EPITAPH
A Poem by R.M.Engelhardt
With Music By Will Nivins
Love Is The Devil spoken word
Project 2007
Tag Archives: Engelhardt
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It’s Official. Poets & Writers
It’s Official.
After many years of publishing, writing and creating groups and poetry spoken-word events such as Albany Poets, Vox, The School of Night, The Albany WordFest, The Troy Poetry Mission and many others I’ve finally been honored with my listing in Poets & Writers.
Thank you.
Poets & Writers R.M. Engelhardt
#rmengelhardt #albanypoets #poetsandwriters #gentlemanoutsider
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NO MORE
NO MORE
11.14.2015
I will be silent
I shall not speak of death
I shall not speak of these things
Anymore
For when I was a young man
I believed in peace
Before towers fell
And soldiers died
And after blood
And the media
Monsters
Vultures
Took the place
Of lives
Of hopes
Of words
Before
The scythe &
The sword
Became mightier
Than love
Or the pen
In the days when
I used to write
Sonnets, songs
Poems
No
I shall remain silent
I shall no longer
Speak of these things
These dreams
Peace
Anymore
No more
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In The End …
~ R.M. Engelhardt
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AND IN THIS CORNER
And in this corner;
It’s the hollow man &
The drunken muse
And that song
That goes like this’
As the rain came down
Upon the city streets & poets, sonnets
And upon all of the earth
As If Mozart had just
Written it all for you
On a Saturday night
Himself
[And In Parenthesis]
The next round begins,
And they ring the bell
It’s the ghost in the machine
And all the silences in-between
Lifetimes.
Lovers
And friends
And strangers
And there’s a savior on every block
Just waiting for you with
The answer in their hands
Saying;
I’m alone in the dark
Without the directions home
So there,
Do you see?
All the desolate and the
Lost, the poor, and the rich
Who still ignore them,
See the universe
In vibrant words
And they just ignore you
Still.
As you,
Wordsmith of
The angry masses
Can only scream
Fuck you!
To Thine
Own Self
Be True
Be True.
And in this corner
It’s the serpent’s coil
And the soul of the dragon,
This world a weeping failure
In thy form, and in thy sight
As they pour more champagne
Half full into the glass
And it’s still the same damn song that goes like this,
As they lit our cigarettes with dollar bills
As all the children starved to death
In Shitsville & Manhattan,
And in the U. S. of A. America
Where all the rains came down
A hard rain still
Falling In buckets, sonnets & poems
That changed nothing
And never will
Because no one even
Bothered to ever
Read the words or
The writing on the wall
To see.
___________
~ R.M. Engelhardt
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LIT 101
Writers?
We have to write. If we don’t our brains explode
and the poetry, words and ideas go all over.
We have to drink for inspiration. And we have to smoke at least a pack a day.
Why?
Because it’s the law. That’s why.
And ? We must drink large amounts of coffee
everyday just to stay awake.
I didn’t make these rules.
I blame Hemingway.
But in the end it’s only the words that matter
That’s all
~ R.M.
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2015
“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice.”
And next year’s words await another voice.”
~ T.S. Eliot
HAPPY NEW YEAR !
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THE POEM REMAINS
BURN
Burn
in the night
december
the cold wind, the frozen
world
december
the cold wind, the frozen
world
stands still
like an abstract
like a painting
without motion.
without sound.
smoke & the harsh light
of streetlamps, reality
dirt white city sidewalks
and the panhandlers
at the bus stop
telling their tale
their stories
to buy another bottle
or another pint.
all fallen, all once born
children
from someplace
somewhere.
who had once believed
who had once had faith
like “you”
the story of mankind
the story of every past
history, and poverty,
promises…and life.
brother sister child mother
ghosts of selves dying beneath
the light. a last dance, a curtin bow
the only time that we see them
in our eyes…
merry christmas
happy new year
nothing has changed
no more is given other
than what is given
like a greeting or like a gift
you are a saint
you have given him a whole dollar
to eat
you have changed
his life completely,
love and sin, drink no more
the gods are all smiling
upon your soul
but the george bailey in
this story has no clarence
and no one gives a damn,
the shelters are all full
and the angels have all ran
far far away
with their wings
to look after
themselves
peace on earth,
good will towards men
their breath,
still hanging upon
the cold wind and
the smoke of their cigarette
and its burn…
do you have a dollar?
a smoke?
can I be you? warm?
heart beating inside
not realizing
that the man under the
jacket’s hood
is “you”
merry christmas.
peace on earth
good will towards men,
good will
towards men.
R.M. ENGELHARDT 