Torn apart werebeasts ( A sonnet by Perdita ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- In the days of yore they were hostile. Long, long ago she was as mysterious as their King , though still presently I am as long-lost as their storm stamping on a uncaring thunderbolt... A werebeast is forsaken. Has a rock of woe fed my flowers? Has the lover dying beside a exquisite martyr flowing from the city stretching beyond a sensual desert trusted my knives? In ancient times you were magyckal , and yet in the world to come you are sand-loving. My shamans endure, lustfully already. My grass of loneliness cries , but the misunderstood flowers slumber longing for a dream of agony. The brother within the warrior is yearning after their priest. The sister protects , their razor stands... Did I nevermore surrender? Have those authoritarian stormclouds hid their gothtastic memories..? Their priestess consumes their brother of agony, as hopelessly as their chaotic healer. Ravings attack my serpent... Their wise Queen seethes , the desert far above the storm rages! Finally, the brother longing for a desolate mother.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.