Biography of Robert Rumery
I've been writing for a very short time. 3 years I started when I was 16 and know I'm almost 21. Wait my math maybe off just a tad bit. But Math was never my strong point. My strong point was pen and parchment. The only way I could really release all of my demons that I held so strong inside of myself. The demons that would make my happiest day seem so dark and dismal. Those days I never liked, but those dark days gave me inspirations to write and write. Write so much that you hand would fall off. It would cramp, and my fingers would feel like they would want to fall off. Often times I broke my pencils out of frustration of not being able to produce anything 'Good' most of the stuff I write I considerd 'Bad' because I think I expected too much of myself at the point in time. I had a very bad depression my Senior year in High School. I think it was from all the nerves and pressure of it being my senior year and that I was graduating in less than 4 months. That took a toll on me like no other. I was leaving friends I had become very close to in that year. I was leaving my bestfriend behind because he had failed his Junior year. He should of been a senior just like me but he wasn't. I started writing poetry for Poetry.com just as a simple outlet for my frustration. I look back at those poems and I don't think they are very good. But know I look at my current poems and they are more complicated than the ones I did in 2003. Mine know still deal with depression, heart-ache and life in this world.
I find stuff to write about inspirations are all around us. To the road we live on, the sidewalk we walk on. Even the tress, the sky, the heavens can inspire you to write. It always has inspired me. I can walk down the street of my hometown of Milo, Maine. And watch cars go by and smell the fresh air and that gives me inspiration. Inspireation to live on with life and to keep on writing how I feel and what I think. Everything has a purpose in this life and this world. Computers, mothers, fathers, sons and daughters. Some find their purposes easier than others. And the others have to search for it a little harder. I always knew inside of me I was a good writer. As a child I loved to make up stories from my favorite Cartoons.. Sonic The Hedgehog and Ninja Turtles just to name two to give an example. I could plan how I wanted the story to unfold on a pieace of paper. But I needed other people to help me create the story itself with the writing and such. The mind of 12 year old boy is fragile he can think up great epic stories but he needs a little help putting it down onto the paper. The history of The Writer and Story Teller go all the way back to cavemen days. They used to paint stuff on their walls to tell stories because they weren't as evolved as Humans are today. But its still great how they could express themselves the way they did. And thats all that I'm really searching for is a way to express myself more clearly than I currently am.
Growing up in Milo, Maine gave me certain pleasures living close enough to loved ones, friends and relatives. If you ever talked to me in person or Instant Messenger. You know I voiced my opinions about living in Milo and how horrible. Thats only because I lived here for so long. I mean lots of forms of life and people from around the world some how end up in Milo, Maine I thought it kind of amazing and weird at the same time. You can have someone living here for 20 years and they'd originaly be from New Hampshire, Mass or Florida. I guess us Miloites pull people in like Tractorbeams. We are The USS Enterpise of Maine. We boldy go where no man has gone before nor wants to go. I know that was a cheesy Star Trek line but its true in a sense. I was born in Dover-Foxcroft, Maine at The Mayo Hospital. I love the surrounding areas. And I think where your from somehow makes your writing style different. Would A Maine Author write different if they were from Australia or New York? Same with singers and song writers. Would Black Sabbath (My favorite band) sound the same if they were from New Brunswick and Not England? And maybe the lead singer wasn't Ozzy Osbourne but Robert Plant. I take small things like and try to deduce them and see what they mean. I think Black Sabbath wouldn't be what it is today if they didn't have Ozzy Osbourne or Tony Iommi. That'd be like my poetry wouldn't be the same if I didn't go through hard times and didn't live in Maine. I'm a Mainer, a MANIEac...
So people ask me why I write the way I do. Why I choose to talk about depressing subjects as Depression, society and Drug use both in Teenagers and Adults. I find it that we need to talk about these things in song, poetry and normal discussions. To get it out to the world. That this is a problem and its not going to go away until we force it to go away. I've had friends that have had bad depressions and did hard drugs because they're life sucked. Maybe their parents didn't hug them enough. We don't really know what makes our youth take drugs. Maybe if you could get inside of their heads maybe you could see how they think and why they do these things. They ask for help and that amazes me. That some parents won't give their daughters or sons the help they need. Because they're like that. You did drugs, so your not my child and your evil and dumb. Thats not the way to go. Your the parent you should support your children in whatever they do. Even if it means you have to support them in their rehab. I'm a really good kind hearted person. I'd come see a friend if they were in the hospital both normal or mental. Bring them flowers, make them laugh its all good. I just love making people feel welcomed in this life and loved. I wished I could make the whole world feel loved and not so screwed up at times.
A small rural town in Maine drugs are so easy to get in Maine. But I've drifted off into other conversations and this was meant for you to get to know me and what I'm about. Well at times this is what I'm about perserving one's sanity and life. We go insane every single day. Trying to meet ends meet in this cruel world. When you get ahead they to your head away from you. In a matter of speaking meaning when you think you go a head you really haven't and the powers that be are sitting on their little throwns laughing at you. 'Great Power' 'Powers That Be' thats a blatant god refrence. I used to beleive in God but I'm not so sure anymore. If their was a god why would their be such hate in this world? I don't think it makes sense nothing in this world makes sense anymore. I've been thinking about this industry I want to get into. The writing industry I feel I can truly express myself with my poetry. And maybe one day with my songs. I hope I can I just love writing on so many levels. I've wanted to be famous every since I was little and maybe I'll get the chance if not. I'll just write and read poetry for the people who enjoy it.
Who is Robert Rumery? Hes just like you. A normal person trying to get by in the world. He might be living next door to you and you wouldn't even know it. The secrets he holds inside of him and the talent he has of the poetic and songish nature. Hes come so far since being 16. He maynot be published. But he writes stuff for the public to read and most of the public love his works. So what does this mean for the future of Robert Rumery? He dosen't really know but he'll take it one step at a time. The writer that lives inside of him is finally coming out. He'd like to thank everyone he loves and most importantly Stephen King, without his books Robert would of never picked up a pen and started writing. You want to ask Robert Rumery questions or comment him on his work? e-mail him at email@example.com he will answer your questions as best as he can.. He loves you all and he thanks you for reading this.
- Robert Rumery 12-15-05 ' Meet The Author: Robert Rumery'
Robert Rumery's Works:
Robert Rumery Poems
My Angel (In The Darkness)
I know I haven't really been a good friend, and I know I could of tried a little harder, but you see I can't tell you, how I feel about you,
Stay Strong (My Little Angel)
I write about whatever comes to mind, singing about the promised land, and my failed relationships, and how the world can be so cold,
So Many Ways To Say Sorry
I don't think god put us on this planet, so that we both could hate each other, and kick each other out of our lives, I don't think that was his plan from the start,
It Was Like Magic
You seemed to always be in trouble, with society, the world we lived in, and the law wasn't your best friend in the world, you were trippin' on everything you could,
Amy Lee, what went down in your head, saying things no one ought to say, thinking things that nobody should say,
I'M Dreaming Of You
As I sit here and look at the water, I can see your face in the ripples of water, as a stone skips a crossed the lake, and the cold wind blows I can feel you,
When Love Fades
You can see them playing, you can hear their voices inside of your head, you feel there breathe on your so skin, so cold and so clammy,
Crazy About Her
I'm so Crazy about her, I think of her night and day, ooh yeah, her baby-blue eyes,
Shes Taking (Another Drink)
She lives with herself in silence, so many thoughts being thrown around in her mind, so many people that she dosen't love, so many people that turned her away,
The Beat Of My Heart
Feel the beat of my heart, Listen to the rhythm of my breathing, Taste the song resting on my lips, As we make our music together.
I want to be there when you fall, I want to be there when you cry, I want to be there when your at your lowest, and you need someone to pick you up,
I saw into your mind, into your world of hate and darkness, I told you to take my hand, and that everything would be alright,
Dimebag's Gone (But He's Still Rockin')
I remember when it went down, it was one of the darkest days in music history, a wild man with a gun came to the show, and he shot your ass dead,
Where Are You Now?
Its been months since we talked, I wonderd about you and how you've been, is your new boyfriend treating you right, and hows the new little one,
When Love Fades
You can see them playing,
you can hear their voices inside of your head,
you feel there breathe on your so skin,
so cold and so clammy,
you close your eyes and you can see what happened,
that they had sealed there fat in a dimly lit-room,
You want to pretend like it never happened,
you huddle in the corner and curl into a small little ball,