By-Tor.com

I had to mash this up a bit better after rushing around

Don't tell me the potatoe got raided in the refrigerator
tator tears in me spud eyes, for who steals my potatoe chip
pie. Yams be me pinching pitch forks full of eyes and ears holes
I hear that lonely potatoe all fluffed up and no where to go.
in the ground scatered all around.. pitch to pick em up... sow em to grow em
just watch out for the mold or you'll grow old

may the spuds yam you all night long

at any rate geddy up, I didn't watch the game.
I never got into sports other than ice skating you know last one picked and picked on, kind of a nerd.

What did you do when the volley ball came your way? I can't tell you I ALWAYS stepped aside...

Wielded worms infiltrate private lives spitting out documents for evil eyes. Potatoes hide in the dirt but the carrots march in one unbreakable block. Their feathered tops sway in unison as they go to ground. Potato chips, a tasty treat for sightless mouths. Licked lips are silenced by their greedy teeth.

Origami words folding into society's relentless whirl wind of locust devouring fields of humanity "OR" riding a rainbow on soft breezes...it's up to you!

Their structures don't last forever...blown away in the wind...I ride the wind how about you?

If'n the wind dunna ged em, the fire will.

Vini, vidi, vici...
venit summa die et vestigna ineluctable tempus
venieti occurrite morbo
vestigna

prima nocti

first night and.....?



Well, he once killed a man with a guitar string. He's been seen at the table with kings. Well, he once saved a baby from drowning. There are those who say beneath his coat--there are wings.

I didn't write that, don't know who did but... I liked it.

Dear Dr. Spud,

Is the frost done yet or should I wait until mid-May to plant non-hardies?

Signed,

Not Really Ready to Plant, butt Nosey

Me Dear Dr Spudly,

Time spent wasted or used well flows by slow but steady faster now quick decisions or well thought out go and flow up down bobbing along gurgling over rocks and down hills singing a song moving right along there is no stopping it but sometimes time stands still.

Signed, The moments that make up a dull day

Dear Doc,

It's almost spring. Have you sprung?

Signed,

Garden Fever

Dear Doc.

I made mashed potatos the other day when I skined them they shrieked. Bare naked white flesh squeazed easily through the prongs of my fork. The resulting mess was a delight.

Signed,
What have I done.

Dear What Have I Done,

Nothing my friend...

Two good eyes and still can't see a field of death, just one more from too many. Conspiracy among friends... sex, babies and death, let the animals feed and the maggots get their fill. Of course we'll still hear the field mice off in the distance.

Love,
Spuds

Dear Doc,

The idiots pile high on the bait like writhing maggot orgies sucking up rotten words. Looking for new dead books but drying up on the pages, just add water.

Signed,
Parasite Behaviorist