Farscaping
A fastening in a dark abode — no disjoint humour to honour my instinct remains, the penny far-thing is not to be viewed as an object of coveted disrepresentation but a bound vehicle, isolated to only one man, in his infancy, of remaining discontinunation, that a love affair so bright, not of two, but of one, claims the remains of a beast in one wheel with a foot off, and a foot on, but not secure in it’s ill representation, for only one man, but of none. Is the child, gone? Perhaps, a fastening in blight remains, a vision for the future, but a rewind backwards, to ill representation of the vehicle so highly coveted, that new in it’s eager beginnings reverse to epic discontuination, the penny far-thing remains, unseated, but a man has his eye on the prize. Is it his? Is the prize for him? You can only guess, that yes, the old man, in his pyjamas so eagerly portrayed, is just something of a light of ill begotten vision. A child on a penny farthing is an ill footing, of a vision gone wrong, but a nice heartly buzz, in the frequency gone wrong, finds the toppled child on the floor, with the old man, fastening his eager beginnings bleak, that no discontunation found, would complete, without a bad on a bleak tricycle of disproportioned eager loss. Is it secure? I doubt it much? As the penny farthing, is not a bike for a man of lowly discompassionate dispute, but for a child in eager journeys blind, to stationary construct of past blind missions secured.
The back wheel
Why flaunter over the back wheel bent out of proportion, when the ill representatation found, is no blight, to the early starter, in his insecure position blind? The penny-farthing, is a back wheel first, in re-construction that a vehicle of newly constructed blind misproportions would eagerly anticipate a lack of worth, in a vehicle of magnitute, blinded by found obstactle dim. Are we so eager to reconstruct failed beginnings? Or is an eager discontinuation to obstacles in fresh remains, the construction of the passage so fondly met, to arrive at a contuination of the wheel of fortune, on which a pedastal remains, so aptly prized, yet so fondly forgetton, the two men in absolute love could barely fit, their tidings so bland, to secure in one, an obstacle so ill fit, to meet, that only one, may take the prize, to secure two pedals, but of none. So, eager contuination of a disjoint architecture blind, would meet with a tricycle but of disrepresentation for two men, who love a joint ride for eager futile discontuination, that a reconstruction is worth viewing, in the architecture so crude, to illuminate the full specification of the outward design so aptly conveyed.
The back seat
A seat on a throne, on a throne of neither, why push a winner of the architecture so misrepresented to a lowly discontinued construct, that a blind passenger in it’s viewing could barely secure both pedals blind? And the infant in the tricycle, so hell bent, on its viewing to secure, could see, idle speculation of the construct in view, that what is it for today? But the penny far-thing. The illumination of two old men, each on a pedal in blind fitting bland, to secure nothing really, but immature, proposals, so aptly conveyed, that a child in it’s viewing, could fit both men on the tricle found, and the child, on top, to secure both footing on it’s viewing so crudely yet aptly conveyed, that no viewing but the child’s is off the ill men bent, in their crude vehicles so shabbly bound, to misrepresented roads that immature hands, with idle, constructs, do fondly meet. So, pick one blind, the child cares, or watch the ride with both hands secured. I am a gated obstruction the child pedals, but going nowhere soon, the child just remains, secured, and running amuck in the vehicle so aptly constructed that no eye would see the history mistake, that history remains in it’s infancy to view, just an old man, fitted securely, with his white beard. and nothing left, but a love for the vehicle, in it’s infancy found.
Historical flaw
An early flaw in the design, designed so newly captivated, the old man, secures both pedals blind, nothing really to see, but a stationary position on a dark construct, that no blind man would ever ride a vehicle so eagerly anticipated in old restarts fresh. Am I a man of dignified re-entry, ponders the man, stroking his invisible beard, with eyes, that banish false accusations dim? Perhaps, the old man, scratches his left arm bright, that blunt idol gems, in futures discontuned models, can no longer, be so bleak, that lift, the eye in desperate accusations bright, to find, the failings of the architectures, so brightly captured, of a dark construct, in the design so bright, that historical misrepresentations, require a closer inspection, on the direction of the vehicle in hind-sight, but in high-sight so bright, that the front wheel in it’s early beginnings, can be found, brightly discontinuted, the one lowly wheel, and the bigger construct? Perhaps, it is not worthy to mention, a greasing of the old model, would require careful inspection, for two prototypes bland, viewing in a rare anticipation crude, that a second look, on a day so bleak, would find rain pouring, on the umbrella crude, that one bike secured, the penny far-thing, could be crudely and naively fleshed out, to it’s eager construct, but darkened ending. Perhaps, the construct, is a filthy idea, but in it’s infancy, why be so cruel than to view the whole, in early beginnings, in late fastening so rare, that the ground floor, on the construct so dim, could brighten, the old man, to ragely disamusment blind, that no eye except the truth, could offer, pastors of great disworth, in a dim view, of the clouds so grim, to construct such a passage of time, so aptly reconstructed — the penny far-thing. Nothing but quite displeasure or amusement blind, could cater for a viewing so rare, that a trophy in a sky so blue, would never meet the final capture, as dark shadows encase the architecture so fondly misrepresented bare.
The encassing
A captured design so eagerly woven, how do construct the architect in a sky so cruel, to banish all entries blind, and in it’s concealment revealed, a book, of shiny disworth, with an entry and two pages, one with a security written and the other a blank page so crudely and aptly misrepresented, that the encassing will later be inspected, by pastors of worth, in disworthy bemusement blind, that two immature passengers, would find disworth, in worthy, blind accusations dim, to befondle transportation of the penny-farthing to themselves, yet, not really, as immature naivity does aptly capture, the re-entry so eagerly taught, to banished ill represented beginnings dim, to pastors in blind hindsight, that a viewing so rare, would park the penny-farthing in unamused positions, to fondly and naively capture, the penny far-thing empty of it’s architecture, and no space left in sight, as all captured remains, dim, in the idle speculation of the vehicle in it’s ill representation with no beginning nor ending captured.
The strapping
Strapped on the vehicle of the ancient of days secured, why does the eager old man, reach to train his own white beard, disgrown, in banished days of yore? He is simply a child, reliving, the love affair, so aptly and crudly defined, that there is nothing really of worth in the world anymore. Is the penny far-thing a soul less construct? Or is it a vehicle to capture fresh disworth in viewings of trappings of elevated findings dim? Or is the imbalance in heightened capacity low, the entrained meanderings, to elevate the child in the tricycle found, to fresh insight untaken, yet, just — why bother with words, anymore? A left turn on the tricycle would find a fresh beginning, to the affair so old, that an old heart, so eagerly captivated, would find, disworth in his barn so freshly sold, in the penny farthing, the viewing so fresh, that no representation but an old man, in a barn of noteworthy misrepresentation, would never really cement a fear so old, to enslave his mighty throne, from the liberty, of the conquered tricycle in unabounded seating misrepresented secured.
Chained meanderings
A stationary journey with no loss of control, is control, with a chained construct, so beloved and fabled, with early beginnings. Do you care to design the penny far-thing or are you a white beard trained but never really blandly kept, to the flawed design, of the tri-cycle so aptly conveyed that single push, with topple the design so fondly anticipated yet so securely found, in the old man’s hands, so the tricycle in eager disworth would find the love affair, so aptly conveyed, with a screaming man, to eagerly push the penny far-thing back in the old man’s secured hands, so freshly consumed, that no ill disworth, would find a child, so boldly blamed, that a seat in secured offset, would find another of ill mentioned return, to eye the design so captivately set, to love in it’s secured position blind, but of no blind misrepresentation secured, that love, of the vehicle, if a driver, so aptly defined, would define himself so nobly misrepresented, that the penny far-thing would always convey the prototype of its own ill design, so captived, so represented, that the passengers, not of this world, would find, the design in eager betrayal beloved, yet, of one passenger with two seatings blind, in security of footing of one, in an offset of bethroned misglory, that why would enmity find, a securing of a fond couple of pedals offset, in the offset of the architecture heightened to it’s glory, of passengers so eagerly anticipating security, that the old man, would place the higher wheel, it’s in infancy of rebirth, that no lower wheel, of imagination secured, could banish the seating if no chain secured, of idle architecture ill meaning misrepresented in found trust secured.