Can Tigers Really Swim?

Can a tiger hold his breath?
Can a tiger swim?
I suppose,
No one knows,
No, no one knows but him.

If he was in danger,
Of drowning or facing death,
Could he hold his nose?
Could he hold his breath?

After all, he is a cat.
There's no doubt about that.
And everyone knows,
Whereever you go,
All cats hate to get wet.

Yes, I suppose,
He could hold his nose,
Dive down deep,
As deep as deep goes.
Yes I suppose,
A tiger can swim,
Of course nobody knows but him.

Copyright © May 2010

Kevin Mooney

kmm001

053110

Fallen Fathers, Forgotten Sons

As dawn breaks,
The heavens wake,
The earth's a new tapestry.

The seeds we've sewn,
The men we've known,
Lie still and prone reverently.

The spirits of those,
That history knows,
Lie in cemeteries nationwide.

Our forefather's ghosts,
Our heavenly hosts,
Line meadows and countrysides.

Fallen Fathers,
Forgotten sons,
Fought for you and for me.
Those that died,
Gave their lives,
For honor and liberty.

Fields now lay,
In manicured decay,
Fertilized with sovereign dead.

Lined with stones,
Eternal homes,
Hallowed soil so bravely fed.

Their gravestones reveal,
What loved ones feel,
The sacrifices solemnly made,

Those won, those lost,
The heartfelt costs.
The ultimate prices paid,

Fallen Fathers,
Forgotten sons,
Died with honor and dignity.
Their families cried,
For their unselfish pride,
Their heroic and stoic bravery.

For their family,
For their country,
For Generals, Gods and Kings.

Buried deep,
They quietly sleep,
As Angels silently sing.

Some remembered,
Some forgotten,
Some just ashes in the wind.

They fought for freedom,
They fought for justice,
Fought so we all could win.

Fallen Fathers,
Forgotten daughters,
Live forever in our hearts and minds.
Our tranquility,
And prosperity,
Are their legacies left behind.

Let's honor those,
Fallen heroes,
Those before us that died.

Bow heads in prayer,
Then silently share,
Heartfelt blessings from deep inside.

The men and the women,
The sons and the daughters,
The husbands and the wives.

Those that suffered,
Sacrificed for others.
That so valiantly gave their lives.

Fallen Fathers,
Unforgotten ones,
You are our nation's pride.
Let children sing,
And church bells ring,
Let Good 'Ole Glory fly high.

So live on forever,
Know things are better,
That your souls have been sanctified.

Never fear,
We are always here,
To lay flowers by your side.

Your work is complete,
Now comfortably sleep,
You're remembered through tear stained eyes.

Let Father's who've fallen,
Never be forgotten.
Let their memories be memorialized.

Copyright © May 2010

Kevin Mooney

kmm001

053110

Hopper

Early teenage minI roles,
A Giant in his own speCial way.
Screenplay writer Originale,
Young VinceNt Price protege.

Rowdy renegade Rebel rowseR,
Insatiably deranged and insanE.
Drunken derelict drug dealing aBuser,
Eccentric film directing famE.
Rumbled with Cage and Ford CoppoLa,

Saw action with the Duke, John Wayne,
The Osterman Weekend earned rave revIews,
And Blue Velvet criTical acclaim.
Ran the picket fence 'round Hackman in Hoosiers,

Drove Reeves and BullOck to speed.
Inspired photographer, painter and scUlptor,
Renown friend of Nicholson, EasTwood and Dean.
"Enfant terrible", 5 decade cinemAtiC,
Career actor and OscAr nominee.
Teamed with Lynch, as a gas gUzzling enigmatic,
Occult driven, pot-Smoking fiend.
Revered both on and off screEn.

Copyright © May 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
053010

Creeping Crud

Lurking in the darkness,
Lies a faint disease.
Spreading forth in shadows,
Engulfing trepid seas.

Clinging to it's victims,
Wreaking havoc's wrath.
Soiling nature's innocent,
Destruction in it's path.

Seeping, creeping, toward vestal shores,
Leaking, reaping life for evermore.

Blanketing horizons,
Hovering where it lays.
Increasing in size then,
Covering its prey.

Mortal men can't stop it,
Cap it's virile plume.
A man-made moral topic,
Self-created doom.

Seeping, leaking, ecologic shame,
Creeping, seeking, economic blame.

It seems somewhat ironic,
A life enhancing source,
Can be a catastrophic,
Life destroying force.

Persistent calls to mankind,
Fail to plug the leak.
Brilliant minds cannot find,
The answers that they seek.

Seeping, leaking, water mixed with oil.
Creeping, breaching life sustaining soil.

It could last forever,
Destroy time tested lands,
Jeopardize man's pleasures,
With oil infested sands.

Maybe man would analyze,
Alternatives if he could,
Surrender greed and recognize,
His own made creeping crud.



Copyright © May 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
053010

You Talkin' To Me?

Manhattan Irish Italian,
American idol, screen and stage,
Robert, though a junior,
Took Hollywood bull by Rage.
Iconic Taxi Driver,
Neurotic Foster slave,
Supported Coppola's Godfather,
Famed Vito's early age.
Al Capone imitator,
Vietnam prisoner vet,
Ordained psychotic hunter,
Ruled at russian roulette.
Introduced Jake and Noodles,
Travis Bickle and Jimmy C,
Eccentric among good fellas,
Al Pacino and Joe Pesci.
Cady was fear personified,
Tilden Cop Land's reality,
Original New York wiseguy,
Remembered for "You Talkin' To Me?"

Kevin Mooney
Copyright © May 201

kmm001

052210

This Is What I Saw

I looked down and saw a man, looking up at me.
His eyes were fixed and dilated, his expression worry free.
Not an ounce of tension,
Existed on his face.
Lying there, unaware, in a better place.

I looked up a saw a man looking down at me.
He looked just like an Angel, with a message just for me.
His was an extension,
Of what I used to be.
Flying there, in the air, content and reverently.

I looked down and prayed to God, that he'd accept me.
My mind transfixed and highlighted, transgressions made toward me.
Not an ounce of reprehension,
Would I ever see.
Crying there, I learned to care, for those with less than me.

I looked up and gave to God, the love he gave to me.
He prescribed eternal life and prosperity.
In a premonition,
I saw myself debt free.
All my sins had been cashed in, I'd found true sanctity.

I've looked around and often found, things rarely what they seem.
When you die your measured by your love and loyalty.
Immoral retribution,
Governs one and all.
In God's eyes, man's judgement lies, this is what I saw.


Copyright © February 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm119

020510

In The Blink Of An Eye

Think of The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald...

In a crystal blue sky, in the blink of Eye,
Three streaks flew over West Texas.
At 5 after 9 the 7 that died,
Left lovers and children as exes.

Those on the ground had heard a loud sound,
As Columbia prepared for a landing.
Many asked why and others just cried,
As officials lacked full understanding.

The ship had survived what Challengers tried,
The first of the new shuttle program.
Many denied that the 27th try,
Was the result of engineers' poor plans.

Constructed with pride back in '75,
Named after Captain Gray's venture.
The name also given to Apollo 11's,
Command module lunar adventure.

When she arrived in March '79,
At Merritt's Kennedy Space Center.
Two workers soon died from carbon monoxide,
While getting her ready to enter.

Her very first flight, round earth 36 times,
She safely touched down in California.
Success at her side, no more need for test flights,
As 3 more shuttles soon joined her.

Flying in space sometimes seems such a waste,
After all what's it ever do for ya?
The cost of it seems beyond social means,
Did God ever intend it for ya?

When Challenger's crew died attempting to fly,
Should that have been our first warning?
The program just grew, while nobody knew,
That another disaster was forming.

The years that went by she flew 20 more times,
With 2 more shuttles beside her.
The 21st flight seemed routine at the time,
Officials never really seemed bothered.

When she took flight all her systems seemed right,
Those on the ground never doubted.
A piece of foaming, tore a whole in a wing,
On lift-off, no one gave thought about it?

Officials never knew that the fate of the crew,
Was doomed when the mission first started.
The sheer irony of man's complacency,
Is his ability to carry on and disregard it.

Sixteen days in space now seem such a waste,
As she came in for her last landing.
The sight was serene, a magical scene,
To those who were watching and standing.

A tape later found, showed video and sound,
A thirteen minute recording,
None of the crew ever really knew,
Their mission was beyond aborting.

While descending in time, over Palestine,
She disintegrated without any warning.
Those that looked on, knew something was wrong,
The second white smoke started forming.

It all seemed unreal, dramatically surreal,
As spectator lines were still forming.
Unable to cope many lost hope,
That ill-fated February morning.

A terrorist plot was many's first thought,
How in God's name could this happen?
The war being fought, an Israeli astronaut,
Was this Osama Bin Laden?

She left a wide line of debris behind,
Across Texas, Arkansas and Louisiana,
The nation was shocked, NASA's program was blocked,
Terrorism was ruled from the banter.

In its aftermath, American's still ask,
Were the seven that died really worth it?
Their final words were solemnly heard,
Weeks after searchers unearthed it.

Two years would go by, no shuttles would fly,
While the government thoroughly investigated.
Plots were denied, officials criticized,
Meanwhile families concerned just waited.

No one knows why the innocent die,
It's a question for God in the hereafter,
In a crystal blue sky, in the blink of an eye,
Was the Columbia Space Shuttle Disaster.



Dedicated to the crew of Columbia:

Commander: Rick D. Husband
Pilot: William C. McCool
Payload Commander: Michael P. Anderson
Payload Specialist: Ilan Ramon
Mission Specialist: Kalpana Chawla
Mission Specialist: David M. Brown
Mission Specialist: Laurel Clark

Copyright © February 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001

020710

The Silhouettes of Marionettes

Everyone take your seats,
The shows about to begin.
No cameras or recording devices,
Let the houselights dim.

The stage is set, actors ready,
A momentary reprise.
All is quiet. eyes are focused,
Let the curtains rise.

Our story opens in a place,
Familiar to most our friends.
It's a solemn, regal space,
In the year 2010.

People have gathered in a room,
To watch a puppet show.
It's a common town hall affair,
That all good citizens know.

The puppets soon come to life,
With all the smiles they bring,
Those gathered forget all their strife,
And ignore their obvious strings.

Limply bouncing, loose arms swing,
The marionettes comically play.
They throw fake hats in political rings,
Spoken talents on display.

When the puppet show is over,
The audience stands and cheers.
Several members make their way over,
To congratulate their peers.

No one seems to notice,
Those gathered too have strings.
They disappear and loose their focus,
As if supported by little wings.

The moral of the puppet show,
Was never really debated.
It suggested most men were weak,
And easily manipulated.

The audience soon realizes,
What they have just seen,
A dramatic and comical satire,
Of a typical political scene.

Those gathered have been fooled in thinking,
That their opinions really matter.
What seems to mean the most to them,
Gets lost in all the chatter.

It's a show in a show,
Where audiences are actors.
Look behind and you may find,
Hidden controlling factors.

The irony of hypocrisy,
Is politians don't really care.
They're tendency toward deceit and greed,
Exceeds their social flair.

We are all influenced by,
Those we elect to share,
The moral views and attitudes,
That we so boldly wear.

Unfortunately the majority,
Of those that we elect.
Rarely meet the conformity,
Of the righteous and select.

We're all living puppets,
With strings upon our backs.
Barely visible little wires,
Strategically attached.

Bureaucratic political pawns,
Iraq and Gulf conned vets.
Statistics officials rely upon,
Silhouettes of marionettes.




Copyright © February 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001

021110

The Wizards, Witches and Warlocks Winter Jamboree

"Double, double, toil and trouble,
Fire burn and cauldron bubble..."

Once a year there's an icy breeze,
That chills bare bones and rustles trees.
An inaugural event that no mortal sees,
The Wizard, Witch and Warlock Jamboree.

The wind, it howls as large barn owls,
Wreak havoc in full moonlight.
As ravens, crows and eerie shadows,
Descend upon a site.

Out of the dark and pending gloom,
Comes voices, laughter and song.
While on the horizon fog banks loom,
Announcing this magical throng.

Closer, louder the folly grows,
As tension segues to cheer,
Moonbeams brighten, as mean moods lighten.
And the winter solstice nears.

Swirling winds means the party begins,
As witches arrive on their brooms.
Bursts of fire and small explosions,
Precede warlocks in the room.

Tables are reserved for the noble wizards
Dressed in colorful, lofty attire.
As they parade in, concoctions are served,
While pigs and beasts roast over fires.

Red carpets roll out and all the guests shout,
As celebrities start to arrive.
Merlin, Gandalf and Dumbledore decked out,
With ornate wands at their sides.

They've gathered their elite, to frolic and compete.
A collection of sorcerers, most discrete.
They're solemn and focused as they repeat,
Oaths and chants written on old scrolled sheets.

It's a festive night, with spells and fright,
One that few ever cast eyes upon.
It rolls along well into the night,
Ends just before predawn.

It's an occassion beyond estimation,
One that satisfies most wicked needs.
Centuries of evil and bent up frustration,
Gets quenched while no humans bleed.

When it finally ends this party of friends.
Dissipates quite solemnly.
The Witches, Warlocks and Wizards have plans,
For their next Annual Winter Jamboree.



Copyright © February 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
020109

A Touch

Reflections of young innocence hidden in the mind,

Recollections, time well spent, memories left behind.

Connections form a labyrinth of feelings unrefined.

Learning from relationships, facing uphill climbs,

Discerning all the joys and slips, retracing steps in time.

Yearning for acceptance, embracing what you find.

Reaffirming countenance, moving forward blind.

Suddenly subtlety's sensations soon unwind,

Revealing hidden frailties, temptations long confined.

Reaching toward its virile force, finding peace of mind,

Feeling for its surreal source, its one and only kind.

Tingling from that sense you sense, pleasures intertwined.

Knowing that with confidence true treasures you will find.

Appealing expressed consciousness, temperatures soon climb,

Reeling reflexed willingness, conjectures swoon sublime.

Realizing penned up passions, enticement’s mental clutch,

Mesmerizing inner spasms, incitement's gentle flux,

Sensualizing love's bridged chasm, the excitement of a touch.

Copyright © February 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm117
020510

Fallen

I wrote this the day Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett died...


Today an Angel has fallen,
Spread her wings and died,
A vision of countless young men's dreams,
The apple of teenage eyes.

An Image Warhol worthy,
A smile that made men weak,
She now lives immortal in reruns and movies,
And specials of the week.

Today a King has fallen,
A boy among men and song,
An American Idol who'd lost his way,
Whose life had just gone wrong.

He told the world He'd Be There,
His star may have risen too soon.
He sang of the alphabet and of rats named Ben,
He even walked the moon.

Today a generation mourns memories,
Of theatric and opulent beings,
Hail majestic and iconic vestal virgins,
Salute Fallen Angels and Kings.


Copyright © June 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
060109

Alzheimer's Lament

There's a world out there
Many people share,
A world we all seem to know.

Where solitude beckons,
And distortion reckons...
A place we all hate to go.

The elderly seem,
To know best what I mean
They gravitate, memories in tow.

Young people fear it
Don't dare get too near it,
An eminent centrifugal glow.

This place is intense,
Makes very little sense,
It pulls from above and below.

A place we're all lead
Where dreams butt heads
With shadows of thoughts that aren't so.

A world of reminiscence
Of gift-wrapped innocence,
Of times that seem so long ago.

Visions are riled,
Voices beguiled,
A river's uphill flow,

Delusions seem real,
Senses can't feel,
Reality sways to and fro.

Illusions are brief,
There's no real relief
A disease that never lets go.

Alzheimer's lament,
Is one's mind is left bent,
With thoughts it no longer knows.


Copyright © June 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
060109

I Gave My All

I gave my love a flower
In a gesture of chivalry,
I gave the world the power,
That God so blessed in me.
I gave my love a ring,
So she might marry me.
I gave the world my body,
In health and frailty.
I gave my love my seed,
To plant our family tree,
I gave the world 2 sons,
To preserve posterity.
I gave my love my life,
To embrace eternally.
I gave the world all I had,
To face eternity.

I gave my love my hands,
To hold close and lovingly.
I gave the world my eyes,
So a blind person might see.
I gave my love the vision,
Of what true love ought to be.
I gave the world my tongue,
To taste joys bitterly,
I gave my love sensations,
Wrought with sensuality.
I gave the world two lungs,
So those congested can breathe,
I gave my love a lasting breath,
Of fresh air and tranquility.
I gave the world two kidneys,
To cleanse life giving blood.
I gave my love the lasting knowledge,
That she was always my one true love.
I gave the world my heart,
So no other would miss a beat.
I gave my love a cherished life,
Complete and worry free.
I gave the world all my parts,
For those dying terminally.
I gave my love true memories,
To never forget me.
I gave the world all I had,
The day God came for me.


Copyright © December 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
090609

The Gridiron Waltz

Knights in tight satin, a collection of men,
Shrouded by equipment, worn to protect them.
Their goal is quite clear, to control and outscore,
Continually beat those who dare come back for more.

They'll ambush you, punish you, crush you for fun.
Keep coming at you until they have won.

Incredibly strong people, large man to man,
Playing a game, with fans in the stands.
Battling weekly, testing body and mind,
Seeking a victory, eleven men at a time.

Their fans are loyal, though they don't always win.
They gather together again and again.
Tailgates and parties, or watching with friends,
Hailing past victories or those that might have been.

They'll meet you and greet you, do everything to beat you.
Their one and only goal, to some way defeat you.

Knights in tight satin, always fighting to live,
Looking for honors no mere man can give.
Striving for victories over those they can't stand.
Complete satisfaction is when victory's in hand.

Going the distance, avoiding a fall.
Wins only come if you answer the call.
Reaching for goals, stretching your limits.
Achieving it all, in a matter of minutes.

Never begrudge them or negatively judge them,
Proudly support and unconditionally love them.

Champions are raised and bred to believe,
Little else matters than the respect they receive.
No one can deny a man's hopes and his dreams.
With goals in both ends and 100 yards in between.

Stand tall.
Be Proud.
Go for it all,
Second place is not aloud.
Separate yourself
From the rest of the crowd.
To the victor, the plunder,
To the loser, dicontent.
Don't let yourself wonder,
What might have been.
Be better then the rest,
The center of talk.
The best of the best,
The cream of the crop.
And in the end,
Don't assign faults,
Just go out and win,
The Gridiron Waltz.



Copyright © December 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
120109

I Came Home Today...

I came home today to find my dog had died,
We'd been together such a very long time.
I remembered when I first brought him home,
He was 2 months old, didn't like it alone.
He was full of life, my consummate friend,
He loved to play and take walks now and then.
No matter how often,
Where or when.
He was 12 years old the day he died.
I laid down and quietly cried.

I came home today to find my dad had died,
I had just been with him the previous night.
I remembered fondly the good times we'd had.
He was my mentor, a well thought of man,
He was always there, to chastise and commend,
My trusted advisor, my kindred Godsend,
It happened so fast,
His heart just gave in,
He was 63 the day he died.
I laid down and quietly cried.

I came home today to find my mom had died,
Her zest for life had just withered by,
I remembered how vibrant and beautiful she'd been,
The years posed a fight she just couldn't win.
My collective memories of her loving care,
I loved my mom, I wished I'd been there,
It all seemed surreal,
Unable to feel,
She was 68 the day she died.
I laid down and quietly cried.

I came home today and I realized,
How quickly the years had passed me by,
I remembered all my family and friends,
Who no longer graced this world I'm in.
Phantoms in dreams, cerebral ghosts,
My wife and children now matter most,
I treasured lost memories,
With a subliminal toast,
I'm 49, I subconsciously sighed,
I laid there a moment and quietly cried.


Copyright © August 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
080109

The Wind

You beat at my door,
But you're never there,
Rattle shingles and windows,
Your the source of nightmares.
You move through curtains,
With whimsical flair.
You climb through attics,
Without using stairs.
You whistle through cracks,
Without a pucker of air.
You can be heard and felt,
But not seen anywhere.

You rustle through treetops,
You tussle and tear,
You can muscle through road stops,
Without paying a fare.
You can stop all the sudden,
Sit quietly unaware.
Then blow quite violently,
Send debris everywhere.
You can blow through a tunnel,
Tip over chairs,
Fed through a funnel,
Disappear in thin air.

You've traveled to far places,
Without going anywhere,
You've spun in great circles,
Pitched buildings here and there,
You can pillage and rumble,
But never show wear.
You've climbed the highest mountains,
Without the slightest of dares,
You've flown high with kites,
While children stood and stared.
You've carried jet planes,
As they flew through the air.

You've billowed in rains,
With hurricane flair,
You've mangled umbrellas,
Shown very little care.
Made mountain sides crumble,
Left deserts bare.
You've caused men to stumble,
Without burdens to bear.
You've carried balloons.
In solemn affairs.
You've wrestled typhoons,
Made Islanders beware.

You've crossed the high seas,
Filled pirate ship sails,
Created great waves,
For surfers to share.
Blown straight in the faces
Of lions, tigers and bears.
Boaters adore you
With sails drawn in pairs,
Women don't trust you,
Lifting skirts in the air,
Men try to avoid you,
Blowing toupees, hats and hair.

Some have described you as God's Holy breath.
An inescapable source of truth, life and death,
A formidable gust that blows righteousness and sin.
An unbreakable force known as The Wind.


Copyright © August 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
080109

Until The Last Tear Is Shed

My Father died today.
And I wasn't there.
I wish I could have been.
I loved my dad and he loved me,
And I remembered when...

We laughed together,
We mourned together,
We fought a lot it seemed.
We had a lot of good times together,
We were quite a team.
But I never knew how much he cared,
It never crossed my mind,
I never knew how much I cared,
Until the day he died.

My Mother died today.
Again, I wasn't there.
I prayed that she went peacefully,
Her pain was hard to bear.
And I remembered when...

We talked of life and many things,
We were good friends, her and me,
We loved to argue
We loved to cook
We loved all the finer things.
But I never appreciated her full worth,
Never loved her like she loved me.
My mom was there since my birth,
She meant the world you see.

Now I'm the oldest of four children,
My parents are dead and gone.
It's hard to imagine how life has changed,
How we've all moved on.

Sometimes I wonder what life would be like,
If mom and dad weren't dead.
I'm sure I would treasure,
Our moments together,
Until the last tear is shed...


Copyright © June 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
060109

Anatomy of an Urge

It begins as a thought,
A momentary crave.
A small trickle of desire.
An inner suppressed craze.

At first I discard it,
Put it's notion to bed.
I'm unable to disregard it,
As my brainwaves are fed.

It lurks in my mind,
Though nothings been said.
It creeps and unwinds,
Grows where it's been bred.

The pressure's overwhelming,
All my thoughts are led,
The stimulus of it tells me,
It's locked in my head.

I want to ignore it,
Block it's attraction out.
My mind still explores it,
Without a fraction of doubt.

The feeling escalates,
The more I bout,
Soon I gravitate,
Toward what it's about.

It swells into a hankering,
Never levels out,
Before I know it I'm yearning,
Unable to do without.

The yearn becomes hunger,
The hunger becomes need,
The need turns into a frenzy,
It's a vile, aweful disease.

It's hard to avoid it,
The gravitational pull.
Soon I can't stand it.
The conjugational null.

So I satisfy my desire,
Quench my thirst.
The gratified fire,
Will no longer burst.

It never seems enough though,
As the flame retracts,
A dominating inferno,
Has a way of coming back.

Like a wave that's crested,
It's ebb rescinds.
The power of appetition,
Is where compulsion begins.

To gratify one's libido,
Is a momentary purge,
Impulses devoid of veto,
The propensity of an urge.



Copyright © October 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
100809

Little Sunbird (A Haiku)

Nature's feathered prize,
Acrobat of daytime skies,
Perched in branches high.




Copyright © November 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
110109

Albert's Final Equation

This is an Acrostic...


Famous Man of Science,
Atomic point of view,
Tested time compliance,
Had Newton's Laws reviewed.
Extemporary genius,
Relativity brilliant man,
Original quantum physicist,
Found time in many of his plans.
Man of German and Jew decent,
Often pictured with bad hair,
Defined the world through uncommon sense,
Explored gravity and emc squared.
Received Nobel Prize in '21,
Nuclear power conceiver.
Philadelphia Experiment dreamweaver,
Held black holes mostly devour.
Yet wormholes cut through time.
Science to him was ultimate power,
In theory and in mind.
Came to America in '33
Survived til '55.


Copyright © August 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
080109

Alabaster, Gold, Coral Blue and Grey

This poem speaks of The Rapture...


Happily ever after, to have and to hold,
Love true found, eternally saved.
Soul felt banter, a joy to behold,
Sapphire hews, irrepressible dismay.

Thoughts of hereafter, meticulously scrolled.
Hearts construed, morally depraved.
Winsome laughter, delightfully tolled,
Frightened, confused, distraught, betrayed.

Sequestered pastors, sins consoled,
Tight lipped, confused, unable to pray.
Cerebral spellcaster, futures foretold,
Immoral views, remorse conveyed.

Evil crafter, no defiance too bold,
Deplorable news, to lighten your day.
Taliban bastards, heartless and cold,
Sinister actor, evil portrayed.

Avoiding capture, selling of souls,
Floral blooms, cast in clay,
Invoking the rapture, lives controlled,
Choral tunes and chants replayed.

Kings and masters, nomadic wolds,
December moon, warm winter day.
Terror raptors, born from molds,
Dark at noon, wasting away.

Three benefactors, their legends pretold,
Psalms misconstrued, sung the wrong way.
Worn and tattered, subliminally cajoled.
Sober abuse, irreversible decay.

Nuclear reactors, secrets sold,
Atomic fuses, for sale on eBay.
Worldwide disasters, visions unfold,
Mushroom clouds, purple haze.

Lavender, silver, maroon extolled,
Toxic fumes, blind men gaze,
Time thereafter, loss of control,
A fortunate few, all gone astray.

There were Three Kings of Orient,
Who bore witness from a far,
The birth of a Lord and Savior,
Led by faith and the light of a star.

Borne gifts of frankincense, gold and myrrh,
Forecasts of deity, light and gloom,
A glorified child, the incarnate Word,
His future traversed from manger to tomb.

A new dawn's horizon, second coming foretold,
The Son will rise to mourn the last day.
Embracing the rapture with unopen arms,
Bathed in Alabaster, Gold, Coral Blue and Grey.


Copyright © September 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
093009

Another Rock 'n Roll Heaven

As kids today listen to their mp3's,
As disc jockey's roll back time.
Ipod's are packed full of memories.
Old Time Rock 'n Rollers past their prime.

Reunions seem shadows of what fans long for,
Cover Bands now dilute concert streams.
Many a passed favorite no longer tour,
They're found only in recordings and dreams.

Consider these greats for instance:

Jagger, Richards, Wyman and Watts,
Got Satisfaction as The Rolling Stones.
Under the thumbs of mother helpers and clouds,
Woods was in the shadows after the death of Brian Jones.

An unknown soldier who often got lit,
Broke through other sides and road in soft parade storms.
Found people strange, loved LA women madly,
When the music's over, in the end, Jim Morrison was the Doors.

Dazed and confused, they sang of immigrants and Kashmir,
Found a whole lot of lovin', good times and fame.
Rambled on broken levees, gallows and battles evermore,
Bonham took heaven's stairway, Zeppelin's songs were never the same.

They sang of a generation,
There's no question who they were,
Daltry and Townsend were their inspiration,
Keith Moon personified their words.

They electrified the scene with High Voltage,
Like an explosion of TNT,
ACDC paved their own Highway to Hell,
Bon Scott's voice was quite unique.

A band that defined the Southern Rock genre,
Lynyrd Skynyrd always had One for the Road.
He lived his life like a Free Bird,
Ron Van Zant called Alabama his sweet home.

Bands don't get much bigger than the Beatles,
They practically defined British Rock on their own.
John Lennon wrote of peace and mind games,
Imagined a world where we all live as one.

They each found success working solo,
Paul found love with a new Band on the Run,
Wings brought McCartney to new hi hi hi,
If only Linda not died so soon.

Now George seemed to come with the sun,
There was something in the way he gave.
His guitar never weeped, he found the Lord sweet,
As a Harrison, all things passed his way.

The South lost a pioneer and rambler,
A blues legend in talent and name.
Duane Allman was a true midnight rider,
Melissa and Jessica brought him posthumous fame.

He had a certain kind of magic,
One sure to give Queens a sheer heart attack.
His Rhapsody was poignantly tragic,
Freddie Mercury was a Champion that gave back.

The orchestral pit that now plays in the stars,
Seats musicians once the rock world's rage,
They filled stadiums and arenas, clubs and small bars,
In music annals you'll find their legacies on each page.

They now live in vinyl, cd and ipod heaven,
Legends of a once classical age.
When cigarette lighters and cell phone lights beckon,
These rockers will no longer take the stage.



Copyright © August 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
101809

These Are The Things...

These are the things that make me sad:

The abuse of a child, it's innocence shorn,
A broken marriage irreconcilably torn.
Family dysfunction, a societal thorn,
A public malfunction, a break from the norm.
Hunger or starvation in any form,
The face of frustration, lost and forlorn.
Mass destruction from a devastating storm.
An animal's pain, so helplessly worn,
Man's disregard for land where he was born.
Wasteful consumption with no burden borne.
The fall and demise from social scorn,
The anguish of death we all learn to mourn.

These are the things that make me glad:

Beating the odds when the chips are down,
A miraculous win in a sports crazed town.
The beauty of nature, it's wonders abound,
Seeing the world, each experience profound.
A baby's smile and first steps around,
An animal's birth, no words can be found,
A cool summer rain; shaped cumulus clouds,
A fresh snowy day, earth's blanketed shroud.
Recognition of feats that make men proud,
Evil's defeat, dispensed without sound.
The preservation of hallowed ground,
The grace of God and his merciful crown.

These are the things that I find are bad:

Blatant cruelty, acts wantonly unfair,
Flagrant destruction that others don't dare.
Malicious hate, wars wrought with despair,
Selfish debates by those who won't share.
Arrogant leaders who act unaware,
Those that can't wait to get anywhere.
Outright disrespect for who got you there,
Cold hearted neglect for those with burdens to bear.
Those that cheat, lie and steal to get everywhere,
Who deny and conceal their criminal affairs.
The brandishing of guns with extreme lack of care,
The embellishment of funds for personal flair.

These are the things that I wish I had:

The ability to create total Peace on Earth,
Honor all good men and all that they're worth.
The moral conviction to prod the inert,
The pastoral connection for a spiritual rebirth.
A billion dollars to fight famine and thirst,
The power to heal, provide shoes, clothes and work.
Infinite wisdom with the power to avert,
Natural disasters that wreak havoc and hurt.
A way to comfort all those that feel cursed.
A place to rest when things seem their worst.
The means to prosper, entertain and traverse,
The power to conquer all that ails the universe.


Copyright © September 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
090109

Self-Denied, Satisfied and Crucified

This is another work written to accompany art by Rougepriest of the OP site. He is a very talented artist and poet. Thank you, Dan, for the inspiration and use of your work.


Living lives of selfish pride,
Telling lies unjustified.
Tethered by lines that forever bind.
Severing ties that cloud one's mind.
Reaching for futures once left behind,
Searching for answers one hopes to find.

The worth of existence is characterized,
By a desire and persistence to capitalize.
One's power and resistance to sanctify,
The honor and sustenance they realize.
That forge a consistence emphasized,
By truth and conviction conceptualized.

Exertion of discipline, self-denied,
Personal resolve, determined pride.
Self-respect, a spiritual side,
Others detect and try to abide.
Tithes that connect and coincide,
Eyes that reflect what burns inside.

A fascination with the opposite sex,
A realization of what comes next.
Envisioning a gender's private parts,
Is where physical attraction usually starts.
A desire to touch a forbidden fruit,
Could cause the other to follow suit.

A climax worth effort, is a goal satisfied,
It may last forever, or never be tried.
Knowing one's limits is knowing one's mind,
Self-discipline exhibits control hard to find.
Satisfaction sustained does damage in time,
Self-gratification remains the simplest kind.

God gave mankind the ability to enjoy,
The pleasures one's body readily employs.
It's the gift of Mother Nature's romantic joy,
The rift that Lucifer so blatantly deploys.
It's the power of temptation that lured even Christ.
Eternal damnation, the Devil's devise.

If Angels and Aliens were left to decide,
Would Jesus have suffered, been crucified?
Only God knows the true worth of men,
The power of conviction and sentence for sin.
The lure of lust and the penchant to win,
Righteousness begins where immorality ends.





Copyright © October 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
110909

The Face of Infernal Destruction

The accompanying art to this poem is the work of Dan C. The Rougepriest of the OP site. He is a very talented artist and poet. Checkout his work on his profile. Thank you Dan...


Tornadic swirls of refuse filled air,
Tsunamic curls of long blond hair.
Cyclonic gusts and destructive waves,
Bubonic thrusts of disastrous plagues.

Flood ridden lands from crested seas,
Wind driven sands from a harmattan breeze.
Volcanic eruptions of lava and debris,
Cataclysmic consumption of atrocities.

Hurricane winds of unimaginable force,
Uncontrolled fires retraced to their source.
Cities and towns that earthquakes devastate,
Islands abound that Monsoons obliterate.

Mountains alive with avalanche slides,
Countless survive seismic sea tides.
Record hot days scorching scores,
Tidal waves ravaging shores.

Mother Nature's rapture tips,
The four horsemen of the Apocalypse.
Revelations revealed by seven sins,
The seventh seal's where equations begins.

Terrorist attacks' repulsive pride
Hailstorms exact an avarice guise.
Earthquakes announce the end of times,

Sloth's denounced when fraternized.
Envy burns distaste inside,
Vanity churns ill wakes of tides.
Evil assumes any shape or size,
Nuclear wars loom in the wake of time.

Seven seals exposed reveal,
Incandescent wrath concealed.
Gluttonous scorn where famine lurks,
Nations borne with stimulant perks,
Sacred lands scourged by waste,

Atomic bands reverberate.
Nostradamus prophesied,
Death precedes the Antichrist.

Symbolic rituals, mnemonic discourse,
En-tonic nuptials of demonic recourse,
Visions of martyrs, death revered,
Eternal barters adept to fear.
Notable trumpets of angels near.

Savored lust will fan the fires,
Incepted mistrust of habitual liars.
Neurotic contests with psychic storms.
Seven conquests of Apocalyptic scorn.


Copyright © August 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
102009

Canopied Calliope

Canopied Calliope,
Superfluously Sublime.
Serenity's Soliloquy,
Superlative Sacred Rhymes.

Tangerine Listerine,
Cerebral Censored Crimes.
Phosphorescent Movie Screens.
Fluorescent Shoe Shines.

Serpendine Jelly Beans,
Pickled Pepper Pops.
Piccadilly Popsicles,
Corrugated Cough Drops.

Immitation imagination,
Maniacal mayhem.
Mystical mutilation,
Sobrietol social sham.

Weerie Weather Worrywarts,
Magical Mini Mimes.
Egotistical escorts,
Whimsical wind chimes.

Pretzel Pasted Potato Chips,
Conceptually Clear Craisins.
Lollipop loopty loops,
Candy Coated Cravings.

Marmalade Lemonade,
Ice Crematorium Shells.
Cascades of Cellophane,
Colloquial Quested Quells.

Simulated Silly Saunters,
Recreational Reprieves,
Stimulated Safe Crackers,
Semi-sensational severed sleeves.

Canopied Calliope,
Synchronized Circus tunes,
Cavalcades of Parade fav's.
Carnivalesque choral croons.


Copyright © October 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
110409

Whose To Blame?

I watched my dog give birth one morn to 10 new healthy pups,
It was the most amazing sight I think I'll ever see.
She protected, fed and nurtured them until they all grew up,
It happened quick and naturally,
Ten lives bore so tenderly,
In retrospect, it occurred to me,
A life is so precious, no two the same,
If taken for granted then whose to blame?

I watched a man beat his dog while muzzled and restrained,
It made me sick, it made me mad, to think he could be so cruel.
There should be repercussions for acts, so inhumane,
A higher court for abused animals, to combat inflicted pain.
With tougher laws, more stringent rules,
To deal with cowardly, abusive fools.
I watched this horror with helpless shame,
I asked my God, whose to blame?

I saw where some teens beat a helpless cat then set it's fur on fire,
It sickened me as this story unfurled and the teens were put on trial,
I clenched my teeth in silent rage, to still my vengeful desire.
These hateful acts on defenseless creatures, so ludicrous and vile
How can people stoop so low?
Where did their compassion go?
And in the end, when the verdict came,
There was no fault, there was no blame.

What's the price,
Of our disdain?
The Devil's reprise,
Is a bitter game.
If we let it remain the same,
We're all at fault,
We're all to blame.

Dogs forced to fight in a center ring, killed if they abstain,
All supported by a local hero of football wealth and fame,
The misery of brutality, mental anguish and physical pain,
Where is the morality, in calling this sport a game.
Man's best friend?
Until the end?
An ironic, demonic claim,
My God, whose to blame?

What's the price? Whose to say?
Do animals matter anyway?
We should all feel dismay.
Bow our heads and walk away,
They have rights, like me and you,
What gives man the right to abuse?
We're all God's creatures, just the same.

And in the end, come judgement day,
The verdicts not ours anyway,
Tears won't matter, nor solemn regrets,
Our choices will determine the sentence we get.
We'll stand heads hung, in reverent shame,
Then it won't matter whose to blame.


Copyright © August 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
080109

Timid Timothy

Timid Timothy,

And Trepid Tiffany,

Were an ambivalent pair.

One day Timothy,

Had an epiphany,

Of a maiden fair.

Said Timid Timothy,

To Trepid Tiffany,

I have a vision to share.

It's simply the epitome,

Of an epiphany of someone I truly find fair.

Timothy cared a lot for Tiffany,

But Timothy never dared,

Share with Tiffany his deepest sympathy,

Feelings which she simply was unaware.

So Timid Timothy shared his epiphany,

And Tiffany soon became scared.

The maiden fair for whom Timothy cared,

Was a vision that Tiffany shared.

Said Trepid Tiffany to Timid Timothy,

Lets settle this fair and square.

See, you're my epiphany and the epitome

Of feelings I tepidly wear.

Her honesty cleared the air.

So Timid Timothy asked Trepid Tiffany,

To be his true maiden fair.

Trepid Tiffany and Timid Timothy,

Became an inseparable pair.

Amidst a symphony of modest timidity,

The remedy was all too clear.

So Timid Timothy married Trepid Tiffany.

Forever together they shared,

A true love that was always there.

Copyright © December 2009

Kevin Mooney

kmm001

121509

An April Psalm

Another April is upon us.

Consider these events and what might be next...

History's inscribed with painful regrets,
Time-stamped reminders we'd just soon forget.
Life changing moments wrought with misery,
Sober atonement's to God's apathy.


Consider this sequence of mid-April dates,
A 2-week stretch worth scholarly debates,
A series of occurrences without common thread,
A collection of tragedies riddled with dead.


April 12, 1861


A war between brothers, a nation divided,
The question of Slavery, debate undecided,
A Fort's forced surrender, human dignity fought for,
The Anguished Overture to The American Civil War...


April 12, 1945


Our 32nd President, nationally adored,
Died in office, the free world mourned.
The most tenured Chief in U.S. history,
Distinction was Franklin's lasting legacy ...


On April 14, 1865


While our nation reeled to get back on it's feet,
Abe Lincoln was shot in his balcony seat,
"Sic Semper Tyrannis", his assailant cried,
"He belongs to the ages", a martyr had died.


April 14th, 1912


A ship's maiden voyage, an unsinkable fate,
A runaway iceberg too little, too late.
A Titantic virgin, high society's newest rave,
1500 passengers sent to icy hallowed graves.


April 15, 1986,


Middle Eastern tension and territorial defense,
A Berlin club bombed, a dire consequence,
Libya then shelled in retaliation,
60 lives felled, no warning or provocation.


On April 16th, 2007,


A serene college campus in a rural southern state,
32 died at the hands of a class-mate,
Virginia Tech ravaged by a rampaged massacre,
A Blacksburg savage shooting disaster.


April 17, 1961


At the Cold War's peak, a secret coup spoiled,
A surprise invasion to take Cuban soil.
Kennedy's embarrassing political low,
A Bay of Pigs and failed Castro overthrow.


April 18, 1906


A west coast quake, San Francisco torn,
San Andreas faltered in the early morn.
The city shook while most folks slept,
3000 died, scores left bereft.


April 19, 1775


Sovereignty sought, a declaration unfurled,
Red Coats and Minutemen, insults hurled,
A Lexington Common to settle the score,
A single shot heard, a Revolutionary War.


April 19, 1993


A poorly planned siege in a small Texas town,
An Adventist's forged stand on Koreshian ground.
Waco's Davidians, FBI, ATF,
82 perished, most burned to death.


April 19, 1995


Oklahoma, City, the last place you'd expect,
A rental truck blast, sheered lack of respect.
Alfred P. Murray's face blown to smithereens,
A day care center and heart-wrenching scenes.


April 20, 1999


Two young gunman arrived at their school late,
Their intent malicious, their motive pure hate.
A rapid fire stroll in armored disguise,
12 Columbine kids, a teacher victimized.


April 20, 2010


An oil spill disaster beyond compare,
A world engulfed in ecological despair.
Wildlife and lives scarred thereafter,
The BP Deepwater Horizon disaster.


April 27, 2011


A US, mid-west tornadic storm,
Millions of lives irrevocably torn.
God's epic wrath funneled from above,
Record tornadoes, lost homes and ones loved.



These world changing dates seem random at a glance,
But placed on a timeline they're suddenly enhanced.
I only named some, those most can relate,
There are many others that fall in these dates.
A coincidence, perhaps, they happened when they did,
But consider they're significance, the possibilities unsaid.


Do worldly events occur randomly?
Or are we all tokens of some sovereign monopoly?
Are our future's staged, fates foretold?
Or are we engaged in some Divine stranglehold?


Is the future controlled by events in the past?
Outcomes determined when calendar's cast?
Are questions answered before they are asked?
How long will God's mercy eventually last?


If there's no purpose to one's life at all,
Would there be a need for crystal balls?
Existence is tenuous, the future unclear,
Will God's beckon call be the last voice we hear?


History defines both time and existence,
Misery reminds just how fragile life is.
The future's traversed with blind trepidation,
Mysteries are cursed beyond Deprecation.


Church bells chime with tethered consistence,
While rivers wind forever persistent.
Mankind's time is measured and imminent,
Lives intertwined then gone in an instant.

  Copyright © July 2009Kevin Mooney

kmm059

070109

Quincy Who

Jolly retired wealthy tycoon,

Indelibly adored.

McBarker was his loyal friend,

Blissful musical score.

A laugh-a-minute virtual guise,

Charismatically restored.

Kind of "top hat, trench coat" disguise,

Unselfish to the core.

Squinting always to be seen,

With nephew Waldo by his side.

Audaciously demur in every scene,

Silly predicaments of blind insight.

Mister was the first name he shared,

Always caught in some comic mess.

Gregarious, myopic acting flair,

"Oh you've done it again" he always says.

Our nearsighted vaudevillian-aire guest.





Copyright © June 2009

Kevin Mooney



kmm001

061509

Innocent Eyes

Eyes so brilliant,

Eyes refined,

Eyes resilient,

Eyes so kind.



Have you ever looked into an animal's eyes?

Wondered what's on their mind?

Do they think like you and I?

Are their thoughts like yours and mine?

What goes on inside their head?

Do they stare right back at you?

Or do they look away instead?

I wonder what they're thinking too.

Do they dream about what they see?

Ever imagine they're you or me?



Eyes romantic,

Eyes disguised,

Eyes gigantic,

Eyes so wise.



I once looked a gorilla straight in the eyes.

Through a pane of glass only inches wide.

He stared back at me, he was twice my size,

We were literally sitting side by side.

We gazed at each another as if no one was there,

I saw my reflection in his deep dark eyes.

Our minds were locked in a hypnotic stare.

I blinked first, then to my surprise,

He raised his chin, as if to say,

I may not be free, but I won today.



As I stood to leave the room,

I braced my self against the glass,

Suddenly I heard a sonic boom,

As he hit the window with all his mass.

The whole pane shook against the strain,

It wobbled as spectators began to run.

I felt horrified, then a little ashamed,

This proud fellow had had his fun.

We'd all been pawns in his whimsical fling.

Though he was captive, he was still the King.



Eyes familiar,

Eyes of time,

Eyes so similar,

Eyes that remind.



I often stare into my dog's eyes,

They're black as coal, dark and dense.

She'll look at me, then realize,

Then look away in self defense.

Some say dogs see the world,

In only black and white.

Not in color, it sounds absurd,

I'm not really sure they're right.

But if they never see color schemes,

I wonder about their thoughts and dreams?



Eyes of virtue,

Eyes so fine,

Eyes brand new,

Eyes so blind.



When puppies are born, they can't see,

The world's a dark and scary place.

Their tiny lives preposterously,

Exist within their mother's space.

They root around for her milk, trying to stay alive.

I'm sure to most their worlds seem bleak,

How long can blind dogs survive?

Could they live on their own a week?

It's difficult to tell.

Are blind dog's eyes replaced by their sense of smell?



Eyes remind,

Eyes reveal,

Eyes confide,

Eyes conceal.



Have you ever looked into a child's eyes,

They're reflectively serene,

They twinkle like stars in midnight skies,

They're as pure as a blank movie screen.

They're innocently delightful,

Pools of blue and aqua green.

Their view of life's insightful,

They soak up all they see.

The eyes of a child are quite possibly,

Crystal balls of what might be.



Eyes sublime,

Eyes surreal,

Eyes in time,

Eyes that feel.



Most of God's creatures possess,

A sense of what they see.

Eye's are amazing engineering conquests,

In animals, birds and bees.

Some say they're windows to the soul,

Portholes of what's been seen.

Small cameras recording life's events,

Vessels of hopes and dreams.



Eyes of confidence,

Eyes so blue,

Eyes suggestive,

Eyes for you.



Of all the eyes the world can boast,

It's Innocent Eyes that see the most.





Copyright © December 2009

Kevin Mooney



kmm001

082409