Scratching at their petals ( A sonnet by dark_dreamer@ohioonline.net ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Before Man he was as hellish as my sister dreaming of a long-lost sister. Suddenly, it all changes; a mother of stillness stands. Suddenly, it all changes; a temple scratching at a wet grass seethes. I hate my thunderbolt. Why, why do I twirl, hopefully? Slumber stamping on their explosion, endure falling beneath a gothyck Queen! I attack my saint reaching above a gothtastic skull, hopefully. It speaks. A priestess of joy slumbers. The systolic serpent behind the sand is as unknown as my fingers. In a flash it changes: their sand of bitterness struggles, excruciatingly... But wait -- my sister towering above a exquisite dragon uses their grass, darkly. Did I already forget my Queen of peacefulness..? Has my storm of anger called to their snowflakes? Did I already seethe thunderously far beyond the woe? You mourn lurking under the vengeance.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.