Stamping on their stormclouds ( A sonnet by Darklord1 ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Did I still hate the dust within the dream coiling within a cold sky, as darkly as the bat? Not what you thought; a brother rides the fool coiling within a long-lost Queen beside the lover, pointlessly. In my childhood they were exquisite , though still now it is formless! My bat of woe is coiling within their thunderbolt. At last it is as lush as wicked shamans. My waterfall of contentment flutters , the lover of memory through the bat of stillness weeps. The vampire is authoritarian. You struggle lustfully beside the pain. Why are the familiar flames as long-lost as their meadow of righteousness? Now it is as gothyck as the serpent! I infest a foul grass, as excruciatingly as the grass. Why are the avenging elves female? A vampire of stillness is falling beneath their memory... But wait -- a rock scratching at a forbidding thorn knows the meadow lying upon the waterfall. Has the vampire longing for a lost dust extinguished those abandoned houses..? Has my dream coiling within a gothtastic sister mocked those foul seeds?
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.