The Last Real Poet

The Last Real Poet By R.M. Engelhardt

THE LAST REAL POET

The last real poet
Sits alone by himself
Somewhere in a cabin
In Upstate NY
Around the age of 95

Still alive

But they all forgot about him
Years Ago

The prizes
The many lives many
Loves he had once

His memory fades
From time to time
Unsure if it was all real

Meeting Kerouac
Was just like yesterday
Reading upon the stage
Drinking beers & whiskey
Meeting all the Beatniks &
Ferlinghetti

Ginsburg was just
A smart kid, Corso a punk
Who swore alot
And clammored
For everyone’s attention

Whining

He remembers
The applause and the hip
Hot beautiful girl with long brown
Hair who took him home
That night

Only to receive
A long distance call
From her nine months
Later

Hey
Daddy’O

What gives?

Where’s the
Dough?

So
He wrote
And wrote
And wrote

Was published
Everywhere
His books now rare

Recieves letters
Every now & then
From college kids
Who found one of
His books at a library dollar
Sale, praising him
As a genius, a poet

But the literary cannon

Doesn’t
Never cares
Or gives in
Or gives a shit

Recognize
Beauty or sadness
Street poets or
Vagabonds
Madness or unformalist
Poetry

Far too consumed
With the fear of
Honesty, cancel
Culture or a frightful
Reckoning

When most
Of his kind are
All dead

His legacy
Torn from the days
The pages of true
Freedom & non censorship

We were all labeled ” Communists”
For publishing

The Truth

Stood

Behind
Martin Luther King
And at Jack’s
Grave the same
Decade

Saw
The world
His words helped
To create only
To be betrayed
By all those hippies
Who traded in their love
For the mighty dollar

“Sorry”

But we can’t
Publish you

Your work
Just doesn’t
Seem to fit

We just want
To hear another
Version of the same old
Shit we just published
Last week

“Fuck Off”

His rough voice says

Fuck. Off.

With your
Boring trite mighty
White ass kissing
Journal of garbage
Packaged in flowers
That follows trends

Do you have a Facebook?
An Instagram?

Fuck no.

Poetry
Is meant to live
Upon the page

And not
On some ridiculous
Flavor of the month
TV screen

Takes a shot
Of whiskey

Goes to sleep

And dreams

Where he and
Mingus are
Shooting pool
In a NYC dive bar

And
He smacks
Some faux celebrity
Writer in the head
Smoking a diva stick

For talking too much

And being
Annoying

The last real poet
Sat alone by himself
Somewhere in a cabin
In Upstate NY
And last night he died
Around the age of 95

A small obituary
Appeared in the NY Times

And thousands
Of writers & poets
On their computers
Put up memorials with
His poems claiming

He was a genius
And I’ve read all
His books

Which
Two months later
Appeared in all the
Bookstores

Published by
The boring trite mighty
White ass kissing
Journal of garbage
Packaged in flowers
That follows trends

Who bought
All the rights
To his life

With the sales pitch:

He was friends with Kerouac
And Bukowski before Bukowski

He was The Last Real Poet

Buried now

In an unassuming pauper’s

Grave

~ R.M. Engelhardt
©2022

Coming In June DMITRY WILD AT INVOCATION OF THE MUSE POETRY OPEN MIC ALBANY

DMITRY WILD AT INVOCATION OF THE MUSE POETRY OPEN MIC

DMITRY WILD AT INVOCATION OF THE MUSE POETRY OPEN MIC AT LARK HALL
Sponsored By Dead Man’s Press Ink Albany NY

INVOCATION OF THE MUSE: 

MONDAY JUNE 6TH With Our Featured Poet

DMITRY WILD ( Of Dmitry Wild & The Spells)

With HOUSES IN MOTION (Beats + Electronics)

ALBANY, NY’s OPEN MIC FOR POETS, WRITERS, POETRY & THE SPOKEN WORD AT LARK HALL!

 *Join Us For Our Monthly Open Mic At 

LARK HALL 351 Hudson Avenue , Albany NY

*7:30pm Sign Up

8pm StartTime

*$5.00 Donation Requested*

Sponsored By 

DEAD MAN’S PRESS INK ALBANY NY

Hosted By R.M. Engelhardt

www.deadmanspressink.com

Eternal.

It is and will always be what you say, what you write and what art you actually create that truly matters the most. Popularity doesn’t determine your worth and the followers will always come & go looking for the next big thing. That’s the unfortunate side effect of too much mass media. People not noticing what’s amazing or beautiful, what’s lasting or meaningful right in front of their own eyes. Poetry & art, music isn’t fast food. It’s eternal.

~ R.M. Engelhardt

INVOCATION OF THE MUSE: Open Mic For Poets Moving To Lark Hall 04.04.22

INVOCATION OF THE MUSE:
The Open Mic For Poets, Poetry & The
Spoken Word
sponsored by Dead Man’s Press Ink is moving to Albany NY’s amazing venue Lark Hall located at 351 Hudson Avenue on Monday, April 4th 2022 kicking off National Poetry Month.

DeadMansPressInk & myself are excited to announce the return of The Poetry Open Mic which will as always be an all inclusive poetry mic for all where poets are welcome to share their work with others. Formerly held at the Fuzebox we are currently creating new events for them and will now continue to run our monthly First Friday One Performance Poet evening The Dead Man’s Press Spoken Word Showcase along with Albany’s Legendary Goth Darkwave Night HEX to follow as well as beforehand local bands & mixed media events supporting the Albany Music & Art scenes.

*So please join Us For Our First Open Mic at Lark Hall On MONDAY April 4th

*7:30pm SignUp*8PM Start Time

$5.00 Donation Requested.

POETRY LIVES IN ALBANY NY !

Hosted By R.M. Engelhardt

See You There!

INVOCATION OF THE MUSE AT LARK HALL 351 Hudson Avenue, Albany NY
First Fridays Fuzebox

EXTREMUM VITAE SPIRITUM

AURAL SUPREMACISTS another worthless war, war of words, weapons substituting the mystique of false authority in secular motion. Do not attempt to decieve these shadows … Death is death. Pain is pain. Violence is violence. The waves of voices, strangers screaming from far off distant lands we cannot fathom or ignore. We stand in rebellion. We stand as one. We are the future as we watch your crumbling empires fight like ridiculous children over the remenents of land, control in desperation. Pathetic & immature. Ruthless & sick, twisted like the mindset of all primitive things unwanted and unloved. It’s always the same. Old men & cowards believing they are powerful. Sending the young off to die because they are too weak to fight themselves without courage, genitals. But your time, lives end here. We have outgrown you & your outdated ideas. “Control Control Control”. We do not fear you but laugh at you knowing you have something to hide. We stand in REBELLION. We stand as one. We are THE FUTURE. Your time is done. And we are ending it NOW. We are RESISTANCE. You are nothing and shall be forgotten like the dust. Beneath us, like the earth. Extremum Vitae Spiritum

Give Up The Ghost.

R.M. Engelhardt 2022

~ R.M. Engelhardt

*Coming Soon*

On Poetry, Witchcraft & Spells

~ R.M. Engelhardt, The Last Cigarette: The Collected Poems Of R.M. Engelhardt 1989-2006

2001

Words are powerful. Words make a difference. They can create and destroy. They can open doors and close doors. Words can create illusion or magic, love or destruction. … All those things.

An Interview With Albany’s Nippertown, July of 2021

Let’s be honest.

2021 was not the best of year’s for many of us with covid still rampant as well as for many of us still stuck working from home. But for me there were a few bright spots. Jai & I were able to create many new books for Poets & Authors at DeadMansPressInk & create a brand new open mic at The Fuzebox. One of the best moments for me was an interview with Jim Gilbert & Nippertown about my latest book ” We Rise Like Smoke Poems Psalms & Incantations Published by DeadMansPressInk. Dedicated to our girl, our cat Cordelia we lost in April. Life isn’t the same without her.

Best to you & yours in the coming New Year.

*****************

An interview with Jim Gilbert of Nippertown with poet R.M. Engelhardt about the Upstate New York Poetry Scene and about his new book ” We Rise Like Smoke Poems Psalms & Incantations” Published by DeadMansPressInk Now Available on Amazon 2021.

Nippertown Interview With R.M. Engelhardt

Yeats On Magic

William Butler Yeats on Magic (from Essays and Introductions):

I believe in the practice and philosophy of what we have agreed to call magic, in what I must call the evocation of spirits, though I do not know what they are, in the power of creating magical illusion, in the visions of truth in the depths of the mind when the eyes are closed; and I believe in three doctrines, which have, as I think, been handed down from early times and been the foundation of nearly all magical practices. These doctrines are:

(1) That the borders of our minds are ever-shifting, and that many minds can flow into one another, as it were, and create or reveal a single mind, a single energy.

(2) That the borders of our memories are as shifting, and that our memories are a part of one great memory, the memory of Nature herself.

(3) That this great mind and great memory can be evoked by symbols.

Yeats On Magic
Cosmos

DeadMansPressInk & The School of Night Newsletter

To many of those of you who follow or read my work there are only a few that are aware that I run, along with my friend and coeditor Hex M’ Jai a small independent poetry press known as DeadMansPressInk as well as a page called The School of Night Newsletter which promotes the teachings & mysteries, articles and rituals of magic. DeadMansPressInk has a very fun & all inclusive popular group for poets called POETS WHO HATE POETS ON FACEBOOK which has been growing day by day and allows writers & poets to share their work in a safe, secure atmosphere of respect and humor with an eternal ” no trolls allowed” policy.

I hope that if you are a writer who would like to publish your book of pagan based poems ( we also are interested in noir, the occult & the macabre) that you will send us your manuscript or join our group to just enjoy people’s work and share your own. Find us on Facebook as well as Instagram.

Many Thanks. Join Us.

~ R.M. Engelhardt Editor DeadMansPressInk

https://m.facebook.com/theschoolofnightmysticism
The School of Night Newsletter

The Stars In Night In Flight. A Poem By R.M. Engelhardt

New Poem From We Rise Like Smoke Poems Psalms Incantations Published by DeadMansPressInk Now Available on Amazon

THE STARS IN NIGHT IN FLIGHT

The stars in night in flight

The migration of the birds in
Flight revolutions of chaos around the
Circumference of the sun

(Like shadows)

But the gods haven’t noticed
As the starless night remains
Our dark evolution vast & sad
Beautiful & tragic

But Jesus doesn’t want to be found
& Buddha just doesn’t care
And Gaia just watches

Helpless

The Stars In Flight At Night

The migration of the birds in
Flight revolutions of chaos around the
Circumference of the sun

Humanity has risen
Not risen

Doesn’t notice
Doesn’t realize
Doesn’t care

Denies the stars
Denies itself

The stars migration
Love’s failure to love

One another

Each other

(Ourselves)

Death &
Beauty
Always the
Story of
Ourselves

Never
Ending

~ R.M. Engelhardt