:00 PM UTC
I Have This Tendency to Lie
You are more than enough. You have always been. Never feel worthless just because someone made you feel that way. You are amazing with your scars and imperfections. Remember this, you are worth fighting for. written by: Jed Castro
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Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 7:34 AM UTC
Am I not enough?
launched Meghan Markle into royalty American divorcee catapulted from “AA” to “Zed” at break neck speed, and with cachet wed Prince Harry, and soon twill begetting, bestowing, and bewitching her chromo somal thread (complementing, furthering, and weaving together "Quod Erat Demonstrandum", or QED for short) within United Kingdom coat of arms, perhaps naming the first heir Ned, and according one online dictionary definition and ken translates as French (Old English) name Eadmund, meaning rich or happy, and protective akin to a mother hen, not just mollycoddling hatchlings, but even shelling out care on a wing and a prayer long after offspring fly the coop and been fending for themselves, perhaps merely earning chicken scratch wage, assigning doomed fate, sans cooked usage if perchance "chick(s)" go thru a foul stage within their duff fenceless hierarchy, where pecking order doth rage worse case scenario, would presage finding errant peep(s) sent to gaol, not much bigger than a bird cage, unless they comprise noble henny age, ideally taken in as a pet by newly bridled Duchess of Sussex treated like totally tubularly true blue blood with opulent accommodations (cheaply) tricked out with life size Tyrannosaurus Rex (spoiler alert: actually done with special effe Hex with latest computer graphics showing rippling reptiles flex sing and holo graphic smoky mirrors) intending "FAKE" balances and checks to boondoggle aggressive paparazzi, one of whom includes Meghan Markle's ex.
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Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 7:29 PM UTC
Trevor Jed Engelson Unwittingly...
launched Meghan Markle into royalty American divorcee catapulted from “AA” to “Zed” at break neck speed, and with cachet wed Prince Harry, and soon twill begetting, bestowing, and bewitching her chromo somal thread (complementing, furthering, and weaving together "Quod Erat Demonstrandum", or QED for short) within United Kingdom coat of arms, perhaps naming the first heir Ned, and according one online dictionary definition and ken translates as French (Old English) name Eadmund, meaning rich or happy, and protective akin to a mother hen, not just mollycoddling hatchlings, but even shelling out care on a wing and a prayer long after offspring fly the coop and been fending for themselves, perhaps merely earning chicken scratch wage, assigning doomed fate, sans cooked usage if perchance "chick(s)" go thru a foul stage within their duff fenceless hierarchy, where pecking order doth rage worse case scenario, would presage finding errant peep(s) sent to gaol, not much bigger than a bird cage, unless they comprise noble henny age, ideally taken in as a pet by newly bridled Duchess of Sussex treated like totally tubularly true blue blood with opulent accommodations (cheaply) tricked out with life size Tyrannosaurus Rex (spoiler alert: actually done with special effe Hex with latest computer graphics showing rippling reptiles flex sing and holo graphic smoky mirrors) intending "FAKE" balances and checks to boondoggle aggressive paparazzi, one of whom includes Meghan Markle's ex.
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Mr Smith. Jedediah fire and sand opened up the promised land. A mountain lion for sure was he tamed Missouri and made tracks to California, through Oregon and down the trail explorer Jed would without fail make entries in his journal and these are the writings of a greater man.
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Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 2:20 PM UTC
Mr Smith 1798-1830