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

Emerald

Labor day means I should rest but I am working away at a ton of things written over the years and because my computer broke back in March I’ve been all over the place in bits and pieces organizing thoughts. I have three big categories: poetry, theology and film. My own personal journaling is in their too..anyhow what I am going to post will get inserted into older dates but until then..

Ah the sunrise

To my surprise I am

Enlightened by its light–

For yellow has chosen me,

Red has followed me,

Green has come around me

An Emerald sound, a mercy

Cloud above me, its to hard to

Say how lovely You are, yet what

I have seen I never want to see anything

Ever again! Come up here and I will show

Me, I will show You, I will have supper with

You, for it shall be last those who are now

Are first,

Its childhood stays with me,

Scared on the top stairwell

Stirring down there

Living scared,

Living scarred

And trying to hard

To escape the present

And to live present–

Here I am, send me

I am unusually kind to

The way you rewind my

Mistakes as if they never

Happened, as if I could never

Ask for more mercy–

Emerald please, all around

Me

Ever Changing Terrain

Down with the roaches

Now I have all these approaches

Lowly on a colt

Lightning in the bolt, I am full of the cult

I sipped it for years—

Are we sick with wondering

Or are we just wandering?

Hopeless romantic,

Feeling pedantic,

The rules have changed

The terrain has shifted

No longer does man choose love or

Choose good or choose anything anymore?

Lovers of self, lovers up on the shelf,

Saving mercy for a rainy day,

A storm to come,

Our love is on numb,

This pain is growing

The gadgets are losing their grip

Its an endless maze of what is next—

Bigger, faster but worse and worse it

Gets—cycles of regret, adulthood is

An ever evolving force–

Its remorse, but really it is not

Its regret but really its apathy

Its pleasure, its endless pleasure

But to what measure? To what end?

To where now can we comprehend?

Its evil all around, its a lie to believe anything else

Its still a choice, I choose heaven, not Hell

Meaning Behind the Prose and other Memorial Thoughts

The last few months has been a very prolific time of writing a lot of my stream of consciousness flow of poetry. This blog has had many aspirations in forms of video, some stories, mostly essays and movie/film reviews but out of about 1900 posts now at least half of those has been poetry. I am a huge fan of myself. And does it get anymore self-centered than that? Yes, it can and yes, it can.

I am a huge fan of myself through the lens of God’s saving grace. It is much more than just a one time thing when we embrace Jesus. Our lives tell the story. As Paul says in 2 Cor. 3-‘you are our Epistle!’ I am the living epistle of Christ and all He has done in me. My brothers and sisters in Christ, so are you. The greatest testimony to the world is our love for each other. When people can see committed healthy friendships and healthy loving marriages..at this point in the world that says a lot about the God we love.

I am a huge fan of the journey. A lot of what you have been reading the last couple of months has been about living on this earth and knowing that you are made for another world but that world is going to stay on the earth in the form of a ‘new earth!’

C.S. Lewis( who gets quoted more than any other person I know) said, “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.” Of course anyone can read this and think that anything on this earth really doesn’t matter so I can do what the gnostics and Greek thinkers did and disregard this creation we live in. NO!

The Apostles desired to be present with the Lord..they had such an intense expectation of heaven, yet it was their focus on eternity that enabled them to “enter the Kingdom with much tribulations!”

The line, ‘the earth is now, the earth is future, the earth is not going anywhere’ just makes sense to me that today matters and so does the future hope of restoration and so does an established truth that the earth is not going to disappear or explode. This is not the season four finale to Lost where Mr. Linus moved the island..literally..it disappears and ends up somewhere else..now we were all really, really lost after that.

I am being a little funny but nonetheless eternity has been in my mind. We have so much emphasis on how to live today and how to pull God’s blessings into our lives right now but is that really it? Is the purpose of life to make a checklist of presents we want for Christmas and one by one God sends someone in the form of a man to deliver them to us? Is the incarnation just about gifts?

I am actually insulted by the false cookie cutter euphemisms that we champion as “the Gospel” that really just sound like a five year old getting told that Christmas morning is coming really soon and you better be good or else Santa might skip you this year. Yet, the heart behind the gift giving has more to do with how I behave in order to “receive” something. Yes, ‘we have received every blessing in Christ Jesus’ and Ephesians is an incredible book on who we are in Christ, but I think we mistake God’s blessings with earthly provision. Yes, God does provide for us so in that sense we are always to be grateful. Jesus commanded us ‘do not worry about your life’ and also says, ‘is not life more than..’physical’ things. But as followers of Christ it seems much more sound to say that before the gifts came to us the ultimate gift of Christ atoning for our sins was to be given to the world. What then was the point of Abraham almost killing his Son out of his unrelenting obedience to God? We see that God was testing his faith but God was also getting humanity ready for Christmas. God was getting the world ready for the ultimate gift in the closest form possible. Jesus as a man. Jesus as fully man and fully God. Hear gratitude in these poems and in these posts. I don’t want to relish in how much life can suck but you do have to embrace that. I want to relish in this unwavering faith in God’s goodness no matter the newscast, no matter the Drudge Report.

If you have heard the idea in the last couple of months that life is not always what we think it should be, then you are hearing correctly. I transpose the past into a lot of things so sometimes it doesn’t make sense. Here’s what I mean: “Ink from coldplay plays on repeat—” Yes, this song is so good right now and I don’t know why but I just listen to it and probably in writing but the next line is a childhood image on middle school and high school relationships: “All those past lovers, past flings, past heart strings plucked and thrown in the gutter, was it better?Was it worse? Or did I never know true love first?”

I think I want to change the world and I don’t really believe it sometimes. The other main idea here is love. Skyscraper love was from thinking about tall buildings and how the one time I went to Times Sqaure it seemed so insane how high up those buildings could go but the clouds, the darkness and the things in the air could blur the Skyscraper and the skyline. I wrote: “a city life is scary, A club drug is passed down to me, who drank this before? Come out of her it says, out for good, a shout for short, a proclamation for long!” The idea that we have built altars around sin and death and have called it ‘just having fun’ is sickening to God but heartbreaking more than anything. Our role as followers of Christ is not to point out people’s addictions( when we have our own too) but to do Ephesians 5( a passage I’ve been in for a couple of months). We walk as children of light and in this walk we expose the darkness by the way that we walk.

Memorial Day is more than just honoring the troops. It should also be a reminder of man’s identity crisis. When man does not know who he is, he is prone to violence. I don’t say this to make a trite statement against the military. It is not a small thing. I just made a presentation last week on PTSD and the treatment options in them. In the research I watched videos on these therapy sessions with those who fought over seas. It was very eye opening and something I can’t connect to. But I also want to cut through the sentiment sometimes and turn the camera on the person doing the filming. I love war movies and I hate them at the same time. I realize that my ethical compass gets broken when I see what I am seeing. Even films that add humor to mask the rather death like tendencies of war still work it for you and make you question your birthplace. I don’t understand war but I do make a RUCKUS about the Gospel. Their is something far scarier than war coming onto the planet. A great shift. The line in poems for me is “the great rearrange/ a rearrange.” Jesus returning to the earth will start the greatest war the world has ever known and it will be more severe then anything we have ever seen. Can we face this warrior Jesus and embrace his perfections and trust in His leadership?

I.S.I.S. is not our enemy. Islam is not the enemy. Though the expression in the extremists is gnarly and has yet to really interrupt our comfortable lives the forces of evil will make I.S.I.S. look like a high school shooting rather then World War 3. We love violence. We love Mass Effect and Call to Duty and Grand Theft Auto and everything and anything that has to do with blowing heads off people. For men its a disgusting perversion of how we are meant to fight and meant to war but for love. We are God’s warriors not just warriors. I don’t give a crap about trying to be tough and study how cool weapons are and how fun hunting can be( I am not slamming that) but their is a difference between thinking just being a man is being tough, violent and that you know about guns and engines. False love and false war is in us and upon us. The war against porn is in tandem to the war on false war. Why else would Jesus put anger and lust right next to each other in His Sermon on the Mount. Memorial day is about honoring those who have suffered but anything that is suffering apart from Christ just in turn is the creation worshiping itself. You will die in your sorrow without Jesus. I remember mercy and love but I do not support false masculinity. I honor and respect what the troops have done but I realize a more home front battle is being fought and it is over what the man is. A man is to be conformed to Christ and to be like Him in every way and which of our lives.

Let us remember our warrior King, King Jesus.

The Middle

Middle hallway nights
Fights and flights to catch—
Frozen love, frozen pizza, frozen
Growth—radioactive was the adjective
Descriptions for the heavenly prescriptions
Needed to sleep still at night,
Carved my name with a pocketknife
Waiting up til midnight with the hallway
Lights—can’t take this anymore, gotta love
Better, gotta make due with what isn’t here
Yet—
The earth is crying now, the earth is waiting now,
The earth will not fade away—
Middle is never here to settle like water
In the kettle, I am a burner kind of lover,
I am a blue kind of flame, is it gay to love your
Man friends? Loyal is now called gay—
Called find another way, called never show
Your affection for men don’t need it anyway—
Respect me, love me, touch me but don’t hold
Me! Middle affairs on the way to work over there—
Never satisfied with one size with one wife, with one
Women, with one home to live in—never better,
Never weather we could run away in—
Middle hallway talk, meet me halfway God whenever
I can’t even step one step, meet me when I cheat on You,
When I love the forgery affair where my affections stay
Carved like in a tree at night when those beach days ruled
Us anyway—carve Your name on my heart, may it never
Move away—in the middle, up above or ahead in the front

Forgery

Forgery affair

Stacks of I don’t care

Windows back to that

Summer of lack

Poverty stricken

Plastic driven

White box detox

Memories of the first time

I saw You,

Memories of the redo

Of the slick backed hairdo

Super cut, in the gut, it lives

And moves and finds it being in

Me

The undo button

Became a glutton

For love smitten

Is the sanded side of

The ship—the one with

Power is the one this hour!

Down I go, lower to the floor

Here on God’s great dance floor!

I am alive, there is no turning back

You have forged in me a new me

One that can never be the same—

He who looks back is not fit for

This invisible kingdom—

Suffering I say for the man that

Does not sway—keep me, bind me

But I will not stay in the middle—

I will live for You

Tablet Heart

Tablet crack

Glory shack

Movable temple

Shekinah rental

Skin and bones with

Valley tones

Connected in wrath

Remembered in mercy

Plain tablet

Father cabinet

Dead president

You swirled in regret

Made a dent

Slaving for rent, town

Mountain and tent—

Thirsty summer, better

Than winter—

Heart on the table

Truth verse fable

Oral passing of God

Digressing—get up now,

To the high place

For gold is on the bottom

Carved with boredom—

Before Kingdom come was

Kingdom now without a crown—

On the edges was the man on fire—

Down to the place where lust did pace

The tablets cracked and back up at last—

Shack of shackles in this wilderness—

Freedom was the curse and I thirst for

Garlic—king Pharaoh and the sparrow hold

The same affection for the heart of misdirection—

Hardened is a mystery and little is why I worry—

Better shoes with glory clues—

100 feet a day for the feast to go away—

Filled to our nostrils is the wandering

Pentecostal—manifesting without love,

Twitching without truth, falling over just

Because—without love it’s a circumcised

Memory, the outer is perishing, the law like

A cavity, love like gravity—which weighs more?

Power or just being on the floor? The tablet is new

Now with new rules and new flesh and new songs

To sing inside what freedom brings—we don’t all

Go to the same place—but this tablet called love

Has written it upon me to stay seeking You as

You write it on me those clues of destiny

A tablet heart burning with truth, let how

One lives be the proof

Compiled

No end to you

Find your beginning

Find the power cord

Wield the sword

Mystery me seeks You

On my side I slept last night-

Closer to the floor—that seems right—

Frigid is the fridge I live in,

Scared and fear you are near

Regret digs into the carpet

For its dirty anyways!

Sonnets on the floor

Sugar with the rubber

Now what I love sticks to me

I do—lover with two fingers

Hands all over these devices

And the vices of death that work with me—

Now advice is to ice this—retainer for this

Ship, a bruised hip is to the man that doesn’t let go

Alcohol trash can vomit on the night stand

Can your words make you sick?

Can pain really stick to you and carry you around to a place

You never knew of?

Sanded sides of this ship

Its around here, it’s a big kind of fear

Think Tank, part 2

Dreams died with the grave

Only one can save,

City of angels and bright deception,

In the drudgery of daily is the forgery

Of the great mystery,

Long socks, short shorts, exposure is

Not so sure, rolling stones in the night,

How does it feel to live not so real?

Tank of dreams, tank of all that seems,

Tank in me is on empty

Poet spoke, who wrote it?

World exaggerated,

Truth exacerbated,

All have gathered to see you on

Stage, respect me cause I have the

Microphone and I can’t think twice,

But I am up at night trying to get it

Right, torched those thoughts way back

When, furnace affair with what she never did

Share, beach days and fireworks, moved in closer

To you, closer to love, blonde and white, sand so

Tight between those toes, you still have made the

Tank, but now I walk the plank, I see the sharks

I see them swimming down there,

I will not waste the sunlight,

I will let it expose my darkness,

I will live more than I will think-

Its a furnace affair, in me today

And burned away tomorrow-

Don’t just think

Just live

First Sight

Som more Colorado nostalgia.

First Sight

 

10 Feet away I

Saw a white

Fence sprinkled

With teeny flakes

Of snow crystals

And pistols loaded

Would release

Five years of

An untold life

I sat back and

Listened to

The rack of

Memories

Stacked from

The past, I heard

It within me that

This is the man I

Want to be, starting

A family, living

With good company

Gathered around

The end-time story,

The fence stayed

Further then at

First sight, the light

Was bright upon

My face, the steam

Rose and took my

Place I heard two

Friends talk about

Dinners and movies

And their wives at

The mall, handling

The stall, piling

Clothes upon clothes

I floated with the mist

And forgot all of this

I rose to the thunder

And lightning around

The throne, I drowned

And drained the

Spa, I got taken and

Saw what I’ve always

Wanted to see, a place

Very far from me, a place

With no fences to

Protect me, a place

Out of the temporal

Conversations that

Made up mountain

Invasions