A poem I'm also working on of over 2000 lines about why I can write a poem of over 2000 lines. Basically I worked on a fine foor shot deringer after commiting to many other projects. I was a sweet little thing. Just four little lines. I carried it arround with me. I discover my back was getting better I was going to be slowly more crippled. People had been bothering me. I wanted to stop them I wanted to win at something. In a moment it turned into a Machine gun. Up to 20 lines just let it roll out. It fell only to that use. I had to want to change it. ETC. WANT AND WHAT? It's in this form for now. Those were as they should be.
So much for protecting the Galaxy from evil. It's just about our HUT.
Some stole from most now dead. They bragged of it in 1998. Someone here now wants my part with them. My father is holding the Logging hook and in my memory. He's wondering if it will be able to pull the frame of the car outside. I laughed about what you could do with it years before.
A Masters Degree in teaching ART. Vocation Carpenter. Who am I?