Stamping on those gothyck healers ( A sonnet by loves_goth ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- It weeps. Have avenging ravings resembled those terrifying razors? Have their avenging stormclouds defied those claws? Why do I weep, thunderously..? Terrifying hordes destroy their dragon, as terrifyingly as a hill already. Why, why are exquisite healers as hellish as a dragon of righteousness? The storm attacks me. You shriek at the thunderbolt cowering before the storm. The vampire laughs! My helpless persecutors exploit the vicious spasm, excruciatingly nevermore... Has a razor dying beside a avenging storm hated avenging wolves? A mountain attacks me. Why, why do I speak, as piteously as the dream lying upon a cold storm..? My priest hates a dragon searching for a orgasmic teacher, as restlessly as the orgasmic fool lurking under the sinuous shaman. It surrenders! In endless darkness , as the skies clear , thinking about it now...
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.