supremegoddessofall: (lj idol)
I am a Scapegoat yearning to be an eScapegoat,
for whatever the fuck that means.

I am nebulous in my solidity,
Translucent in my opacity.
(If you have to ask if both are possible,
you don't know all.)

I aspire to the Queen of Wands,
or maybe that of Swords -
instead I am the Hanged Man,
or perhaps the Fool.

I shall never be the unblinking Sphinx -
her blind Eye sees
what my open eyes are Blinded to.

Or maybe I plucked my own eyes out -
Oedipus no longer worthy of Sight.

I am not cold because I am quiet in the telling,
and your tears do not mean you feel more than I.

Even Anchors grow tired of the weight,
and long to be unmoored.
You may find it heavy to be a burden all the time,
yet I find it a burden to be heavy all the time.

But Function follows Form,
and Anchor-shaped girls
become Anchor-shaped women
become Anchors.

No one ever asks the Anchor
if it needs to be Held.

And Form follows Function,
so anchor becomes Anchor becomes ANCHOR,
and it no longer remembers
what it is to be Free.

To be ungrounded, floating.

Atlas never asked to carry it, you know -
stoicism wins top prize at the masque.

Still Atlas gets tired, too,
and he has long forgotten how to Shrug -
Who carries Atlas,
when he is worn out and shaking?

Maybe robots do dream of electric sheep.

I wouldn't know.

I tilt my head and affirm
that One is always Glad to be of Service.
supremegoddessofall: (Default)
In the Morning                
     (when i wake….                
it is so early,                
     you know.)
there is a Dent,
an Impression –
a Reminder                
     (of you)
fragmented and fragile.

It is You but Not-You.
A semi-tangible Ghost,                
(you told me you will always haunt me,                
     in life or in death.                
     i believed you implicitly.)

gone but not forgotten.

It is not You and yet                
   (…and yet)
I hold your Pillow to my Breast,                
     (the heart inside beats for you,                
i own it no longer.)

a faux Lover.

I hold It and remember                
(…or pretend to forget                
     your absence)

your Softness
which I will not                
have again.


Oct. 6th, 2008 08:44 pm
supremegoddessofall: (rent)
For my memories...

Was responding to someone's LJ Idol post about Jerry Garcia, and remembered the lovely tribute that Paul Kantner read at Jerry's funeral. The text of the poem he read is below the cut. It's a fabulous poem, and sounds even better read. If you're interested, you can find Kantner reading it here. Click the link that says "listen now." Kantner's bit starts maybe 20 or 30 minutes in? (After Phil Lesh, but before Vince Welnick.

For the Good of All )


Jul. 10th, 2007 10:16 am
supremegoddessofall: (sunrise)
borrowed from [ profile] latelyontime. No cuts because this is beautiful and poignant and, yes, made me cry a little...

How To Watch Your Brother Die
For Carl Morse

When the call comes, be calm.
Say to your wife, "My brother is dying. I have to fly
to California."
try not to be shocked that he already looks like
a cadaver.
Say to the young man sitting by your brother's side,
"I'm his brother."
Try not to be shocked when the young man says,
"I'm his lover. Thanks for coming."

Listen to the doctor with a steel face on.
Sign the necessary forms.
Tell the doctor you will take care of everything.
Wonder why doctors are so remote.

Watch the lover's eyes as they stare into
your brother's eyes as they stare into
Wonder what they see there.
Remember the time he was jealous and
opened your eyebrow with a sharp stick.
Forgive him out loud
even if he can't
understand you.
Realize the scar will be
all that's left of him.

Over coffee in the hospital cafeteria
say to the lover, "You're an extremely good-looking
young man."
Hear him say,
"I never thought I was good enough looking to
deserve your brother."

Watch the tears well up in his eyes. Say,
"I'm sorry. I don't know what it means to be
the lover of another man."
Hear him say,
"Its just like a wife, only the commitment is
deeper because the odds against you are so much
Say nothing, but
take his hand like a brother's.

Drive to Mexico for unproven drugs that might
help him live longer.
Explain what they are to the border guard.
Fill with rage when he informs you,
"You can't bring those across."
Begin to grow loud.
Feel the lover's hand on your arm
restraining you. See in the guard's eye
how much a man can hate another man.
Say to the lover, "How can you stand it?"
Hear him say, "You get used to it."
Think of one of your children getting used to
another man's hatred.

Call your wife on the telephone. Tell her,
"He hasn't much time.
I'll be home soon." Before you hang up say,
"How could anyone's commitment be deeper than
a husband and a wife?" Hear her say,
"Please. I don't want to know all the details."

When he slips into an irrevocable coma,
hold his lover in your arms while he sobs,
no longer strong. Wonder how much longer
you will be able to be strong.
Feel how it feels to hold a man in your arms
whose arms are used to holding men.
Offer God anything to bring your brother back.
Know you have nothing God could possible want.
Curse God, but do not
abandon Him.

Stare at the face of the funeral director
when he tells you he will not
embalm the body for fear of
contamination. Let him see in your eyes
how much a man can hate another man.

Stand beside a casket covered in flowers,
white flowers. Say,
"thank you for coming," to each of seven hundred men
who file past in tears, some of them
holding hands. Know that your brother's life
was not what you imagined. Overhear two
mourners say, "I wonder who'll be next?" and
"I don't care anymore,
as long as it isn't you."

Arrange to take an early flight home.
His lover will drive you to the airport.
When your flight is announced say,
awkwardly, "If I can do anything, please
let me know." Do not flinch when he says,
"Forgive yourself for not wanting to know him
after he told you. He did."
Stop and let it soak in. Say,
"He forgave me, or he knew himself?"
"Both," the lover will say, not knowing what else
to do. Hold him like a brother while he
kisses you on the cheek. Think that
you haven't been kissed by a man since
your father died. Think,
"This is no moment to be strong."

Fly first class and drink Scotch. Stroke
your split eyebrow with a finger and
think of your brother alive. Smile
at the memory and think
how your children will feel in your arms
warm and friendly and without challenge.

Michael Lassell
supremegoddessofall: (Default)
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Kimberly Boyd-Bowman

May 2011

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