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

Get Loose

I tell them a joke,
But they don't wanna laugh.
They brace themselves
And prepare to hold back.
Then, at the end,
They get kind of mad
Like, "is that really
The best joke that you had?!"
I tell them a story,
And they think it's a joke.
They say, "I don't get it."
I say "it's an anecdote.
There's no punchline.
It's just something that happened.
I found it amusing;
So, I thought I'd recap it."
Being too critical doesn't brighten the mood;
So, the moral is
Lighten up and get loose.


By: Kurtis Lunz

Taking It Easy

Luxury,
I'm not really sure what it means.
I guess it's extravagance
And living with ease.
It sounds like something
That's just reserved for my dreams
Because I don't think I ever will make that much cream.
Luxury for me,
Isn't the life of stars
With all kinds of fancy toys, clothes, and cars.
Luxury for me,
Is just a simple life
Free from all types of hate, stress and strife,
Where I could lay on the beach,
With a girl by my side,
And maybe we have some drinks to imbibe.
Luxury for me is just to chill on the porch,
Making music all day,
Until we light up the torch,
Then, we can make some music some more,
And no neighbors complain;
All's cool to the core.
That type of life
Sounds like luxury
For sure.

Poetically Practicing Praise

This poem is my praise,
A practice of the way
Of manifesting the blessings
That I was given today.

Thanks for these fingers.
Thank you for this pen.
Thank you for the flow
Going from stem to stem.

Thanks for what I've squandered.
Thanks for what I've lost.
Still, you hear me ask for more.
Thank you for these balls.

This thank you is small
Compared to my blessings today;
I hope that you'll still receive
My thank you anyway.


-Kurtis Lunz

Between Chasing and Waiting

To crave the future,
Is a craving that's hurried.
Moving so fast,
Everything becomes blurry.
Wanting it more 
Might make it congeal,
But who's not say
You won't want it more still.
To crave the past,
Is a present harassed,
Vaporizing to gas
Until you want it at last.
But,
To crave the present,
Is a craving fulfilled.
The more that you want it,
The more it's revealed.


By: Kurtis Lunz

Muse

A muse
Amused.
Amused by the muse,
He refused to diffuse
The light of his energy
onto a fuse.
For, her light was enough
for the room he mused.




By: Kurtis Lunz

One

Profound is the unbound
That is easily broke down
Derived from a compound
Of duplex ministry
To drown in a pool
Of vast simplicity.
The earth, the moon,
The sky, the sun,
Everything, infinity
We are all but one.

-Kurtis Lunz

Apology

What had happened was..

Well you see, I was¬†going…

I like your haircut.

 

By: Kurtis Lunz

 

 

Word Press Daily Prompt: apology

3 Ingredients of Fire

A guy once told me to bend my hat.
He didn't like the way I was wearing it flat.
My style he did not admire.
I guess he thought I was an upstanding guy;
yet, he was scared I was steering awry.
I didn't tell him all about fire.

Well, here's the thing about that hat.
Girls never seemed to notice me before that.
Or at least, I didn't notice them noticing me.
But, when I would wear that hat around
With bill all flat,
Girls would smile,
Some would laugh,
And I'm sure it was because of that hat.
At first I was happy;
Then, I was sad.
But, here's my epiphany
about this hat that I had.
Now, I have their attention,
And I've set their mood right.
That's 2 of 3 ingredients
For a fire to light.
All I need is to just let it breathe.
Bring some fresh air into the scene.
That's the last secret of fire.

By: Kurtis Lunz