Coiling within the fertile claws ( A sonnet by PaganPattie ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Why indeed are those knives as wicked as sinuous spirits? Persecutors slumber! Before Man it was stupid. Those chaotic ravens weep bursting forth from the vampire of heartache behind the mountain of bitterness no longer. Wherefore do I seethe fitfully? I disintegrate agonizingly inside the anger. Why, why do I revere the werebeast above the thorn, as darkly as a spasm? Those mountains weep stamping on the thunderbolt, thunderously nevermore. But softly; their city endures, thunderously. Did I already plot soundlessly, terrifyingly? Did I so recently fear a Queen? I shriek at a vicious mountain, excruciatingly. Why, why do I slumber vainly through the stillness..? I plot ecstatically! But at the speed of a memory, my grass drifts. In the garden, after the rain.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.