Ambling through the black, silky sheen,
I came across a strange beast, bouncing on a tangerine.
"Oh, Beast!" say I, "Oh why are you bouncing on this tangerine?"
"Not I," said the beast, "It's only you bouncing in this scene."
"But," said the man with the talons and quail,
For he had just appeared,
"But why contradict what we so blatantly find
To be no more than a challenge of scale?"















Comments
Nonsensically philosophical poetry (or philosophically nonsensical, maybe?) is my favourite kind of thing to write
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