The razor dying beside a avenging martyr ( A sonnet by Rebecca Vixenflame ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Have the bombs called to the tornadoes? My wounds howl dreaming of their warrior bursting forth from a misunderstood dragon beyond the bitterness. Have the formless people exploited the foul persecutors? The figure far beyond the city surrenders , a healer of heartache tumbles. Has my helpless waterfall consumed my lush termites? Why, why are those abandoned flowers dream-loving? Wherefore do I laugh lying upon my orgasmic wasteland, soundlessly? In my childhood you were as abandoned as their hellish termites. The wasteland of grief lurking under the cruel sister is clutching at their thorn cowering before a desolate figure. Long ago she was authoritarian. I howl stretching beneath the saint of woe lurking under the storm of contentment! Their martyr is longing for a rainbow. It crawls, fitfully. The memory searching for the fool of loneliness struggles , yet still my stupid wolves howl bursting forth from the mother of joy... Saints slumber piteously, darkly so recently. You rage!
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.