Oh, Melody! The remedy supreme, But I see you already Got a ring On your finger. Well, if I outlast, And if you run past, The notes you have scripted As part of your cast, You can call on MY Name, I'll be waiting in vain, Just spinning the time, RIGHT off of my skein. Oh Melody, I'm sewing notes on these strings Studying the way that Your Melody brings, And I don't need a thimble To ABsorb my pain, Soon to be the only feeling I've left. Oh, Melody I saved a last breathe. I saved it Should Your Melody linger. -Kurtis Lunz
Tag: Daily Post
Heard It Straight From the Parrot’s Lips
Shiver me timbers, Getting loose, Getting limber, I ordered 3 chicken planks from Long John Silver's. I like the honey mustard, Hush puppies, and french fries. I took a sip of Orange soda Partnered to my food's eyes. See, fried food is soul. And soul food is Blue, And Orange is its compliment; You know that combo's true. It was all in good time. It was all in good measure. I buried the treasure, And it brought me great pleasure. Then, I sailed off and away On the ocean of tar, And I was feeling so good That I yelled out Yarrrrr! -Kurtis Lunz
Mind Matrix
I felt that I was trapped in a paradox,
And Everything was falling apart
Right into place.
It made so much sense
That my mind was at race.
It was the imperfect perfectness;
Yet, nothing was balanced.
It was fading and gaining,
Confusing, explaining,
Waxing and waning
In the form of a sine wave.
I was dancing the tango,
With the world around me,
But I did not feel
That I was twirling with love.
I felt more like the subject
The world’s whispering of;
An ongoing joke,
Building Fierce with it’s slow flow.
I thought it might all end
If the punchline was evoked.
Naturally, it all just plateaued.
So, I tried to ignore it,
But it knocked on my door;
Now, my mind’s throttle,
Stuck,
Was stamped on the floor.
So, before I imploded
I mentally noted
The only way was to just
Let it Be.
–Kurtis Lunz
Who’s Your Daddy? 1 Of X
This post is about my musical inspiration (my “Who’s Your Daddy” list). There will be more to posts come like this, and I eventually plan to compile a list, but for now I’ll start out with individual posts. In this post I have to send some love to Carlos Santana. I got this “Who’s Your Daddy” list idea from him in his autobiography. He said in blues music everyone has a “Who’s Your Daddy” list; it’s your list of artists that inspire you and consequently contribute to the development of your own style. I’m not sure that I like every Santana...
Moon Tune
The wolf sits Under the moon Just a Howling the tune And He's singing the hue Of your midnight blues. No es la canción del sol, But it's the song of the soul And it's sung when it's waning, And it's sung when it's whole. Well, I said, Woaahhhhhhh, Ohhhhhhhh You know the moon has a Compassionate glow. Yeah, lady's up all night, Nature's rheostat light, And she always shines perfect, To heal your mood, Set it right. Well, I said, Wooaahhhhhhh, Ohhhhhhhh Because the moon has a Compassionate glow. ...That's all I know now. By: Kurtis Lunz
Once An Artist
Once an artist, I remember painting the field With the ball's movements. Sometimes the movement Delivers the message. Sometimes lack of movement Is the message. The opponent, Acts as the audience, Chasing the hologram you project With full conviction; Quickly realizing, It is a vision that's gone missing. The canvas quickly resets Like an Etch A Sketch, And each time requires a present vision. Who is the audience? Shall I carry? Shall I conceal? Shall I send, Or shall I reveal? It was a beautiful art scene on this field, Where every artist paints With their heart as the brush. Nobody paints with fear Worrying how their picture will be seen. They just dance, Placing their full love Into every touch. By: Kurtis Lunz
Haiku Doing Without Confusion
Today, I choose not To be confused, I do not Do, I do and learn. By: Kurtis Lunz
Love, Pain and Withdrawal
I'm obsessed to manifest Some dreams Trapped in my head. I tried to ignore them, But the fire only spread. Now it's burning in my eyes; My eyes, Are glowing red. My fingers are feening To get strung out once again, Run up and down the nylons, Telling stories with no pen. Pain is swelling in my joints; Love trapped in withdrawal Searching for the note To dissolve it all. I need to open the flood gates, And let the love spread. I burn, I bleed, With stale love, and it's poison! Let me revive my vibe By sharing my love voicing. By: Kurtis Lunz
The Whole Truth, And Nothing But The Truth
Peeling top layer, Revealing the next. An unnerving herbalness, Not tainted, Nor skewed, Just the crude truth in nude, Uncovered, no rouge. Why does this "new truth" look so different? What broke off the outer, Once too, was the inner skin. Maybe, the truth has layers and hues, But the truth doesn't surface; It's the whole the way through. By: Kurtis Lunz
Bottled Message
There was a message in a bottle.
It tasted like dark red.
I drank it down,
And it got into my head.
Into my head;
Maybe, made me a different fellow,
I think I should have tasted yellow
Because I needed just to mellow back then.
By: Kurtis Lunz