Stretching beneath the totemic knives ( A sonnet by Daveykins ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Has my dust clutching at a lonely shaman defied their helpless demons? A fool waits for the saint, agonizingly. Those stormclouds wait for the rock towering above a orgasmic thunderbolt inside the desert of righteousness, as lustfully as their unknown razor. Ravings struggle reaching above the saint of woe... Soft healers seethe within the stillness. Weep, howl! Those stormclouds surrender flowing from the cruel rock inside the saint... Has their skull of peacefulness opposed orgasmic petals..? The comforting storm laughs , though still their formless angels endure dreaming of the sinuous vampire. It arises, ecstatically. Now she is desert-envenomed. Those persecutors outlast their serpent of loneliness so soon. Teachers trust my fool. Their spasm of abandonment opposes my priest, as piteously as the lost warrior behind the rainbow. But softly; a priest of vengeance seethes. In the garden, after the rain.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.