R.M. Engelhardt & The Notorious Coffee Quote Scandal

My Quote Has Been Shared All Over Creation Since 1994 Because, Well, I’m A Coffee Addict

Damn. ( I’m laughing at the obvious)

And I mean this humorously but:

Generally I’m an open minded writer and I support new and upcoming writers but If I had single dollar for every time someone ripped off my famous 1994 coffee quote I’d be a billionaire by now. I’ve seen it switched around, I’ve seen it turned into (gag) tea etc.boring, gross, lines stolen and thrown in without the smokes blah blah blah

Will someone please tell these idiots to create their own damn words and learn to write? I’m tired of seeing my words unravelled by dim-wits who think they’re being clever( See said inferior plagiarized quote below. No author on Google found or mentioned) Found this ” gem” on Facebook … Twice!

Twits!

Go buy your own damn coffee.
This one’s mine.

And always shall be.

~R.M. Engelhardt. Writer (And Coffee Addict)

Said Inferior ” Rip Off” Coffee Quote Above

Rainy Days” my Ass (Yawn)

~ R.M. Engelhardt ©2023

The Lost Poems From Nod. R.M. Engelhardt 2003

Twenty years ago I wrote a chapbook called Nod. 2003. These were some poems based on the experimental style of EE Cummings & George Oppen Many of the poems were published on now long gone poetry journal internet sites and as we know many online journals don’t last forever. Here are a few poems. Hope that you enjoy them.

~ R.M. Engelhardt

HEDROGLOSSIA

LOOK

If I can’t find the meaning well then at least I’ve found you
And that being that is much more than ever being and much
More than ever merely needing a touch, a voice, a word or a
Feeling, something to be or not to …

SEE!

There I’ve done it again!

Hyper and not hedroglossia!

Too many words asking me to listen
Too many voices only mine repeating
Being two when I’m with you when this elusive thing they call time stands still and these days of our lives are suddenly & distinctly becoming entangled
Moving much too fast for even Captain Zoom & his paisley rocket ship to fathom
And sleeping beneath these quiet dreams of unspokeness
And hearing all of these voices at once and yet, at times being so alone.

So I guess this is what they call hedroglossia,
The wanting of a voice now gone, the hearing of a song
The fear of not knowing possibly what belongs In these arms of poetry and dusk.

WRECK

(oh no Jock Cousteau, please help me salvage this heart.) because she who thinks she knows who thinks she knows knows nothing.
says so long because his song has been sung. (and being a wreck, invisible)
he sinks, drinks her false fear un-emotion and her ice cold seas into oblivion
and sends out one last beacon for her in the night
that she will never answer.

and lost at sea even she knows that he cannot comeback from the dead.
for it was she who sunk the ship before it could even reach its destination

Crea en el amor y en yo¶ll siempre cree en usted

MEMENTO

Better to feel
          (Than be)
Blood rushes thru veins
And the heart beats,
Only one-day to complete its duty
While eventually earth and gods shall all come
Crashing down
And kingdoms & civilizations fade.
And so please, I ask you only this;
That when I leave to let me take these
Few things with me;
The moon, the sun and the stars,
And the small traces of light which
Once reflected in your eyes
That I can no longer see

NOTES TO AN INSENSITIVE UNIVERSE

So what do you know about What is or is not to be?
(Hmmm … perhaps it is we)
Moving, living and struggling as if we think the very existence of the universe depends upon these things
But the universe (dam dark void)
Will be quite fine without us
&  our  ³Feelings´

Poor universe
And without love
Sadder still for not
Knowing what it wants
Or what its here for

POEM TO PAST SELF IN FUTURE TENSE

Yours is a beauty of monstrous pro-
Portions with the world
Spinning randomly into
Oblivion where the leaves are all
Dying all of the time off of the trees,
Where  misery makes its way into every small tissue stealing.

Yours is a world where
Beauty has fled and has left town
For greener pastures, has drowned its-
Self into the sea of angst & tears and
Has mixed its-self with alcohol &
Cigarettes, sad poems and
Indiscriminate men & women who
Already know that beauty has left
The scene,

(And they no longer care to find her)

And yet it is good that beauty has
Finally found you and that beauty is not
Dead

But was only merely sleeping

On the sofa of your dreams

WHAT SHE SAID
 
She said;

³If you ever tell me that you love me I’m afraid that I’ll have to leave.´  

So not wanting to ever lose her he bent down, got close and softly whispered   in her ear;

                     ³Lust … .Lust …Lust´ 

WAR FILM

Buddhist hope cow.com of love transcending the  dialect of     
gloss & loss & gloom to the mysterious mysticism of the time  machine

                                               of  ³when?´
                                              
             Oh how I love thee, mammals of flesh and blood and candy.             Let me count the innocent waves, the waves of psychotic           
              emotion, measure my ass for caps and my heart for meaning                                
                less
                                             ³gestures.´
                                            
(And please; screen my phone calls for truths, religions, promises & AIDS.)

  For selective in our service we the
  brave and the free will send out our hippie-bred children into the 
  Man swarm and the cities of their destinies, their lives as  
  Instantaneous as eighteen-year-old twinkies and our reasons   as contrived as an
 
oily eagle
                                                ³fart´
                                               
         Captain Zoom may send you to your doom as happy as a       
           rectal thermometer but the smiling mortician man grim will       
             dress you up in green who spills & spells out
                                        F R E E D O M     
                                       
                                     ³Horizontally´
                                    
                                    with a capital
                                   
    D.

ALONE

Alone in a room with-
                                               Out you is alone, alone                                                 Without you is alone.
                                                             Alone without you is like
                                                             The moon without the stars,
                                                             The world without the sun                                                           
                                                               Shining upon it.
                                                              
                                                 Good days or bad
                                                 With you I’m never sad
                                                 But without you in a          
                                                                                        Room I’m alone.

I   KNOW

There are certain things  I know don’t  know, feel don’t  feel & see don’t see.

I am a blind
Man with the near
And the far, I am a
Baby bat that grasps
And squeaks to all
Things sad & mean all
Past & future present past
In the worship of your heart.

Sacred life of words
Unspoken by man
Knowing truth
Is truth.

*All poems From The KotaPress Anthology  2003
R.M. Engelhardt ©

This Night, Invisible~ A Poem By R.M. Engelhardt

We Rise Like Smoke Poems Psalms Incantations by R.M. Engelhardt

THIS NIGHT, INVISIBLE

an
invocation

a
trance

at dusk
the souls
wander in
1 by 1
in a procession

of

tragedy

faith

&

loss

where the clocks
all time
has stopped

and
the dance
begins which
never ends

moves beyond
the flesh

your gods

as

sound –

words –

voices-

writhe-

wound –

annihilate

worship

a once empty
space

a void

S

C

R

E

A

M

M

M

M

M

M

M

I

N

G

maniacally
through the
vast & vaulted
air

as the
music endures

plays
on

where
there is
no kingdom

no glory
no power
false angels
or starflecked demons

the life after
ever after

where
there is only
you & I

in this night

invisible

this night
unseen

and so
in my grief
my sorrow

& as a friend

I invite you

with all love
and all respect
imperfect
and un-true

as always

in whatever mirror
conjured

this night

all beautiful

all living
or dead

you are
desired

you are
loved

without
end

~ R.M. Engelhardt

It’s Arrived.

Now Available on Amazon
2nd Paperback Edition

The Bones of Our Existence, A Journal 2046 Coming March 15th …

In the dark times
Will there also be singing?
Yes, there will also be singing
About the dark times.”

—   Bertolt Brecht

The Bones of Our Existence 2016

R.M. Engelhardt‘s new book The Bones of Our Existence, A Journal 2046 will be revealed March 15, 2016 online and is “an entirely new concept in regards to the way the book is to be released as well as to be presented.”

This book will be absolutely free to the public and is one man’s journal of poems set in the aftermath of the post-apocalyptic future of 2046 written by an unknown survivor who in the forms of prose and poetry looks back and reflects upon his life, loves and battles (within and without) over the last some 40 years.

The book is part science fiction, part humanity and even part Thoreau, but mostly it is the memoir of a man, who like the future we all thought would get better, has lost his way but who still believes that the words, our souls and our voices, poetry still … and will always matter.

Look for this and other book related news here at http://www.rmengelhardt.com

Get “The Last Cigarette” Collected Poems

R.M. ENGELHARDT, THE RESURRECTION WALTZ