R.M. ENGELHARDT

Poet Writer Author Albany NY

  • SUPERIOR POET DICK SYNDROME

    Do you suffer from
    SUPERIOR POET DICK SYNDROME?

    Are you well … A Dick?

    Here’s a list of symptoms:

    1.

    You post in poetry groups but
    You rarely comment or even bother to like
    Other poets work always trying to
    Outshine them

    2.

    You must constantly insult
    And or make shitty attempts to
    Compare yourself to famous dead poets
    Who can’t defend themselves usually
    Using the overused flavor of the month cancel
    Culture or go with the flow tactics but
    Are you yourself using narcissistic a-hole
    Verbiage and trying to imitate their style
    Completely

    3.

    You self proclaim yourself the “Poet
    Of your Era” mocking & dissing the poets of
    Previous eras who did all the footwork you
    Create lies about and slander earning
    The ” King Shit ” crown of pretentious
    Thorns believing you are the next messiah
    Who no one actually reads

    4.

    You see yourself as celebrity material
    When in fact no one’s ever heard of
    You outside social media

    1. You were probably an asshole or
      A bully to begin with

    6.

    Your time is coming

    7.

    Your time is HERE.

    And with a single, solitary poem
    We have just wiped our asses

    With the pages of your last
    Unoriginal & boring

    Book

    ~ R.M. Engelhardt
    ©2024

  • WARREN ZEVON IS STILL ALIVE

    Waiting for the bus 18
    Yesterday a man drove past
    Me in a black car with grayish blond
    Ponytail hair, a bandana & dark shades on

    And as he drove by me
    He said :

    ” Hey man, cool Ray Bans!”

    Referring to the sunglasses
    I was wearing as I exhaled
    The smoke from my clove cigarette

    And then
    He also said:

    Keep smoking those things
    And life will kill ya!

    Smiled & waved

    Driving away

    And then suddenly
    I realized he looked & sounded
    Exactly like Warren Zevon

    And that the song playing
    In his car was “I was in the house
    when the house burned down”

    So now
    Sometimes I wonder
    What they’re putting in
    My tobacco these days

    Warren had no comment

    I went home
    And took a nap

    Confused

    ~ R.M. Engelhardt
    ©2024

  • MYSTICAL CYNICISM

    MYSTICAL CYNICISM

    My
    Poems are
    Too long
    For words

    In the
    Age of
    Dead
    Revelation

    Dark
    Vanity

    The media
    Of uncomfortable
    Verses

    That still
    Awaken
    Each night

    Searching for
    Something they
    Cannot find

    Their souls
    Still linger
    Still grieve
    For the
    Printed page

    In silence



    ~ R.M. Engelhardt
    ©2024

  • YOUR MUSE HAS DIED OF BOREDOM

    YOUR MUSE HAS DIED OF BOREDOM

    See the media
    Buried in it’s own
    Shit, it’s own grave
    A thousand fold

    The kids
    Are all at it
    Again

    No longer
    Shopping in
    The dark corners
    Of the department
    Store

    Looking desperately
    For inspiration

    Y’ see

    First came Jesus
    Then Sinatra then
    Elvis and then
    Wellllllllll …

    WTF
    Is this ?

    Maybe you should
    Check your local
    Library

    There’s this section
    They call POETRY

    Y’know

    The real stuff

    Full of strange eccentric
    People of color,
    Black, White, Male
    Female

    And even more

    Because it’s
    Hard to find any
    Thing new or
    Original

    In a world that
    Keeps trying to
    Sell you out &
    Sell you the same
    Ol’ shit

    Y’ see

    There was once
    This guy named
    Whitman who walked
    Into a pile of leaves and

    A woman called Emily
    Who no one ever heard of

    They both walked
    Into a bar and well …

    I guess
    You’ll have to read something
    To figure out all
    The rest

    Something beautiful that
    Can’t be bought

    Or sold

    Ever

    ~ R.M. Engelhardt
    ©2024


  • Eulogy

    EULOGY

    Up far too early on a
    Sunday morning

    The face in
    The mirror
    No longer
    Yours

    The birds outside
    Singing a song
    Unfamiliar to
    Your ears

    The sun burning
    Out what’s left
    Of all grace

    That you
    Once held
    Like a child
    In your arms

    Cradled

    As you see her
    Ghost in
    Passing

    Walking by
    In the other

    Room

    ~ R.M. Engelhardt
    ©2024

  • Poem Of The Century

    POEM OF THE CENTURY

    Secretly
    I am quietly writing
    Working on the
    Poem of the century

    The 21st
    That is

    And No

    It won’t be epic

    Say like The Wasteland
    Or Howl

    Disturbing the order
    Of conformity

    Creating chaos
    Or change

    It won’t be over one page long
    Or able to fit in a pretty
    Instagram picture

    And it certainly won’t be
    Posted in a group on Facebook

    Tattered & Torn
    And ripped apart by
    Grammer Nazis

    And wannabe critics

    Who will find
    It is far too complicated
    To even

    Fathom
    Or understand

    And it won’t be written
    Made to pander, perform or scream
    For all the neighborhood kids
    Still doing backyard slams

    In high school gymnastics

    Thinking they’ve won
    Something they never won

    Or lost

    For it does not fit their
    Idea of a what a poem

    Is supposed to be
    Sound like
    Beyond their idealism

    Or imagination

    Lacking all the pure drama
    And ordinary clarity of using
    Foul fucking language

    Or overused gimmicks
    About a girlfriend a boyfriend
    A self declaration of self selfie
    Behold the power of ME

    Me Me Me or

    Word ?

    No

    This poem must be, will be
    Different

    This poem must be
    Genius

    This poem must be

    Saying everything
    And saying nothing

    At all

    Completely
    Absolutely

    So
    Secretly
    I am quietly writing
    Working on the
    Poem of the century

    The 21st century
    That is

    Isn’t

    A poem on a blank
    Page perhaps

    Or deep unexplainable emptiness
    Or loss

    And a grief that
    No one sees
    Or even notices

    Because
    There is no more left
    To say except
    So far this century
    Has only been about
    Shallowness, selfishness &
    Virtual reality

    An overexagerated pop
    Culture overload
    & the karmic return of
    All the useless shit
    Hate & apathy and the
    Silence of fear

    And pure undoing

    That we thought
    We had all already

    Overcome
    In the past

    So I am writing the
    Poem of the century

    This masterpiece
    A facade

    Which will capture the
    Complete & defining essence

    Of America
    The obvious
    The lack of humanity
    The times
    Without a true conscience
    Or simple grace

    And it will be
    Something more
    Something less
    Something else

    And more fake news

    That nobody
    Really wants to
    Hear

    Or read

    In the end

    So
    Here now
    And for generations
    To come

    May I introduce :

    The greatest
    Poem of The 21st Century

    A poem & generation
    With nothing at all

    To say

    That truly mattered

    ~ R.M. Engelhardt
    ©2024

  • SONG OF THE ANNIHILATOR

    SONG OF THE ANNIHILATOR

    I do not fear
    Your God

    I’m here
    To destroy him

    With words

    Like in the past

    How you have waged wars

    And have killed innocent
    Children

    In his name

    And my words
    Do not care
    What side you
    Are on

    What belief
    What religion

    For

    Like most Gods
    My words shall be
    Uncaring

    Indifferent

    Unfeeling

    Destroying
    Everything
    In their
    Path

    Without conscience

    Or mercy

    Or regret

    For my words

    At night
    Do not listen
    Or hear
    Your prayers

    Love you
    Or intervene

    For my words
    Only hear the
    Sound of death,
    Starvation, war &
    Murder

    And children

    Animals screaming

    In the cold & dark
    Reality

    Of life

    So I do not fear
    Your Gods

    I’ve come here
    To destroy them

    With words

    With poetry

    With truth

    With annihilation
    With damnation &
    With the hell

    Of your own design
    & making

    ~ R.M. Engelhardt
    ©2024

  • VERACITY

    The truth is
    A beautiful
    A lovely
    A mystifying

    Thing

    That separates us from
    All the see thru
    Schemes

    That appear normal

    But still

    Just not
    Quite right

    Telling us
    Of the ongoing repetition

    Obvious elocution

    Unworthy of
    A place to still be
    Haunting

    As the sirens still
    Scream obliterating
    The much needed sound

    Of words

    Of sincerity

    Of love

    Hoping to distract
    Us all from
    The light

    That Leonard once
    Told us
    All about

    So long ago

    In a time when all
    The words
    All mattered

    Still

    ~ R.M. Engelhardt
    ©2024

  • Poetic Evolution

    The moment is the morning cup of coffee and the truth from the writer’s pen, the clarity of the poem, desolation & creation.

    Fame, glory & once upon a times never matter in the end.

    The only thing that matters or that will still one-day matter or remain alive are the words that you write long after you are gone … or dust.

    ~ R.M. Engelhardt ©2024

  • HIS REVENGE SMELLS LIKE …

    HIS REVENGE SMELLS LIKE …

    DONNIE wants a WAR
    Wants a war wants a war
    Donnie wants a war wants
    A war wants a war because
    DONNIE is in COURT is in court
    Is in court is in court & DONNIE
    Is a

    Fucking MONSTER

    THAT ?

    If RE-ELECTED

    Will take revenge
    Out on everyone

    Including

    YOU

    Because

    HE has
    To wear
    BIG BOY

    DIAPERS

    & Blames
    You for THAT

    TOO !

    ~ R.M. Engelhardt
    ©2024