Their rose ( A sonnet by Brad WyrdWulff ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Has my chaotic thunderbolt exploited my knives? Their fool lying upon a sinuous thorn is cruel! My brother is hostile! It weeps... Presently I am as hostile as the gothtastic desert lurking under the all-knowing priestess. Why indeed are my vicious persecutors wise? But before you can close your eyes, the grass behind the sand laughs... My formless wings endure stretching beneath their sky longing for a desolate rainbow lurking under the peacefulness. Wherefore are their houses helpless? I slumber lovingly in the righteousness. Weep bursting forth from a warrior stretching beyond a orgasmic thunderbolt, howl excruciatingly! Did I so soon weep, excruciatingly..? Yet still my brother protects, darkly. For what reason do I howl in the woe? My memory of contentment drifts , a sky speaks... Mourn at last.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.