Magpies and Peacocks

[lolotehe]

There once was a magpie that did magpie things
Who had magpie friends who stole magpie strings.
They imitated pigeons, blue jays, and grackles.
They told magpie jokes amid hoots and cackles.
They lived how they wanted and did what they cared
Like pestering hawks whenever they dared.
They darted between cars and took wild chances,
Or called, like pet owners, amid treetop branches,
To howl with laughter, when out dogs would run
(For teasing big mutts is incredible fun).
Made jokes to canaries about their cruel captors
Or stalked in tall grass like velociraptors.
Luring out cats, with fake injuries beckoned,
Only to fly off at the very last second.
There were no jealousies, arguments, or lies
For such things mean nothing to playful magpies.

And thus, life would have gone on, who knows for how long,
But one day something just went terribly wrong.
For one day, a magpie, while bothering cars,
Found herself perched in a mansion’s back yard.
And before she could report to the other magpies
A sapphire spectacle came before her eyes.
The creature, a peacock, had stature and grace
(Just the kind of thing you’d find in such a place).
His wings had been clipped, so he couldn’t fly;
Our magpie almost felt sorry for the guy,
But he had a proud face and a high-mighty walk
And all of the pride that goes with being peacock.
He wasn’t too bright, he said things that weren’t clever
And out of his rear stuck a great mass of feathers.
She didn’t think, as he did, he that neat;
He was stupid and boastful (plus look at his feet!).
With a cute little crown on a peanut-sized brain
And the onerous task of pulling such long train...
She’d get her friends to mock him! Before she could bail
The bastard squawked out and unfurled his tail.
And when she saw the beauty of that boy’s behind
It just about blew her poor magpie mind.
The moment that cock let his talents unfurl
He became number one in her small magpie world.
And the air was now filled with pink hearts and sweet doves
And this magpie now knew, by god, she was in love.
She quickly flew back to tell all her friends
About this gorgeous bird with the beautiful end.

They weren’t impressed. No, not in the least.
For he sounded like any self-important beast;
Just the kind of guy to whom everything’s serious.
But our magpie went on, for she was delirious-
Ly happy at having found such a pretty boy.
"I mean, one must eventually throw away toys
And become an adult. What use is laughter
When the world is filled with such serious matters?"
She insisted, in detail, this boy was a blast.
They flew over to see him and look at his ass.
One magpie tried vainly to make jokes with him
But it soon was apparent he really was dim.
And when they attempted to pull off some jape
He’d pout haughtily and pull out his cape,
Which, granted, is really an impressive sight
But magpies like their birds just a bit more bright
And peacocks aren’t known for the size of their brains
Just the fact that they’re pretty and terribly vain.
So they all came to the conclusion together:
They decided true talent does not live in feathers.
When confronted with what she saw in a peacock
She stammered, “Well who cares about talk?
“It’s all in how you look,” she quickly concluded.
Her friends shook their heads and called her deluded.
Our magpie forgot all they things she enjoyed
And spent hours pining for that pretty boy.
No one could pull her out of her funk.
“Let’s go tease some cats. Forget that damned punk.”

Cupid’s arrow leaves scars that will never quite heal;
They affect what you do, how you think, how you feel.
You act stupidly and drive away friends
(The only folks who’ll be there for you in the end).
It’s never intentional. Nobody means
To let their life be run over by dreams.
That’s just how it happens when one has desire
It burns out your life and sets blood pressure higher.
And when your life’s filled with mirrors and smoke
You take things too seriously and quickly choke
On the things that brought pleasure in bygone days;
For love’s a cruel master with sadistic ways.

The worst part about that proud dumb-ass in blue
Was somewhere, deep inside, he actually knew
The damage he could cause if he led her on
And he did just that until her friends were gone.
“I like you just fine. You’re a really sweet girl
But I noticed you have no fine tail to unfurl.
Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not being mean,
But you’re just not the type with which I should be seen.
You’re really quite smart, but while on these grounds
Don’t embarrass me while my friends are around.”
Magpies consider themselves nattily dressed,
But now her appearance was causing distress.
She had always thought that she looked all right
But now there was fault in her stark black-and-white.
She really could see what he was talking about
And in mad desperation, pulled her own feathers out.
A painful operation, one tough to endure,
But she felt that this was how to be sure
That he loved her. In those bleeding spaces
She placed cast-off feathers she found in odd places:
Some red from a cardinal, blue from a jay...
She really did think that this was the way
To impress him. She’d make herself seem
Like the kind of bird he must see in his dreams.
So his cast-off feathers were inserted with care
In the sore bleeding places that she had plucked bare.
And sadly enough, when all's said and done
A rather bright magpie now looked really dumb.

Later, that afternoon, on fair mansion grounds
The other peacocks started to come around.
They let out their tails and started to shout
About how they were just the best birds about.
They sang their own praises in great jubilation
And then at the height of ego-masturbation.
They all squawked in unison and let out their plumage
And set about for communal groom-age.
Our magpie alighted amid this circle-jerk
But everyone snickered and said with a smirk,
“Who’s this wretched beast? This silly creature
Who thinks that fine feathers are our only feature?”
She explained at length, but somebody coughed,
“Oh, great, she THINKS. What a turn-off.”
She turned to the peacock, who denied he knew her,
Saying something about how he could do better.
She started to stammer, she started to cry
About the sacrifices she’d made for this guy.
He responded with, “Well, we’re just friends.”
The other peacocks all shook their long ends.
“You’ve got to be kidding. Just how could she
Think she could spend time here? You know that we
Won’t tolerate imperfection, not the slightest bit
And nobody here cares at all about wit;
It’s in how you LOOK. It’s as simple as that.
Peacocks are slender while magpies are fat.
Peacocks are pretty while magpies are not.
Magpies are dull while all peacocks are hot.
We’re not easily fooled by old cast-off feathers
Some stupid magpie has slap-dashed together.
Not one of us is fooled. Nope, not a one!
It’s quite an insult to think we were that dumb.
She has no long neck or obnoxious cry.
It’s silly to think that she ever could try
To compete with our true loves, the mighty PEAHEN.”
The magpie, in tears, flew back to her friends.

Her old friends, who’d she’d not seen in some days,
Were all goofing off in their magpie ways
Teasing a mad dog at the end of his run.
She plucked out fake feathers, one-by-one:

White are the clouds that fly overhead.
Black is the folks who feed off the dead.
Blue is the sky and my one true love’s neck.
Red is the great open sore of regret.
Yellow is someone who’s trapped in a cage.
Gray is the soft encroachment of old age.

And when she stood out, amid her friends there,
Shivering and bleeding with great patches bare,
They all cooed around and tried to sooth her,
“That guy was no good. Just forget that goober.
When we see him next, we’ll tear him apart
No one gets away with ripping out your heart.”
But one does not recover from attacks by cupid
All that quickly. It makes one quite stupid.

“You don’t understand. It’s just not that way.
I’m sure that that boy will come around some day.
Sure he acts like a jerk when around other guys,
But you just can’t see the pain in his eyes.
I know that he loves me. It’s deep in his core.
You can see that he aspires for more
Than just some pretty face or a sweet cry.
And I won’t tolerate you all trashing my guy.”

Her friends all pulled back with disgust and shock
At this point she’d even defend the peacock.
“Why would you spend so much time with that dummy?
He’s not nice to you and he’s not even funny.”
She saw all their jokes as personal attack.
Eventually all of her feathers grew back,
But, inside, she was twisted, broken, and hurt,
And came to the defense of all lesser birds.
Once, she even stopped them from teasing a cat.
“You don’t know what it’s like being left out like that.”
She took every offense to the slightest of fun
And lost all her friends slowly, one-by-one.

You talk to them now, they think on that day,
And all shake their heads and sadly say,
“We’re not sure what happened. It’s really quite sad
That things could so quickly just turn out so bad
What that bastard did makes us all see red.
We’ll tell you this right now, that peacock is dead.”
And the magpie sits waiting, as each day goes by,
Knowing someday she’ll return to that guy,
Because he really loved her, that’s what she thinks,
And she’ll still believe it, that’s what really stinks.
She KNOWS it deep down, deep inside her gut,
That he’ll turn around. It’s pitiful, but
You can’t really help someone who won’t talk
About events from the past without starting to balk
At the attempts to get her out of her rut.
Eventually all of them just plain gave up.

And the moral, dear reader, is that it’s quite pathetic
To alter one’s self for a life inauthentic.