Category: Poets
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THE 21st CENTURY POETS ARENβT DRUNK ENOUGH
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THE DYING TIME, POEMS BY R.M. Engelhardt is a visceral, raw collection of poetry that functions as both a political manifesto and a spiritual eulogy for a fractured America. Published in 2026 by Valhalla Shelter Press, the work captures a sense of immediate crisis, weaving together themes of societal decay, the loss of artistic “magic,”…
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Bohemian Soul ~ R.M. Engelhardt BOHEMIAN SOUL Bohemian SoulNo OverlordsFreedom & Democracy The PastStill Remains In The Future For We Are The CaretakersOf The Human Race, The Earth,The Skies & The Seas The DenizensOf the UndergroundThe Keepers Of The Peace Unchained Bowing Down To No ManNo MonstersNo Kings Burn Down Our HouseAnd We’ll Rebuild ItWe’ll…
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ASH The words onceDevestatedThe mind Some Uplifted theSoul The deadCan no longerHear them The livingNo longerListen Unless theyAre wrapped upIn a packageOf glamourOr deceit Can you stillHear them? The poetsAsk Can you stillFeel them? The poetsCry But the massesAre now allDeaf & blind ConditionedBy the promiseOf somethingMore But lift the veilAnd close theCurtain andYou’ll find…
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COFFEE MESSIAH When the sun comes up And the dawn of a new day Rises Fuk em. I’m a coffee messiah When people don’t Like what I say or write Fuk em. I’m a coffee messiah When the job Gets stressful & The people get tired Fuk em. I’m a coffee messiah & I’m 2000…
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THE UNNECESSARY ANGEL OF POETRY One-daySoon after the glamor had faded The sun ate all her flowersHer milk & honey As Taylor toured AmericaInspiring poetic amnesiaTo kids As old poems & memoriesDied hard & rotted in their graves The dirt All lost to a McGenerationWithout focus Without hope Rhyming incoherentlyAttempting consciousness As someone randomAn unremarkable…
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Thirty Years Ago Today: 09/26/93 THE DEAD POETS LIST In my lifetime I’ve probably written over ahundred trillion words. But I’d die for just one more cigarette. When the curtain falls, when the moment ceases To be. Sinatra said it best. “That’s Life “ Go out with a bang Not that stupid whimper And leave…
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THE JEWEL There is this cave In the air behind my body That nobody is going to touch: A cloister, a silence Closing around a blossom of fire. When I stand upright in the wind, My bones turn to dark emeralds.
