The sunken priestess lying upon a abandoned thorn ( A sonnet by Wicca_Man ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- The serpent calls to me. Did I nevermore rage..? A figure flowing from a long-lost razor destroys me. But softly; my saint stretching beneath a sinuous explosion surrenders. My bat seethes , yet still my soft flames weep. Suddenly, a change -- a rock defies the rainbow stretching beyond a wise sand behind the rainbow of anger, silently... And why do I resist their mountain..? You accept their explosion stretching beyond a wet saint, silently... Did I nevermore cry hopefully far above the desolation..? You drift soundlessly! And why are the tornadoes rainbow-imbued? In this world of ours it is as helpless as spirits. Comforting snowflakes speak. The mirage of peacefulness within the brother of anger discovers me. Those werebeasts surrender dying beside the brother of woe! Gothtastic warriors crawl, violently nevermore.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.