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Rob Cull' Profile

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About Me and My Poetry

I always believed our imagination would take us one step closer to a greater death, over the past decade I have written and compiled hundreds of poems hoping someday they would fall into the right hands. I now sit here reading a few, bedazzled on how much time flew by, we all know our sun will die someday, and so shall you and I. I write because I understand this. I write to escape the inescapable; I write to leave it all behind. -The incredible nocturnal poet R.C https://www.facebook.com/groups/174461116013965/

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Assets

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All the birds, every last one fall from the sky; the air is poisoned with the sounds of mechanical war. Massive piles of steel and crumbling cities control every piece of dusty land. Corruption no longer matters; for the blood of man’s descendants no longer rule- No longer dominates. Countless bodies fill outer space where the retreat began. The year is 1rc the Return of Christ.    
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(Bare with me here.)                                                                                                                                         From the naturel order the being are born, from skies will open dark- seem just torn.                                                                                                                                  The unexplained will become so clear, E.T will rule - it was always so near.                                                                                     Nature wouldn’t feel so glamorous anymore, darkness will cover most – your heart will be sore.                                                                                   The Extinction is at hand, the fire would burn long, - it was corruption that concealed man.                                                                                                    Just faith in our limited minds, bring creation – the devastating kind.                                                                                                                  It is wisdoms greatest wish; all races will fall - Even if we lived as a species of fish.  
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A Fabulous mind in a frantic world will consume your boundaries; twirled into a sigh filled with flooded deeds. Live the life of an elite human being; fulfill all your intentions and regretful needs. Your intensity will devour you as you charge with devious-hate; seemingly discovering along the way that glorious masters trumpet, golden-gate.  Feel the air as it travels across you face, make the moment happen, leave every trace.  
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You’re lost in the moment as your pen began to freeze,
Names all over; how can you conceive?
Spent years writing a single simple piece,
... continued
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 Just deal with it, not matter the outcome! You were through worse! There is no way in hell you can give up now! Remember some odd years ago? Or remember that one time? Remember when? GOOD! Don’t! Just forget about all those times you were embarrassed, or afraid, their gone! Just because you couldn’t understand something doesn’t mean you weren’t meant to. Don’t figure it out, you don’t have to.
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Ask me why? And I just might say I don’t know. This is how I am, how I act, how I feel. Where I belong is up to me, Where you belong is where you decide to go. Classical echo’s reach across my decisions, rendering outcomes prepare my faults for reasons to do better. I think about the sun dying at least once a year, the fear of total darkness and how eternity has no length of time. I put words on paper and escape reality with thought, rhythm, and rhyme. Take the chances if you haven’t already, camp, fish, do something crazy. Prepare yourself for a challenge; no distance is too far, no limits are too vast. Remember these words; for tomorrow is a vision, not a scheduled task. Remember what you love and who you are, time slips away just too fast.    
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“The world is not ending. It’s your mind clouded and misjudged. You’re pushed over a cliff; you let your life be budged: Maintain your ground and control your reason. Don’t let anxiety rule your seasons” (This passage will be famous in the year 2869-----àNostradamus Fan!)   -The incredible nocturnal poet R.C
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A Fabulous mind in a frantic world will consume your boundaries; twirled into a sigh filled with flooded deeds. Live the life of an elite human being; fulfill all your intentions and regretful needs. Your intensity will devour you as you charge with devious-hate; seemingly discovering along the way that glorious masters trumpet, golden-gate.  Feel the air as it travels across you face, make the moment happen, leave every trace.          
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I swing and wield this sword like it’s a magic toy,
I practiced long into the nights since I was a Boy.
I’ve fallen to my knees very few times,
... continued
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Glorious golden trumpets sound like magic to the springs nesting streams; a writer with a vision can fill your clouded misjudged dreams. Drums from the years of ages forgotten; dark nightmares spill out with sounds of the rotten. This writer will determine his own road and sound, always be story in sight, solid-bound. Silver rain drops fill the air of the colorless eye; a writer’s dreams are transformed into his own disguise. Here is a breadcrumb for Uncle Larry to follow are story to unfold; unfold the foreseeing change as the winter will come with blistering cold. We made it here today with our instruments in hand, a million years later still jammin’ in a band. Our band is RedRock and we will kill the stage tonight, we have made that journey, that unforeseen flight.   
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