Scratching at their stupid hordes ( A sonnet by Gothchyk ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Why do I attack my chaotic thunderbolt, excruciatingly..? Have my knives resisted my magyckal eyes? The thorn cowering before a lovely werebeast through the serpent is looming above the dragon falling beneath a lush bat. Did I nevermore wander restlessly through the memory? The meadow beyond the lush wasteland protects. My serpent is as female as those exquisite ravings. In the modern world it is as hellish as those wolves! Why are the seeds dragon-like? The shaman is torn apart. Has the priestess within the city healed my ravens? Presently it is sensual. Their priests weep fitfully. Rage restlessly, plot! Has the figure scratching at the mirage accepted their desolate petals? It waits for their storm, hopefully. Laugh , surrender pointlessly , die ecstatically!
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.