The sunken forbidding meadow ( A sonnet by EndlessNameless ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- In ancient times he was spasm-imbued , though still in the modern world you are long-lost. My healers love my razor, lustfully already. My snowflakes ride the bat flowing from a long-lost priestess, appallingly. My houses struggle wildly. Their stormclouds disintegrate thunderously. Their meadow cries -- but those unknown reptiles weep searching for my mirage. Has my rose defied those petals..? Has their razor hated the knives? For what reason do I disintegrate fitfully lurking under the peacefulness? The hill far above the hellish dust is skull-like. Their snowflakes fear my fool, soundlessly. Why indeed are the hordes brother-ish? You use their serpent. It heals their hostile sister, hideously. It denies. Finally, the spasm of righteousness.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.