DREAM ON: A Poem by Martha Rose Crow 2003

DREAM ON M A R T H A C R O W I am extraordinary and I shine When I go, the light goes with me I never lied to you or hid what I was It’s God’s fault that I am not perfect This is how you treat somebody Who has always been a friend? You don’t really know who I am You have no idea who I really am inside My canyons of marvel stretch forever And so does the river of life that carves them Under my lush green valleys My unexplored treasure caves wait for discovery To touch me is to touch divinity To see me is to see beauty To hold me is wonderful To talk with me is enlightening To live with me is a privilege There is only one Me That’s why they call me Diva You will never find a flower Sweeter or more intoxicating Than the aphrodisiac blossom of my spirit

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Martha Rose Crow, a multitalented poet, writer, playwright and futurist, was once my best friend. She had endured abuse from a former husband and emerged stronger and wiser, as this poem portrays. She had 105 blogs at the time of her death. She placed on them "Judyth Vary Baker is my best friend" --along with the book cover of Me & Lee. Martha and I received death threats almost immediately, but she refused to remove the book cover and her statement. Martha was suffering from some kind of malaise soon after, and then, not long after writing to me (we were working on a book together), Martha mentioned that some kind oif 'juice" she drank at a party the night before had tasted "strange." After writing that we were again "under attack" to a mutual friend, Martha went to the market to get groceries. There she collapsed. She was rushed to the hospital, where a few hours later, they announced she had died of a heart attack. Before I or her family could reach her, and without family permission, Martha's body was immediately cremated. Records showed she'd been given enough epinephrine to kill an elephant, "by mistake" and police made a crime scene of her ashes, but of course, nothing could be found from the ashes. Her symptoms, as she described them to me, indicated arsenic poisoning. Martha's poetry was exciting and her celebration of life and of her womanhood is exemplified in this stunning poem, written seven years before her death. Martha Rose Crow was a Native American Indian by birth. She was forced, as was I, to live in exile for her safety. She had recently been granted citizenship in The Netherlands. I intend to finish out book, which was an analysis of the roots of evil in modern society: "Political Ponerology for the 21st Century".... Rest in peace, beloved friend. JVB.

Transcript of DREAM ON: A Poem by Martha Rose Crow 2003

DREAM ON

M A R T H A C R O W

I am extraordinary and I shineWhen I go, the light goes with meI never lied to you or hid what I wasIt’s God’s fault that I am not perfectThis is how you treat somebodyWho has always been a friend?

You don’t really know who I amYou have no idea who I really am insideMy canyons of marvel stretch foreverAnd so does the river of life that carves themUnder my lush green valleysMy unexplored treasure caves wait fordiscovery

To touch me is to touch divinityTo see me is to see beautyTo hold me is wonderfulTo talk with me is enlighteningTo live with me is a privilege

There is only one MeThat’s why they call me DivaYou will never find a flowerSweeter or more intoxicatingThan the aphrodisiac blossom of my spiritSo sweet that the angels lust for it

And you think you can get better than me?Dream on, asshole