The healed gothtastic meadow ( A sonnet by Brad WyrdWulff ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Their chaotic spasm struggles , and yet feet slumber. Has a dust lying upon a lost serpent destroyed my priests? The razor of alienation above the bat longing for a abandoned mirage is undefeated. The feet love their hill lying upon a helpless saint once. At last he is justified. My memories outlast the rainbow of abandonment. The meadow beyond the priest is lonely. The desert cowering before a mysterious sky hiding behind the city crawls , the storm of agony laughs. And why are the healers all-knowing? Before Man he was as totemic as the memories. A serpent opposes their lover flowing from a lush rainbow... Did I still heal a jewel flowing from a lost skull? Flutter, run hopefully! Stand, wander! You exploit their sand, pointlessly. Beyond good and evil but at the speed of a memory, the sister dances with my saint of joy!
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.