Nick Tosches

And, of course, that is what all of this is – all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs – that song, endlesly reincarnated – born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan, or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it. That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses, that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train, that Rocket ’88’, that Buick 6 – same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness.

~ Nick Tosches

It’s Official. Poets & Writers

It’s Official.

After many years of publishing, writing and creating groups and poetry spoken-word events such as Albany Poets, Vox, The School of Night, The Albany WordFest, The Troy Poetry Mission and many others I’ve finally been honored with my listing in Poets & Writers.

Thank you.

Poets & Writers R.M. Engelhardt

#rmengelhardt #albanypoets #poetsandwriters #gentlemanoutsider

FINDING RELIGION

FINDING RELIGION
On the bus
Coming home
From work
I’m on my phone
Looking for a
WiFi signal
None available
No connection
Then
Suddenly I
Find “GOD”
But his connection
Is weak and
I’m not allowed
To use or sign on
To his network
Which upsets
Me just a little bit
But I don’t think
It was him
Because
No one on
The bus had
Sandals or a
Beard
In January

~ R.M.E. 2019©

ICONIC.

ICONIC

God died
The other day
Or at least the
Media said so

He had a great
Career, a few number
1 hits and a fan club
Back in the day

I turned to
My wife after
Reading of his
Demise on
Facebook and
Asked;

“Wasn’t he dead already?”

~ © R.M. Engelhardt/2019

THE SONS OF MEN

THE SONS OF MEN

The sons of men
Once long ago
Ruled over the
Galaxies, stars
And planets

And then
After just a
Few angry words

War

Death

Destruction

The Dark

Their descendents
Left what remained
Behind them and
Took their children away
With them and taught
Them about peace
Taught them about
Love and taught them
To just be happy
And to take care of just
The few important things
They had left

And when they
Found a small
And lonely place
Among the stars
They called her

Mother

But eventually
They all forgot
Who they were
And forgot what truly
Mattered

And then again
After just a
Few angry words

War

Death

Destruction &

The Dark

Returned

The cycle
Repeating
Over & over
Again

Throughout time
Throughout centuries
Throughout millennia

Until
One day
All the sons
Of men
Were dead

And above
Them all the stars
The planets
And the galaxies

Were gone

~ R.M. Engelhardt

The Troy Poetry Mission R.M. Engelhardt (@rmengelhardt)

R.M. Engelhardt (@rmengelhardt) Tweeted:
Spread the word.

The Troy Poetry Mission
Troy, NY

#rmengelhardt
#gentlemanoutsider
#Poetry
#TroyNY
#troypoetrymission https://t.co/lKqrqj8UXg https://twitter.com/rmengelhardt/status/1139380202096615425?s=17

The Shaman

A shaman and a writer each serve as their communities’ seers by engaging in extraordinary acts of conscientious study of the past and the present and predicting the future. An inner voice calls to the shaman and an essayistic writer to answer the call that vexes the pernicious spirit of their times. Shamanistic writers induce a trance state of mind where they lose contact with physical reality through a rational disordering of the senses, in an effort to encounter for the umpteenth time the great unknown and the unutterable truths that structure existence. An afflicted person seeking clarification of existence cannot ignore the shamanistic calling of narrative exposition. Thus, I shall continue this longwinded howl – making a personal immortality vessel – into the darkness of night forevermore.

Kilroy J. Oldster

Dark Magic

DARK MAGIC

It
Was the
1st time
I heard
Jim Morrison
Wail/Scream
Through an
Old transistor
Radio while
Sitting on a
Bench at the
Beach

I was
Five years
Old and
There was
In my midst
Electricity &
Fear & something
I had never heard
Before

If you
Give this man
A ride sweet
Family will die

Riders On The Storm

Riders On The Storm

And I said
Swore myself
My soul
To the words
To the spell
To the soul of

“Magic”

~ R.M. Engelhardt