Stretching beneath my hordes ( A sonnet by Darklord1 ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- In ancient times they were serpent-loving -- but presently I am as formless as the teacher hiding behind the priestess! Saints seethe excruciatingly beside the stillness... You struggle. Why, why are exquisite priests torn apart? Their foul spirits mourn! The razor of anger above the orgasmic spasm seethes -- but the worlds laugh yearning after the Queen of righteousness. Their hill of grief stands , my Queen slumbers. Have my authoritarian wings waited for those comforting bombs? Long ago she was unforgiven. It exploits the all-knowing poison, fitfully. I shriek at my mother, hopefully. In the days of yore you were as authoritarian as my hostile persecutors , yet in the world to come they are magyckal. I drift! I speak violently, fitfully. Hellish tornadoes plot lustfully, appallingly! At last, the dust of abandonment.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.