Thomas Wolfe and Jack Kerouac Unicorns, God and the bible Rimbaud, Venus and Lucifer All in a dream, and a smoke. Death and the quiet of night Gunshots romantic and sad And Tupac, Cobain & Lennon All sitting in a cafeteria Drinking coffee Reading books And discussing them With Poe Who nods and says... "Deep" R.M. Engelhardt 2006
LOVE IN THE MID-WEST
In this dream.
You are a painting by Thomas Hart Benton with luxurious black hair and beautiful pale white skin
An old hillbilly a mid-west aging Pluto attempts to touch you, looks at you from around the corner in awe and sublime wonder and its obvious and plain to see that he is complete and completely in love with you as you lie in a Cinderella-like ecstasy naked in the middle of a rural Kansas field. Persephone he is softly saying, Persephone. But you cannot hear him speak and he cannot bear to take you. into the underground of his place, and his hell. In the back ground there is a wheat thresher and FDRs America, there is a wide open blue & empty sky full of white clouds and depression era beliefs, and you are Beautiful he murmurs Beautiful because Cupid has overtaken him and you have overtaken all his senses and he cannot ever leave.
So in this dream. …. you are a painting
In this dream. you are the spring and the awakening of all ancient wonders and all ancient things, hidden away among the fears and jealousies of all men who cannot see
The very things that makes you beautiful
R.M. Engelhardt 2006
In The Dysfunctional Poetry Super Market
Oh what fresh New hell Is this? Looking at the expiration date I Pick it up and then just as quickly Put it back upon the shelf, Leave it for some other poor Bastard to find. Besides, Ive already got a poem Just like it At home. R.M. Engelhardt 2006
So here we go again. I had to bail him out of jail in a place that you probably never heard of near Thebes. You see, back in those days he was kind of like one of your celebrities. The first “bad boy” on the scene before all your Colin Farrell’s & Sean Penn’s, Billy The Kids or Genghis Khans, before the setting sun ever came. Back then bad ass wore a scarab necklace, black eye mascara and a headdress. Fought the 12 snakes and the 12 arrows of the dead and got regularly fucked up like every other weekend. And the last time I saw him we were hanging out at a club called “The Underworld” doing shots with some girls off their navels. I don’t remember the names of the two girls I fucked but I do remember my buddy Set hooking up with some chick from outta town named Kali & immediately they hit it off like they were meant for each other or something and way too much alike. It was like heaven in the 9th sky where the indestructibles liked to hang. It was like climbing the pyramid, a resurrection machine and coming back to life time after time after time. It was a rush, it was a high like no other that you could ever experience. Screw your ecstasy & your science fiction. This was the shit. Long before all of your myths & legends we made your wild nights, necromancers & satanic worshipers look like a Christian book club and a kindergarten class on Halloween. And for awhile, Set & Kali went out on the town and raised hell. Had some fun, caused death, mass destruction and chaos. Broke some hearts and ruined some lives permanently. And then one night, it happened. Kali met some other guy, a local Hindu deity and Set and this boy got into a fight and the night sky blazed with bolts of lightning and thunder. Vedic boy lost and got his ass kicked”dead”. And anyone will tell you that there is nothing more useless than a dead god. Kali freaked and attacked Set and he got arrested by the advanced ones and that’s where I came in. Babysitting the Pharaoh & saving his assagain. So you see? Here we go again. Repeating history and time, repeating all the mistakes of the past. And where’s the lesson you ask? The lesson, is this. Stay away from the angry & insane and all of the vindictive people in this life and step off of the ego trip. Kill the drama and stop killing yourself and get rid of all of your long undead & overdue hate and outgrow your angry adolescence. Because after all, do you think that you’re immortal? A rock star or maybe even a president? Do you think that you’re a pharaoh or a god? Because even after just 100,000 years you like everything else will be forgotten, nothing but dust and sand and a useless footnote between the man-made histories of time. And no one, I say no one will ever give a fucking damn. So what do you want? A gravestone that says that you lived or a legacy that says you’re alive? Or how about just living your life for a change
R.M. Engelhardt 2006