Part I (Super ego complains to the Id)
A multilayered thing this self:
a tangle of discordance, the sum of things stuck inside.
for I was implanted with a Mormon God when very young.
Twist as I might my feet never touch holy ground
When I look, the pool reflecting me ripples,
the sheen goes away, guilty apprehension appears
the whirlpool sucks joy away; my image is incoherent.
Reflection and assessment, the rational view
and the hidden insistencies conflict.
Is the whirlpool image my true assessment?
the unease of me others see, and I do not?
The weight of Mormon demands I reject but surprisingly obey
the implantation of Godliness rejected, but of being chosen, I’m not.
And in battle with this ubermensch the self might never win.
Guilt runs deep like water seeks all cavities
this God is a ghost in me
and I’ve not found another to vanquish it,
not the force of love or flowers sweet
or vain achievement, however great, prevail,
so I look in the mirror and see
a jumble of illusions,
and ghosts hidden from general view
Part II (the ego regains itself)
Asked to write about myself
all sorts of rubbish
I shouldn’t publish
‘cause it will bore.
Oh, hum, the rant is dumb
all the inner ghosties numb.
The first ghost was a Mormon God
it remains, a puddle of pure guilt.
So it simply doesn’t do
to look in the fuzzy self mirror
without a musical background
and raucous laughter,
a fragrant warm meal
and lots of good red wine.
Kent, Bowker 11/21/2013