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JB Fuller May 2010
a name engraved in soft grey rock
immortalizing the remaining award
the door is shut, the key is gone
the thing inside, safely forever stored
once a grand and favorite treasure
it outgrew its use once adored
only a mistaken sense of memory
makes it the stone's favored ward
it is nothing but misplaced hope
that one day it will be restored
but it is simply barren ground
that is lost without its lord
JB Fuller Jan 2023
In history,
Anonymous was a woman, she said.
And certainly,
Anonymous has since been me.
I've been hiding,
Not hidden. Afraid of shame.
JB Fuller Jan 2018
One beautiful day in June I met you,
alone with borrowed car and fluttered nerve,
trusting. Our God would keep and see me through.

I ate my lunch, watching your every chew,
and laughing.  I saw also how you serve--
one beautiful day in June I met you.

We went to that marsh--then truly I knew,
though our brave path would not be without curve,
our gracious God would keep and see us through.

We sat on grass under the sky so blue,
and talked theology with no reserve,
that beautiful day in June I met you.

Those early moments when it was so new,
we carefully tried the other to observe.
That beautiful day in June I met you
knowing that God would keep and see us through.

We went on, we struggled, and so we grew.
The miles stretched far, the months much too long,
we thought. But God would keep and see us through.

One fine day in July we said "I do"--
and thus our partnership became lifelong.
We went on, we struggled, and so we grew.

So many days, we didn't have a clue.
We are sinners, prideful, selfish, headstrong.
Despite us, God would keep and see us through.

We looked in the mirror, in the Word too,
and have often found ourselves steeped in wrong;
we went on, we struggled, and so we grew.

Somewhere with grace it began to come true:
we two, as one, started to plod along--
We are seeing God keep and see us through.

With all those past years and struggles in view,
in grace our love is learning to be strong.
That beautiful day in June I met you,
and every day God has kept and seen us through.
JB Fuller May 2010
how many years can it wait before we forget
how long can we travel through this time
is this my burden to bear in solitude
does your heart have this along with mine

did I scare you as much as you scared me
or was the awkwardness limited to one
where are we now if we try to compare
the notes of all we had seen and done

how were you the hesitant party
when I was impulsive and carefree
but we were never the daring kind
if we opened our eyes we might see

time goes and comes and drains
a portrait of childhood cliché
true in every essential but lacking
the frozen moment of that single day

and after that time I knew you
stolen moments in brighter shade
the sun came out and we were left
with these new dreams we'd made

in this world I never included you
and in yours I've had no residence
this somber finale delicately wrought
and deliberately unregretted since
JB Fuller Jan 2018
"Mama, why
do the boys stare at me?"

She stares at me with her
bright green eyes
and golden wavy hair
that falls perfectly.

"Mama, why?"

What in all my years has prepared me
to answer this?

"That's—because—"

Ask me no questions,
I'll tell you no lies.

"Because—"

I flounder, but she
doesn't notice.
She just stares at me,
waiting.

I think.
I should have looked this up.
I should have anticipated it.
I stare at her.

"Hmm?  Mama?"

I decide to brush it off.
"You know why. You're
just fishing."
I tease.  Deflect. Wait.

But still she stares, so I lean in.  
Hating each word before it emerges.
As if the sum of our existence,
our attractiveness to the world,
our usefulness,
hangs on this one flimsy, filmy,
fleeting facet of our being—

"They stare because you're pretty."

I smile love at her.
Before I walk away.
JB Fuller Jan 2018
travelling down a road
to a place I've never been
dashing in my own direction
getting lost once again

hearing the patient voice
calling me back home
saying "follow the road"
but I too often roam

thinking I have a pack
of heavy weight and care
the voice says "I have it"
and suddenly it isn't there

tripping over the rocks and roots
my feet just plod along
he tells me to look up and dance
and starts to show me the song

it sings of sorrow and of grief
of love betrayed and promises unkept
but there's a thread of faithfulness
and joy at which hearts have lept

the voice tells me this measure is mine
and shamed I hear the minor key
until suddenly brightness fills the song
he explains this is his work in me

the new beat floods my soul
and my feet find life of their own
for joy I dance, to joy I dance,
and I do not dance alone
JB Fuller May 2010
if you dare to dream
who knows what you’ll find
you might find you’ve got ambition
something other than an ax to grind
and if this world is too eager and fair
and can’t get you out of its mind
then lay some on with powerful fruition
and decide if you’re the hurting kind
JB Fuller May 2010
I know we can't pretend that all that is never happened
but this twisting is too -- I might dissolve into memory
that should be all right with me but it's not
my life is a constant state of euphoric pandora
secured in a set of paradoxical chinese handcuffs
and the harder I pull away the nearer I become
they say when you're sinking to look for the light
but this sand looks mysteriously like the noonday sun
I've lost every sense of gravity and direction
swimming in my three-dimensional model of earth
in the movies this is where I'd get the inner tube
but this isn't the titanic and this water isn't cold
do I want to leave this halfway trip to comfort
this warm floating feeling is more than reminiscent
and my head is far too full of foolish talk and chatter
I know air somersaults are better but it's safer here
it's not my comfort zone but I'm still content
then I brush the rough ocean floor softly
imagining faintest trails of light in my wake
and I can't forget the breath of freshness
that I'll never find if I stay where I am
JB Fuller Jan 2023
I just want to float down
Like a leaf in fall
That has finally
Finished
The hard work of
Sustaining a giant tree.
And turning brown
Blowing out a brilliant
Hue
To fall down
And rest
On the ground
Crunched by the feet
Of the passing schoolchildren
And ground
At long last
Into dust.
JB Fuller May 2010
i know that i'm not worthy
but today it seems doubly true
and once again i find
i am nothing without You

am i swimming in self-pity
coming short of the mark
how did this darkness
make its way into my heart

the moments when I stand
are encompassed by Your grace
and I'm no more sufficient than
when I falter and fall in this race

still i don't want to be here again
where every flaw is shown
pride wants to keep me
from being helpless before Your throne

nor do i want to bring You displeasure
when my life was made for Your praise
so please Lord, God, teach me
and on Yourself turn my gaze
JB Fuller May 2010
May life turn its path
    to greet you on your way
May the sun shine brightly
    on you after this dark day
May the things you touch
    spring up and grow anew
May your feet tread the ground
    bathed by the morning dew
May your road be pleasant
    and meet again with mine
May your heart be true
    to things unbound by time
JB Fuller May 2010
we grasp at every slender thread
    that dares to promise immortality
if the old man was like us, he would be
    the victim of our murderous duplexity
certain that an earlier yesterday holds
    the wonder of what we seek
yet when that day was here, it was scorned
    in favor of a newer, later week
we embodied the desires of today
    recklessly ignoring the tick-tock
but now, too late, we realize
    the most merciless of all is the clock
JB Fuller Dec 2023
I remember you with the brown eyes and
blonde hair, arranged in a cute little bob.
I remember you, bright smile and dark tan,
looking for her first babysitting job.
The toddler-you made me quake in my boots,
but the older-you seemed collected and cool,
a teenager with solid family roots,
popular and very well-liked at school.
Today it's all gone. I ache for your mom,
and your sisters, your brother, your dad.
The pain you've inflicted has little balm--
Did you know you could make joy itself sad?
JB Fuller May 2010
sweet dreams, close your eyes
be still for it’s late at night
and the dark has come to take you away

sweet dreams, try to understand
all the pleasures and the pains
that compose this thing called day

sweet dreams, sail tonight
let your sail be caught by dreams’ sweet light
as silent and still you lay

on this ocean you will see
the storms are many on this sea
and while you’ll find you love to roam
you’ve got to remember to come back home

sweet dreams, sweet dreams
when you awake wander back to here
dreams are sweet but life’s more dear

dream sweet
JB Fuller May 2010
as childhood slips through our fingers
like sand from a broken hourglass
we tighten our grip and try to keep
all the remnants we can grasp
and as every piece slowly vanishes
we look up to see how others fare
judging superiority to establish order
if we could steal from our companions
we would not hesitate to add to our pile
but that has been neatly *******
so that we get nothing for our trouble
though we may lose a friend meanwhile
it would be nice if we could realise
the hourglass is not destroyed
and if we could only see it truly
then we would see that this obsession
with gaining what we cannot hold
is a troublesome mythology
because we are seeing upside-down
the glass of time may be running low
but only because eternity is filling up
and as time trickles away wisdom proves
the things lost are nothing
compared to the things gained
if
JB Fuller May 2010
if
lost in the old cliché
for every step forward
falling two steps back
it's life in full reverse
when I try to speed ahead

I repeat every single word
but lack even the least of these
the utter emptiness within
isn't some delusion or slight
I'm not sure I want more tonight

by grace you are all
I said I knew the truth
but this breath you gave me
to ever sing your praises
grows short through my misuse

I was born audacious
my life in pursuit of change
it's all from your perfection
but if in you I find completion
can I still call myself complete

where's the line divisive
marking my individuality
if I lose myself in you
will I ever again find me
isn't it illusive fundamentally

lose me and keep me
the paradoxes of truth
bound by my four dimensions
and I know you are free
but it is I who cannot see

standing here in holy hope
trusting what I cannot believe
faith alone and simple words
to sum the things I can't conceive
lying far beyond my reach

it's you I say so confidently
but I know not what I speak
if I begged you like solomon
would I become any wiser
if you showed me what I've seen
JB Fuller Jul 2019
our lives stopped in October
    with the brain tumor
    (that wasn't even ours)
and now there's a calendar
    and piles of things
    all stuck in October
while our real selves are in spring
    or is it our fake selves
    gone on before us
with the impossible feeling that we
    will never catch up
    still here in October
and the flowers are blooming
    the April showers
    bringing May flowers
to October.

in October he died
    though his body lingered on
    his meanness and vanity too
but there was never home again
    no corn from the garden
    no last buck to bring down
everything that should be
    died just before fall
    though life continued to gasp
through Christmas, into winter
    half-life, half-stopped, desperate
    and breaking
since October.
JB Fuller May 2010
in the silence someone hears the singing
the mismatched hymn that time begot
their ears attune to the voiceless ringing
tying the world into a careless knot

in the softness you can hear it
the echo of the ages rolling past
stirring within a fire yet unlit
straining from its birth to last

in that moment all is peaceful
the strains of the day begin to fade
but all tranquility can be deceitful
every ounce cuts like a weighted blade

in the time that divides all time
earth looks long and hard for her answer
but all she finds is written in rhyme
and with this music she is no dancer

in the silence someone hears the singing
the mismatched tune that time forgot
they take some bells to set them ringing
being dissatisfied with their unearned lot
JB Fuller May 2010
you alone have been the witness
         to every single fall
little things, big horrid things
         my life's a long tale of them all
the only persistent plot is you
         your presence alone never ceased
this amazing grace abounds the most
         whenever I deserve the least
I'm still standing here in flawedness
         despite acquaintance with truth aflame
for your words and my eager attempts
         I remain very much the same
I've mercy encounters with the almighty
         but the effect is most understated
your self demands my life and thought
         but I can't even qualify as dedicated
you promise to give me every desire
         to plant that seed deep into my heart
I, the child repentant, again beg my only plea:
         complete the work you didn't hesitate to start
the vows you made are never broken
         your plans are nothing but purest perfection
and for this tonight I bring myself
         a sacrifice laced with grace-given affection
to shudder at your power and yet pray
         for this promised grace to be fulfilled
mold me, shake me, hold my heart close --
         take the darkness and have it killed
and in the shadow of your omnipotent hand
         keep this your wayward child
make my life to sing your glory
         until to you I'm reconciled
JB Fuller Jan 2023
The lies we tell
About happiness
About ever after
Fragmenting us
Pieces of a beautiful picture
A puzzle
So pretty, so art
Until you pick it up
And pieces in your hands
Fall
In a heaped mess.
Love that is whole
So whole
Such an example
Such a lovely life.
But we know
We hold disconnected, broken bits
Torn out of our souls
Just pretending
To be one
To be beautiful
When two become
One
Set of shards.
JB Fuller May 2010
wearing your size dress
I took a walk near the moon
I pretended I knew
why everything ended so soon
and the world rusted away
like the wind in my hair
it was another language, then
but we didn't really care
worship the elaborate
and sober the beauty
behind our lucious dreams
lie our delicate screams
and the woman at the window
has got something to say
about fragments of the memories
that never got us through the day
me
JB Fuller May 2010
me
sometimes i just--shut--my eyes
think of what could be
a brief instant of mixing--reality--
fantasy--
wings melting i crash--into the sand
the waves washing wet--over me

the sun is too--hot--hot hot
i can carry the fire--up
but i cannot put it out
in all my ice i cannot **** the sun
so i am building a castle--a sandcastle
with parapets and a gated moat--

i knock it down with a crash
destruction was my primer-book
cynicism my blue-backed speller
so i lock myself up--in my room
pretending to be named emily
in my flawless white dress

the old nickname e.d. is transformed
until i remember--myself--
i am not a doll
and i--am not--afraid
the world can be--irrelevant
i will not abandon life

****** half-hatched into reality--
lost in a foreign land unknown
a sojourner who has lost--the song
peregrine with a misplaced home
the repressed truth will arise--
i will find the beginning--in the end

i fly back up--fire in my pocket--
bid cheerful farewell to the sun
good day to the beach-grains
rebuilding the--castle--
it is only--sand--
and i let it stand

life is reality--what took so long
and life that is really happening
is better than supremacy unlived
and i get lost--in omniscience
looking--skyward--realizing
i am a--grain--of sand
JB Fuller May 2010
mom ought to be
home soon
and the door will creak open, like
a shot of red lightening soda pop
pop pop
this web is well-spun, isn't it?
aint it. isn't. aint. apostrophes stuck
to the ends of our tongues like
candy from the local metaphor shop, where
the commas and the poems get
together
to rhyme about their punctuated lives.
JB Fuller May 2010
an instant
    frozen in the annals of time
nature is
    paused as it watches in silence
in awe
    of the power nearly unleashed
fastest
    as the lightspeed barrier breaks
an action
    that makes the sun look reduced
suddenly
    as the entirety of all is transformed
an atom
    appears and multiplies matter
blindingly
    as a voice speaks and all exists
JB Fuller May 2010
Three keys carefully tapped out
remove doubt and make it clear—
this a joke, but that a frown.
Tiny clown, bring drear or cheer.

For some, two keys shall suffice;
but to be nice, make a nose—
'tis just a dash more trouble,
but hath double the fair pose.

Of course, we can't forget one:
for fun, the twice-dotted Ü
(although too tall and too thin)
is a good grin, fresh and new.
JB Fuller May 2010
vague and undefined
do you believe my irreverent lies
this pretense of mine
capable but far removed
I know it all but I don't understand
knowledge does not wisdom find
I can hop on one foot with ease
but I can't stand on these two feet
so it's all elbows and knees
spinning tumbling crying mumbling
squinting to keep the sunlight out
while looking for it with my whole heart
JB Fuller May 2010
One day I shall leave this earth
and mourn not a whit its loss,
for though this world is fair indeed
on the far shore is a land more glorious.

I look with pleasure to that day
and beg it come without further delay,
yet I live here, this moment, this hour
where time is quick and swiftly gone.

As the Father has not yet seen fit
to call me to my home on high,
I travel this terrestrial terrain
working whilst I wait.
JB Fuller May 2010
too long I have walked
down this dusty road
mindful of the journey
mindful of the load

too often I have thought
that skills and respect
were useful things to keep
and knowledge or intellect

and I have tried to gather
all the wisdom I could find
striving to be smarter and keener
learning how to be sensitive and kind

many good and noble things
I have thought or at least tried
even struggling to learn
how to listen and confide

but these things alone are weak and empty
however good they might do
for my call is vastly higher
and my wisdom is only you

what matter is it if the world hates me
if I never measure equal to their standard
what matters of expectations or praise
or if all I am and all I think is slandered

be all my vision, be ruler of my heart
you are my wisdom, my word, whatever befall
be all my inheritance and all that I need
my treasure, my best thought, the ruler of all

the road is yet long and I am yet young
and if ever I forget that you're the only one
bring me back and hold me close
and remind me why this race I run
JB Fuller May 2010
how often do I see
the darkness that is surrounding me?
and does my heart
ache when I see that you're falling apart?
I want the words to say
to show you the sunniest side of the day
but they don't come
the magic inside doesn't come

a smile can be guilty
in the presence of utter despair
you couldn't forgive me
if I laughed when you were like this

joy shuddering
your emotions are only fluttering
but you stare at me
is silence all that my answer can be?
I want hope on your side
but all mine seems to be hidden away inside
in your dimmed eyes
before the face of truth imitation flies

and I don't know I don't know
I can hold you when you cry
and mourn when you mourn
but it still seems excruciating
the pain you've internalized
is something I could never see
but I'm here if you can stand me
JB Fuller May 2010
please kind sirs
    i assure you i meant no harm
-can't you see the poor girl is telling the truth-
revered jury i apologise
    i didn't realise my sin was so great
-really, gentlemen, it's a first offense-
i take all the blame
    i was where i should not have been
-a girl's got to make a living-
weaving my webs of destruction
    i accept the punishment
-please, have mercy-
execute me if you must
    but wouldn't it be easier
-hear her plea-
to simply be rid of me
    show me the door i'll gladly leave
-i beseech you on her behalf-
please, miss muffet
    was quite mistaken
-hear, hear, the witness is tainted-
an attempt at friendship
    has thrown me on the mercy of the court
-save the poor spider-
JB Fuller May 2010
he breathed a restless moment
and lost all worthy intent
the weary smile finally spent
he raised the voice of dissent
JB Fuller May 2010
It's a good life she's got going--
there's her dude and her dress
matching shoes and a patined purse
and nothing to worry about

the stereo never stops rocking
she never tires of what it plays
the clothes in her closet are innumerable
the styles guaranteed never to change

her shirts are never wrinkled
her eyes never shine with tears
her hair in perfect plastered permanence
her expression is always the same

a timeless smile reveals perfect teeth
a sparkle carefully painted in each eye
and it is always this way
and she swears it'll never change

life happens and she strives with the flow
eternally up-to-date the miss of all
she's the perfect dream within reality:
she's the cut-out paper doll
JB Fuller May 2010
Me, myself, and I are having a
    party today
You weren't invited, but couldn't
    have come anyway
There'll be ice cream and cake
we labored all night it to make
We'll have a housefull
that won't break a single rule
But it'll be lonely for us three:
Myself, I and me.
JB Fuller May 2010
it is supposed to be better
to have a life unlived
than to sit in dark corners
and commiserate grimly
JB Fuller May 2010
once she could think well; the world catered to her call
no monsters hid under piles of newspaper over warm grates
the street was a black river, not an interruption of being
strangers sold tainted chocolates; the apocalypse was being lost
but she revolted to the wrong road and saw a flash of color
as the landscape came with thoughtless clarity
alice could never resurrect a deadened neverland
true utopia was reclaimed and found to be in reverse
the rosy view of a negative came in three-by-five prints
although she discarded knowledge and journeyed to kansas
her eyes could not forget the lure of exquisite babylon
JB Fuller May 2010
Bits of thread, left to lie;
all that remains, and I wonder why.
Pieces left of a bracelet made;
for my friend, who "goodbye" bade.
I think at last, our friendship's broke;
it has been a year since last we spoke.
Not sure what happened, I haven't got a clue;
what drove us apart, us friendly two.
JB Fuller May 2010
I only pass a moment here
a stitch in the pattern of time
I only contribute a measure
to the poem one small rhyme

although at times I seem
content with this world's view
I await something higher
I'm only passing through

I am waiting for the day
I can entirely cease to roam
and coming to my family find
I have finally come home
JB Fuller May 2010
every poet the world deems great
has written an elegant legacy
dedicated to himself
tallying all his wisdom
as he glorifies in his shame
he decidedly exalts his ego
and spreads the infamy of his name

so my muse, accept my invocation
as I write myself into epic proportion

collecting the vast library of my life
I eagerly fold back the cover
of the first volume in mint condition
but as I open it I learn astonishment
every page shines in unblemished white

in my fearsome excitement
I **** each book carelessly off the shelf
tearing pages and breaking spines
as the discarded books crash to the floor
and when it is completed all I have
is a pile of broken futures
and only a slender volume represents
the object of my reckless search

this book now my chief treasure
I sit down at my cluttered desk
to incline my ear and listen
and discern what material is worthy
for inclusion in my great work of art
but I am shocked to discover
that the pages hold insufficient promise
except the whisper of future possiblilities
which I have just hurled into dust

in the grand tradition of yesterday
I must finish in the same way I began

every poet who has written
a heroic tale of self
has exausted all his wonder
and reduced his life to metred lines
the good things are all gone
and all that remains is bleak and empty
when seen in the light of dawn
JB Fuller Mar 2018
The soft breeze picks up my hair then drops it
as dark clouds come rolling through the sky.
Rippled in gray, the world becomes less lit
as though the heavens above thought to cry.
But don't weep for us now, it's beautiful.
There is nothing so glorious as dust!
The smile on my face is not dutiful—
this is joy as the wind begins to gust!
Something inside me loves the dissonance:
the broken sun runs away, reflecting
the desperate gasping for deliverance.
A return to the day we're expecting.
   The rain, the wind, all mutely testify
   to each bright day suddenly gone awry.
JB Fuller May 2010
the rain falls down and i close my eyes enraptured
warm bright rays are pleasant but i take what i can

not as if i can't remember yesterday's torturing release
the clouds my worst enemy intently forcing the ****

life would be an intriguing alternative to this mess
of stringy wet hair half-frozen to itself and my face

i have a minature tent to make camp upon my head
if i open it the tent will become a sail and steal me

the rain is beating, warm, friendly, almost-kind
assuring me it would melt the ice if it dared return

we exchange bracelets, initialed hearts engraved
but crashing thunder interrupts, no blessing gives

i look up and the dark is ripped, a slender white string
my new friend abandons me in terror to the frost

numbly i just -- stay -- i can no longer care
i am yesterday, and the sky is spilling sleet
JB Fuller May 2010
spinning here in silence forever
wondering at the vastness of the sea
and thinking that if only each minute
would bring back tomorrow to me
living in the present reluctantly
for the future will never be now
and yesterday will never change
wanting the splinter of the soon
to fuse life and meaning for today
reaching and grasping and hoping
catching the wind in my fist
I found it only shadow and murk
the light rests unbendingly on this hour
and only in this hour can I find the way
JB Fuller Feb 9
somewhere an emotion tumbles into existence
ex nihilo, or maybe not
in the great universe of the mind it could be from the outer rim
I can only feel the train rumbling in the distance
vibrating, gently

and then boom it flies in and explodes
right next to me so my blood and sinew
escape my gravitational pull
but the emotion doesn't care and it tumbles
and tumbles, like a snowball

a great cosmic snowball of misplaced nothing
or maybe it's a black hole,
because nothing escapes its horizon
everything around us goes rushing in
and it all is smashed relentlessly

around this giant ball is a fringe
of pretense
there must be some explanation in the brain
and so it is constructed around the emotion
justified by the emotion

if faith is belief without sight
splitting is justifying all the dark in the heart
no facts need apply
cause emotions don't lie
so we have this construct of make-belief

we burn on and on and die and die
nothing is real but the feel
and no one can try to explain
who can hear facts clamoring
in the middle of all this pain?

then boom and bust and the snowball
melts, and the star goes supernova
and all that's left is an eerie silence
and the construct created to explain
the anger that took the rein

what do we do with that?
it's a fragile paper mache
and the balloon is popped
and it was just air?
how is this fair?

we watch it collapsing
what do we see?
everything around is gone
consumed by the fury and the fire
now we can see

the moment of decision:
for you, for me
how do we unwind
the mess that was made
from this ball of irrationality?
JB Fuller May 2010
The empty chair sets on stage
frightening me with its rage.
It asks words of a wise mage, which I'm not;
this blot I can't assuage.
If I dared, they said that night,
I'd soon be over this fright.
But I have seen the spotlight shining cold,
and told tales of its might.
Far be it from me to know
the intimate secrets low
which help them vanquish their foe of rank fear
to jeer at my shadow.
JB Fuller Jan 2018
the sun shone bright against the water
the waves rippled gently in a shallow wake
and the clouds floated lazily through the sky
as the geese landed gently on the lake

there was no past and no future
no dreams of what might come
only the beautiful and awesome reality
that today was not yet done

we talked of crushes and cooties
and all of the older far-off dreams
but distraction surrounded us with play
life was exactly all it seems

in those sunny days it took so little
to make our bonds and hold them strong
we played together in the muddied creek
and nothing could make that go wrong

they told us to enjoy our childhood
they told us it'd soon be gone
we absorbed ourselves in every moment
but couldn't understand our dawn

one day we stood and looked out
over all we'd done before
and realized with bittersweet astonishment
we had walked through childhood's door

as we waited on the threshold
tenatively awaiting our turn to leave
we knew what we had could never return
as surely as we knew we'd never grieve
JB Fuller May 2010
black and white with grey about the edges
my honest words just stopped ringing true
and with all the wandering in specific directions
this haphazard life always comes back to you

when truth falls from unclean lips of stone
and the ground rebels at the acid stain
the flowers decide to reluctantly grow
and you wash them in redeeming rain

speaking the language of overflow
sound piled up in scattered heaps
the needle lost herself in the last straw
but this memory of light she keeps

the water is clean and my hands are not
yet I'm supposed to shine in the dark
four thousand tongues are still too short
and you alone can make your mark
JB Fuller Jan 2018
the beast in me wants to romp
and enrage the beast in you
tonight

you see my beast is locked up
in chains, a fearful cell--
locked tight

but when yours calls mine
it answers with unabashed
delight

"set me free," it begs
and the shadows grow
with fright

with myself and my desire
my deadly determination that I—I
am right

then your pet answers me and
out they fly—sparks and gunpowder
ignite

the beasts in lethal fury
grievances, protests, objections
recite

unfettered, unchained, and uncontrolled
they spin, they soar, they destroy
they fight

we lock away our agency
our wisdom—our love
from sight

our pets are eating us, my dear!
we look at each other and mourn,
contrite

too late.  the damaged flesh
has uncovered our bones and shown us
each bite

there is no return.
but perhaps if we wrestle,
unite?

with every power we strive:
we send those animals back into
the night

when the morning breaks at last
have we gained
insight?

are we richer than before?
do we know any more with
hindsight?

is it worth the blood we bore
as our beasts fought before
daylight?

silence. there is no good
from letting the beast pretend to be
a knight

we have not won this day;
the events do nothing but
indict

we must build cages that hold our beasts
that constrain this ugly temper
more tight

and keep our hands off the latches
because love is always better
than spite
JB Fuller May 2010
he stares down the empty bottle
    graceful brown glass shattering his pride
swarthy foam defying his ambition
    a reluctant sigh escapes
as he comes to the slow realization
    in a moment of despair
he cannot write a poem
    about an empty root beer bottle
JB Fuller Jan 2018
i thought i could fly
so i climbed up the mountain
the view was very nice
wind blew through my hair
on its wings flew inspiration
i lifted up my feet to soar
and i ran away from the peak
navigating the currents
and it felt very pleasant
because i knew i was high
i landed ever so softly
gently, in the schoolyard
my feet carried me away
i found me at the seesaw
recounting my flight
the audience intent
the door slammed open
i whirled in surprise
teacher hurring to us
the devil in her face
and hell in her lips
lucifer bound my eyes
grating noises in my ears
i thought i escaped unscathed
but the next day i jumped again
and found my wings had been clipped
in a trance i shuddered
and tumbled to the ground
i lie with broken wing
but i know it not
i lie with broken dream
i cannot
rise

******* the playground
spinning wild fantasy
good to imagine but bad
to believe it all true
i had to do something to stop
inside i drew her alone and free
i distinguished myth and reality
her feet must stay on the ground
and all this insane wishes of dreams
is as eradicated i hope as yesterday
she must move on and be adultish
abandoning childhood fairies and hopes
i have made her a survivor
this is the way things go in this life
those who do not learn fall and break their necks
because we are post-everything
and definitely beyond this immature obsession
everyone must fall sometime
and it is good that i made her today
before she climbs to the summit
inside of herself
and crashes hard to break
to shatter more than myth
but infringing on reality
i have caught her
safely in my arms
i had a peculiar dream last night

i dreamed i could fly
thinking and lifting up
now, awake, i can only wonder
why i would dream such a lie
JB Fuller May 2010
i have a garden of yesterdays
with things pushing through the dirt to bloom
and in my house of tomorrows
is a ***** and a *** and a wheelbarrow
i guess today is the place
where the past and future meet
and i gotta go back to the garden
to dig up dinner for today
maybe it is brussel sprouts
maybe it is sweet potatoes
or peaches, even
i forget some of what i planted
but i will find out soon
when i harvest yesterday
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