What She Said

whatshesaid

 

She said;

“If 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,

“Lust…..Lust…..Lust”

 

~ R.M. Engelhardt

MY THERAPISTS ARE MR. ZEVON & MR. SCOTCH

 

warren-zevonpoem

 

She’s gone.

Temporarily

Forever

Finding me

Here alone on the couch in

The middle of

Another Sunday afternoon

With my good friends

The Clan Macallan

& Warren Zevon

Reminiscing about all

Of the old days & all of

The best days past.

Yet, perhaps it’s all

Just an illusion

Or maybe it’s just the sounds

That bring us all back to

To the land of

Stark raving reality from

The momentary

And marked passing

Of punk poetry, slam dancing

And black leather jackets.

As Warren says to me

“Life Will Kill Ya”

And Macallan says to me

No worries my good son

“Drink up”

For she will soon

Return with

The love that you

Gave her

And your

Foolish, sentimental heart

In her pocket

“Too”

_______________

R.M. ENGELHARDT

From “The Resurrection Waltz”, 2013

EPITAPH

 EPITAPH
Epitaph for
The lost poem
Which contained
Everything
And nothing.
Touched everyone, anyone
Who desired
The mystery of mysteries
Words of words, which brought forth
Language
Both blessed & cursed us
Married us, buried us and parted
The heavens and the
Deep blue seas
Made Houdini disappear
And broke the sole of
Khrushchev’s soul
Shot Kennedy
And then shot a rocket
To the moon
Sold us, indiscriminate
Commanded us to war and glory
And holocaust – unimagined imagination
The scavengers & architects, history
Fighting for space apocalyptic
Down on Wall Street and in the Silicone Valley
Stages of poetry and stages
Of time living, breathing & dying
On the battlefields
Of life.
The Poem,
Too early
Too late
Too bad
The lost poem
Which contained
Nothing and everything
Everything and nothing
At all.
You left it home on the
Kitchen table where your children
Drew on it
In crayon
It is just as well.
___________________
R.M. ENGELHARDT, 
FROM “THE RESURRECTION WALTZ” 2013

It’s The Words …

R.M. Engelhardt
R.M. Engelhardt

Photo Compliments of Albany Poets, 2013

http://www.AlbanyPoets.com

Thanks …

“It is the quality of one’s convictions that determines success, not the number of followers.”

~ Remus

 

Thanks For Your Support And For Following “The Resurrection Waltz” !

http://www.rmengelhardt.com

 

REALITY IS BAD FOR BIZNESS

 

image
 

 

Before super models
Ruled the earth
There were people.
Before idiots
Controlled
The government
There were wise men.
The future

Is now

The past.
Desolate faces
Ride subway trains & buses without
Hope. Hoping.

And politics
Has become

A children’s

Game.
While going down

On Madison Avenue
The persuaders,

Manipulators & Predators Worship

In churches

Of nothingness.
In churches

Of shit.
The media

Ignoring What is To come

And be.
Because it’s Bad for publicity

And bad

For business.
That these truths

Are self-evident.
That people

Are dying

Over oil reserves

In the Middle East.
That people

Are being denied
Their rights.

That No one has

The balls to
Stop the maniacs

Who’ve taken over

Our lives.

So just accept it.

Relax.

Buy a coke
And a smile.
As the lights
In your child’s
Eyes

Dim.

Fade.

And go out.

 

_____________

~ R.M. 2005

SAINT POEM BY R.M. ENGELHARDT

SAINTPOEM BY R.M. ENGELHARDT

 

In the time of the world’s night, the poet utters the holy

~ Heidegger

Broken.

Like the words or like the song

Or like the man or like the poem

His muse, his wife, his dog

And if it ain’t gonna walk

It begs

It crawls

And will eventually die

Alone.

Solitary-slow, old & torn up,

Soul screaming like some bloody

Blood drenched pathetic heart or like

The sonnet that once ached now lost

That once breathed new life into the void

This universe

Still spinning

But dead

Like Gods.

The history of the poem now only

The mere echo and the ghost fuck of

The shell-shocked & the literary damned

All of them

Silent, still secretly whispering

To themselves

In libraries

Over books

Around the world

All of them,

Still wanting the words

All reaching with their new formalist minds

And still secretly dreaming

And waiting for the return of

Sirens to come and save them

A messiah, or

A muse.

And lo, as I walk thru this valley of despair

I still hope that there be some cigarettes

There, or perhaps some literary corpses with

Anything interesting left to say

In all of these

Silent & dead verse days

Repeating and repeating

Again.

For it is not enough

To write or to see, or to believe –

To become this disease or feel it

To become a now love,

A now hope which

No longer breathes with

Too many stars forgotten

Still clinging to it’s lost beauty

And truth.

So Dear Poem

Saint Poem,

I ask you

To please see us through yet another day

And may to thee I pray with the words that

Doth flow like a river, a dream like inspiration

With this lost voice, a generation

Forgotten and left behind

Or like a prophet

Who has lost what

Remains of his soul

And his mind

For in the beginning?

We only know that there was no heaven

Or earth but only the words, the hipsters,

And the rebellion, the beginning of the cool

As the nocturnal music past midnight blared

Of jazz & revolutions that guided its

Disciples in leather jackets

Who only lived & wrote

For you.

As you,

Saint Poem

Saint Muse

Sung the blues alone

In the starry night

Like a transmission

To the damned

And the unaccepted

Lost

But where are you now

Saint Poem, Saint Muse?

Where are you now?

To see, to sing of this humanity

Living in the streets

Living un-alive un-dead,

Scattered & trapped here

In a new century

Without light

Where are you now

Saint Poem?

To tell us that

The human heart

Isn’t dead that the myth

Isn’t dead just yet?

As we

The poets

The prophets

And the every

Day dreamers

Of ordinary

Wait

As we

The workers

The lovers

And all the

False salesmen

Of shit

No one wants

Are still waiting

For the next

Awakened

Breathing time

Of creation

Among all these

Forgotten stars

Lost, in their

Forgotten realms

Still, always returning

Back home again with

The same damn

Fucking song

Drunk & alone

And singing The

Resurrection Waltz

Once more

And again

To themselves.

______________

R.M.  ENGELHARDT 

FROM THE RESURRECTION WALTZ, 2012

THIS SONG WHICH NEVER ENDS

 

Such words, poetry rare

Exulting reality

Into voice           Expression

Into being

Being       into form.

From out of ashes

Out of seasons

Years time and reason

And from out of every man

Woman born

Conceived.

All truths   shadows   And all loves

Destructions and voices

Perceived

Complete and thus returning

Like Angels

Like Gods

Again to tell their stories

Or to tell the tale

The myth, the verse or the prayer

The hymn manifested

Again

For here is your

Hero

Your villain

And your Goddess renewing

The world

And here is your song:

Their song

Our song

All songs

Beginning &

Then ending again

These poems and these words

A dance     A waltz

These songs remaining, returning

Like every prophecy foretold in

The past   The present  & The future

Born from

Every sun

Every star

Every moon

And every daughter

Within every universe

Contained.

For this place, world

Is a universe made up

Of dust & words, language

And resurrections

Hello

Goodbye

Farewell

Love

Death

And sorrows

Vision.

Such words, such voices

Poetry rare

Exulting reality beyond

A human heart

So human, so frail

This song which never ends.

_______________

Poet-Writer R.M. Engelhardt’s work over the years has been published and has appeared in many journals & magazines in both print and on the net including Danse Macabre, Rusty Truck, Sure! The Charles Bukowski Newsletter, Thunder Sandwich, The Boston Literary Review, Full of Crow, Fashion For Collapse, 2nd Avenue Poetry, The Outlaw Poetry Network & in many others. He is currently the editor of “The Literary Rogue” .

His new book, The Resurrection Waltz is his 13th book of poetry and is now available on Amazon.com

Get THE RESURRECTION WALTZ

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Biography 

Poet- Writer R.M. Engelhardt’s work over the years has been published and has R.M. Engelhardt’s work has appeared in many journals & magazines in both print and on the net including in Retort, Rusty Truck, Sure! The Charles Bukowski Newsletter, Thunder Sandwich, The Boston Literary Review, Full of Crow, Fashion For Collapse, 2nd Avenue Poetry, The Outlaw Poetry Network & in many others.

The Resurrection Waltz is his 13th book of poetry.

www.rmengelhardt.com