lyrics & poetry

available at Amazon.com 

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RUGS ON PUDDLES COATS OVER OCEANS is a collection of kimann’s original poems and lyric poetry, written over a span of over twenty years, 1991 through 2013. dates of origin of the poems are noted as well as dates or years of edits and rewrites – they are a part of each poem’s autobiographical identity. all lyric poems exist as fully realized songs and have been written and recorded with kimann’s husband and song-writing partner, michael l. schultz

a sampling of the songs can be found at www.LapofaMuse.com, at Amazon.com, at iTunes and on YouTube, search Kimann & Michael Schultz

(April 14, 2021 poem written upon the mass shooting in my hometown last night)

My muse came crawling

Let me have it

I can take it

Say it

What dog-eared journaled pages lie

Supplicant recipients

Of words and songs and thoughts and psalms

And all that might

Remain best or better left unsaid

Say it

Intended for no one

Meant for all

Stories mine

For ends of time

For no one, just the same

Never going

But moving forward backwards forward

My muse whispered to me

I can take it

I understand

Say it

How blessed to be familiar

With what cuts clean and deepest

To shine a light

On all that might

Remain best or better left unsaid

Say it

Lay to paper

Heart and soul

Blood and gore

Tears to flow

Unfettered unchecked unguarded

Re-crafted into scratches

Which lean onto each other

Lined up soldiers

With spaces soldered

Points and hooks and hesitations

Ends to leads and recitations

How good to go with muse unearthed

How sorrowful to slog without, unbirthed

To claim alone

And lay one’s stone

By legacy of unrequited hurt

They just don’t know

Have not been told

Their own, willing muses lurk

But need to be invited in

Open it

Christmas

Easter

Fairy tales

Sunshine

Flowers

Father

Mother

Rest

And sleep

How funny

How ironic

The beauty of this day shines all the brighter

In mortality contrasted

With the midnight baring that happened here, again

Dammit

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Yes, and Nine

I wrote a horror short the other day

As dark as I could make it

I heard the news this morning

I’ve got nothing on this commonplace

Screw it

Words parading as…

Deeds posing as…

Good intentions quick to warp…

Reversed, inverted banners flown

Hanging high and wide

Gathering? No,

They are tearing, weeping, sowing…

And still too few see things for what they are

Fewer yet can

Say it

Mourn the one lost

Mourn the innocent

Equal measure

For they are won

And have been reaped

And have been gathered.