Separate Togetherness

We have a conundrum,
A puzzling picture,
Broke up and broke down,
Into an elixir.
The Pieces can form sum
When mixed up like weather,
But back in their place,
Look confusing together.

Fairer Days

We buried our treasure
To let it mature;
Then away,
We set sail
To a far away shore.

Sure enough
We got there,
And the thoughts we prepared,
For to share,
Wore away
On the battled sea fare.

Are we stuck in this place
Rattled bones,
Tattered face,
With a trace of our sum
When we started this race?

One day, know the weather
Will bring us all back,
With the treasure we’ve gained
As we journeyed our trek.
And the pleasure much greater
Though at present we fret.
It will all come around
In the end.
Keep your Faith in respect.


Blindly Advantaged,
We take our things for granted;
Then, they all vanish.

Blue Mind

Wake up
And find
The construct of mind
Designed over time
To pursue the right hue
of the Sky’s Brilliant Blue
Where Trust, Loyalty,
Wisdom and Confidence
Ring True.
Embrace your Divine
With a Blue frame of Mind.


-Kurtis Lunz

Leaf Frog

The leaf frog
Leaps off the tree.
It echoes the leaves.
Joining the fallen,
It’s the sole living
Among the deceased.
Is the leaf frog
The Green Lighthouse of Hope
For Leaves?


-Kurtis Lunz


The pain burned strong,
All day and night long,
Ringing loud like a gong
Throughout daily song;
Then one night,
As mysterious as it came
The pain faded.
We wake up to find
We are alleviated.


-Kurtis Lunz


I find myself
A member
of Poetic culture,
Designed by rhyme
To intertwine
With the parasympathetic rewind
Reversing the curse
Of the rapid heart rate
And the burdened mind.
Soak into space and time
Dissolved by a rhyme.


-Kurtis Lunz


What the future will hold.
I hold my breath
For this sneeze,
Waiting for the release,
Praying that
The Lord’s Blessings
Will set me free.

Night Train

The mythical vessel,
The dream,
Percolates from serene
To obscene,
Flinging the mind’s Window open
As a way of coping.
The RUSH of Fresh air
Sparks a breathe of reality
The dreamer
back down
To embark the next ride.

One Lick

Flames on the chicken wings,
Grease on the guitar strings,
Marinated steel,
Squealin’ like a pig.
Old Rig,
No pick-ups,
Raw Acoustic,
One Lick.


Kurtis Lunz