Peppers Can't Be Real
What a man?
Destroying cake based wigs and wams
Cut off where yellow rivers wind
Their way through valleys wrought from sponge
Enclosed by seas of bleeding gunged
The God of spoons comes crashing down
To rip asunder pudding town
The warm inside exposed to air
Is swamped as yellow fills the tare
A floating island then ascends
to where the God of spoons intends
To dump its burden, come back clean
Returning for the custard Queen
But sponge fights back with molten jam
To burn the tongues of beast and man
Yet men with wisdom rarely frown
Since jam and custard soon cool down.
If I took off the lid and then coloured the egg?
It would still be an egg but the colour has changed.
If I wave the pen fast just above of the egg?
I can't go fast enough, I can still see the egg.
If I smashed up the egg with the pen in my hand?
That would do it I think, now the egg's just a mess.