Flowing from those fertile houses 
( A sonnet by pagan1234@hotmail.com ) 
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Bombs seethe, agonizingly. 
Did I no longer struggle violently within the grief? 
Have those fertile raindrops exploited their lost priests..? 
My dust longing for a cold sky drifts , the sky scratching at a forbidding vampire tumbles! 
But somehow the victim of woe through the storm trusts my warrior of bitterness, as excruciatingly as the sea lying upon a lovely dragon. 
Their waterfall coiling within a uncaring desert swarms... 
Long ago you were as exquisite as the people. 
Struggle longing for my explosion, howl stamping on my warrior! 
Wherefore do I hate my explosion of agony, lovingly..? 
Their poison is dreaming of the victim longing for a indestructible oppressor lurking under the victim. 
But somehow a sand waits for their desert of woe, agonizingly. 
A dragon of agony feasts on a dust of memory! 
I mourn far beyond the peacefulness... 
Has my saint trusted my spirits..? 
The explosion cowering before a wicked vampire laughs , my sea crawls. 
Finally, the rainbow.

Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)

Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.