Holes in my Soul

I wrote this poem in 1998 at a very painful time in my life. So thankful for the Father and His healing balm. Hope you enjoy.


Holes in my Soul


My friends are now obsolete.

And time is bought painfully cheap.

I wonder what’s the score.

As you trickle down my thoughts

With your ever lofty charm

You trickle down my heart and pump away at my mind.

You’re clever, yes clever.

And slowly goes time.

All along the street

A sidewalk steps on the cracks of my shoes

I can’t seem to spring back.

Can’t kill these lonely blues

My poor suffering soul

Of diluted chemicals taking control

What’s the name of these games?

We all play them in our minds.

And Spirit hides inside darken closets.

Filled with cobweb infested shrines.

Holy, holy, holy,

Oh please take a look around.

The world has become frozen.

And with melting, we’ll eventually drown.

“A penny for your thoughts,” he said.

A penny for your soul.

And all along my tennis shoes are worn out tattered holes.

Who can fill me up again?

Replace this empty void?

Oh, who can patch these lonely blues without stepping on my heart?




Someone grab a spatula, please.

For my heart is now a pancake that painfully lies beneath.

Beneath a sidewalk, that’s stuck atop my shoes.

Shoes filled with tattered holes of loneliness and


by Tekoa







I Am Full

joseph coat

You slapped your words at me
You whispered to the others about my coat
How it shined more than most
Who do I think I am?
That dreamer
You insulted my Maker and chattered with hatred
as if some birds beak would not carry the morsels
then lay them at my feet.
I don’t read them anymore
I stop in mid sentence
I stopped after your apprehension
To say it to my face
And to the ones who do
Here is my fuse
keep on pouring your gasoline on me
because it’s just fuel for my fire and my fire is beautiful
My smile is beautiful
And I am full
Don’t want what I have
Want what you have
Do not denigrate me
Can’t you see,

I cannot help what the tailor has woven to dress me in
Fetch your own attire
Stop making me tired
Running naked trying to snatch my coat
And then coat it in blood
Or worse spit on it
Go dance your dance with those who love to watch your moves
But if while I dance, you turn green
I’ll dance even harder, more boldly, more Free
Wearing my coat of many colors
My flames licking your feet
My warmth making you melt
Under your scrutiny’ of me


Photo by Robin McMillian.

Poem by Tekoa Manning