On T.S. Elliot & The Death of Poetry. Another Opinion – R.M. Engelhardt

So apparently this article has been moving around a bit in Facebook groups. The writer is not the first to coin the term ” Poetry is Dead” or for that matter the poetic viewpoint that T.S. Elliot was the game changer. What is your idealism or belief? This is not so much a critique as merely a viewpoint ( *please read first). To me, as a poet his viewpoint is interesting but what he has seriously forgotten is that Elliot wrote Wasteland in a drastically changed world only a few short years after WW1. Hence why the poem & title “The Wasteland”

I see Elliot’s poems as the new siren, the almost near dead, broken muse attempting to somehow comprehend a vast amount of death & destruction in a new world trying to recover 100 years ago. This was the very beginning of our times. A fearful world which now after 2 world wars and the fear of possible nuclear war which we were born into. The old world of our humanity & our full relationship to the natural world disappeared in the fire. The constant is again the word ” Fear” which we still live with in our subconscious every single day. So it is of little imagining as to why we are poets of politics & protest, dark, brooding rebellion and of end times. Eliot was just the first victim grappling with this destitute reaction to a nightmare made reality and its horrors.

Simply put? The event of World War, destruction & the death of thousands was merely a razorblade cutting into the poet’s soul and the realization that we would all never be whole or the same ever again.

We are still broken.

We just don’t realize it.

~ R.M. Engelhardt

On T.S. Elliot & The Death of Poetry.

The Outsider …

“…The Outsider is doubly a rebel: a rebel against the Established Church, a rebel against the unestablished church of materialism. Yet for all this, he is the real spiritual heir of the prophets…The purest religion of any age lies in the hands of its spiritual rebels.

The twentieth century is no exception.”

~ Colin Wilson

The School of Night. Albany, NY

In the late 1990s & into the early part of this century I created and ran a spoken word poetry open mic called THE SCHOOL OF NIGHT at Valentine’s as well as at a few other locations afterwards in Albany, NY. The open mic was always extremely crowded and popular and we did alot of themed nights also such as Beat Generation Night, Poe Halloween Benefits Bukowski Night and some other cool evenings before alot of these ideas took hold in other places. But as all good things my SON had a predecessor. The original group of poets in the time of Marlowe, Raleigh & Shakespeare.

Who knows?

Whenever history needs inspiration it might just return again .

https://shakesphere1.blogspot.com/2012/08/sir-walter-raleigh-and-his-school-of.html?m=1

The School of Night, Albany NY

MORE THAN NIGHT

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MORE THAN NIGHT

I am searching
For something
More than night

More than
The dark
The evening

Under stars
Under the moonlight
Another life

Or perhaps
I just need
Another drink

Whiskey
On the side

 

 

~ R.M. Engelhardt/19

OF CONVERSATIONS, FRIENDS & ANGELS

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OF CONVERSATIONS
FRIENDS & ANGELS

 
Today

I come to you
In the memory
Of old friends

Conversation

Over lost time
And lost years

That have
Mysteriously
Vanished

In both tragedy
And revelation

Grief
And silence

Detached from
This mere
Mortal coil

To remember them;

They who were
Once here and
They who once loved
And who we all
Once were once
Upon a time long
Ago as well
In a love, a friendship

A moment

Meant with soul
So fiercely

Now
Vauge

Idle
In dreaming

For you see
As we go on
Our minds
Have learned to
Play tricks

Deceptions

In a veil of youth
& passing days

Drunken illusions
And insignificant
Slights now
Forgotten

Replaced by
What was once in our
Hearts our true
Appearance

A realization
That to be human
Is to be flawed

But these things
Are small pins
Needles

Inconsequential

Now forgotten

So in coming years
We shall sit down & remember them
And have a conversation
Like old friends
Should have like
All friends living

Until

Into the light &
The brilliance
Of angels
We go

Onto
To the next
Mortal
Dream

Without remorse

 

 

~ R.M. Engelhardt

03.16.2019

 

The Outside World

writing

As you get older the more things change – for the better or for the worse. Sometimes being a writer and becoming somewhat of an self-isolationist is like being in a sanctuary and finding your true self, your true voice and words. The outside world never goes away. It will always be there.

~ R.M. Engelhardt

REPETITION

 

REPETITION

 

So let us call this

Ruin

Civilization

Written
Upon an ancient
Wall

Built
By the
Living
Dead

Without
Empathy

Mass
Hysteria

A history
Without
Clarity

Created
By egos

Inhuman

And not
True men

A standing
Headstone

Marking
The end

Of freedom

 

 

~ R.M. ENGELHARDT/2019

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Nostalgia Act

NOSTALGIA ACT

Aren’t you that
Poet who was famous
Once?

That poet
Who lived
Downtown
That wore
That old leather
Jacket & who
Was kinda like
A punk rock vampire
Lord Byron meets
Edgar Allan Poe
Guy?

I really liked
That poem you
Wrote the young millennial
Girl says
It was totally awesome
My mom has the book

Thank you

Which one?

I inquire

You know
That one about
Dying without her
Love & sadness
Loss & self
Destruction

That one

Y’know

“Come As You Are”

I smile
Take a sip of my
Coffee, excuse myself
From the room

 

~ R.M. Engelhardt/19

 

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