Cut Grass

When I was a teenager,
my dad would want me to cut the grass.
I did, and most of the time I would bag the cuttings.
Sometimes, if the grass was short enough
I wouldn’t need the bag.
When I would finish,
people from the neighborhood would stop by
and compliment me on how the yard looked.

Then my dad would come home.
He complained that it wasn’t cut right.
That I should have bagged the grass better.
He would complain about something
that was done different
than his liking.
I resented him for years.
He was never home,
and was a workaholic.
He enjoyed working
and then coming home
just to complain
and belittle.
It ended up being his greatest lesson.
He taught me that the world is cruel.
You could feel as though you did a great job,
but a boss
may not feel the same.

Now that I am older
I realized he was right.
The world is cruel.
I have given everything
in my jobs,
my love life,
and my writing.
All end up in rejections.
Some were written,
and some were left in a voicemail,
but many were in person.

After so many,
the hurt went away
and persistence took over.
I may write something
and it will be rejected.
A girlfriend will breakup with me
saying there has to be someone better.
The job,
where I went above and beyond
only to watch others get praise.

I know now
that I didn’t need that kind of lesson
when I was a teenager.
I needed a father.
Someone to believe in me.
It is something I never had,
which made me doubt myself,
even now.
It was in the cut grass.

©Copyright 2014 by Kurt Rees.
All rights reserved

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My Apologies

I wanted to let all of you know that I haven’t left. My father has had cancer. He seems to be doing much better, but it was a long year of watching him suffer and being there when needed. He is cancer free, but he is still very frail right now and I am spending my free time being with him instead of writing.

I will be back,
Kurt

I Could Say I Love You

I could say I love you
to make you happy,
to make things easier on me.
I want to tell you,
but don’t know if I truly do.
Maybe I’m holding on
to those words
waiting for the right moment.
I could say them,
but would they
come from the heart?
This heart has been
through so much hurt.
I forgot
what love feels like.
The ache,
the pain,
the longing,
all things I went through
with my first few loves.
The signs of love are now
a distant memory.
Can it be my age?
My hurt from the first few
may have put this shield
around my heart.
I could say I love you
and not know for sure.
I hope I can tell you sometime
that I can’t live without you
and that I love you.

Who knows true love anyway?

©Copyright 2011 by Kurt Rees.
All rights reserved

Christmas Snow

Christmas Snow

I can look back
and see the Christmas snow
falling slowly.
It never made a sound,
but chilled my watered skin
to the bone.
A time for family and cheer
was tainted by your words.
I spent the entire day wondering
what I did to drive you to him.
Now I look back at that moment
of walking outside to clear my head.
No moon to light the night sky
and how the beautiful lights
on all the houses,
helped me forget you.
My memory is of that moment
and not of you, or your words.
There is no snow on the ground
this year to remind me,
of how the ice and your words
chilled me to the bone.
Just the beautiful lights
on every house.
They are lit this year
to remind me
that the lights shine brighter
and much clearer this year.

©Copyright 2009 by Kurt Rees.
All rights reserved

Fly on the Wall

My new book is finally out.

Here is the link to order the paperback:

http://www.lulu.com/shop/kurt-rees/fly-on-the-wall/paperback/product-21186307.html

Here is the link to order the ebook format:

http://www.lulu.com/shop/kurt-rees/fly-on-the-wall/ebook/product-21186577.html

The River Rats

You see them
every day.
They stand in line
at the local store.
They also appear
while you are driving.
Once the sun goes down
people say they go home,
but we know their souls
gather at the river.

There is an angel
that has been sitting
at the bridge
looking over the river.
He has been there
for years.
He is starting
to turn black
and his feathers
are starting to
blow away in the wind.
He is trying to find a soul
worthy of taking back to
his master,
but he will not find one here
at the river.

The river rats
show their faces to you
during the day.
They are the ones
in line at the store
complaining of a lighter
being 99 cents
while you look at the display
and see that the sign clearly
states 1.05.
They are the ones
who flip you off while driving.
They cut you off and blame
you for their terrible driving.
They are the ones who argue
politics,
but never have they voted once
for anybody.
They laugh at those
who are less fortunate
and scoff at those that
are different.
They start fights
for no reason,
and verbally assault
those that are kind.

There are those who believe
that when the sun goes down
that the rats gather at the river.
Their bodies stay at home to rest
while their souls get together at the river
and talk amongst themselves
about what chaos they will start
tomorrow.

The angel sits there
and listens.
He waits to hear of
a good soul,
but can’t.
There are none
down by the river.

It will be a very long time
for the angel
to meet with his master again.

There will never be a
good soul
amongst the rats.

©Copyright 2011 by Kurt Rees.
All rights reserved

The Winner

I was watching
TV today and noticed
a beauty queen on the news.
She won the competition
and there were forty nine losers.
The winner gets called
and she talks about her new book.
The book talks about success.
The girl says that she has been
competing for well over ten years
and that her positive attitude helped her win.

What I want to see
are the forty nine losers
that spent the last ten years competing
and lost.
I want to hear how they deal with the
rejection.
Do they slip into drugs or give up on life?
Nobody in America wants to hear about
the loser.
America has always loved the winner
and what they have to say,
even if that winner isn’t articulate in the way
they speak.
It’s too bad that nobody teaches the loser
how to overcome failure.

It’s not taught
by our churches, schools or families.
Nobody wants to think about failing,
so they don’t talk about it.
We need the voice
for the failing grades
the failing marriages
and for the failing
of ourselves.

©Copyright 2010 by Kurt Rees.
All rights reserved

Backyard

He sits in front of the TV and,
listens to the man on the screen.
Police surround the man
who is escorted out
of the house.
He states how he has changed
and that he should be allowed
to live by the school.

The kid’s eyes are fixated
on the man.
He looks into his eyes as reporters
keep asking the questions.
The kid can tell
the man is sincere
in his answers,
and that he isn’t lying.
The kid knows
it’s something else
that turns truth
into horror.
That takes a decent man
and turns them into
a monster.

It scares him
to think that
while reporters
are questioning this man,
there are monsters
out there preying
on kids like him.
The little eight year old
glances at the clock
and knows he has a few
minutes
before dad comes home.

They will eat dinner
and dad will have a few drinks
before the monster
inside him
comes out.
The kid looks at the TV
one last time,
with hope
that the media
and police
will be at his house
sometime
soon.

©Copyright 2011 by Kurt Rees.
All rights reserved

They Leave Me Memories

I see
the old tube of lipstick
in the bathroom,
still in the cabinet.
In the exact same place
she left it
months ago.
I remember how
she put it on
before coming to bed
and me telling her to stop.
That I wouldn’t see it anyway
after she turned out the light.

I see the dental floss
left behind
from the Georgia peach
I took a bite out of,
and the olive oil soap
from the olive skin beauty
from California.

I think of the nights
with each of them.
The way the shadow
of a body would
hit the wall
when they turned out
the light.
The feel of their skin,
their curves,
and how they would
lay in bed.
Their feet,
their fingers,
and strands of hair.

Most guys
will say their lovers
leave panties, stockings
and bras behind.
I have never had
that problem.
It’s the floss,
the soap,
and the many
other things
left in my bathroom.

Then I think
of my buddy
who always told me.
”You know you have
a girlfriend when she
has a box of pads
under the sink.”

I remember
the girlfriend from Colorado
leaving a box of pads
under the sink,
and am amazed they
are still there.

I thought of all this
while I was pissing tonight.
I missed the toilet a bit
and cleaned up the mess
with one of the pads.
Finally a good use
for them.

I need to buy toilet paper
and paper towels tomorrow.

©Copyright 2008 by Kurt Rees.
All rights reserved

Broken Heart

I saw Carl
sitting on his front patio.
I went to him and he asked me
if he ever told me the story
of how he and his wife met.

He talked about
how he was dating someone
and took her to a club.
Then,
Rita walked into the room.
He talked about how
he lost his breath
when she appeared.
He talked about how
he was going
to marry her.
A love at first sight
kind of thing.
His girlfriend saw the look
he gave Rita
and dumped him right there.

He pursued Rita and
after a few months of dating
they became married.
Now it is well over fifty years
since they were married.
Rita passed just last week,
and Carl isn’t able to eat
or sleep.

He told his stories
as I saw his drawn face,
and bags under his eyes.
I could see her death
was killing him.
He talked to me
about Rita
for the next hour.
Funny stories and
how much he loved her.

Carl passed away
a few days later.
He is the only person
I have ever known to die
from a broken heart.

©Copyright 2006 by Kurt Rees.
All rights reserved