Poet Writer Author Albany NY
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
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
Christmas Eve, 103 years ago tonight,
the world burns burns burns like
the furnace it is, but a hard freeze
sets in after an agonizing week
of wind & rain
along the Western Front.
Tired and ragged soldiers on both sides
of a senseless, brutal war
emerge, with hands up,
from the trenches
harmonizing Silent Night
in unison
as the snow begins to fall.
For just a few hours, these war-torn
adversaries come together
as allies, as friends, as brothers.
They defy the rules of war,
ignore commands from generals
and politicians, and chisel out
their own peace. A peace not granted
by their masters. Two enemies, together,
under a bleak sky in fields of blood and bones,
laugh and sip whiskey and smoke cigars,
while sharing gifts as the grey dawn
gives way to the bloodshed again.
But for one night, just one night, these
young soldiers escaped the…
View original post 33 more words
ONE CIGARETTE
“It’s cold out here
I’m freezin’ ta death!”
An old man
Says teeth chattering
In his skull
I walk past
All the bars the
Hipsters the vagrants
Past the bright lights
Of clubs & stores
That offer no refuge
From the below zero
Glare of street lamps
And cars
But there
She stands freezing
Shaking uncontrollably
On the corner
In a short dress
& a thin puffy coat
Trying to look tough
When she can’t be more
Than 17
“Hey mister !”
“You got a cigarette?”
I turn to look
Across the street
“I’ll suck your cock for twenty dollars”
And in a moment
That seems like an eternity
I stare. It’s that feeling that
Comes over you when it
Seems like everything
Is unreal
But then
It hits me
Not disgust
But a nausea
A sadness that suddenly
Wells up into my gut
My soul and my heart
Broken into 100,000 pieces
In less than 30 seconds
I shake my head …
“No.”
I don’t have a cigarette for you
Go home.
Your Mom & Dad
Are probably dying
Right now without you
Go find a warm shelter and
Get off this street now or I’ll
Have to call the police
“Fuck You !”
She replies
And again
That nauseous feeling
Returns
And sadly
And calmly
I reply back
Not even one
Cigarette or a $20 dollar bill is going to
Save your sorry ass
And if you haven’t already
Noticed God isn’t saving you
Or watching over you
Either
So
You only have
2 choices
You can freeze
To Death or you can save
Yourself
And that’s
The only gift
There is
Living.
And I don’t care
“Merry Christmas”
And I
Walked off into
The cold & the snow
Knowing nothing
More for her
Could ever be done
~ R.M.2018
The Half Dead Poet Review:
The host of The Troy Poetry Mission R.M. Engelhardt let’s his views & thoughts be known on the recent false accusations against the Nation magazine and a young but well meaning poet who simply wrote a poem in regards to the plight of homelessness in America.
Writing and poetry is all about characters, narrative and advocating for the rights & beliefs of all, not just some writers and the meaning of 21st century poetry started a very long time ago which has apparently become “lost in translation” to many journalists and magazines riding the wave of popularity. Poetry has never died. Never will.
Read It Here.
https://albanypoets.com/2018/08/the-half-dead-poet-review-let-poetry-just-be-poetry
Write from the soul, not for the world.
~ R.M. Engelhardt
LET POETRY BE POETRY
Attention:
Don’t apologize
Don’t cry
Don’t whine
Leave it alone
Don’t change or
Edit the world
Be honest
Be authentic
Be real
Because
You’re entitled
No matter
Who you are
Or where you
Live
To be who you
Were meant to be
To say what needs
To be said to be
Free and to let the
Words breathe
Like all words
And poetry should
And not to be stifled
By others who
Aren’t brave enough
To say what needs
To be said
Afraid to be alive
Because they all live
In the imaginary
Land
Of fear
Afraid
Of political
Monsters
Who live in
The dark or
Who believe
That they have
The right to control
Your voice
Your thoughts
Your writing
Your ideas
Your history
Your color
Your beliefs
So
Don’t apologize
Don’t cry
Don’t whine
Leave the words
As they are
Let the words be
Your own words
And never ever
Back down
Against Nazis
Against censorship
Against idiots
Against tyrants
Who think that
They have the right
To edit your soul
Because on the day
You are afraid
To write a poem
In America
Or anywhere
You’ve already
Let all the monsters
Win
So
Let Poetry
Be Poetry
Let The Poem Breathe
Let The Poem Live
~ R.M. Engelhardt
August 2018
