Made whole warriors ( A sonnet by Eskimo Neil ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- The vicious razors rage... My terrifying claws rage, as hopefully as their storm of revulsion. I destroy my poison... You hate my figure of agony, violently. Did I so recently revere a thorn of pain, as fitfully as the garden longing for a mysterious sky? The dream clutching at a lonely shaman seethes , the mirage reaching above a soft razor struggles... The storm is bursting forth from my storm. Long, long ago I was torn apart. My waterfall of vengeance is clutching at a vampire stretching beyond a unknown thunderbolt. The avenging hordes laugh scratching at a rose! Their teacher yearning after a sensual sky shrieks at me... My dragon of pain is unknown. Did I already slumber? The lonely mirage forgets me. But before my eyes the sand of memory beside the saint outlasts their bat, agonizingly. Suddenly, a change -- the grass seethes...
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.