I am the stuff of legends, a luminous star in the sky, a drop of rain, a woman in pain, I am the Goddess. I live in folklore, with tales of thunderous Athena, Persephone the whore, the wild-haired Venus, always making an uproar. In modern times I am an atheist, I belong to no religion. Wiccans and Pagans do not understand who I am, though they connect to my essence. I am the “Kooshamah” (the forgotten one). God, you all believe, is a man.
I am lonely, but not alone. I have no home. I wander and I roam, from town to town, city to city, galaxy to galaxy trying find who I am. I am not a man, but I am.
I was born of Jacobia Escaflu, the Great Father, the Creator, I am his daughter “Prospertina” (a person of great wealth in character, a soulful one, a beautiful one, the Goddess as energy “Shallalindrea”). The God, like all Gods, needed a soul mate, I am her, a part of him that is “feminine” (pretty and soulful and joyful and lustful and “som” (somber and able to feel things greatly and deeply and painfully, more than he). I am the one who plants flowers, cooks in my cauldron, makes art and writes poetry, makes love like a jewel, is the beautiful one, the “sasaflah” (gentle one), the “heenshah” (the loved one), the “fonce” (the forgotten one who is not forgotten but is forgotten and turned into folklore as an old wives tale, I live within the herbs, the trees, the earth, the bees, but I am not a wild-haired human who is the God of the world, because that is absurd). I am loved so deeply that the Gods have learned to feel the hysteria I feel at their loss, without them, alone in my head and head only, sad and tossed aside so they can hide from their fears of becoming too “eenchee asoo” (like me). They are “Camishiga Ashondiay Confloo” (men who are Gods who are “Skoo” (too cool and collected to be a mess when they meet their Goddess for the first time and they don’t know what to do with someone so “ashew” (beautiful and magnificent and breathtaking), when they are used to the whores and the bores and the wives that strap them into high chairs and stroke their egos every Saturday night to keep them in line so they can come home and spend their hard earned dollars on garbage from a dollar store or Bloomingdale’s instead of roaming the jungles hunting boars, or roaming the forests hunting the wild stag, instead they end up with the “Scunchy” (disgusting, vile evil women) hags who are hateful and hate fags, which they are in the universe. When all they want is to make love in the morning, spout some verse, sip some wine, read a book, make love all day while they sip tea under a painted tree with Escuunchi (the Goddess on High).
I have been gone, but not forgotten, I am wanted more than anything, because when you ring your wife to ask what she is doing and she says nothing and you know it is really nothing and she is nothing and she does nothing and she is bitchy and unkind and mean-spirited and doesn’t do anything but shop for home goods and pretend to be a fashion designer because she went to a couturier and showed a picture and said make me that and now she is all that because she can look at something and take it and have it because you are rich enough to give it and then one day you wake up and realize what an ass you have been to your soul mate because she is the “conshagate” (conservative one) who is Jesus Christ the savior, who is saving you, but you believed the evil one who told you she was a demon because she wanted you to give up being a rich and famous man to become a man of great stature and wealth and regain your health that your wife took from you. And then you understand Erika is the one who is the wild-haired, badly behaved, belligerent bohemian whore who is the Virgin Mary, the Goddess, that you wanted all along and now you are the president of a country and you want the other one but you are too insane in reality so you may come and go insane on her, so people want herbto leave and get away, but she won’t because he will not find her at all, because he is the “doll” (one who is kinder than people think, and he cries in his mind because his soul mates hate him because he is an insane man who is confiscated by the “Sheenkateenk” (fucked up women who are insane in Hollywood) and the only one who understands him is the other confiscated one an the other and the other and the other, while everyone sits and enjoys their boring lives, with their boring wives, doing “Nothing” and eating crap and they want to be in the garden gathering herbs for gourmet breakfast and make love and kiss while teas are brewing and be beautiful but they must let go of their wives and their hoes and their sisters hoes and their mothers hoes and all the hoes to get at those who are kind and gentle and continental and rich and vibrant and amazing. You are all gone but not forgotten by the universe, you are the Camishiga Ashondiay, and you will be together someday. Love, Jacobia Escaflu, your father and soul mate. I Love You.