If I'm the desert
You're the wind-
Shape me
As you wander along.
Take your time
Play me your song
These thoughts in my mind
They're an oasis
I end up there
When I lose my paces
My palms
They shake when you go by
And out emerge little butterflies
That float about and get tossed by you
Over the sand
And through my dunes
I’ll tell every secret
Dust off my ruins
Come and dance with me
I live for your tunes
When the spring is nigh
Let dust devils arise
At midnight while coyotes cry
Float cacti' flowers
Through my hills
Shake the prickly pear
Leave me littered with their quills
When you're gone
Out playing on the sea
Do you miss me?
You're my heartbeat
Save me my pleas
Sweep me up off my knees
Swing me around
With your whistling sound
And lift red-tailed hawks off the ground
Fly small airplanes through the clouds
Mar 2
Mar 2, 2026 at 4:17 PM UTC
Boil, boil, bubble, and brew,
What ingredients do we need to make this stew?
A fisherman’s old, rotten boot?
A coin, shiny and new?
A pigeon's calming morning coo?
Ah! It says here that all we need is:
A child’s old toy
To make a boy
A redwood twig
To make his head big
A vulture’s song
To have him do all wrong
A scale of a snake
To make him a snake
Yes, that’s right
The boy we’re making isn’t going to be a knight
The so-called myth,
The hero, "Zack Smith"
Will be quite far from it,
The opposite in fact.
To make the most dreadful guy
Have all he do is play and lie
We’re going to need a whole, WHOLE lot more.
We’ll need:
A peacock’s heart...
Let’s make it two!
He’ll be sick with double the pride
To be irritating, a mosquitoes coo
The tongue of pig to make him snide
Another three mosquitoes!
So there’s no doubt
That he’ll be ugly inside and out
An entire weasel
For in the entire world, he’ll be the most sly
All he’ll do is play all day
Let's add the cotton-tailed rabbit’s dance
“I’m the greatest!”, is all he’ll say
While holding his nose high in a prance
Now the pot’s overflowing with stuff to make this boy
The last two things: The heart and the brain.
Shall we make his heart pure? His intentions, good?
He’ll mean every word of what he says?
He’ll really... care?
No.
He could never, it’s too late.
We don't need these last two things.
Let’s pour this horrendous mixture into a mold
And put it into the freezer to let it become cold
I’ll sit and wait for him to freeze
When he’s done and solid
What will I do?
Maybe I’ll keep this horrible Grinch of a boy
Try to teach him proper manners
And not let him near people he’ll emotionally destroy
But most likely I’ll let him go
He reminds me too much of someone I used to know
I’ve given him everything (except a brain and a heart)
And he’ll give nothing back
When he’s done
I’m pushing him out into the world to wreak havoc
He’ll hurt some people along the way
But they’ll recover within a day
If they don't, they can join me
And craft boys out of pain and jealousy
But that won't happen
Because, you see
With a name like Zack Smith
Forgettable is what you’re bound to be.
Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 10:06 PM UTC