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The poetry of Roarke Moody

Fri, Apr 1, 2011

If I Were Free

If I were free
as the brightest sun
the truth be told
all my demons exposed.
their dry bones clacking away
clickety-clack…in your face.

If I were ever free
the Moon’s Mother would speak, out,
let it be, Let freedom glow bright
and far wide, like a starlit night,
so that, heaven could notice…
such magnificence, and shout
give away to peace and love.

Life like time is perpetual energy.
if I were ever free, I know
how to awaken this energy in me.

…………………………………………….

Curve Ball

The hardest poem I ever wrote,
sadly, no one will ever read.
The toughest fight I ever fought,
although, I didn’t even bleed.

The deepest sleep I ever slept,
sadly that’s the only time I ever wept.

The strongest heart I ever touched,
I crushed for lack of need.

The loudest mouth I ever heard,
Yet, I never thought to feed.

The life I dream I dream is within my reach,
But, now it’s time to leave!

…………………………………………….

Ten Toes Up

10 toes
ten toes up shoot, cough
knock you block off
black your Glock off
never accept drive-by murder
walk by the violence while everyday
working people cough,
with Ten toes up

Ten toes shoot, cough,
Had enough. Cough about the final cost…
Life lost amid deadly chaos; swirling chaos
Leaving you Ten toes up.
Shoot, cough,
Knock your block off!

10 toes up
Chi-town police machine-gunned down
Out-gunned, so blast away you killer kids
Missing love, lacking guidance
Mom, Dad: please, please, please
Stand up
Voice your choice
Thugs, bangers and gangsters
Stand down.

10 toes up
Be a voice
Yesterday past by today earlier today
Break away from black on black crime
Embrace your responsibilities
Check yourself parents.
Do you know who your kids are?
Had enough?
Yesterday past by today and had nothing to say.

Shoot, cough
Knock your block off
Blast away, blast your Glock off.
Put your gun up
Pick your son up
Be there or beware
Of the cost.

Don’t dare get caught with
10 toes up.

…………………………………………….

I Lived

I loved and lost and found again
Joy, sorrow and sins
I laughed and cried
And sometimes grinned
I’ve journeyed and tripped
But found few friends
I loved and lost and found again
Joy, sorrow and sins I lived.

…………………………………………….

Foolish

She was spooky fine
I was foolish to think she’d be mine.
Once again, I lost out to chance
My foolish heart stole one last glance.

…………………………………………….

Last Poet: Conversation with his mind

Welcome to my world, let’s take a trip though my mind… perhaps we can uncover a poet in exile, the last poet. The lost poems though years past the crowd my mind so I won’t forget to write them down. It may be eloquent, it could be profound but it can only live on the page, so write them down. Words race through my head and mind’s eye controls the traffic and the fragile becomes beautiful and the delicate magnificent, until these thoughts are born on the page. It is important to know that when the work is complete that no matter how brilliant-or to some-how dumb. When the work is complete it’s only a poem. No matter the topic: politics religion or just plain fun, it’s only a poem. I have to go now. It’s been nice talking with you but I still have much work to do. Sorry if I seem a little vague but I can’t reveal all of my secrets until the ink dries on the page.

…………………………………………….

A father laments

I’m a good father

That’s what I said.

I’m a great dad.

Not what they said.

I love my children
I regret not being with them
But I’m not a dead-beat dad.

My boys were babies when life turned bad
I lost my family, my job and everything I had

I wish I could turn back the hands of time
But I’m not a dead-beat dad.

My dreams to play baseball
All the grand ideas I had
Shadow my thoughts
my dreams go to bed

I’m a good father
Not a dead-beat dad.

My sons are men today
My son walked up to me and said,
“Dad, do you know who I am?”

I was a stranger calmly he pulled out his wallet and showed me his I.D.
And I saw my son.

He gave me a hug and a kiss and said,
“I love you, dad. Don’t be a stranger!”
As I cleared the tears from my eyes
He walked away.

I felt alive

I felt Alive.

I’m not too bad.
I’m not a dead-beat dad.

Today, I thought, I saw my son.
But unless he walked up to me and said, “hey dad.”
I would not have known him from anyone on the streets.

At least he knows me.

One day we will be Father and Son.
Once upon a dream.

…………………………………………….

All poetry by Roarke Moody

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