iii – Our Due Tact as Fresh.

…you have little perception, having never yet considered what sort of antagonists you will encounter in the Athenians, how widely, how absolutely different from yourselves [Thucydides, The Peloponnesian War, I: 70 (New York: Encyclopedia Britannica), p. 366].

iii — Our Due Tact as Fresh.

      Hosed in ethnic hair dryers, envious for pain, a stained ant poet mightily heaved, noting to high men, “et tu, lizard, a new Bobo is met: deliver spent comet ions.”

      As Fortescue put doubt evenly, that nominal varsity bathed all this rare wok. Ripe futons he burned, a moot tithe in whose great day rink gospel zipped. How had a silky Whig whiffed each zero need? Why, their teen non–Goth engines then bogeyed to India!

      More dry viral spice, tamed, might puke on a fruitier bumpkin, denoting anointed wapiti poems, thick eco–myth bed sneezer logic, or a calf–like fob in Niles’ marmalade is it.

. . .

      A dingy owl saw her folly, a pointless pace toward Cork. A chain medley silo circle stew got so reeky, I blew a light nap fondly nepenthe. Goths lifted huge, horny Ohio Fanta as prudent pirates tow hot haggis. Pending Mommsen’s phenyl cairn, Gaga breathed in grog casks.

      When a neat guide toted menthol behind a mask of doom, she wove marvel lies: “Dr. Toad’s trapped muskrat can’t speed or route rude death, sir.” Tinned music irked a third bed gun scene as wilting ale mold, if Imus’ diners repelled a mondo pantry moistening.

      “Didn’t skin fads do tough, thin icons due mistletoe for Idaho elocution singles, Pip?” Peppery goners sat near any mental sting. Made to fake Smitty’s dynamite fence, each term shall dish canny fire.

      This way, too meek for these tunes that cut hayseed poetry, vaunted a hot bit in prone potty snow. Lulu’s raging kite, lithe under iron Oz, tithes in honest, heaped photo chairs, if Thales cured me of Geiger brain lint (hint: paved grout, mopey nepotism, Mike’s murrain, thus met, lunges).

      “Never fear, your hoax toted in silent lulls.” The now keen, shiny wags girthed some entire airs often. One mome giant, esteemed in tirades for rats, left Ohio to vital funk. Hirohito’s poem segued grids as their women shied, on The View, warm ‘taters thought yawny. A dashing white stain dallied, if better than homey comfort minuets.

      Wishing tithes on Trudi, I stumbled in fear aloud, shards of our prime nova saluted. Our wives sense enthusiasm, a white heat this trait catered. Theda mashed old apple dumps, alive to halibut, and spotted two fine thuds a vile Bonzo. As I had hyped their moaning stripe, old wet heaves were indeed up a poi bay.

. . .

      Not one voice–flop Sufi bummer bunted vipers ere gaily booting forth names. Near glancing, “later, sire,” moped thin, art surfing tuba–thons on mome text. A huge monocle adhered, mod at houses, and poems for gruel pled what e. e. is. Fastly fit, the agnostic nuncio rode fey fustian. Up loomed a mace, claiming, with adult font, mostly Fiesta Bowl blend.

      Louche yet trendy, a Cafe of Simka barged ill rhymes: Ever Doom My Rare Hip Motto, then Sign Nor Mix Met, or In Vaunted Dour Theater Coins II. Better, Hesiod sat ickily in a dairy, where his data won’t register mere mastodon heats. Mum was to remain in magnet prose until sporty for porn elf yarns.

      Seismic with Tahiti cotton, Dora, awash in a far fad, saw tomes closed. Sybil, retarding a flame, ran ahead in themes kept apart to meet our short owl at dawn. Here, its fully good chef made both eggs in paved, drab shine, faked their wish, yet e. e., the feaster, aware of Mohammed, amended steam on Jung’s dean.

      At dawn’s fake beard, on clad trash (whose malt diorama dealt chichi pesto on rich widows), men again agreed, between sodden snorts, that gaudy pink stretch limos hushed theft of pure love chants into proper venting. If Suharto’s flush steel bonsai delivers pain, we dove into dimwit mittens and rushed, citing dank, silent, plain, oily titles, to browse written nuts worth seeing.

      Elvis, slumping on a porch, knew Ruby’s yo–yo hoop had gained her orb, whose eyes saw that ink for widows hugged our dim squander eke stains. Yet, here must Marley mob for my vote on fair lace, i.e., a timid rose menu can’t heed any perished pixies’ path. What a tote will heave pots to buy most ego yawn banks!

       Wedding those doo–doos had drawn a baker to owe acute study to hew some forestry theme, for halon waves governed castles worth Io’s spitting sitar trove. Wild, she drummed against her buddy upon this etude. These Moors brooded on dull margin finks sold a wormy empire coat.

      No one tacitly fired, orca pacts swore she fled this scone to thirst for real feeding lest filled. Lilted and wroth, a fig embezzler quit. Folk can roof a CIA, whose AI owed miso to fear town airs: modest for the hawked fringe, hexed plainly, and metrical.

. . .

       The primate voided a troika poshly modish, bid to a tepid chomp berth ere Israel flew to Congreve’s divot chants. A few doilies pronged by vita, soon Iggy’s (in a self–tenet) yeti altered a spoken fluff at Delhi, lit an oblation, and left a waif sober.

       Is a tropic scorn fairer than leaving in nine giant eyes? Yet to cinch mono, I can’t swear, yet you fork a rash Irish net. Breathy yet new seas, lucent as wasps, waned when into cocoa fame cures. Rarely, a crew upon our fire clearing cannot try open force on teen milieu.

       The zebra made flighty dough suing our eyes, a bland gain whose vast white farm eroded all kooky miles in humid pragmatic Racine’s low slime. I hid in lazier poet gin, but ranted, at Tunisian smog, “what rich hay we made at Heidi,” i.e., I learned the Gordian charm due all fine hunky total plastic AI, saw a giant gas uncle pair woe with vinegar pesto and win Amy (any Ming school elf briefed a stingy clap on paler cure), and wore filthy ghetto Gucci mint. My fast elfsy loan of neon wigwam buffed Tahiti pet Sanka.

      A true lemon tried their tin Comcast. Barely exhaling wintry kefir on wetter milk, it bought an honest hack grip. Their bad home prunes, pitting moiré serpent wode, touched near a new waif omen. The hermit winked of when a shire–blessed witch contained solid frets and emitted hammy cheer.

      Fifi slid near iron calf coin and cherubs had a snack opened so muggy Gaelic, taught in a fading wish, crept over lost e. e. for jam glue. Ogled IOUs kept a neutron swept in due woe.

2/4/2013 11:05:26 AM.
Advertisements

3 thoughts on “iii – Our Due Tact as Fresh.

  1. WONDERFUL Post.thanks for share… waiting for more.
    moving company http://www.myescapades.com/member/159962/

  2. number of links on the decline. The ranking is also reduced. So it is best artificial seriously release,

    • Heidi says:

      Excellent points, Jill. You’ll alawys get more buy in by being genuine and humble. Arrogance is an immediate barricade to achieving a breakthrough with a client or group. Having known you since our pre high school days, I’ve alawys known you to be completely dedicated to your goals, while still maintaining many close friendships and just being fun to be around!Your ability to capitalize on your own strengths has alawys been uncanny, yet you have alawys been a warm, approachable, and caring human being. Your numerous successes in your business and other areas of your personal life are a tribute to that dedication, living what you believe, and helping others realize similar goals and dreams. It is truly a joy to see and hear about your achievements and successes because you make us feel as if we have been a part of the process along the way!

Comments are closed.