OF CONVERSATIONS, FRIENDS & ANGELS

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OF CONVERSATIONS
FRIENDS & ANGELS

 
Today

I come to you
In the memory
Of old friends

Conversation

Over lost time
And lost years

That have
Mysteriously
Vanished

In both tragedy
And revelation

Grief
And silence

Detached from
This mere
Mortal coil

To remember them;

They who were
Once here and
They who once loved
And who we all
Once were once
Upon a time long
Ago as well
In a love, a friendship

A moment

Meant with soul
So fiercely

Now
Vauge

Idle
In dreaming

For you see
As we go on
Our minds
Have learned to
Play tricks

Deceptions

In a veil of youth
& passing days

Drunken illusions
And insignificant
Slights now
Forgotten

Replaced by
What was once in our
Hearts our true
Appearance

A realization
That to be human
Is to be flawed

But these things
Are small pins
Needles

Inconsequential

Now forgotten

So in coming years
We shall sit down & remember them
And have a conversation
Like old friends
Should have like
All friends living

Until

Into the light &
The brilliance
Of angels
We go

Onto
To the next
Mortal
Dream

Without remorse

 

 

~ R.M. Engelhardt

03.16.2019

 

NOTHING GROWS IN THIS GARDEN

Nothing Grows

In this garden

The flowers

Are for the dead

 

A memorial to

The fallen

In memory of

Lives once lived

 

But in the season

Of each child

In the passing of

Each son

 

We sow the

Seeds of promise

In the hope of

Another one

 

Who will lead

Us to a new land

Who will let us

Rest in peace

Who will stop

The wars of selfish men

Who will finally

Bring us peace

 

But nothing

Grows in this garden

Except the flowers

Of the dead

As another century

Passes and another

Prayer is said

 

” Mors vincit omnia ”

 

Coffee Ass Blues & Other Poems: The New Book ~ R.M. Engelhardt 2018

Coffee Ass Blues EngelhardtNow Available:

My new book of poems “Coffee Ass Blues & Other Poems” is now available on Amazon through Alien Buddha Press with illustrations by friend & fellow poet Red Focks. Get your copy today …

 

 

Some Days

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SOME DAYS

Some days I question human behavior I question what we are doing here I question where I came from where mankind came from after I watch the news on tv after listening to people talking on there cell phones screaming at other human beings on the bus. But somehow I never give up. Somehow I just keep moving on. So I light another cigarette, and in that motion I become Buddha I become God . I become just another one of Darwin’s monkeys philosophizing why we all even bother anymore as somewhere aliens are watching us from a spacecraft in the stars drinking beer & writing poems about us.

Shakespeare Once Said

SHAKESPEARE ONCE SAID

 

Shakespeare once said:
The Prince of Darkness is a Gentleman
(But never a lunatic)
Or a spy

That night when
Shakespeare saw Marlowe
Only briefly
In the mirror
When words came to him
In the silence
Of the night air or
From a bottle
Or a muse

When dreamers, poets were
Murdered
Softly ever so softly
Without prayers
Merely
For convience

Under the shadow
Of the moon
Buried in books or
Buried in unmarked
Graves alone

But
Shakespeare never said
Anything about the dead

He only wrote about
All his ghosts second hand

Yes.

Shakespeare
Used to say alot
Of shit

Sometimes
Even twice

Being A Poet

Picsart2017-07-11--19-33-00“Being a poet isn’t something you are or choose. It’s something that happens to you at irregular intervals and with no guarantee it will happen again. You can disregard it when it does happen but you can’t turn it on. All you can do is wait.”

~ Margaret Atwood

Failed Human Mantra

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FAILED HUMAN MANTRA

Repeat After Me:

I am perfect
I am powerful
I am strong
I am whole
I am loving
I am happy
I am harmonious

Fuck.

I am
None of
These
Things
But human

I am
None of
These things
But words
With decomposing

“Flesh”

 

~ Talon
(R.M. Engelhardt)

The Ballad of Fast Eddie

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THE BALLAD OF FAST EDDIE

Back
In the 1970s
Fast Eddie was
An old man
Who walked
Down the streets
Of the city
Of Troy
Looking for a
Fight looking for
All the bad guys in
A child sized
Cowboy hat with
Two cap
Pistols & his
Belt looking
For the
OK Corral
On the streets
And in the
Alleyways of
The city where
He was the sheriff
Waiting for the clock
To strike

Noon

“Eat lead!”

Eddie would yell
At all the passersby’s
Who laughed
At him cap
Guns blazing in
The air
The sun the
Fastest gunslinger
In the West
This side of
Albany a legend
Who kept Troy
Safe from a world
Too hard to
Understand too
Scared to deal
With life & all
The pressures
Of the world
And of
The mind

Eddie
Liked his
Sarsaparilla
Straight up
And took no
Gruff from
Anyone another
Hero lost in time
Protecting the world
From the men in
Black hats that
We could
Never see

Eddie
Was a real
Gunfighter
A real man that
All the children
Could look up
To a man who
Was kind but
Tough but who
Didn’t see the
End coming

Until one
Day when
Eddie was casually
Walking down
The block
And got shot down
By the gas company
Maintenance man
Known to all his friends
As Tom Terrific
Who pointed his
Finger at Eddie
And said

“Draw!”

And fired

But Eddie just
Wasn’t fast
Enough
His pistols never
Leaving the holsters
In time

Pow! Pow!
Tom’s finger
Took him down
And Eddie
Pretended to
Be shot
And dropped
To the ground

And
That was
The End
Of Fast
Eddie
And he
Was sent
To a psychiatric
Hospital
Where they
Just called him

“Ed”

 

~ R.M. Engelhardt

OLD SOUL

C__Data_Users_DefApps_AppData_INTERNETEXPLORER_Temp_Saved Images_db36106c7e15b88cf5ed55ddaada0ebc--smoke-photography-smoking-cessation.jpgOLD  SOUL

An old jukebox is playing
Tom Waits as the smell of beer
And cigarette smoke
Permeates the bar
The patrons, the drinkers
Are old and now I am
Have, become one
Of them as
The days of light
Electricity & destruction
Punk rock & single living are now
Over & as the words take over
And possess the pen
As the ink transforms thoughts
Bourbon into
Something someone

Else

The unknown man
The unknown poet
Left with an old soul
Just writing a poem
In some dark place
Or darker corner
On napkins
Outside & behind the walls of
The always boring &
Casually observed
The popular &
Pop culture writers &
The 5-minute celebrities
Of the world
All supposedly living on
Some lost & lonely planet called

Earth

Where
I am no man
No memory
Or of any place
Or time
At all
Where I am merely the
Drunk priest in black who
The city sings to at night
And the sound that is
Beneath you
& beneath your
Howl your  heart & soul
The truth

That no one wants to
Hear or think about
Anymore

And I no longer have
A young man’s eyes  or
Some epic poem love or
An epiphany to share

And I don’t give a shit about
Your politics
Television or the news
Because as always
Death & history
Always repeat
And always remain

The same

Hand in hand

Forever

So I don’t pretend to be a
Prophet or
Something I am not
And I am not interested
In attempting to save the
World or
In creating the next great
Literary movement

Of fools

But for those of you
Who do?

Gee

That’s swell

But my gods
My muses
Still walk
Still dwell
Still scream
In another
Century

Who tell me
Whisper to me
That in the end of
All ends nothing is left
But your words
Your soul
Burned &
Weathered through
Ink blood & paper
The years &
The experience

Of time

Alone

And we
The poets
Are only
The dust
That remains
Behind

Another
Old soul
At the end
Of the world
At the end of
The bar

Writing for
No one anymore

But himself