R.M. Engelhardt started sharing his poetry at local open mics in the early-90s and has since been a driving force in keeping the poetry and spoken word alive and well in the area. He has hosted a number of readings and events over the years and continues to welcome writers new and old to the stage.In this clip, Engelhardt reads “DeGeneration” at the Borders Open Mic on January 25, 1995. This poem was recorded for the CD, “Volume: A Compilation of Poets, Live”, produced by Mary Panza and Steve Clark chronicling the poetry scene at the time at such venues as the QE2, Margarita’s, and Borders.We talk about political poetry, what the arts community looks like in a post-pandemic world, and how he landed at Lark Hall for his monthly open mic.
BAD OMENS: MONDAY NOVEMBER 14TH, 2022OR THE DAY OF THE ASSHOLE
The tarot cards have Foreseen the horrible future
And his return
All the signs
Impossible To ignore
The first hint Was The Tower card The second? A Loud & long wailing inhuman fart Sound eminating from the Downstairs neighbors Apartment
Who’s a staunch Republican with a Make America Great Again Sticker
On his pickup truck
The candles
Immediately started Flickering and all the Dogs in the neighborhood All took a massive dump at once
All
At the same exact time
And from a place unknown Perhaps another dimension Or the spirit world A loud screaming voice came through The walls which said in an errie, frightening & Mournful voice
OH NO, OH NO!
It’s That RACIST ASSHOLE AGAIN! And He’s Running For President AGAIN!
ASS-HOLE
ASS-HOLE
ASSSSSSSSSHOLLLLLLLEEE …
11 … 14 … 22
BEWARE !
BEWARE THE FAT & UGLY ORANGE ASS-HOLE !
And then?
A book on the U.S. Constitution Mysteriously fell off the shelf
Not of these golden days But in this dead choir of reprieve Of anguish of suffering of days
Let us all sing of the 21st century Of all our failures & the false Triumphs & of the true progress Of men
Unmade
Undone
Unseen
Watch & See how we So easily destroy
Ignore
Incite
Our own defeat
And on repeat Like a bad news story Like history Still worship greed And money The holy dollar And all the fat politicians On all sides taking Away what we once Called ” Freedom”
As a quaint, dismembered idea
As wars are still waged Poverty still a slave We post all our success Stories
But never our shame
As a dead earth No longer of beauty But of a violence unimagined And obscene
Disgusting.
Weapons Unimagined & unseen The end of everything The end
And the tragedy The murder of all days
Like all the animals dying & Loosing space
Oh how inconvenient
How 1980s And Green
Our voices & our Votes now all dead and Useless worthless things
Without any real power for Truth or change
Countries & governments In decline still crumbling And arguing, fighting Killing over race
And over oil
A disgrace
A disfigurement a World burning Forests dying No gods answering No gods listening No god here
Because No god cares Or listens Anymore
This planet This rock Used up & Separated
Dysfunctional Diseased
Destroyed
With hate With rage
Peace Now just Another trendy word
Forgotten
So for thee I Sing Of this body Dissected
Damaged by Monsters & corrupt men Fake patriots & grifters Looking for trophies And hiding behind a flag
And blaming All other living beings For everything They’ve done
More convenience More sorrow More lies The scapegoat Followed by the Image of the Tower card
Falling
As the seasons change The leaves remain But we never change
And never will
So for thee I Sing – Scream
For the impoverished Families and their children starving I Sing for the ignored And uneducated the unemployed And for all those Guilty of being Human beings
With hope With dreams With love With faith
I sing for humanity I sing for change
For Black lives For all lives For Suicides And for all those buried Beneath us in unmarked graves of Unrest & genocide And for all those who Believe in a Jesus Christ
( Or not )
I Sing for The Great Spirit That once roamed This land now a mere Figment of imagination Lost in the blood of My ancestors
The flags all at half mast Concealing the sadness The truth
Of a nation Once called America
Ashamed
I Sing of the body The whole of the soul Dissected
Diseased
Where Walt Whitman Would now if alive Weep over it’s reality And in it’s sorrow Walk away
Where Lincoln would Crawl up into a ball And simply
Choose to die
I Sing of A Nation of the Body dissected
By cannibals Who’ve erased all of It’s glory
And where there Is no honor, spark of Democracy, decency Or even electricity
R.M. ENGELHARDT 