The Face of Death

I walk the streets late at night,
I know who you are,
I know where you live and work,
I have a key to your car.
I am coming to get you,
Its only a matter of time.
No one can protect you,
There's no place to hide.

You may be in the shower,
Or in your favorite chair.
You might be asleep in bed,
You won't know that I'm there.
It'll be when you least expect it,
The last thing on your mind.
You may feel secure and protected,
When I get you from behind.

The pain will be minimal,
It will only last an instant.
The fear you'll have will be subliminal,
Your brain will fight against it.
The last thing that you'll ever see,
Will be all you remember.
You'll never even know it's me,
As your body is dismembered.

I embody your worst nightmare,
A fate you can't avoid.
I haunt shadows everywhere,
Loom within each void.
I embrace both fear and hate,
Consume life's final breath,
I'm a tomb with no escape,
I'm the face of death.



Copyright © September 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
092510

Perpetual Nightmare

Lying here half asleep,
In a subconscious state.
Having prayed my soul to keep,
My mind's still half awake.
There's no sound, not a peep,
The silence escalates.
I finally try counting sheep,
Things start to deteriorate.

Something in the attic creaks,
The ceiling fan starts to shake
The ticking clock's rhythmic beat,
Begins to resonate.
I'm feeling numb, my limbs grow weak,
Lights grow dim then dissipate.
Barely lucid, unable to speak,
I start to hallucinate.

I try to take one last peek.
But it becomes too late.

And I begin to dream...

Mind drifting ever deep,
My thoughts turn into scenes.
Ghostly vision vapors seep,
Through billowing walls of steam.
Standing on a ledge so steep,
Balancing on a beam.
Whispered voices call to me.
Things aren't what they seem.

I notice several shadows,
Inching their way toward me.
I turn my back to retreat,
Then feel a hand grab me.
I struggle desperately to get free,
But cannot move my feet.
The situation's growing bleak,
I close my eyes, fain defeat,
Then reclaim reality.

I hear broken laughter,
Echoing in a breeze.
I sit up and raise my head,
Wrap my arms around my knees.
My body rises off the bed,
I'm floating effortlessly.
I feel the eyes of the dead,
Staring straight at me.

Something on me is crawling,
My legs start to burn.
Bugs are moving beneath my sheets,
Wiggling thousands of worms.
I try to move my frozen feet,
My stomach starts to churn.
My body can no longer compete,
I scream but hear no words.

There comes a distant knocking,
Someone opens a door.
I see the crack of a light,
Feel sanity start to restore.
The light continues to get bright,
It stretches across the floor.
The evil that was the night,
Possesses me no more.

I see the sun start to rise,
Then shadows disappear.
I'm no longer terrified,
No longer full of fear.As my room fills with light,
And morning time grows near.
I finally come to realize,
What's really happening here.
I've survived another night,
Conquered my worst fears.

I start to get out of bed,
For some reason I cannot move.
My arms are pinned at my side,
I'm trapped in a glass cocoon.
The walls around me are crystallized,
I can see my surrounding room.
I'm trapped inside a crypt of some kind,
Transparently consumed.
I struggle not to lose my mind,
To escape this invisible tomb.

I then relax, lay back and wait,
Lie still and start to stare.
The harder that I concentrate,
The sooner I'll get out of here.
But somehow I feel I'm awake,
Unconsciously unaware.
I'm trapped inside my mental state,
I pray to God that I escape,
Find an exit, a way to wake,
From this perpetual nightmare.


Copyright © October 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
103110

The Castles of Callisto

Dusk arrives to blanket the skies,
Celestial eyes appear.
Galilean moons rise in tune,
Millions of miles from here.


Shadows loom as vapors consume,
Callisto's stark terrain.
The silhouettes of castles rest,
Haunting those that remain.


Mountain peaks imprison the weak,
The immoral and insane.
Within the walls one hears the calls,
Of irrepressible pain.


Satan's manifesto,
Evils native son.
The Castles of Callisto,
Eternity's just begun.


Silence speaks while insanity seeks,
Minds twisted, confused and deranged.
Nobility rules this kingdom of fools,
Where thoughts are controlled and contained.


Whispers are heard but rarely a word,
The echoes of distant bells ring.
Listeners converge but never emerge,
Souls anguish, alone in its wings.


Governed by ghosts of ancient hosts,
Spirits belie their disguise,
Phantom thieves and pirates boast,
Of fortunes, treasures and lies.


No one escapes Callisto's fate,
Tenants are eternally bound.
To hesitate may be too late,
Your remnants may never be found.


The Castles of Callisto,
Sheer walls of hallowed doom.
Men have tried,
Been denied,
Locked up and marooned.


The Castles of Callisto,
Hell calls from every room.
Its sovereignty,
Just might be,
Man's final resting tomb.

Copyright © September 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
090310

A Gunslinger's Last Request

To whom it may concern:

Bury my bones on 'Ole Boot Hill,
Down El Paso way.
I'm at the end of life's lonesome trail,
I'm saying goodbye today.

I've ridden many dusty roads,
I've killed a man or two.
The way I see it, I suppose,
My time's 'bout overdue.

I've outrun my share of lawman,
Escaped many a mess.
I've outdrawn lesser gunmen,
Was faster then all the rest.

I been lucky up to now,
Life's been good to me.
The time's come now to bid farewell,
I do so honorably.

Bury me up on 'Ole Boot Hill,
With my Colt 45.
Lay me in my spurs and heals,
Arms crossed, not at my side.

No need for tears, no need to pray,
Just a board or stone,
Not in too shallow a grave.
To rest my weary bones.

Bury me up on 'Ole Boot Hill,
Before my flesh decays.
As for any parting words,
Here's what they should say:

In this grave are 'Ole Pete's bones,
The fastest gun these parts have known.
Spent most his life on the run.
He finally met a faster gun.


Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
082511

BD Boulevard

There's place on the edge of town,
Where spirits often gather.
They appear when no ones around,
To share and drink together.
Entities of personalities,
Hollywood's hallowed names.
Eternity's celebrities,
Heaven's walk of fame.
They fantasize and reminisce,
About good times and the bad.
They drink to lives they all miss,
Drown sorrows each one's had.
The bar is lined with Father Time's,
Ghosts of darkened screens.
They raise their glasses synchronized,
Toast fan hearkened scenes.
If one happens to catch a glimpse,
For one fleeting split second.
In the blink of eye they dispense,
Into wisps of plasmic essence.
Outside bright lights and neon signs,
Cast shadows and hope-filled beams.
While honored stars seek encores,
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams.


Copyright © September 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
093010

A Special Guest For Dinner

I stopped on my way home from work,
To pick up a few extra things.
A bottle of wine, some tall red candles,
A dessert and vanilla ice cream.
I'm having a guest for Dinner,
And I want everything just right.
I don't want to appear like a beginner,
On this one very special night.

I have the main course cooking,
It simply smells delicious.
The lights are dim, the air is fresh,
I've set out my best china dishes.
He'll be here any minute,
Let me check just one more time.
Maybe a little more garlic in it,
The stew I've made tastes just fine.

I go over to the refrigerator,
And open the freezer door.
It's full of bags of severed meat,
All frozen to the core.
In the center two eyes just stare,
Through a zip locked Glad freezer bag.
They're both looking straight at me,
Surprised and somewhat sad.

I grab some ice, adjust what's there,
Lady fingers, giblets and feet.
I take a quick mental inventory,
Of all the tidbits I still have to eat.
Stuff to make liver with onions,
Fresh soups and kidney stew.
Enough to feed me and my guests,
For another week or two.

I'm really looking forward,
To this evenings special guest.
We met at a bar the weekend before,
He just stood out from all the rest.
He's well traveled and debonair,
A doctor of some sort it seems.
He has a refined elegant air,
And a taste for fava beans.

I hope I don't seem too presumptuous,
Remain calm and self-contained.
I found him to be quite scrumptious.
I would love to pick his brain.
I'm wreathing with anticipation,
Perspiring just a bit.
I have a renewed appreciation,
For how nervous some people get.

Relax, take a breath, it's almost time,
The table's all been set.
Cleaver, pairing and carving knives,
Are as sharp as they can get.
Sterling silver dinnerware,
And a bottle of Chianti wine,
A touch of elegant savior faire,
And some chloroform's just fine.

A car, he's here, another breath,
A quick look in the mirror.
I see myself and I see death,
And embrace it's debt and horror.
The door bell rings, I'm feeling calmer,
The fun's about to begin.
I open the door, hear hello Mr. Dahmer,
Doctor Lechter, won't you please come in.


Copyright © September 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
091710

The Last Judgement

This poem is a tribute to The Beatles White Album and was written on 9/9/2009. It's an acrostic. Try to guess what the acrostic is...

So the four angels were released,
Who were prepared for this hour,
Day, month and year to kill,
A third of man thus empowered. (Revelation 9:15)

There rose a dark angel from the abyss,
A fallen star from a fiery mist.
He was given the key to the pit,
A prophesy soon rose out of it.

Revolution.

Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine...

Back in the days of Kings and Czars,
Dearly beloved, most prudently proud.
Glasses be raised both near and far,
Oh for the love of an LA crowd.
Wilderness hones each fragile magpie,
Tears both stain and broken hearts still.
Withered remains of guitars that fly,
Help heal souls and hopes fulfill.

Marvelous martyrs meander near,
Idiosyncrasies wasting away.
Blips on screens, fouls that fear,
Pestilent parasites caught in the fray.
Rock the child, recline the weary,
Do not allow them to slither away.
Why should a child's future be cheery,
If only the poor are willing to pay.
Judge yourself on Judgement Day.


Born to die, the birthday lament,
Years gone by one can never get back.
Mother must I forever repent?
Every one's destined to fade to black.
Seven seals sent seven Angels,
Hell turned shelter then to stone,
Lambs and Lions lives are fragile,

Rest assured they'll atone.
Hades harbors hazy winters,
Sinners suffer sweltered nights.
Champions are never made from winners,
Resolution resolves fights.
God is good and always right.

Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine...

It's Judgement Time.



Copyright © August 2010
Kevin Mooney
kmm001
090909

Welcome to the Freak Show

The bearded woman smiled at me,
Then took my last fifty cents.
I took a breath,
Scared to death,
By the aura of the tents.
 
As I entered cautiously,
My skin began to crawl.
The air was thick,
And I felt sick,
I heard a man then call.
 
"Welcome to the Freak Show",
Was what he said to me.
It seemed like hell,
Though I could tell,
Fake from reality.
 
"These things you are about to see,
Are going to blow your mind.
"Nature's freaks,
Forsaken geeks,
The weirdest sights you'll find."
 
Down an endless corridor,
Were rooms set on display.
I almost balked,
Then slowly walked,
Toward the first lit bay.
 
Inside there sat one lone man,
As normal as me and you.
Then I saw,
To my awe,
Three legs instead of two.
 
In the next opening,
Waving claw shaped hands,
I could see,
The deformity.
They called The Lobster Man.
 
Then I heard a high shrill squeal,
Coming from next door.
My body froze,
When I saw the nose,
Of the Pig-Girl on the floor.
 
As I moved on I could hear,
A woman laughing at me.
Then I was aware,
Of a rocking chair,
With a lady both huge and scary.
 
In the next stall I then saw,
A man that had two heads.
Both heads turned,
And murmured two words,
"Go Back" was all they said.
 
I looked back from where I came,
And nothing looked the same.
Each opening,
That I had seen,
Was now a closed dark frame.
 
Looking forward down the corridor,
I saw a twinkling light.
Despite my fear,
It seemed near,
So I continued to see the sights.
 
In the next room I could see,
A man dressed all in white.
Protruding from him,
Was his dead twin,
His body, no head in sight.
 
Next a young boy covered in hair,
His body completely engulfed.
His sign shared,
Please beware,
Of the world's only Human Wolf.
 
Then I saw the scariest of all,
Horribly deformed and bent.
The crippled body,
The mangled oddity,
The man they called Elephant.
 
He motioned toward the entrance,
Tried to point me there.
I misunderstood,
And solemnly stood.
It seemed all I could do was stare.
 
I'd seen twenty or more horrors,
Was overcome with sadness.
How could fools,
Be so cruel.
What justified this madness?
 
Then I saw the twinkling light,
Coming from the final stall.
As I arrived,
I realized,
It was no light at all.
 
Instead there stood a mirror,
About 3 and a half feet tall.
I was aghast,
When at last,
The reflection I then saw.
 
I could see my whole body,
My face was white and pale.
Behind me,
There seemed to be,
A long and dangling tail.
 
The sign in front of the last stall read,
"This is the final exhibit.
Please enjoy,
The Monkey Boy",
There was no door or exit.



Copyright © August 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
080710

Reflections

Reflections form a tapestry,
Of what once was and what might be.
Panoramic artistry,
Runs parallel endlessly.
Castles lined on fringless shores,
Stretch for miles toward evermore.

In between, a dark blue sea,
Divides two worlds equally.

Clouds disguise clear blue skies,
Conceal what's real to covered eyes.
Temporal breaks form cumulus wakes,
Mental quakes cause twists and shakes.
Grey tinged whites reveal dark knights.
While scattered storms gather might.

What you feel and what you see,
Aren't the same necessarily.

What is real and what affect?
Do rainbows ever intersect?
Time stands still in silhouettes,
Mine filled fields haunt weary vets.
Hallucinations resurrect,
Illusions men just soon forget.

Cerebral thoughts and tendencies,
All get lost in fantasies.

Mirrors forge what others see,
They store man's hypocrisies,
Fading echoes of forgotten times,
Shade dark shadows in broken minds.
Existence wanes across blue seas.
Wrist restraints fit you and me.

Within the depths, tranquility.
Cross thin lines, you might be free.

A mind entwined in fallacies,
Will resign to apathy.
Thoughts define one's sanity,
Veils confine serenity.
What's denied is what will be,
Try and find a remedy?

Upon inspection you might see,
Perfection's serendipity.

The sun may shine eternally,
While minds unwind internally.
Perceptions bind reality,
They can't refine finality.

Life is not eternity,
A perpetual fraternity.
One exception just might be,
Resurrection's sanctity.

Connections to man's prophesies,
Are reflections of what blind men see.



Copyright © March 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001

031110

Shadows Loom

Shadows loom in empty rooms,
Where seven sisters died.
Gold deblumes and witches brooms,
Are all that's left behind.

Black roses bloom among mushrooms,
Faint voices turn to cries.
Eerie tunes amidst dark runes,
Greet innocent passersby.

Stories told by mystics old,
Illuminate the blind.
Signs foretold and hidden scrolls,
Are left for men to find.

Satan's spell's are known to well,
To law abiding men.
A sudden quell will often tell,
The righteous from the sin.

Those that lie must hereby,
Repent and then give in.
If they try to just get by,
The Dark Lord will have their skin.

Water flumes and peacock plumes,
Give way to worms and flies.
Werewolves croon at the moon,
As spirits whisper by.

Among the tombs and catacombs,
The corpses of men lie.
Amidst their realm dark shadows loom,
While the dead learn to fly.

Copyright © March 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm

031110