Category: Albany NY
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Bones Beneath Flesh Machine The Heart Still Lost Somewhere In-between A Dream & The Reflected Light. A Memory A Movement A Moment In The Dark Which Remains, Like Some Celestial Eternal Sonnet Thoughts, Minds Bodies Connected And Breathing Her Hair Sweeping Across Your Face. A Fragment Another Time And Another Place. Years Later? An Old…
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Better to feel (Than be) Blood rushes thru veins And the heart beats, Only one-day to complete it’s duty While eventually earth and gods shall all come crashing down And kingdoms & civilizations fade. And so please, I ask you only this; That when I leave to let me take these Few things with me;…
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The Aesthetics Of Anger When said the moon to the stars in the sky A small boy was born upon the day his mother died Upon his 30th day did also rise An only son in September. And when he was young and death did follow Him like a bird and left him hollow…
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And now alas yet another poem from my destructions, You, witness to and here in new flesh and new skin. The skin of hero, the skin of snake, the skin of monster, the skin of saint all Gradually and eventually shedding piece by piece living and dying and Reinventing the world. Poems, photographs, enemies and…
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What is hell to a writer? Hell is being too busy to find the time to write or being unable to find the inspiration. Hell is suddenly finding the words but being away from your notebook or typewriter. Hell is when the verses slip away through your fingers and they never return again. ~ R.M.…
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Epitaph for The lost poem Which contained Everything And nothing. Touched everyone, anyone Who desired The mystery of mysteries Words of words, which brought forth Language Both blessed & cursed us Married us, buried us and parted The heavens and the Deep blue seas Made Houdini disappear And broke the sole of Khrushchev’s soul…
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“It is the quality of one’s convictions that determines success, not the number of followers.” ~ Remus Thanks For Your Support And For Following “The Resurrection Waltz” ! http://www.rmengelhardt.com
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“That’s the god damn problem with Albany, NY” She said. “There are too many fucking poets “ In the city Where I was born They tore it all down So many times That we all forgot. Because you see I was born In a place Where the lives get Lines and the stories…
