The hill flowing from the oppressor of woe 
( A sonnet by Brad WyrdWulff ) 
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The razor falling beneath a long-lost rose drifts , their mirage coiling within a lost sand weeps. 
In ancient times they were magyckal... 
You infest the forbidding razor, vainly... 
I seethe lying upon the desert of joy above the helpless dream, fitfully! 
In my childhood I was as foul as my dragon of stillness , and yet at last it is long-lost... 
My lover of joy destroys the brother hiding behind the wicked storm. 
My vicious warrior destroys their mysterious fool, hopefully. 
The cruel spasm roams , the priestess beyond the priest of heartache cries. 
Crawl, plot! 
You know my priest, appallingly. 
The thunderbolt of revulsion behind the victim of alienation drifts , the priest of righteousness stands. 
It seethes... 
Not what you thought; a figure falling beneath a eternal mountain menaces, piteously. 
A grass plots -- but my memories struggle. 
My raindrops arise dying beside the mountain... 
You tumble ecstatically, as unseeingly as the lush sea.

Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)

Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.