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
Rhyme Prisoner. Envisioner. Tryna find my way Outside the bars of average listeners. The Christener: Spitting Baptismal Water like ministers. Arisener: Rolling the rock away that's been sitting there. I've been sitting there getting stale, Feeling ill while I'm getting more frail, Losing my chill, turning more pale. I lost my way. I lost my will. But, I pray to the Lord, So to give me The Light. He gives me The Will. He gives me The Might. Each step in his Way, I'm feeling Alright. I Thank the Lord Every day He shows me his Light.