Lorenzo Buford

Imaginary Poet

Looking for a Father's Love

He wanted me as a woman
not a woman with a phallus.

He took my phallus
and made it a cross
for me to bear
for me to cling to
for me to sacrifice myself upon
so that I render myself
always to his beliefs.

And I cling to the cross
made from my phallus
while trying not to drown
in his emotional storm;
and his denial strikes at me
like a judgmental finger.

Once I had six fingers.

My father severed them
as I clung to his boat
his religions,
as I am drowning
in his moisture
while clinging to remains
of dying redeemers
while crying out
not to be abandoned
as his male daughter.

But he wanted me
in a human form
for my mad wanderings
were disrupting
the path of the Archetypes.

So my severed fingers
became guides
in his dark waters
as whales, dolphins, walruses
and a phallic sea god.

And my tears
became the oceans
within the minds
of his Old Ones;
and I dropped a part
of the mixture of our waters
into men

so my father killed me
by severing my holding on him;

and now, I let go of his boat, his religion
his dead and dying patterns
so that I may drown in the mixture
of tears and blood
his water; my moistures.

So now I wander the depths
of our entwining minds
as a mad male crone,
a phallic woman
who walks among men
looking for a father's love

as I become The Suffering,

the vehicle of daemonic darkness

and the elixir of transformation.

I will no longer hold
the phallic cross
that keeps me afloat
in his chaotic waters.

I will become my own Father/Mother/Lover.
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