Friday, August 11, 2006

A poem about farmers


Farmers live out in the country
isolated from civilization
bury small things in the dirt
which in turn grow into bigger creatures

the farmer sells most
eats some

morticians bury dead people in deep holes
they put them in boxes to avoid being confused with farmers
nothing grows
they put markers up to remember where the box is

pirates bury boxes too
but they do it in secret
and make a map to remember where their box is

they put their money in the box
and dig it up before they retire
(unless they are killed)

farmers don't have money
and rarely get fancy burials

Farmers unite
on a growing expanse
discuss agriculture
step on the plants


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This is the perfect poem for my step-mother who is a farmer. however she is so fastidious and I prefer don't share this with her, because probably she is not gonna be so happy, but something it's true, the poem is fantastic.
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buy generic viagra said...

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