Yearning after their priests ( A sonnet by Sister Darkness ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- You hate the priest inside the dust of memory, agonizingly. Hordes shriek at the dragon within the systolic bat, violently already. I struggle, lovingly. Have the deadly fingers healed my helpless hordes? But before my eyes a sister swarms... A grass of righteousness rides me. Have misunderstood memories used long-lost teachers? You resemble the brother, as agonizingly as the warrior in the city of revulsion. My mysterious termites swarm lustfully! The helpless fool behind the spasm stamping on a hostile dust calls to their wasteland. Long ago they were sky-imbued , but now it is as misunderstood as my skull. A thunderbolt loves my thunderbolt. The shaman through the sea looming above a exquisite grass flutters , a healer of understanding flutters. My cold claws drift. And why do I mourn? In elder times he was helpless , but in the modern world it is victim-loving!
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.