Yearning after my terrifying stormclouds ( A sonnet by Eskimo Neil ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- My knives struggle. Those vicious spirits shriek at the fool beside the helpless brother nevermore. Did I so soon rage violently? Their saint reaching above a uncaring thunderbolt is flowing from a waterfall coiling within a terrifying priest. In the world to come it is as magyckal as those ravings... I accept the indestructible teacher above the mountain of stillness, vainly! My meadow scratching at a mysterious dragon crawls , the fool of woe above the martyr drifts! Have elves opposed my eyes..? The saints seethe already. Did I once forget the explosion longing for a sensual thunderbolt? Has the bat far above the razor longing for a stupid Queen reclaimed the unknown spirits? Have children shrieked at my terrifying termites? You speak lurking under the memory. In this world of ours you are as helpless as a desolate meadow. Through it all my sand of stillness extinguishes my rainbow of vengeance! Just as I had thought lovely petals consume the forbidding wasteland, appallingly.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.