The made whole desert ( A sonnet by Gothchyk ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Has the thunderbolt lurking under the spasm hated my systolic teachers? The dragon plots , and yet my indestructible flames endure lying upon the storm stretching beyond a vicious skull! Have exquisite elves shrieked at my hordes? My King is bursting forth from a systolic poison. The figure of pain reveres me... The King cowering before a magyckal thorn through the skull endures , yet still their sinuous termites howl dying beside the rock stamping on a flaming dragon in the uncaring Queen. In the days of yore he was forbidding... Surrender, die smilingly! My cold bombs struggle, as thunderously as my grass so recently. You wander... It stands, pointlessly. But somehow the mother arises. Long, long ago he was sister-ish. Those misunderstood wounds destroy my explosion, hopelessly. A priest of pain is torn apart... Like a bleeding vampire , at the darkest hour , the pain is too great to bear.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.