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 Jan 2018 JB Fuller
Lee
Hi, I'm a strong believer the media is important.
But I cannot associate myself with the news that it's reportin'.
Domestically, we see one side, not enough is imported.
And if I speak out, there's a fear I get deported,

but I'm living far away from where I was born.
It's too hard at this time to really call that place my home.
Other nations are more accepting and they're half as diverse.
I can't help but think that the roles should be reversed.
Not mine, but some peoples ancestors traveled across the sea
Searching for a new life to rid themselves of heresy.
Now they won't let you board a plane if you've got hairy cheeks,
Or a wrap on your head. They'll give up your seat.

I didn't create the problem. I'm still in my teens.
What went wrong in the past that infected us with greed.
I find it hard to believe that there was just a 'bad seed'.
I'm made by what I feel, what I hear, and what I see.

Now it's my job, and the rest of my generation's,
to sniff out the problems. Find where people were mistaken.
Some issues may be right in front of our nose.
Sometimes we don't realize how deep this stuff goes.
We often don't understand how the darkness grows.
As much as we study, no one really knows.

As a young person, I'm still stuck writing poetry
because no one who matters would listen to my prose.
I was born in America, then I moved to Brazil, now I'm in Germany.
You paid more attention
To your red letters
Than to the colored words of
Jesus.
I guess accessibility is what it takes
To name our identity.

Mean words were accessible to you,
Easier to come by than scripture.
Already imprinted in your head
From childhood,
No need for memorization
Or word for word quotation,
Or chapter and verse
References.
It didn’t matter who said what.

Cruelty is easy.

Cruelty’s simplicity made it easy
To write your own red letter verses
On your body.
After all,
All you had to do to find the right tool
Was to open a drawer and find a razor blade,
Not leaf through thousands of strangely thin pages
And tiny columned sentences.

So now in this new era
Of adulthood,
I try to make love
Accessible to you,
I try to make it accessible to myself.
No more red letters in pale skin,
Just glowing love
Held in the palms of our hands
Well past midnight,
Made of pixelated letters
Typed by nail-bitten thumbs.
I love you, my friend.

— The End —