Gene Holes

I did say I was taking a break..or so it seems? I can’t get away from writing sometimes. I have been in a season of writing a lot of things down and teaching a bit. Poetry for me really started a few months before I had a mental breakdown back in 2007. Summer was a weekly effort to write something with my friend Kyle and a bunch of other all-night people in Kansas City 🙂 Those were some days..

8 years later here we all are. Kyle is married and I am still writing poetry. A lot of times I hit this wall with creative things. How much do I talk about my deep-seated fears and secrets while trying to make it make sense. This is everyone’s issue but pursuing your story and how God works in your pain..that is a never-ending quest that we are on. This reflection goes to present struggles with how easy it can be to not face yourself and face God. We want to slip away. And my jeans really do have a hole in them, so I am sad about that. That is an inside joke for my friends here in Cali..but genes do matter. When we move forward in life we do realize how much our environment shapes us and also how genetic proclivities can also do the same.

Skinny love on the empty penny

Jean holes again, gene holes again,

Gap in his brain made us all insane,

Been deeper since he left,

Upstairs boxes for the taking,

Munchies for the bowls we built

Around you, for the walls we built

Around you—video ideas for the sunrise,

Up with Your films in my head—

I was on the edge, I was a forest lover,

I was a midnight kind of fruit—

I am a plowing man, I am a brakes

Man, love has moved much to fast now,

Brakes are fixed and these eyes are not—

Vision is a puffed up dream for the same

Sermon on repeat, I am what I am not,

I am the west coast, I am the faded left

Handed kind of dreamer—I am here, I am

Not going to run away—

4am was the used to, everlasting was the

Song that was sang softly, into the dark

Breakfast for dinner, dinner in the middle

Of winter, colder air today for finally cold

Is gone,

Holes in these jeans, holes in these genes

I am slipping, its repeating, backwards into

A younger age, few more days with a few more

Waves, twenties to be over, roaring to turn to

Empty—

Now I build, now I continue, for the city is soon

To come to undo this thing called numb—

Don’t slip away into a place called running—

Suitcase those feelings, pack them away,

Face the life that you have today

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