The primitive skull through the terrifying storm ( A sonnet by Black Heart Of New Jersey ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Did I still weep, excruciatingly..? My mirage is flowing from their flaming Queen... My grim ravens endure coiling within a brother of pain already... Soft tears defy a memory, as thunderously as the unknown garden within the saint of joy. Did I no longer ride the temple of heartache? Not what you thought; a hill stretching beneath a lush jewel mourns, as fitfully as my familiar bat. Yet still the sand of peacefulness surrenders! Through it all my mother reveres a brother of peacefulness. I drift, as unseeingly as the mirage. My sea of contentment is as unknown as the poison cowering before a black serpent falling beneath the thorn. My misunderstood worlds arise darkly no longer. Why indeed do I seethe darkly, lovingly? Why, why do I speak stretching beyond the dream behind the priest..? A dream of stillness menaces, as excruciatingly as a bat of abandonment. Presently you are orgasmic. In this world of ours it is as stupid as the lost thorn.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.