Ode to a Molecular Mule

A milli mole, in bed not getting any action,

once tried to create an energetic reaction,

as a way to provoke a breakthrough depression.

I’m afraid all it got was pointless perpetual motion.

What follows is merely a fantasy, not a true story.

Lest one think this fact, let me remind you with tact,

the best fables grow on soil that is not just loamy,

they are also harvested with comic tragedy.

In search of an exit, the mole, helped by a dog and a mink,

submitted to the green and gold devil, with nary a wink.

Pretending to be polemical, beating his drum like an anvil,

the mole went on a tour of all the lands he could till.

Its neural networks, its machine learning, all too artificial,

sent the mole in his burrow, back against the wall.

Faced with the risk that his ideas were too shallow,

from Pandora’s box, he was convicted to borrow.

She had watts of energy in kilos, stored in a coil,

but once bitten by the snake, he turned into a boil.

No longer blue collared, only dollars could he rake,

All of our altruistic ideas disappearing in his wake.

Now free from his malefic influence, it’s good to get out!

Some moments, the mole proved a measurable opponent,

yet my immaculate verbal ejaculate an unjust way to joust

his formidable alliance of small and perky confidants.

a sharp piece of steel could never make me heel!

With your iconic wood-chipper, a blunt tool of no honor,

I’ll make you feel the pain that you inflicted on my brain,

as it’s pointless perorating against a puppet on a randy string.

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