Light

The deal is no matter what, no matter how bad things get or are that we try. Even in the worst of times we must remember there will be light, someone, somewhere waiting.

~ R.M. Engelhardt
The Bones of Our Existence
http://www.thepoemremains.com

Upcoming Events

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The Bones of Our Existence Book Release: March 15th, 2016 at 12 Midnight http://www.thepoemremains.com

Source: Upcoming Events

Quake Quake Quake

C__Data_Users_DefApps_AppData_INTERNETEXPLORER_Temp_Saved Images_QuakeQuakeQuake.jpgAlthough I’m not the first poet to ever write a book of post-apocalyptic poetry (The Bones of Our Existence) I can happily say that I have been preceded by such poets as the likes of Paul Dehn and even by a poem by Lord Byron called “The Darkness”. Here’s a great article on Paul Dehn’s book, a collaboration with famous artist Edward Gorey entitled “Quake Quake Quake”

 

The Apocalyptic Poetry of Paul Dehn

The Future Is Coming …

 

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Q.

The Future is Coming.
What Are You Going To Do ?

A:

I think I’ll have another glass of whiskey.

– R.M. Engelhardt, The Bones of Our Existence 2016

The world has been lost. Gone into the unnamed void. We drink our coffee, put on our coats and go to work and sense that something is missing, aware something is no longer there. We have changed. We have forgotten who we are. Or maybe this is just the beginning of becoming, the transformation of the becoming of something new. Find the words unspoken. Find the voice that tells a new story for a new history as yet unwritten. This is your real job. To create that which has not yet been created.

We Can Be Heroes… R.M. Engelhardt On David Bowie From Albany Poets

We Can Be Heroes …

It’s another Monday morning. I shower, drink my coffee and get dressed for work. In the background my wife is playing classical music on the radio when suddenly from the kitchen I hear the words. “He’s dead” she says … He’s dead. With the lilt of her voice as knowing shock. I walk into the bedroom and hear the song, one of my all time favorites, Is There Life On Mars playing while the news anchor tells me that one of my heroes, one of my favorite rock stars David Bowie is dead at the age of 69 from cancer.

Like most people my first response is disbelief. How is this possible? Cancer? Ironically, I walk outside and have a smoke. Look on my phone to confirm the truth as if it was all a mistake.

But David Bowie is gone. He’s dead. The man who sold the world. The icon whose music reached me and that left a lasting effect on me musically and artistically as a writer and as a definition of my time and generation. His lyrics defined my teenage years as the quiet, somewhat quirky kid with glasses who stuck to himself. The kid who liked writing poems and song verses that no one knew of. That kid with the shaded lenses who wanted to secretly wanted to be  a rock star himself who instead wound up a poet. Sure, over the years as time went by there were other influences  (Bukowski, Morrison and even Rimbaud to name a few). But there was no one as creative or as talented or even as brave as Bowie who was never afraid of what other people thought or to take chances. To find new ways of expression or to change his style or appearance. Bowie was the man who made me believe that if you want to be whoever or whatever you want, to really be who you are that you can become it. His lyrics were poetry and reached me. Especially the song “Heroes”.

So thanks David. For the music, the words and the style. For being a part of my imagination and of course, for proving to us all that we can be heroes.

Tags:R.M. Engelhardt