Keith Moody: Poems

Sep 2017 · 212

Keith Moody Sep 2017

So, you're back now?
It's been a while
Since you wrote something down
Something poetic, something profound.

What took so long?
Had the feeling everything you wrote down was wrong?
Stuck in the same place, listening to the same songs?
Or were you just struggling to get your life moving along?

It's okay, I understand.

Sometimes your dreams seem to far away to chase after
Sometimes life has to many factors
And its hard to laugh it off when your funny bone is fractured
But you pulled through somehow...
And that's all that matters.

Just something for me to get motivated again.

Jul 2017 · 296

Writer's block

Keith Moody Jul 2017

Writer's block

I've been looking at a blank page for ten minutes now
Giving myself a headache trying to come up with an idea
But I have an idea
Lots of ideas actually
I can see the words filling up the page as I think of them
But as soon as I put my fingers on the keyboard
My fingers are unable to move
As if they have been crushed by a writer's block

What even is a "writer's block"?
Just my mind playing tricks on me?
I have so many ideas floating in my brain everyday
But just as soon as I look at the blank page
I get amnesia and can't remember the name of the main character that I spent all night thinking about

If a writer is the protagonist of his or hers story
Commonly known as life
Then writer's block is the most evil antagonist that has ever been created
But where does this writer's block come from?
Your mind
Your mind is the writer's block that's keeping you from finishing that story you want publish
But with just one good idea
You can make the writer's block crumble like the balled up pieces of paper that is filled with horrible ideas that you trough away

Jun 2017 · 220

Too close, too soon

Keith Moody Jun 2017

Too close, too soon

listen
i know you'll never seen this
but i just wanted to say I'm sorry...
I'm sorry that i loved you too much

I'm sorry for every time i acted like i was cracking my neck
when i was really trying to look at you again
I'm sorry that i tried to push my love on to you
when i knew you didn't want it

i know that every time i texted you
i was annoying you but...
i just wanted to make sure you knew i existed
and that i wanted to be there
for you

i feel stupid that i couldn't accept that you didn't want me
and now i know for sure...
you never well be
god...i feel like such an idiot

look
i only acted the way i did because
i wanted you to love me
but i just made you hate me
and now i understand why

i just loved you so much
and i couldn't sleep well at night
knowing that you might meet another guy
who wouldn't and couldn't love you like i could

i just wish we could be friends again
or better yet
i wish i could go back in time
and tell my younger self

"stop, i know shes the most beautiful you've ever seen
and i know this is going to be hard for you to come to terms with
but trust me...
its just not meant to be dude...
this is the hardest thing you'll ever have to do
but just let it go...
while she still calls you a friend..."

Jun 2017 · 248

Anesthetic

Keith Moody Jun 2017

Anesthetic

Sometimes I wish I had
something to ease the pain

Sometimes my skin
is to sensitive
to even go out in the rain

Sometimes the pain leaves
but most of the time
the pain stays

Sometimes the pain
begins to ease
but it comes back most days

Sometimes I would think
the pain would
never leave

But now I've found something
to ease the pain
so now I can breathe

Writing for me
has gotten rid of
all the bruises scars and sores

Writing is my
anesthetic
what is yours
?

Jun 2017 · 189

Inside

Keith Moody Jun 2017

Inside

My closet holds more than my clothes and hangers.
Inside my closet, there is also a skeleton.
Wherever I go, people look at me like I'm dressed like an elephant.
No matter where I go, I always feel out of my element.

If I were in a crowd of people, I would still stick out like a sore thumb.
People think a alien mother is what I was born from.
I just wish I could fit in.
But people keep their inner-circles to tight together which prevents me from ever having a chance to slip in.

The person I am is a lie.
The person who I really am is inside.
And I would let that person out but it's to late to try.
For inside my mind there is a closet that I hide.
And inside that is a skeleton of a person who got trapped, suffocated, and died.
That skeleton is the person I wanted to be, but who I never let out. And now, the real me, can never be alive.

Jun 2017 · 284

Pick a card

Keith Moody Jun 2017

Pick a card

Pick a card,
any card.
Any card except the Ace of Spades.
Everyone picks that one.
Except me.
I always pick The Joker.
Because The Joker can be any card I want it to be.
And I like that.

I like that in a world where we are told to play with hand that we're dealt, I can change my hand by making The Joker whatever I need it to be.
So in other words, I can change my life by changing who I am instead of being what everyone expects me to be.

So pick a card,
any card.
But don't pick one everyone expects you to pick.
Pick a card that you want to be.

Jun 2017 · 991

The biggest lie in poetry

Keith Moody Jun 2017

The biggest lie in poetry

Roses are red,
violets are NOT blue.
Who ever said they were is lying to you,
okay, maybe one can argue violets have a blue-ish hue,
but they are not all the way blue.
So stop saying violets are blue because that's not true.
Here's how it should go, so no more people are confused.

Roses are red,
Violets are purple.
[ Insert something romantic here ] Circle.

Jun 2017 · 397

Unconditionally

Keith Moody Jun 2017

Unconditionally

I want you to be with me till the end of time.
I want you to never leave me even when you have to go.
I want you to hold me until my body becomes one with yours.
I want you to love me, unconditionally.

I want to hold your hands until my fingers ache.
I want to stare into your eyes until my eyes dry out.
I want to listen to your heart beat until it stops beating.
I want to love you, unconditionally.

Jun 2017 · 749

A craftsman with words

Keith Moody Jun 2017

A craftsman with words

I'm a craftsman with words.
Each page I fill is another home I've built.
Every house is built differently to hold a variety of people.
I'm a craftsman with words.

A writing utensil is the only tool I will ever need.
It is a tool anybody can use but a true craftsman can do so much more with it.
My mind is a toolbox, filled with blueprints of houses just waiting to be built.
I'm a craftsman with words.

The page is the plot of land that I will build my house on.
The lines on the page is the foundation and the framework that I will build off of.
My pen is the hammer, each letter is a nail, and every word is a 2x4 holding the house together.
I'm a craftsman with words.

Every sentence a tile I lay to make the floor with.
Every paragraph is another wall that I put up.
Every "The end" is the roof I put to complete the house.
And every house I build, is a home people can move into.
I'm a craftsman with words.

— The End —