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

Mona Lisa In Overdrive

Mona Lisa In Overdrive

Communications From Elsewhere

In mind, place & sound
Mona Lisa in overdrive

Nearer to the ground
The wave

She becomes.

Dream state

Sacrifice

Legend

Model.

A smile

Hiding behind a gaze

Lovely

In any time

Or place or even

Upon my wall.

______________

R.M. Engelhardt 2011

Monkeys Are Rewriting Shakespeare …

William Shakespeare is often regarded as the world’s pre-eminent writer, but so what? Most of his complete works are so elementary, they could be written by monkeys. Don’t think so? Just ask Jesse Anderson.

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Anderson, a software developer in Nevada, is up to some serious monkey business. He recently developed a computer program that simulated a few million virtual monkeys randomly bashing away on virtual typewriters. Their assignment? Randomly re-create the complete works of William Shakespeare.

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And the virtual simian wordsmiths are close to doing so. They are 99.99 percent finished with Will’s entire catalog. The first work to be completed was the poem “A Lover’s Complaint.”

Anderson used Hadoop, Amazon EC2 and Ubuntu Linux to create his virtual monkeys. The sequence he wrote is nine characters long and has 5.5 trillion possible sequential combinations.

“The computer program I wrote compares that monkey’s gibberish to every work of Shakespeare to see if it actually matches a small portion of what Shakespeare wrote. If it does match, the portion of gibberish that matched Shakespeare is marked with green,” Anderson explained on his blog. “The parts of Shakespeare that have not been found are colored white. This process is repeated over and over until the monkeys have created every work of Shakespeare through random gibberish.”

Anderson developed the project to test Amazon’s Web servers but also to satisfy his curiosity about whether an infinite number of monkeys could randomly reproduce Shakespeare’s work by pecking away on an infinite number of typewriters.

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Anderson started the project on Aug. 21.

No word on when Anderson will complete his project. But when he has to “part” with his virtual monkeys, it will surely be “such sweet sorrow.”

Monkeys Are Rewriting Shakespeare …

R.M. Engelhardt Poet~Writer, Albany, NY http://rmengehardt.tumblr.com Albany, NY based poet, writer R.M. Engelhardt has published several books over the last decade including Nod~Logos~Alchemy~The Last Cigarette: The Collected Poems of R.M. Engelhardt & others. His current experimental book of poetry & prose is called “Versus-Lexikon” A poet & writer, Engelhardt through his ideas & visions has helped to create a large amount of the Upstate, Albany, NY spoken word~poetry scene and is the host of “SAINT POEM READING SERIES” an Open Forum-Mic For All Poets held every 3rd Monday of each month at The Upstate Artists Guild (UAG).His work has also been published by many journals on the net & in print including Retort, Verve, Industrial Nation, Sure! The Charles Bukowski Newsletter, Thunder Sandwich, Fashion For Collapse, 2nd Avenue, The Angry Poet, Danse Macabre, Full of Crow & many others.

Our Battle …

For our battle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms…

Misfit

The World

You are an

Angel with a

Martyr’s crown.

Eyes cast

Downward upon

The ground

“Destruct”

Fear.

The long loud lines

Of industry, traffic, commerce

Every moment alive to die

Held tight by the within

Where you gasp take hands

Take heart take shelter from

The world.

This world;

Aware & so full of

Mad men & mad women, demons

A society hanging on NOW

On high on volume on 10 on

Now NOW NOW NOW

NOW

Not today

Not tomorrow

Become one of them

Fit in

Belong

Make do.

Don’t think

Don’t disagree

And forget

All the things that

They say “Don’t Matter”

Like literature

And your poetry

Your books & you’re feelings

And the journal that is you.

For you child

Are only an angel

With a martyr’s crown

Angel

Just another misfit

A ne’er-do-wel

But do not

Do not ever

Let them

Take away who you are

For that is the gift

That can never be

Replaced.

______________

R.M. Engelhardt 2011

IN THE CHURCH OF COFFEE AND SMOKES

IN THE CHURCH OF COFFEE AND SMOKES-AMEN

IN THE CHURCH OF
COFFEE AND SMOKES

“And now,

Let us all pray”

Ex-hale.

Does anybody
Have a cigarette?

Let’s all talk about your day,
Light up simultaneously.

Oh Lord,
I need more sugar
In my coffee

And not that artificial
Crap

Confession;

One on one,
Let’s all talk about
All of your sins,

Smiling.

No hail Mary’s, no regrets
For our God only demands
More cigarettes.

And that you light up
And get happily caffeinated
So that all, will be “forgiven”

Does anybody have another cigarette?

He hears your prayers
So pray, to Saint Marlboro
And they shall all be answered

More coffee?

More taxes?

More bullshit from the masses?

This religion, is getting damn expensive

“Amen”

___________

R.M. ENGELHARDT 2011