Children Of Destiny

Born beyond reason,With no right to choose,No future, starvation,Unsightly abuse.Never a burden,Lacking in care.Lives so uncertain,They're not really there.No beds to sleep in,No chairs to sit.No arms to weep in,No chance to quit.No house to live in,No shelter or room.No toilet or kitchen,Just impending doom.Meals are a benefit,So seldom seen.The food that they do get,Is putrid and green.Water so dirty,Many times used,Not one ounce of purity,Yet seldom refused.Clothes that are tattered,Shredded and torn,Shoes never matter,They're rarely ever worn.God's children entertained,With a lack of consequence.Their fate prearranged,Without meaning or sense.Lacking any inklingOf substance at all.Lives always sinking,In a vast karmic squall.Fighting from day one,For an ounce of dignity.Never able to say they won,A preordained destiny.

Copyright © January 2010Kevin Mooneykmm001011610

With All That's Happening

The sun came up, a child was born
It was a beautiful thing.
He was proclaimed a King.

Some heard an Angel sing.

No one knew, to the world,
What that child would mean.
The hope his life would bring.

As a man he would demand,
A change in society.
Race equality.

A place where freedom rings.

On April 4th in '68, at 6:01 p.m.
A shot changed everything.
A single bullet bore through him,
And martyrdom did bring.

To Martin Luther King.

The sun came up, a child was born,
It was a wonderful thing.
Some heard Angels sing.

Christina Taylor Greene.

No one knew the day before,
What that day would bring..
Twin towers fell in a fiery hell,
A nation lay dying.

Lord what was happening?

Amid the strife, a single life,
Helped to ease some pain.
No one knew that her life,
Would break our hearts again.

It was just a matter of when.

The sun came up that Saturday morn,
It was a trivial thing.
As normal as can be.

Amid good weather, folks came together,
For a social gathering,
A political happening.

All knew well, Ms Gabrielle,
And showed support for her.
Not knowing what would occur.

Except Jared Lee Loughner.

Amid pained shouts, shots rang out,
Innocent people died.
With loved ones by their side.

Those that watched just cried.

Among the dead, Christina bled,
Another martyr born.
The target of his scorn?

An entire nation mourned.

In the aftermath, people have,
Tried to reason why.
Christina had to die.

So many innocent lives.

In days gone by, birds have died,
Fish in multitudes.
Floods have ravaged Australia,
Volcanoes erupted too.

Is the whole world coming unglued?

With all that's happening should man be grappling,
With what his future holds?
Did Martin die for you and I?
Was the rapture put on hold?
Was a September 11th child's tragic death,
A sign of things to come?
Is what's happening around the world,
A message for everyone?

Has the end begun?


Copyright © January 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
120410

Those Short Eyes

This is my contribution to the Original Poetry Wooden forum competition on child abuse prevention. Sorry if it offends...


Short Eyes: a pedophile, or one who is jailed for child molestation


I see eyes looking at me.
Innocent eyes, tenderly.
Brilliant eyes, calling me.
Children' eyes, dauntingly.

I see eyes staring at me.
Icy eyes, glaringly.
Sinister eyes, wanting me.
Piercing eyes, haunting me.

Innocent child,
Innocent eyes.
Radiant smile,
Quiet and shy.

Come and sit with me a while.
I'm a friendly pedophile.
I'm an evil that lurks and festers,
I'm the Devil, a child molester.

Where's your father?
Where's your mother?
Do you have a sister or a brother?

Make a wish,
I insist.
Look, I have a special gift.

Be aware,
Do not stare.
Will you let me touch you there?

Do not yell,
Never tell,
Crawl into your little shell.

Ball into your private hell.

What a surprise,
Such beautiful eyes,
Can I caress inside your thighs?

Don't mind my sweat,
I like it wet.
Will you be my special pet?

Here one sec,
Gone the next.
You never know what to expect.

You're never going to forget.

Children beware,
Of strangers' stares.
Be conscious of their hidden lairs.

Don't be blind,
Know the signs,
They come in many shapes and kinds.

Their short eyes, are their disguise.
Be vigilant and recognize.
Confident and extra wise.

Know they're out there, everywhere.
Lying, hiding, always there.

Know that someone out there cares.
Trying, fighting for your care.

Don't be afraid to ask or share.
Don't be afraid of your fear.

Don't give in to strangers' lies?
Yell for help, vocalize.
Run and hide, to survive.
Tell someone about the guy.
It doesn't matter what your size,
Don't become his next prize.

A permanent, living, breathing prize.

Somewhere, out there, freedom lies,
Beyond their grasp, binds and ties.
Reach for those you recognize,
Don't speak or go with those short eyes.


Copyright © October 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
103010

Stop The Drama

Stop the drama, Mr. Osama,
You're never gonna win.
One day God will find a way,
To payback all your sin.

The world's a better place you see,
As long as you're a refugee.
Good will win in the end,
Justice will prevail.

Stop the drama, Mr. Obama,
False promises you send.
We all pray for the day,
We all work again.

We've lost our hope and dignity,
Playing games of wait and see.
How much worse can worse be?
We shout to no avail.

Stop the drama, Mr. Osama,
We no longer care.
Your the face of Islamic disgrace,
Stir hate everywhere.

One day we will find you,
Huddled in your scorn.
That's when we'll remind you,
Of that September morn.

Stop the Drama, Mr. Obama,
Do what you foretold.
The politics make us sick,
The rhetoric's getting old.

We all want the wars to end,
Give us back our children.
Let God be the judge of them,
Do what's right and fair.

Stop the drama, Dalai Lama,
Can't we all be friends?
Find a way to take away,
The suffering of men.

Let us find peace of mind,
Help all heartbreaks mend.
We all search for better times,
Can't you tell us when?

Stop the drama, Mr. Obama,
Lead us back again.
Rise above like a dove,
In search of new dry land.

I suppose the man we chose,
Is not the one who won.
Don't give in and bow to those,
To whom you're bound to run.

Stop the drama, if you want to,
Be the best you can.
Faith's the cure to endure,
God is your best friend.

All our dreams and all our hopes
Struggles with which we all cope,
There's no better anecdote,
Then fortitude and prayer.

Seek salvation for our nation,
Prosperity and care.
Love thy neighbor without waver,
Know that God is there.



Copyright © October 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
100710

Children of Destiny

Born beyond reason,
With no right to choose,
No future, starvation,
Unsightly abuse.
Never a burden,
Lacking in care.
Lives so uncertain,
Not really there.
No beds to sleep in,
No chairs to sit.
No arms to weep in,
No chance to quit.
No house to live in,
No shelter nor room.
No toilet nor kitchen,
Just impending doom.
Meals are a benefit,
So seldom seen.
The food that they do get,
Is putrid and green.
Water so dirty,
Many times used,
No ounce of purity,
Yet seldom refused.
Clothes that are tattered,
Shredded and torn,
Shoes never matter,
They're rarely worn.
God's children ordained,
With a lack of consequence.
Their fate prearranged,
No meaning or sense.
Lacking any inkling
Of substance at all.
Perpetually sinking,
In a vast karmic squall.
Fighting from birth,
For an ounce of dignity.
Deprived of their worth,
A preordained destiny.


Copyright © January 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001

Trick or Treat

I'm a ghost that everyone can see,
A spiritual guise, a flesh tapestry.
A vaporous cloud of orgasmic debris,
A family's cursed plasmic monstrosity.

I'm a ghost no one wants to see,
Conspicuously disguised as the world wants me to be.
My parent's once proud scholastic delight,
Now a nightmare of disappointment and fright.

Every morning I wake and rise from bed,
Go through gyrations without words ever said.
My room is my haven, my cryptic lair,
I look in the mirror but nobody's there.

I float down halls and stay out of sight,
I lurk in the dark, avoid the light.
I am a shadow, a wisp of cold air.
Turn a corner and I might be there.

The masks that I wear are my own flesh and blood,
I'd shed my skin if only I could.
I cloak my identity, hide unaware,
I invoke anonymity with makeup and hair.

I haunt my oppressors, terrorize their sleep.
I am fraught with transgressions, its retributions I seek.
I'm distraught with beseechers that criticize and preach,
I'm fed up with teachers that do more than teach.

I am an apparition in most peoples' minds,
In perpetual transition, my soul left behind.
Torment's my legacy, my skin is my shroud,
I'm on a different frequency, shouting out loud.

My friends all fear me, my parents don't hear me,
Those I'm around can't stand to be near me.
Everyone looks and peers right through me.
Its the gawking and staring that always gets to me.

My parents don't beat me, mistreat me or speak to me.
They'd rather ignore me, deplore me than adore me.
It gets pretty lonely when there's no one to share,
The thoughts and emotions a lost soul has to bear.

I am a ghost both conscious and alive,
I live in most households just trying to survive.
A teenage ethereal being with no voice or dignity,
A vision worth seeing, a conspicuous reckoning.

So remember when you're out there on October 31st,
When you ring certain doorbells expect the worst.
Behind every door there may be laughter and screams,
Ghosts may be after more than candy it seems.

Count all your blessings, avoid spectral beings,
A spirit can mess with your hopes and your dreams.
Don't be surprised if the apparition you see,
Is one all too familiar this Halloween.

Trick or treat...



Copyright © October 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
102709