The Common Man By R.M. Engelhardt


The Common Man
Sits in the workplace
Breaks his back in
The factory & writes

On the side

Doesn’t give
Two shits about
What the big wide world
Thinks too busy
To deal with those
Who have superiority


& Destroys them
All with a mere

Moves on

Keeps writing

The Common Man
Sees what is & what
Could be

Could’ve been

Life & freedom &
Lives in the moment

Doesn’t have time
To deal with other
Writers writing issues
Theories, speculations
Negativity, anger

And Just writes
Just lives

For himself &
Whoever with his words
Might find


Don’t like what he says?

Doesn’t matter
To him

He just writes
Just cares about
The voices in his
Head that say


Because he
Knows, realizes
That poetry is
Spiritual poetry is
That which is a part
Of the mystery
Of being human

Without compromise
Without explanation

The Common Man
Or the Common Woman
Has more to say than
Those who cannot perceive

Cannot connect

From all walks of life
From all colors, religions
Places & souls

For these are the real voices

From the real world
In which we live

The Common Man

~ R.M. Engelhardt


Poetry isn’t the story of everything

It’s whistling in the dark and

waiting for an answer

John Steinbeck On Writing

C__Data_Users_DefApps_AppData_INTERNETEXPLORER_Temp_Saved Images_95926216ba27d5dc7e03225821f964c0.jpg“In every bit of honest writing in the world … there is a base theme. Try to understand men, if you understand each other you will be kind to each other. Knowing a man well never leads to hate and nearly always leads to love. There are shorter means, many of them. there is writing promoting social change, writing punishing injustice, writing in celebration of heroism, but always that base theme. Try to understand each other.”
(Journal entry, 1938; quoted in introduction to 1994 edition of Of Mice and Men)

~ John Steinbeck

tom waits diner
I’ve always been a word guy, I like weird words and I like American slang and all that and words that are no longer being used… I like to drag them out of the box and wave them around… this is an interesting one, it’s amazing how in addition to punctuation just a little pause in the wrong place can just completely transform the meaning of something.
~ Tom Waits


The world has been lost. Gone into the unnamed void. We drink our coffee, put on our coats and go to work and sense that something is missing, aware something is no longer there. We have changed. We have forgotten who we are. Or maybe this is just the beginning of becoming, the transformation of the becoming of something new. Find the words unspoken. Find the voice that tells a new story for a new history as yet unwritten. This is your real job. To create that which has not yet been created.


writing block

On Anger/ On Writing


Writing when you are angry may fuel words, move mountains and unleash the monsters that dwell inside of your soul but anger is nothing in comparison to the magic of one single solitary heart that doesn’t just conjure words but worlds.






If it doesn’t come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don’t do it.

Unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut, don’t do it.

If you’re doing it for money or fame, don’t do it.

If you’re doing it because you want women in your bed, don’t do it.

If it’s hard work just thinking about doing it, don’t do it.

If you have to wait for it to roar out of you, then wait patiently.

If it never does roar out of you, do something else.

Unless it comes out of your soul like a rocket,

unless being still would drive you to madness or suicide or murder, don’t do it.

Unless the sun inside you is burning your gut, don’t do it.

When it is truly time, and if you have been chosen, It will do it by itself

and it will keep on doing it until you die

or it dies in you.

There is no other way.

And there never was.



~ Bukowski


What is hell to a writer? Hell is being too busy to find the time to write or being unable to find the inspiration. Hell is suddenly finding the words but being away from your notebook or typewriter. Hell is when the verses slip away through your fingers and they never return again.

~ R.M. Engelhardt