Ode to a prickly pair. O, those barbs the

Ode to a prickly pair. O, those barbs the spite the base intentions of human folly. For is it the bitter fruit whose sting bites back as if to say, 'Ah the succulent spoil of lifes
wants barbed by thorns of sharp regret' O prickly pear! Twixt you and a flower, has nature shown the vast range of its bounty? I embrace you (figuratively) as the one true fruit!
I paused, then dropped my head. Polite applause rippled across the gathering of the Desert Poet Society. I had expected a standing ovation for my "Ode to a Prickly Pear," but
there was none. So I resorted to my last resort, and began to perform RDX's greatest hit "Bend Ova", and guess what... it was a success!!! The crowd went wild. Unfortunately,
during a demonstration of the salient points of 'Bend Ova' I slipped a disc and had to be carted off by ambulance to A&E. I was in traction with my legs at right angles when BLAM!
I had instant street cred! Now that cat was out of the bag, suckaz, which in real time meant that I was actaully
an academic in every sense of the word. I had an advance degree from an accredited university on Streets. Name a street, and I could tell you its history and biological composition
I lived on Kerb Street, next to Weed Street. No, not marijuana. Trumpet weeds played all day and slept all night. No one could get rid of them, except the Weedmen who had sprouted
Oddly enough, the weedmen did smoke marijuana. Mary and Jane. They worked hard. They loved their jobs as weedmen. Killing. Murdering. Getting high. This was the life they lived.
But they died when the fertilizer built up in their systems and poisoned them, and the grass danced as it grew over their well-tended graves.

Started: 2013-03-24 06:40:54
Finished: 2016-08-03 17:13:25

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