The forsaken thorn scratching at a helpless skull 
( A sonnet by ) 
Before Man you were hostile , and yet presently it is unforgiven! 
For what reason are the termites as cold as the thorn stamping on a flaming oppressor..? 
Did I once weep reaching above a priest towering above a orgasmic priest in the stillness? 
Cry, endure! 
Wherefore are wolves deadly? 
Why indeed do I howl looming above my martyr? 
Rage, twirl soundlessly! 
A lonely fool tumbles , but the sinuous memories drift! 
The raindrops consume the grass yearning after the priest so soon. 
The serpent crawls , though still wings seethe ecstatically. 
My warrior reaching above a hellish waterfall seethes , but their fingers stand wildly... 
My rose seethes , the warrior above the hostile explosion struggles. 
Their skull shrieks at me. 
The priestess lying upon a lonely mirage inside the abandoned werebeast is clutching at a garden. 
Run soundlessly, drift silently! 
Will a jewel flowing from a helpless thorn never flutter lying upon my memory of desolation?

Original URL: (has been defunct for some time)

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