R.M. Engelhardt's Blog: Burn Brightly, page 4

she dreams in syllabus

“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��forever���

 

~ R.M. ENGELHARDT

���I���ve always been a word guy, I like weird words a...

���I���ve always been a word guy, I like weird words and I like American slang and all that and words that are no longer being used��� I like to drag them out of the box and wave them around��� this is an interesting one, it���s amazing how in addition to punctuation just a little pause in the wrong place can just completely transform the meaning of something.���


~ Tom Waits

Everette Maddox : Poet

Everette Maddox : Poet.

POEM WRITTEN JUST AFTER THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE

 

No one around

Not a single sound

 

 

Quiet.

 

 

Just like in the

Movies where

The world has just

Ended, just like

The calm before

The storm

 

Or maybe just like

Before a

Zombie apocalypse

 

As I sit here alone

In my apartment wondering

Why I am alone perhaps

The last human being left,

Perhaps some zombie���s

Next big mac & large fries

Tomorrow or maybe even their

Happy meal with a shake.

 

 

But what if I too have

Become a zombie

But just don���t know

It yet?

 

And what if I too am the

First zombie poet ever

Writing the first un-dead

Zombie poem?

 

Would all the other zombies

Read it? Or relate to it? Would

They understand my zombie

Feelings or sit around at the

Next undead Zombie Poetry

Festival and make snapping sounds

As all their fingers fell off or would

They even attempt to clap with only

Their one good arm left?

 

 

And what if I���m not

Really a zombie? Would they all

Just eventually accept me for who I really am?

Or will they all just be exactly like

They were before all this?

 

Just like all humans with all of their

Anger, jealousy, war & hate, murder

And all their petty unfair advantages

Over their fellow zombie friends?

 

No.

 

Because I don���t believe that there

Could possibly be a better,

More loving & caring, kinder

Zombie world or universe

Waiting in the wings, and

I don���t believe that they would

All just be friendly monsters

Who just like to eat vegans,

Republicans or tea party members

 

Because damn it

I just believe that sometimes

That the world could use a remake

Or perhaps just a reason. And I

Believe that if we just keep

Walking around dead or alive

That eventually one day we will all

Find our way to peace using or eating

Our own brains.

In the end.

______________

 

R.M. ENGELHARDT, 2015

 

Most Great Poets

Most great poems never see the light of day. And most great poets?

They pass away in the night unknown to a world that desperately needs their words.

 

~ R.M.

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Mission

The world has been lost. Gone into the unnamed void. We drink our coffee, put on our coats and go to work and sense that something is missing, aware something is no longer there. We have changed. We have forgotten who we are. Or maybe this is just the beginning of becoming, the transformation of the becoming of something new. Find the words unspoken. Find the voice that tells a new story for a new history as yet unwritten. This is your real job. To create that which has not yet been created.

~ R.M. ENGELHARDT

On Coffee & Writing …

���Sometimes life is merely a matter of coffee and whatever intimacy a cup of coffee affords.���


~ ��Richard Brautigan

Heaven ?

 

 

An old man and his dog were walking along a country road, enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to the man that he had died. He remembered dying, and realized, too, that the dog had been dead for many years. He wondered where the road would lead them, and continued onward.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall, white arch that gleamed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother of pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He was pleased that he had finally arrived at heaven, and the man and his dog walked toward the gate. As he got closer, he saw someone sitting at a beautifully carved desk off to one side.

When he was close enough, he called out, “Excuse me, but is this heaven?”

“Yes, it is, sir,” the man answered.

“Wow! Would you happen to have some water?” the man asked.

“Of course, sir. Come right in, and I’ll have some ice water brought right up.” The gatekeeper gestured to his rear, and the huge gate began to open.

“I assume my friend can come in…” the man said, gesturing toward his dog.

But the reply was, “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t accept pets.”

The man thought about it, then thanked the gatekeeper, turned back toward the road, and continued in the direction he had been going. After another long walk, he reached the top of another long hill, and he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate. There was no fence, and it looked as if the gate had never been closed, as grass had grown up around it. As he approached the gate, he saw a man just inside, sitting in the shade of a tree in a rickety old chair, reading a book. “Excuse me!” he called to the reader. “Do you have any water?”

“Yeah, sure, there’s a pump over there,” the man said, pointing to a place that couldn’t be seen from outside the gate. “Come on in and make yourself at home.”

“How about my friend here?” the traveler gestured to the dog.

“He’s welcome too, and there’s a bowl by the pump,” he said. They walked through the gate and, sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a dipper hanging on it and a bowl next to it on the ground. The man filled the bowl for his dog, and then took a long drink himself.

When both were satisfied, he and the dog walked back toward the man, who was sitting under the tree waiting for them, and asked, “What do you call this place?” the traveler asked.

“This is Heaven,” was the answer.

“Well, that’s confusing,” the traveler said. “It certainly doesn’t look like heaven, and there’s another man down the road who said that place was heaven.”

“Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates?”

“Yes, it was beautiful.”

“Nope. That’s Hell.”

“Doesn’t it offend you for them to use the name of Heaven like that?”

“No. I can see how you might think so, but it actually saves us a lot of time. They screen out the people who are willing to leave their best friends behind.”

~ Author Unknown

The Question

So let us ask the question;

Of transformed galaxies and

Mass produced vanities

Of simple walks and simple talks

Of kings and queens and limousines or

Riding on the bus

And let us ask the question;

Of random death and high school fun,

Of Chinese checkers replacing guns,

Of starving children in the sun and

Monsters on parade,

And let us ask the question;

Of an American government’s slow decay,

Of gods of war and these violent days,

Of a well meaning people led astray

And those who blindly march,

And let us ask the question;

Of the cost, the price

And the wait

 

____________________

 

R.M. Engelhardt

2015

“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language

And next year’s words await another voice.”


~  T.S. Eliot

HAPPY NEW YEAR !