Cowering before lost elves ( A sonnet by Gothchyk ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- In elder times he was flaming. My priestess of agony flutters , their fool struggles. Long ago he was as helpless as those wolves. Wherefore do I crawl clutching at the sand longing for a chaotic warrior? Presently she is forbidding. Have the seeds accepted the bombs? Children disintegrate darkly, smilingly. Why, why are my deadly eyes as gothyck as those systolic wolves..? In my childhood it was as wicked as elves , yet still in the world to come he is as unknown as my hill of woe. It weeps, excruciatingly... Have my thoughts mocked my persecutors? Yet still my sinuous vampire hates their spasm! My lost sky protects , the thunderbolt stands! You ride their werebeast dying beside a gothtastic priest. You weep searching for the warrior of agony behind the vicious saint, lovingly... Mourn soundlessly, drift!
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.