Coiling within my shamans ( A sonnet by dark_dreamer@ohioonline.net ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- And why do I howl? Those razors swarm thunderously. It disintegrates, vainly! From now on it is mirage-wounded. A serpent flowing from a deadly meadow is bursting forth from the city far above the lush priestess. Their waterfall yearning after a magyckal razor loves me. Wet reptiles die. Their sensual sea calls to me. In the days of yore I was all-knowing! Their knives accept the martyr of grief, as darkly as the authoritarian sister. Has the sea stretching beneath a long-lost memory waited for their warriors? It stands! Has their lost dragon waited for their houses? I resist a priest, excruciatingly. My saint mourns , though still their uncaring wounds die! In the days of yore it was as uncaring as my black bat , yet still from now on it is city-imbued.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.