GRIST

When they look back
And oh how they will look
Back someday they’ll
All wonder why

We were all dead
Vacant

Not a demise of the flesh or bone
But of the spirit, the soul in a
Time of anger & chaos interfering
With the inner frequencies
Sub divisions, activisism,
Neutrality & the fear of
The great unknown

No art
No words
No thoughts
No roaring of the crowds
Set on fire
Or even artistic executions
The masterbation of ancient
Icons & old styles
Without anything new
Or exciting to say

Or do

And no new movements

Except of the bowels
Our hearts barely beating
In the great & universal
Whisper of darkness on a
Planet of uninteresting
Unexciting boring

Drones

And They’ll All Say;

Jesus Christ …

It was the era
Of anarchy and
Tyranny and of
Resistance when
The poets & artists
Should have been
Creating epic shit
The numbered days
Of a falling democracy
The fear of a enslaved
Future with our
Rights to self, free expression
And dignity
Taken away

But here we see in
The archives

Nothing

No balls
No guts

And no grist
Just protests

And only a few
Scattered unknown
Poems by those who
Beared witness

That never received
Any recognition out of
The fear of retaliation unpublished
By media & magazines and the
False power of a ridiculous administration

Of primitive minds

For fuck’s sake …

This was a time of
Persecution & upheaval
Poverty and strife

But the records here say
Nothing except …

“Slam Night
And cash prizes!”
Workshops & the incessant
Whining of Instagram
Pictures of female bodies
With badly written pretty word
Sex poems and self selfie
Words of no consequence

Or weight

“You touch my body
A flicker in the candlelight
In the wind “

Blah Blah Blah

Etc.

With no academic protests
Found featuring the words
And the arts except for a
Small handful & the
Degrading over establishment
Of vanity presses that
Were trying to make poetry
Into a commercial
Money making enterprise

That all failed

But here lies
The ghost of the early
21st century unnoticed

Uninteresting

With

No memories
No grist
No heart

Please be considerate
And move along to the
Next exhibit because
This one isn’t worth
Your time

At all

~ R.M. Engelhardt
©2025