MICHAEL IN CLEOPATRA'S EYES MICHAEL Wednesday. Your keys were stolen by the devil; she used them to open all the doors of distortion and sound, to turn out all of the lights living in the waking moment when all of the young gods had grown old. Club Extinction, where life is blood & pain. Reality, a new dialect of language & seasons, harmonies of invention. A new industry of human consumption. Where did you leave those keys? You had everything to gain and nothing to lose. You had the emptiness of an over agonized poetry and a religion of your own that served the one. And in the dark you wept cold bitter tears for a god that never cared or even remembered your name. It was as if all of the life upon earth had just vanished in a moment or had suddenly developed an expiration date. Hiroshima Mon Amour. Goodnight & goodbye. Still hiding behind all of your intellectual armor, still fighting all the infidels of time, the thought Gestapo and the killers of the sacred word. The emperor of ignorance and all of his angels of destruction still pretending to be the heroes, like the dead skin flaking off ourselves to become the new. But you remained timid, docile. Stood back & behind and watched from up on high while all the rest of the world attended to their dark responsibilities techno-fucked by the man to become the last piece in a puzzle of intricate nothingness, the universe. The dead phallic worship of a ghost who can't find his own way home. To be mortal, to be human to eat, to sleep, to shit....to fuck....to love. With your heart, you're head and your balls. To feel when within the night maybe you will think of daylight, a longing for some long forgotten stranger or hope. To want something that means something, or something that just matters. For somewhere beyond the sea the singer sings about you and me but leaves out the part where you became a pain in the ass. And I remember the day that the romantic died and became the angry man. Was it suicide? Or was it murder? I guess we'll never know. Because when you fell the sound came down deafening like some overpowering pop overture upon your knees and you finally came to the realization that you are nothing but a moth to the flame in the afterlife, another peacemaker sent gone bad. A transcendental agent of the temporal wake who can't remember even who in the hell he is. Wednesday... your keys were stolen by the devil who sells real estate on the side and who can suck on a soul like there's no tomorrow. Make a note; never do shots with the devil, she'll get everyone else killed and will make you question your own existence, not to mention, she'll break your heart every time, in every time, if you just give her half a chance. IN CLEOPATRA'S EYES "And all the light of the world surrounded her, and in her eyes there was salvation. As the world and she slowly drifted off to what seemed like a million miles away. Where all time stopped, streets seemed empty. And the world was no longer there. And in her eyes there was still beauty, light...salvation" 'How did you get here?' I ask. She smiles politely, and then says, 'Time" She had to cross the River Nile & a few other places, Made a few deals with the Gods, and the Oracles and had to apologize just to get the night ... 'Off'. A few past lives & a bottle of wine, But this time without all the poison. 'I'm just sick of passing romances' She cries, then smiles at me like a cat and asks; by the way, 'You don't know a guy named Mark Anthony ... do you?' To which I reply 'No, not at all.' As she touches my hand and stares into my eyes unwavering. And then says 'Thanks'. Seduces me with all her wiles & and all her false innocence, Her beauty still there, lasting & full of centuries of lingering pain And hope. And then she talks about her job, her life and all of her endless Responsibilities. Asks me how my day went and wonders if she will ever stop being so wild, and one day finally settle down With a couple of kids ... and a house. Tells me about a number of all her failed past relationships. Not based on love but only on power, appearances & success That never ever quite work out. And then we talk about the pyramids, empires and poetry, Says she likes jewelry and wears a scarab necklace that she tells me that she bought ... at Macy's. But all the while I still keep staring in those eyes, Where all memories and all histories last but all finalize, as they take me off guard and once more willing to take another chance. Knowing far better, than I should. As we walk into the her bedroom, her skin like ivory A beautiful tattoo above and yet below covering the Length of her back, and her long black hair that sweeps across my body as all of my angels watch. For in Cleopatra's eyes I remember all time Like emeralds In the darkness Shining in their light Where I too tonight Shall dream of all the mysteries In this moment that is mine Stronger than any romance Or love Now faded. ____________________________________________________ R.M. Engelhardt, A poet & writer through his ideas & visions has helped to create a large amount of the Upstate, Albany, NY spoken word scene and is the host of "VoX", Albany, NY's Open Mic For Poets, Poetry & The Word @ The Fuze Box. Currently, R.M. lives in Albany, NY where he is a ordained minister in spiritual humanism & has recently released his new book entitled "Versus"