So here we go again. I had to bail him out of jail in a place that you probably never heard of near Thebes. You see, back in those days he was kind of like one of your celebrities. The first “bad boy” on the scene before all your Colin Farrell’s & Sean Penn’s, Billy The Kids or Genghis Khans, before the setting sun ever came. Back then bad ass wore a scarab necklace, black eye mascara and a headdress. Fought the 12 snakes and the 12 arrows of the dead and got regularly fucked up like every other weekend. And the last time I saw him we were hanging out at a club called “The Underworld” doing shots with some girls off their navels. I don’t remember the names of the two girls I fucked but I do remember my buddy Set hooking up with some chick from outta town named Kali & immediately they hit it off like they were meant for each other or something and way too much alike. It was like heaven in the 9th sky where the indestructibles liked to hang. It was like climbing the pyramid, a resurrection machine and coming back to life time after time after time. It was a rush, it was a high like no other that you could ever experience. Screw your ecstasy & your science fiction. Thiswas the shit. Long before all of your myths & legends we made your wild nights, necromancers & satanic worshippers look like a Christian book club and a kindergarten class on Halloween. And for awhile, Set & Kali went out on the town and raised hell. Had some fun, caused death, mass destruction and chaos. Broke some hearts and ruined some livespermanently. And then one night, it happened. Kali met some other guy, a local Hindu deity and Set and this boy got into a fight and the night sky blazed with bolts of lightning and thunder. Vedic boy lost and got his ass kicked”dead”. And anyone will tell you that there is nothing more useless than a dead god. Kali freaked and attacked Set and he got arrested by the advanced ones and that’s where I came in. Babysitting the Pharaoh & saving his assagain. So you see? Here we go again. Repeating history and time, repeating all the mistakes of the past. And where’s the lesson you ask? The lesson, is this. Stay away from the angry & insane and all of the vindictive people in this life and step off of the ego trip. Kill the drama and stop killing yourself and get rid of all of your long undead & overdue hate and outgrow your angry adolescence. Because after all, do you think that you’re immortal? A rock star or maybe even a president? Do you think that you’re a pharaoh or a god? Because even after just 100,000 years you like everything else will be forgotten, nothing but dust and sand and a useless footnote between the man-made histories of time. And no one, I say no one will ever give a fucking damn. So what do you want? A gravestone that says that you lived or a legacy that says you’re alive? Or how about just living your life for a change




 R.M. Engelhardt 2006

The Resurrection Waltz – The New Book of Poetry from R.M. Engelhardt, An Interview With Albany Poets

R.M. Engelhardt
R.M. Engelhardt

The Resurrection Waltz – The New Book of Poetry from R.M. Engelhardt, An Interview With Albany Poets.

The Open Library

The Last Cigarette Poems R.M. Engelhardt

The Last Cigarette:

The Collected Poems

Of R.M. Engelhardt


These are the earlier collected works of Albany, NY based poet, writer & author R.M. Engelhardt who has published several books over the last two decades. 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 The Saint Poem Reading Series. Through his efforts he has created such groups the Albany Poetry Syndicate as well as Albany Poets (, which have left a lasting mark on the upstate NY literary scene. His work has also been published by many journals both in print & on the net including Retort, Verve, Fashion For Collapse, Sure! The Charles Bukowski Newsletter, Copious Amounts, Thunder Sandwich, The Angry Poet, 2nd Avenue Poetry, Full of Crow & in many others.


The Open Library

A life in writing: Charles Nicholl

A life in Writing

‘Let’s have a look at the dark side of the moon – Marlowe as spy, Rimbaud as gun-runner, Shakespeare as lodger’

A life in writing: Charles Nicholl

Poems In Retort Magazine

I Was Once Dead Too  R.M. Engelhardt


In a famous painting
of Christ nailed to
and crucified upon the cross
I am the watching 
leper on the right.
And with my one good eye
I watch as Jesus dies
and screams up into
darkening sky asking
his father for a reason


And then, suddenly 
as the clouds open up
and the rain begins
the Romans scatter like mice,
the water, burning off their
flesh like corrosive acid.
As I feel the wetness upon my
skin like the warmth of a beautiful woman 
touching my face, I raise my
hands outward, and I am healed.
When a voice comes
which tells me I am now
the angel of death, and the
watcher in the eternity
that is time, wandering 
the earth.

The screams of both Jesus,
and his murderers the Romans
now a distant sound & memory
in a world without messiahs
or miracles to amaze us.
Only questions
which remain unanswered.


You reach inside

Your guts and you

Pull out

A fuzzy bunny.

You reach inside

You’re soul and worse

Yet you pull out

A teletubbie.

The image

In your mind appears,

the voices speak.

You’re probably insane.

And you wonder;

Has this ever happened

To Whitman? Dickinson

Or Frost?

Probably not.

But then again,

They didn’t have


As good

As ours.

More …

Literature  R.M. Engelhardt

Poems In Retort Magazine

Outside The Box : Article~Poems 2009

R.M. Engelhardt Albany, NY

The World According To Poetry

September 3, 2009


If poetry can represent something meaningful, it is in the way it presents us shared and divergent perceptions of life and the world around us. In “The World according to Poetry” I will present you every fortnight a specific poet who can sway your body and soul, bring you to the depths of knowledge and perception and raise you to the heights of pure beauty and recognition. Where minds can meet as one, where souls can be touched, where bodies can utter emotion and where the spirit can long at last. I present you …

R.M. Engelhardt: the angel from below.

One poet, a world of visions. Dark from above, brilliant from below, haunting yet hopeful … Ten poems from the bottom of the heart and mind … let his poetry speak to you, it will tell you more than I can say.




In the bar
The doors are closing
It’s time to leave.

It’s cold outside,
The bright red eyes & wasted lines,
Wasted lyrics.

And the sight of daylight,
The empty streets
That remind us & annihilate
We, the subjects of loneliness
Lost in zero-land.

The night before
Seeking warm machines
With engines & hearts unseen,
That something to believe in
Or dream about

Beyond all these places.

Like a movie in the 1980′s
Where boy meets girl
Girl chooses boy
Over the vast amount of
Jocks and pretend beings.

You, now far away
From zero-land
The only kid left
With a soul.

Thinking about fate & destination,
Thinking about that one

That only one, that kissed you

And got away.

Like a movie in the 1980′s.

Lost in zero-land
The scent of her perfume still

20 Years later.



In constant touch. Constant motion constant sleep. In constant contact constantly,
our worlds all separate and yet all connected at once, for … and against. Love that’s not love, friends who are not friends, souls that are not souls. All of these, our lives unauthentic and those which devour the human heart incessant. NOTE: This communication is now dead, mechanical … DO NOT RESURRECT OR RESUSCITATE. Days long past long ago when humans could once speak, words mattered FEEL . What words would you say? Sorry? Goodbye? This is a simulation and not a dress rehearsal for pain meaning “FUCK YOU ! FUCK OFF! . You don’t hear ANYTHING very well now do you ?”,Received by mail delivery system network information I love you I hate you I need you I want you FUCK OFF! You don’t hear ANYTHING very well DID YOU THINK I WAS FUCKING KIDDING???? You obviously don’t fucking know ME very well now DO YOU. YOU now only a simulation and not a dress rehearsal for pain. “I am in struggle with responding to you as I have been from the first contact you made recently”. “Feelings I’d not allowed myself or had with anyone other than two others in my lifetime”. we can not talk, we should talk. I can not handle it. I wish it were different, I want to see you. The Tower card suggests that your relationship may be in crisis, and this is your wake-up call. You can’t go on fooling yourself any longer, and if you don’t break up, you will. “You don’t hear ANYTHING very well now do you”?

Frozen in time, unwanted & untrue. Sender unknown.


I’ll be happy being my responsible self doing the things I love, taking care of myself, and my responsibilities and not having to worry about anyone else in my life and I can be whole again. it is freeing to me to know that I can just be without expectation of myself or anyone else.

It is freeing to me to know that I can just be without expectation of myself or anyone else.

I’ll be happy being my responsible self doing the things I love
it is freeing to me to know that I can just be without expectation of myself or anyone else.

I’ll be happy being my responsible self doing the things I love
it is freeing to me to know that I can just be without expectation of myself or anyone else.

It is freeing …



In thy breaking heart, obscured,
Silent whereas no one
Gives a “shit.”

Whereas a single voice or one still moment in
its measure linger,
This message, “unreceived.”

Where no amount of time, wine-roses or memories can heal.
As human falls, fails broken, out of reason.
Long letters written, months recorded days, photographs and longings,

And unrelenting dreams.

The cold earth, this cold world
Which still compels,
The embodiment or abandonment, of spirit.

Where all of your magnificent angels have flown, and have now fallen below,

To the pavement.

Love, no longer a poem but only a word,
Too slow to process.

Poet, out of time place and season.
Century… Here.

In thy soul, thy breaking heart obscured, silent.
Whereas no one gives a “shit.”

Etc Etc.Etc.

This message “unreceived.”



Within you
The celestial bodies


And the eye opens
What the heart conceals.

Travel by thought,
Destination unknown.

Beyond all gravity

The Surface.

Is this just
All a dream?

A vision?


Catharsis: In 4 Parts :


She is waiting.

You dream in syllabus, questions. And see the lines that others cannot.
And you waltz across the dance floor of the world with verses…and wit. For this moment
Is honest, simple. But does not truly exist, or last




Words, meanings leave & return. Like a dream that you cannot fully comprehend, or
Remember…”touch” . For she is loyal to no one. No man or woman. And always comes and goes as she pleases. Take’s what’s there, and takes what she wants. Or even, what’s just left inside. Alone in an empty room at 2am, you light up another cigarette and merely wait… for her to return.

Like a lover, like a ghost who you’ve never really known. She loves you; she loves you not, but just might care. And when the light of the next morning comes up, and shines thru your windows, you open up your eyes to find her standing there, over you. Waking you gently and with a smile she says “Hey baby… I missed you” And then she tells you more of her beautiful lies. Lines … as always from the start. And even if you leave her she will always find you again. Look for you in a crowded bar or passing you on the street as you walk to work, or even… in your sleep.


Dear Reader;

So let me tell you a story, write you another poem. Because this is what I do, do well and do best. Give me another day, another reason. Give you another reason to smile, or laugh, or just make it through again. Just one more moment. So that you don’t lose hope. Inter-connected as we are no longer mere strangers. Lives, experience & hearts. Because this is what I do, and do best. And there is nothing else worth doing, save this.


So am I the only one who sees her?

There she is.

She’s beautiful and sitting in the back at the show or at the poetry open mic.
Smiling at you from one of the seats. And after you read she has something more to tell you. She wants to take you aside and “Whisper” those words in your ear.

And even after you try as you may to ignore her. She just stands there, one hand upon her hip, looks at you and says;

“This isn’t over darling” “Not by a long-shot”

“You’ll come back to me, you’ll see”

Because you need me.

I know … You need me.


And now alas yet another poem from my destructions,

You, witness to and here in new flesh and new skin.

The skin of hero, the skin of snake, the skin of monster, the skin of saint all

Gradually and eventually shedding piece by piece living and dying and

Reinventing the world. Poems, photographs, enemies and the catastrophes

Which perish into the void. Paper, undigested words, mute horses and mad

Nostalgic whores, all reality deficient and nocturnally deaf to the unpure beating heart of man and muse. Reason-religion-idealism-theory …and shit.

The perfect and critical butt-flight of monkeys and the cacophony of idle

Crows who sit upon the fences of eternity passing judgment upon our souls

Until we give in…to emptiness.

But let them all know this;
That Jesus came unabridged with two fish and a loaf of bread, more a poet

Than a precise carpenter and he fed multitudes…

“With hope”


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”. His work has also been published by many journals both in print including Retort, Verve, Industrial Nation, Sure! The Charles Bukowski Newsletter, Copious Amounts, Thunder Sandwich, The Angry Poet, Zygote In My Coffee, Full of Crow & many others. R.M. currently lives in Albany, NY

(C) R.M. Engelhardt

Outside The Box : Article~Poems 2009

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




A smile

Hiding behind a gaze


In any time

Or place or even

Upon my wall.


R.M. Engelhardt 2011



Be thankful.

For round you,

Thy life there is a world

Without conscience

Without light.


All thee who live

And all thee who strive

Strife may not as yet

Have touched your bones.


Be thankful.

For the lark & the light

And the music of the night

And its kingdom.

So far from the dark

And apart from those times

A better world that

Is still trying

To be a better world.


Be thankful.

For the child, and the heart

And the happiness & time

The seasons and the soul and 

The hope that our kind,



Give thanks.

For in the true

Kingdom of Night

There is no love to find,

No beauty, no truth no meaning

And no time

No time

To live

Or be 

Or love

Or find



Be thankful

For it is not merely

The act of being alive,


But for that which

Keeps you alive,

Against the storms

Against the hard times


For among the ruins

There is a shining diamond

A star within the wreckage

Waiting to be found

So be thankful

That the daylight shines

For you

Each morning

And that the moon

Remains to remind

That time, life

Is merely a passing dream

And that the night

Good or bad 

Shall eventually pass

For good.


R.M. Engelhardt 2011

The Scientist & The Poet …

Scientist - Poet

EINSTEIN: There are two different conceptions about the nature of the universe – the world as a unity dependent on humanity, and the world as reality independent of the human factor.

TAGORE: When our universe is in harmony with man, the eternal, we know it as truth, we feel it as beauty.