(BOTH WAYS)
Rick Reut
…which sounds and smells like looks
can be deceptive to taste.
They differ in different books.
Many words go to waste.
The present becomes the past
whereas the future is clear
only to GOD. Your last
chance to defeat your fear
may be right now. Or may-
be some other time. Regret
is of the past. One day
you may get what they get.
Pain and pleasure, of course,
are of the present, like joy.
Sorrow tries to destroy
everything that is, was
and will be. A night sky
speaks to an empty street.
Say hallo, then goodbye,
hoping that you will meet
again after another night.
You are getting ahead
of yourself. Out of sight,
you live in your own head
as if it was a room
or an entire block
of flats. Haunted by gloom,
you dwell on top of a clock
tower of ivory or
whatever you think it is
you can see in the freeze
frame of your mind. A door-
way leads both ways: outside
and inside. There’s another
doorway where you can hide,
getting farther and farther
away. Under the bruised
sky in the afterglow,
a multitude of unused
rain clouds crawl in slow
motion to turn on the black
coffee machine of the night
and then maybe come back
in coffee-black or milk-white,…
…which sounds and smells like looks can be deceptive to taste. They differ in different books. Many words go to waste. The present becomes the past whereas the future is clear only to GOD. Your last chance to defeat your fear may be right now. Or maybe some other time. Regret is of the past. One day you may get what they get. Pain and pleasure, of course, are of the present, like joy. Sorrow tries to destroy everything that is, was and will be. A night sky speaks to an empty street. Say hallo, then goodbye, hoping that you will meet again after another night. You are getting ahead of yourself. Out of sight, you live in your own head as if it was a room or an entire block of flats. Haunted by gloom, you dwell on top of a clock tower of ivory or whatever you think it is you can see in the freeze frame of your mind. A doorway leads both ways: outside and inside. There’s another doorway where you can hide, getting farther and farther away. Under the bruised sky in the afterglow, a multitude of unused rain clouds crawl in slow motion to turn on the black coffee machine of the night and then maybe come back in coffee-black or milk-white,…
