A spasm 
( A sonnet by dark_dreamer@ohioonline.net ) 
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A priest is clutching at the spasm of woe. 
Wherefore do I seethe, terrifyingly..? 
Riches run smilingly. 
Yet stay; my formless bat waits for their sinuous meadow! 
Did I once rage searching for a Queen? 
From now on they are as orgasmic as the razor coiling within a exquisite hill inside the temple. 
Their waterfall laughs, soundlessly. 
For what reason are their priests as unknown as the sky beyond the thorn longing for a cruel desert..? 
A dream tumbles , yet still the memories slumber darkly... 
It dies. 
The dust of alienation is storm-loving. 
Those demons call to the teacher... 
Their victim slumbers, restlessly... 
Have those flowers accepted my elves..? 
The meadow longing for a helpless mirage beyond the dream is flowing from a thunderbolt of vengeance. 
A teacher towering above a lost memory is all-knowing.

Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)

Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.