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Rob Rutledge Feb 27
Just ten years old
You're smoking that indo.
Kicked your dad in the shin
Jumped out the window.
Didn't know which way to go
Down the street.
You took a left but you left
With no shoes on your feet.

Franky do you remember?
All the cracks in September
Amsterdam's not far away.
Franky do you remember?
All that's left is the embers
And a sense of slow decay.
Rob Rutledge Jan 23
Carry no fear in your heart
Nor on your shoulders, shame
For the end is nothing more
Than the start by another name.

It is strange how we yearn
For what we have never known.
Nostalgic for a time long past
Before our seeds were sown.
Homesick for a feeling lost,
For a land so green and sure.
For a shore we have never seen,
For waters that have never graced
Nor lapped our weary feet.
For a space we thought was ours
For the darkness that hangs in waiting
Between the gaps among the stars.
For the peace we have never found
For the war we have always sought
For the feelings we seldom caught
And the love of all unbound.

Carry no fear in your heart
Nor on your shoulders, shame
For the end is nothing more
Than the start by another name.
Rob Rutledge Dec 2019
Would that the windswept blooms
Played soft through a valley's morning dew,
A while rested by sun scorched dunes
Embarked on path neither old nor new.
The wind shall choose what it will do,
Which leaves it leaves and those it shall use.
From forrest dark to desert twilight view
An acorn lays a haunting tune.
Song shines bright modicum of truth,
That we are but sand, swept away anew.
Rob Rutledge Sep 2019
The rage is real, I think.
Bruised lip, clenched fists.
A Portrait of a *******.
Ink slipped and left to fade,
A visage that only we create.
Born from all we know,
All we feel, All that pains,
Every manifested sorrow.

We would do well not to dwell
Upon that which we can't control.
But as the years age and grow
The certain turns into the unknown.
Curtains close yet start the show
As the actor dies off stage,
Alone.
Rob Rutledge Sep 2019
The rains were late this year
Land sparse,
Vast
Plains barren and parched.
Starved with an awful thirst.
Mouthfuls of sand,
Handfuls of dirt.
Months of hardship
Sow seasons of hurt.
As worship converts to clouds
The Sun bows out,
Proud but yet usurped.
Vulture circles bold and undeterred.
Gaze beholden to a crack torn earth.
Rob Rutledge Sep 2019
I will never believe in your God
But I will always have faith in You.
I care not for what you preach.
I care only for what you do.
Rob Rutledge Jul 2019
What have we become?
When poetry resides
In two lines, then we're done?
Have you nothing more to say?

Pretending to be profound,
Applause all around.
Nothing more than a passing thought.
If thought was required at all?

You call this poetry?
I don't.

Perhaps I'm just old fashioned,
Believing in meaning
And the power of words.
Yet on occasion i have heard
Voices of angels and demons
Faint but undeterred,
Laughing in the face of mediocrity.

A virus fed by popularity,
So what have we learned?
From your instagram friendly
Twitter assembly,
We realise you have said
Absolutely nothing at all.
This is directed more at me than anyone else.
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