Childish Force Of Nature / by Laurence Fuller

Text by Laurence Fuller, Art works by Sima

Childish force of nature, my swirling body swims with salt drops dropping in pools of unexpected pleasure. Crashing water weeds washing their spirits with me. Together we cross over the top layer, before we get sucked under the other underneath pulled out to sea.


Working through that introspection to the other side of a long lost handle on the inner dissonance of myself, I’m lost to find that gripping heartache that was so raw about my flesh, I hold you here like a wax candle dripping down my fingers. I hold its near sited gaze on the better world that sinks in endless washing brushes around its drowning middle temperatures. I wish I had a heavier weighted line to sink me down and meet you there. 


Early young washed up seagulls wrestless flapping won’t you let them be who they are. I make mistakes too, I’m still young, it doesn’t have to be this way, let me flap and I’ll forget I was here with you. Craving skin swallowing up my body. If you desire this it will bring forces of nature on the waves of distant hope, you’re undivided self will pull me into you. This brutal part of yourself will never let me go. I don’t trust the water here. Why does art matter? I can’t remember, just stop trying to make it and there it is. Show me with your actions. 

This is who I am it’s the journey I’ve been on alone. Clung to the clutches to severe cheeks of desire. Dig your fingers into my flesh unattainable stomping grounds of my beach. I’m not good with names, better with people, he changed unrecognizable to the man I fell in love with. I see him there and in that fragile balance of life I lost contact with the him that swam within me. Just paint the thing.

Sunshine smiles don’t know this yet, just hope there’s more to the nervous childish energy behind my eyes, don’t bite my remaining fingertips I scrubbed them to the nerves already my skin peeled back by accident I burnt myself and so did you. I melted that pain away by the daylight of reflection. 


Alone with my talent in a shell of many bodies piled up. These people who punch inside of us want to control us like puppets from the inside ripping at our veins, our heart the opals of our eyes. Shadows of our mind. There’s an open awkwardness to who you are. I feel I am at the beginning of who I am, I’d rather be a master of something new.


I choose between the competition of Van Goghs crabs and then his sunflowers, they just are and they just do what they please, no one tells them what to do, they are completely themselves. Not his sunflowers but his bulb fields radiate with many purpose beings. Their not dried out but burnt that’s why they live with so much humming lust for life, so much more to give so many days to be what they truly desire as the universe folds in on itself to make it happen. The will within the oak tree that bursts through the rubble of a parish church ceiling so wandering shepherds can pillow books beneath their sleeping states. 


There’s something of a child in me listening to the happy man looking at wooden pencil boxes on his pillow and toys, I play forever play many toys to task the marching band by boyish joy, clanging calamity of my imagination. Hope for the boy developing between my ears there they are, just for today I can pretend, I can pretend I am. 

Wonder you were gone, buried wonder you were gone, gone before my life was over here again I felt that there was something here again, was I alone in that sin, living over burlesque unity my friend I’ve longed for never changing in the wind. 

I let the symbols from my childhood dictate strange imaginings and we people are like paintings aren’t we, we just give something away and there it sits in the corner of our minds drifting in the thoughts of all the other things that we are. Don’t you want to get back there? Don’t you want to feel that way again? How lucky we are to have touched it even for a moment bent on the breeze of tired hillside grass. 


What you want is space I can tell there’s too much of me in here, I can only curl up into a ball on your flower stitched sheets and come close to tears at the thought of that home which pulled your under ripping tides of womankind. In calm lakes of passive humility it grabbed your ankle and there you were before it caught and clawed your legs calling out to chivalry, something noble out there on the far gotten distance of your future, some oncoming hooves trotting the specked range reaching limits of your beach at night. 

A traveler gallops forward from the sands of other shores his worldly manner pushing past the perfect symmetry of twisted sheets and whirling human reflections of our living breathing connection to this oncoming wave of joy, slow down boy. Map the landscape of your heart before it’s captured by pirates of another country. 

Adoration for potential, the potential of this planet, sharks and turtles do what they are, watch them for a while before you pick them up, brush the sharp skin before you clutch its fin. Know this about me and them, I dive deeper than the shallow banks of most, I’ve invested in the inner world of who I am and I saw you there, stretching the legs of jelly fish across the shoreline of poetry, sea creatures populate the coral. Anemone bodies undulating together in that scooped out palace of this washing wistful daydream morning. I’ll think in bed, down antique telephones of tide this morning, muses bless my heart with powerful gifts too big to grasp easier to hold this small ball of nothing in quiet happy moments.

Over there that group they are not where they are almost never there anymore, I forgot to get them closer to this person I lost out at sea, to the siren islands he left my soul to that seduction. I can’t get him home again to the shipwrecks of mossy time, lion fish awaken their poisonous love. Sting me with your mark forever I don’t care about any of it anymore, I just want to feel some love blazing in my blood give me that fix of what I miss, naturalness open the pupil of my eyes to the muse, addicted to the absurd symbols of my unawakened imagination. 


I’m back to scratching up the surfaces crusted on the sea floor of insight, inside my life there’s too much neon breaking out the background, hoping for colorful sea slugs, dolphin dreams retracting clouds above the surface of myself, when reality pulls me from this dream I’ll still be sat here calmly moving with the drifting deep tides. Bashing against a better self realized petulance, so stubbornly I dart between coral shelters, a strange home I’ve made I know I’m better when I’ve lost all hope, alone. You’ll like me more then I’ve too many people speaking in me to think clearly. Take time this moonlight night won’t last forever, too many years ahead to waste this potential.