Tag Archives: Kuhns

When Planets Align: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

When planets align, drive topless
When planets align,/
give in to the urge and drive/
top down, music up!
OR
When planets align,
it’s time to drive top down and/
your tunes cranked way up!
ORWhen the planets are/
aligned, you feel the urge to /
put down your rag top.
OR
When the planets are/
aligned, you feel the urge to /
drive top down, tunes up!
Sweet message about riding with top down - Dec 2015

Temple Parking Supervisor, 3rd Shift: Revolutionary ImproVerse Primary Song Cover

Provo City Center Temple Open House Parking Lot Supervisor -- Jan. 2016, I'll Park You At The Temple!Sung to the tune of the Primary song: “I love to see the Temple”.

I’ll park you at the temple;/
I’ll help you find your way./
I’ll give you clear directions,/
and you won’t have to pay!

For the Temple is a holy place;/
It’s great to tour and see./
The parking is all underground… /
And you can get in free!

Sad To Hear Ziggy Starman’s Passing – RIP David Bowie: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku(s) Lament(s)

I just leaned back on/
my radio and bid the/
Thin White Duke adieu.
OR
I just leaned back on/
my radio and bid the/
Starman a farewell.

AND
On Ziggy’s Segue — My Favorite: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku Lament
Ziggy played guitar /
as I grew up. Hey man, may/
his loud sounds not fade.

AND
original found poems / haiku inspired by David Bowie (RIP)

Dancin’ With Mr. D: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku
Today, if I had /
some red shoes I would put them/
on and dance the blues.

AND
We Have In Common Surprise: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku
Commonalities:/
“Hey that’s far out! So you heard/
him too!!” surprised me.
————————-
Overview of how David Bowie influenced me:
Share a comment, reflection or memory related to David Bowie and/or his passing:
Leaning back on my radio in Milwaukee in the early 70’s, I heard the amazing sax and guitar rocking riffs of “Suffragette City”. Blown away, I anxiously waited until the end of the song for the DJ (not hazy cosmic jive) to announce the name of the song, the artist and album. Gathering my coins together, I rode my bike up to the record store on Silver Spring Drive and anxiously asked the cashier if they had “Ziggy Stardust by some Bowie guy”.
Listening to the album, I at first didn’t like the slower, ballad/bluesy songs that made up most of the concept album… but then grew into loving them — and the amazing lyrics — as much as the fast-paced pieces.
When Aladdin Sane came out, I bought it when it first hit the shelves, and hung the centerfold poster on my wall. My dad made me take it down, saying it was a bad influence on my younger brother.
PinUps, with Bowie’s amazing covers of older rock classics, was my next and final purchase. School, travel, missionary work and marriage removed me from an active fan status, but I always watched his work with interest, and wanted to see him in concert.
I never took the chance.
As a Mormon missionary with a companion who HATED me, it was my air guitar quote of “Ziggy Played Guitar” which got my companion to start talking to me about music (and, boy, could he play guitar!), and turned a hater into one of my best friends.
And the lyrics! So bizarre and complicated, yet so accessible and amazing. Mr. D. was truly a genius who let us dance in our own style.
“Hey that’s far out! So you heard him too!”
David Kuhns, Springville, Utah / Milwaukee, Wisconsin — Jan. 12, 2016

Pixels Of Light, Words On A Page: Romantic Blogging Iambic Poetic Lament

I stand
as a man,
and expose
my soul
and my head
with dread,
and my heart.
Women want to see other parts:

The plump
gut or rump,
the face wrinkles,
the sprinkles
of grey
I won’t wash away.
For until we’ve met in person,
I’m a pixels of light version.
I could be real,
like what I feel,
or just a joke
made with mirrors and smoke.

I write words
some deep, some absurd
that say who I am,
and she’ll listen
and, if in tune,
she might swoon
and think me great,
and can not wait.
To greet me.
She feels romantically
inclined;
thinks I might be divine,
and just right.
But it requires sight.
We can’t be complete
until we at last meet.

I’m just paint on her palette;
a sculptor’s chisel and mallet
laying still and unused.
And she’s just my dreamed Muse.

I park
my car,
stand up, and from afar,
She sees no spark.
She feels no fun.
We’re done.
Over. Finito. Finished.
Visions once so delish
are now just pixels of light
that failed to ignite.

Words on a page
which once engaged
her mind, heart and soul,
no longer glow,
but now vanish,
and the mist
of possibility
ceases to be.

(Except, guess what?
It could be “Or Not!”)