Rick K. Reut Around A Word

(IN MY HEAD)

…like rain on a sunny day.

I feel like I don’t belong

here. I have to say

it in a foreign tongue,

knowing that it’s not mine —

like any language on earth.

I try to write this line,

hoping that it is worth

something. Then, after all

that’s been written and said,

I look up at the wall

of the sky in my head…

…like rain on a sunny day. I feel like I don’t belong here. I have to say it in a foreign tongue, knowing that it’s not mine — like any language on earth. I try to write this line, hoping that it is worth something. Then, after all that’s been written and said, I look up at the wall of the sky in my head…

August 2009

(EVERYWHERE)

…everywhere. It takes two

people to make a third.

It takes one person to

write every single word

that somebody has on

his mind. It doesn’t take

more than a break of dawn

to see that you are awake

and want to go back to sleep.

It takes one moment of

existence to want to keep

looking for GOD’s True Love…

…everywhere. It takes two people to make a third. It takes one person to write every single word that somebody has on his mind. It doesn’t take more than a break of dawn to see that you are awake and want to go back to sleep. It takes one moment of existence to want to keep looking for GOD’s True Love…

September 2009

(TO THE PAST)

…to the past, turning cold

like a too seldom told

story out of a sweet

dream. It is incomplete

and almost as insane.

Dark wind drives a big rain

cloud that looks like a car

speeding towards a star

sign. It is your star sign.

You stare at the skyline

and start to feel dizzy like

someone who fell off a bike,

leaving a long, bloody track.

It leads all the way back…

…to the past, turning cold like a too seldom told story out of a sweet dream. It is incomplete and almost as insane. Dark wind drives a big rain cloud that looks like a car speeding towards a star sign. It is your star sign. You stare at the skyline and start to feel dizzy like someone who fell off a bike, leaving a long, bloody track. It leads all the way back…

October 2009

(OF ONE)

…for centuries.

Hours stretch in-

to days that freeze

somewhere between

words as they grow

upon a sheet

of one more snow-

white paper street

like mushrooms or

umbrellas in

the rain before

they can be seen

out of sight

and heard out of

earshot. Right

before your love

turns into hate

and hate turns back

into love late

at night, a black

hole in the wall-

paper is pierced

with stars that fall

and rest in peace…

…for centuries. Hours stretch into days that freeze somewhere between words as they grow upon a sheet of one more snow-white paper street like mushrooms or umbrellas in the rain before they can be seen out of sight and heard out of earshot. Right before your love turns into hate and hate turns back into love late at night, a black hole in the wallpaper is pierced with stars that fall and rest in peace…

January 2010

(SHEETS)

…also known as snow-

white sheets

of paper. You know

these streets

like the back of your hand.

But the back

of your hand starts to blend

with the black

glove of the night,

leaving no

prints on the white

sheets of snow…

…also known as snow-white sheets of paper. You know these streets like the back of your hand. But the back of your hand starts to blend with the black glove of the night, leaving no prints on the white sheets of snow…

February 2010

(ONE SECOND BEFORE THE WHOLE)

…there has to be some

way to cancel the curse

of those who fear the Sun

could set the Universe

on fire. Without light,

there can be no shade,

and vice versa. The night

slowly begins to fade

out on an empty street

corner. Like a brick wall,

everything seems complete

one second before the Whole

World turns around and

comes to an end. In the end…

…there has to be some way to cancel the curse of those who fear the Sun could set the Universe on fire. Without light, there can be no shade, and vice versa. The night slowly begins to fade out on an empty street corner. Like a brick wall, everything seems complete one second before the Whole World turns around and comes to an end. In the end…

March 2010

(WORD ORDER OF THINGS)

…again. Snow-white

sails melt on

the skyline. The night

bleeds out at dawn

and dies with the first

rays of the sun.

It quenches the thirst

of rivers run

drier than your

mouth when you

vanish before

your own new

image. You must

have seen a lot

back in the past.

Now you have got

nothing to lose

except your blues.

Trying to find

your way back in-

side, you don’t mind

being unseen.

But you don’t like

being unheard

of as your life

is in the word

order of things

that cannot be

touched. Like the wings

of your memory,

they fly back to

the distant past

when years took

longer to last.

It is a strange

world you can’t change

no matter how hard

you try. Its heart

is now as cold

as stone. It’s sold…

…again. Snow-white sails melt on the skyline. The night bleeds out at dawn and dies with the first rays of the sun. It quenches the thirst of rivers run drier than your mouth when you vanish before your own new image. You must have seen a lot back in the past. Now you have got nothing to lose except your blues. Trying to find your way back inside, you don’t mind being unseen. But you don’t like being unheard of as your life is in the word order of things that cannot be touched. Like the wings of your memory, they fly back to the distant past when years took longer to last. It is a strange world you can’t change no matter how hard you try. Its heart is now as cold as stone. It’s sold…

April 2010

(LEAF IN THE WIND)

…the sun sets and the time

pauses in a pantomime

like an old black and white

photograph of the night

in the window. You dream

of snow that tastes like cream.

In the light of a moon-

shaped plate, a silver spoon

mixes sugar and salt

inside your restless soul.

Each time you lose control

over the steering wheel

of your life, you may feel

as helpless as a torn leaf

in the wind. For a brief

moment, your memory

lane turns into a free-

way of living without regret

or fear. Inside your head…

…the sun sets and the time pauses in a pantomime like an old black and white photograph of the night in the window. You dream of snow that tastes like cream. In the light of a moon-shaped plate, a silver spoon mixes sugar and salt inside your restless soul. Each time you lose control over the steering wheel of your life, you may feel as helpless as a torn leaf in the wind. For a brief moment, your memory lane turns into a freeway of living without regret or fear. Inside your head…

October 2010

(IN YOUR ROOM)

…from the night.

Out of sight

in your room,

shadows loom

and then fall

from the wall

like dry leaves

from the trees

in the park.

In the dark,

a light breaks

up a lake’s

looking glass.

Broken grass

blades stick in-

to the skin

of a hill,

and you feel

all its pain

as the rain

licks the street

with your feet

still on it.

Bit by bit,

you begin

to unspin

every line

of each fine

work of art

in your heart

when things fall

apart. All

you still want

now is what

you have not

really got…

…from the night. Out of sight in your room, shadows loom and then fall from the wall like dry leaves from the trees in the park. In the dark, a light breaks up a lake’s looking glass. Broken grass blades stick into the skin of a hill, and you feel all its pain as the rain licks the street with your feet still on it. Bit by bit, you begin to unspin every line of each fine work of art in your heart when things fall apart. All you still want now is what you have not really got…

November 2010

(SO DOES THE SNOW)

…now, though. The snow

covers the pane.

The town starts to slow

down like a train

of thoughts at a station.

No one seems to know

the exact destination

of every snow-

flake. While I

sit at my desk,

time passes by

what looks like a mask

on the face of the earth.

This time should stay

till the next birth

cycle. The day

breaks into bits

of memory

like all the streets

we once felt free

on. Windows freeze

in frames. It looks

like all the trees

are from picture books.

So does the snow.

It shines like a sheet

of paper. No

one writes on it…

…now, though. The snow covers the pane. The town starts to slow down like a train of thoughts at a station. No one seems to know the exact destination of every snowflake. While I sit at my desk, time passes by what looks like a mask on the face of the earth. This time should stay till the next birth cycle. The day breaks into bits of memory like all the streets we once felt free on. Windows freeze in frames. It looks like all the trees are from picture books. So does the snow. It shines like a sheet of paper. No one writes on it…

December 2010

(THIS MONTH OF MARCH)

…the sun when it’s too bright.

The moon is on like a night-

light. In this month of March,

snow is as white as starch

on the sheets of your bed

where you feel like a dead

man sleeping all day and all

night, facing a whitewashed wall.

Whenever you turn, each spring

under you starts to sing

the steel song of a swallow

cutting a hole in the hollow

air. There is too much noise

around, and it destroys

the sacred harmony of

silence. GOD switches off…

…the sun when it’s too bright. The moon is on like a nightlight. In this month of March, snow is as white as starch on the sheets of your bed where you feel like a dead man sleeping all day and all night, facing a whitewashed wall. Whenever you turn, each spring under you starts to sing the steel song of a swallow cutting a hole in the hollow air. There is too much noise around, and it destroys the sacred harmony of silence. GOD switches off…

March 2011

(BEHIND EVERY DOOR)

…that tends to hide from the sun,

seeking the end of the day,

which is about to run

out of light on the way

to tomorrow. Few eyes

see and few ears hear

the truth. Plenty of lies

swarm around in fear.

In the night, fear waits

deep in the dark behind

every door. It inflates

like a balloon on your mind.

Fear tears through the air

just like a poisoned dart.

It’s almost everywhere,

even in abstract art

galleries. It’s on walls

like cobwebs. Fear hides

in emergency calls.

It is felt on both sides

of any dead-end street,

stalking you to your place.

It feels like it will slit

your throat if you see its face…

…that tends to hide from the sun, seeking the end of the day, which is about to run out of light on the way to tomorrow. Few eyes see and few ears hear the truth. Plenty of lies swarm around in fear. In the night, fear waits deep in the dark behind every door. It inflates like a balloon on your mind. Fear tears through the air just like a poisoned dart. It’s almost everywhere, even in abstract art galleries. It’s on walls like cobwebs. Fear hides in emergency calls. It is felt on both sides of any dead-end street, stalking you to your place. It feels like it will slit your throat if you see its face…

May 2011

(ONCE AGAIN)

…that is turned upside down

once again. You would like

to move to a different town

and start another life

there. It’s like you’re still

looking for a place to go

to where time doesn’t kill

those who don’t want to slow

down their dreams. It eats

young men for dinner and old

men for breakfast. Like sweets.

At least that’s what you’re told.

Out in the dark streets,

the rain is getting as hard

as the ground it falls on

as it pours from your heart

all night till the next dawn…

…that is turned upside down once again. You would like to move to a different town and start another life there. It’s like you’re still looking for a place to go to where time doesn’t kill those who don’t want to slow down their dreams. It eats young men for dinner and old men for breakfast. Like sweets. At least that’s what you’re told. Out in the dark streets, the rain is getting as hard as the ground it falls on as it pours from your heart all night till the next dawn breaks…

June 2011

(RECORDER OF WORDS)

…a way to a place that looks

like a pile of books.

Being encrusted with gold

and silver city lights,

the night is still too cold

compared to other nights.

It looks like we all want

the same thing. We just put

it into different words

that do not always suit

us. You are a recorder

of words haunting your mind.

You keep changing their order

in an attempt to find…

…a way to a place that looks like a pile of books. Being encrusted with gold and silver city lights, the night is still too cold compared to other nights. It looks like we all want the same thing. We just put it into different words that do not always suit us. You are a recorder of words haunting your mind. You keep changing their order in an attempt to find…

July 2011

(HARD RAINS)

…from when it rains. It

looks like it may not quit

very soon. Rainy fall

is what they sometimes call

this time around this

place where hard rains kiss

summers goodbye. The heart-

land is hard to depart…

…from when it rains. It looks like it may not quit very soon. Rainy fall is what they sometimes call this time around this place where hard rains kiss summers goodbye. The heartland is hard to depart…

September 2011

(TROUBLED MIND)

…of thoughts and lost memories,

it travels from time to time.

Looking for a new rhyme

among the metallic trees,

you hear a familiar tune

recorded on a full moon

night that can take you back

there. Sometimes you find

the same railroad track

crossing your troubled mind.

Your heart is not in your chest.

It is miles away —

deep in the distant past

where you wish to stay

because you want to last

forever, feeling no pain.

It beats faster for fear

that one day you may hear

it stop. Like a subway train…

…of thoughts and lost memories, it travels from time to time. Looking for a new rhyme among the metallic trees, you hear a familiar tune recorded on a full moon night that can take you back there. Sometimes you find the same railroad track crossing your troubled mind. Your heart is not in your chest. It is miles away — deep in the distant past where you wish to stay because you want to last forever, feeling no pain. It beats faster for fear that one day you may hear it stop. Like a subway train…

October 2011

(WINTER WIND)

…which are being wiped with

a wave of winter wind.

After so many days of rain,

the sky is painted blue

once again. Once again,

I am talking to you

like that wind in the trees

under the evening sun.

They are starting to freeze

as it sets. On the run

from images in my head,

I’m in a moody frame

of mind. It has a name,

but it is way too sad

to say it. Turning away

from yet another day,

for all I know, your eyes

may now be stars in the skies…

…which are being wiped with a wave of winter wind. After so many days of rain, the sky is painted blue once again. Once again, I am talking to you like that wind in the trees under the evening sun. They are starting to freeze as it sets. On the run from images in my head, I’m in a moody frame of mind. It has a name, but it is way too sad to say it. Turning away from yet another day, for all I know, your eyes may now be stars in the skies…

December 2011

(FREEZE FRAMES)

…of snow, the windows turn

into freeze frames. Ice-cold

winds can easily burn

anyone who is bold

enough to go outside

and take a walk along

an empty street. Some tried,

but then something went wrong

as they were wading through

the emptiness at the cross-

roads of regret for the true

meaning of the word “loss”.

It keeps changing each day

from rainy to sunny and back.

Thus it changes the way

some see things as they track

and even write them down.

Around this quiet night town…

…of snow, the windows turn into freeze frames. Ice-cold winds can easily burn anyone who is bold enough to go outside and take a walk along an empty street. Some tried, but then something went wrong as they were wading through the emptiness at the crossroads of regret for the true meaning of the word “loss”. It keeps changing each day from rainy to sunny and back. Thus it changes the way some see things as they track and even write them down. Around this quiet night town…

January 2012

(ANOTHER ONE)

…which may soon start to melt

along with every ice cream.

You may feel what you felt

when you knew that your dream

couldn’t come true. Time broke

it to you with other news.

Your life feels like a joke,

but you can hardly choose

another one like a coat

in a store. It is Fate

that has the deciding vote.

Only GOD knows how late

or early it is to know

what’s hiding behind the snow…

…which may soon start to melt along with every ice cream. You may feel what you felt when you knew that your dream couldn’t come true. Time broke it to you with other news. Your life feels like a joke, but you can hardly choose another one like a coat in a store. It is Fate that has the deciding vote. Only GOD knows how late or early it is to know what’s hiding behind the snow…

February 2012

(SOMETIMES)

…again. Sometimes my mind

turns into a time machine.

As I push the rewind

button, places I’ve been

to flash before my eyes.

Some remain. Some pass.

Sometimes some empty skies

may appear almost as

blank as a screen a few

seconds before a show

starts. I want to see you,

even though I don’t I know

what to say if we meet

as we go our ways

along a Dead-End Street

many call Life these days…

…again. Sometimes my mind turns into a time machine. As I push the rewind button, places I’ve been to flash before my eyes. Some remain. Some pass. Sometimes some empty skies may appear almost as blank as a screen a few seconds before a show starts. I want to see you, even though I don’t I know what to say if we meet as we go our ways along a Dead-End Street many call Life these days…