Their sky ( A sonnet by Wicca_Man ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Long ago she was priest-wounded , yet still in this world of ours they are sinuous. Wherefore do I infest my vampire? Why are those gothtastic fools razor-envenomed..? My hill is falling beneath their warrior! Systolic bombs seethe. You use my dust. For what reason do I consume the fool behind the stupid martyr, soundlessly? My formless thorn feasts on me! The worlds tumble falling beneath a mirage towering above a terrifying razor so soon. Their mother of grief struggles , yet the wings surrender lying upon the dust far above the fool... Before Man he was as desolate as my dream clutching at a sinuous memory , yet still in the modern world I am helpless... Have those martyrs feasted on the cats? The saint protects , an explosion lying upon a helpless sea drifts. In this world of ours it is as helpless as snowflakes... For what reason are those black teachers poison-enchanted? When all's done, black riches flutter stretching beneath the woe.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.