Elwood P. Dowd Revisited

Most folks were proud of Elwood P. Dowd,
His demeanor and strict social grace.
He never prejudged,
Or ever begrudged
Those fortunate to enter his space.

He was quite a gentleman to friends and kin,
Seemed always quick with a quip.
Those folks who knew him,
Could see right through him,
Elwood always enjoyed a good nip.

His family was tolerant, often despondent,
He never hurt or caused anybody harm.
When away from his home,
His quirks were well known.
Many felt he should be on a funny farm.

Dowd went to great ends, to make new friends,
Most found him quite debonair.
Eccentric yet humble,
With never a grumble,
The man had distinct social flair.

What folks questioned most, was his one friend of boast,
One invisible to all those but him.
A rarely seen host,
A virtual ghost.
That Elwood always treated like kin.

He was six foot or more, a pooka of lore,
Starch white with two pointed ears.
He wore a black bowler,
That made him look older,
He often drew disjointed jeers.

Despite his affection and lack of reflection,
Dowd's acquaintance was to others referred,
A blind trepidation,
A figment's imagination,
A voice that fellow brothers never heard.

As others cast doubts, Elwood always looked out,
For his comrade and true trusted friend.
Folks could never see,
His stout loyalty,
His devotion and commitment to the end.

Some live their lives, just trying to survive,
Make it from one day to the next.
They move through life's scenes,
Invisible it seems,
To those who could barely care less.

One's social discord, inability to afford,
Life's wishes and indulgent pleasures.
Is never just cause,
To be shunned and appalled,
By those rich in abundance and treasurers.

Though Elwood P. Dowd stood out in a crowd,
He was wealthy in stature and habit.
Visibility didn't shroud,
The joy Elwood found,
In every man, woman, child and six foot rabbit.

Thank you Harvey.


Copyright © November 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
111509

More Dog Letters To God...

Dear God,

I'm a lucky dog, with a comfortable home,
Fed regularly, bathed, brushed and combed.
I go for long walks, get occasional bones.
I have a fenced yard but can never roam.
Why is that?

Dear Dog,

You are very fortunate, my canine friend,
But the world's faster than you may know,
Too many dogs reach untimely ends,
With humans constantly on the go,

Dear God,

Sometimes my master forgets my water,
My throat gets parched and dry.
So I'll drink from the toilet, does that really matter?
It bothers him and I can't figure why.
Can you clarify?

Dear Dog,

Yes, people get busy and are prone to forget,
The necessities which pets need the most.
Don't worry too much and drink from the toilet,
Just avoid it if yellow or if somethings afloat.


Dear God,

Sometimes my butt itches so I try to scratch it,
But I can't reach, as hard as I try.
So I sit on the carpet and scootch forward a bit,
My master goes ballistic.  Why?

Dear Dog,

Well friend you see, carpets are expensive,
I realize they're more abrasive than grass.
I suggest the next time you get apprehensive,
Find somewhere more private to scratch your ass.

Dear God,

My best friend Jafar got hit by a car,
We were just playing and he chased a cat.
His master took him to a place that is far,
I never saw him again, where's he at?

Dear Dog,

Jafar is okay, he's here with me, just as other dogs are.
People spend money and go to extremes,
When the injured and ill are as they are.
Pets are more expendable it seems.

Dear God,

When people eat they sit at a table,
In chairs with their feet on the floor.
I get my food served on the floor, when they're able,
It's hard to listen when your eating on all fours.
Any suggestions?

Dear Dog,

People are funny, they spend lots of money,
They never like it thought that they're poor.
Their talk may be dull and what would the fun be,
If you never ate scraps off the floor.

Dear God,

And what's the deal with hot food on plates?
I always get my food served cold.
I must admit though, sometimes I can't wait,
Is it quicker to get served in a bowl?

Dear Dog,

No, not really, it's a matter of taste,
It depends on your owner and the time it takes,
People get caught up in their hurried haste,
It's not so bad though when you get to lick plates.

Dear God,

I've heard it said dog's look like their masters,
I've never known that to be true.
Is it right you created man in your image?
Does that mean dogs look like you too?


Dear Dog,

That's true, in a sense, I gave dogs my demeanor.
Canines reflect what good men should be.
They're special to me, their name makes it clearer,
Just spell Dog backwards and you'll see what I mean.


Dear God,

I understand dogs age faster then masters,
In dog years, one equals man's seven,
When humans die it's You that they ask for.
Is it true what they say, that all dogs go to heaven?


Dear Dog,

Yes my friend, that is true.



Copyright © October 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm022
102009

Purple Penguins

Dapper Dan's from down below,
Weeble, wobble to and fro,
Winter bound in ice and snow.
Sporting feathered tuxedos.

Purple Penguins perched up-rite,
Playfully poignant, poised, polite.
Comedians dressed in black and white,
Slipping, sliding left and right.

Minstrels of cold South Pole nights.
Braving blizzards' blistery blights.
Antarctic's favorite frigid friends.
Marching onward with their kin.

Bashful birdbrained beaked heroes,
Tempting temperatures below zero.
People pause to watch them play,
All applause their pensive ways.

Caped connivers, fettered foul,
Sole survivors exist somehow.
Constantly struggling to fit in,
The always bungling purple penguins.




Copyright © February 2010
Kevin Mooney

My Constant Companion

I have a constant companion who's always in front of me,
He's usually shy and hiding, in his shrouded canopy.
He likes to play peekaboo and always has a ball,
His stature often vacillates, from short to very tall.

His voice is non-existent, he has no face you see,
He's annoyingly persistent, uncontrollably.
His head is rather large, no arms or legs to play,
He's really quite peculiar, in a manly sort of way.

I have to take him with me, everywhere I go,
He's part of my persona, my unforeseen shadow,
His single-minded arrogance is embarrassing to me,
As he rises without warning, non-consensually.

And when I let him out to play he's happy as can be,
He stretches beyond amazement, his one-eyed world to see.
The women, they all love him, he's coy-full and carefree,
His greatest gift, the joy he brings, his masculinity.

And when the day is finally done, his purpose spent, complete.
He tends to dwell in a turtle-shelled, zippered hotel suite.
He sleeps calm and peacefully, his goals firmly met.
His dreams form increasingly, often warm and wet.


Copyright © June 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm029
061509

Teacup Pig

Teacup pig,
You're not too big,
In fact, you're very small.


Cute and pink,
Without the stink,
You're hardly there at all.


I've never seen,
A stranger thing,
Outside a pen or stall.


Teeny, tiny,
You remind me,
Of a little pig doll.


How you fit,
Inside of it,
Is a mystery to me.


You wiggly worm,
The way you squirm,
Brings laughter, love and glee.


Your little snout,
Is pushed right out,
As flat as flat can be.


When you pout,
I have doubts,
That you can even see?


I don't wait,
Or hesitate,
When I pick you up.


Are you a hog?
Or a little dog?
A little pinkish pup?


One of these days,
The doctor says,
You'll be all grown up.


I hope and pray
You'll stay this way,
The change is not abrupt.


Just in case,
I'll find a place,
To store much bigger cups.



Copyright © March 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
031110

Dr. Geisel Thank You Please

Doctor Geisel I presume?
On a bookshelf in my room?
Would you, could you, please do tell,
How you're able to spell so well?

Your stories intrigue both young and old.
Whether they're read or whether they're told.
Gee sir, please sir, help me see,
Satisfy my curiosity.

Doctor Geisel is it true,
The Cat in Hat was really you?
Some say yes and some say no,
I guess it's something to consider though.

My first book was Green Eggs and Ham,
Green Eggs and Ham and Sam I Am.
In all my life I've never seen,
Eggs and Ham so gross and green.

Then there's Horton and the Who's,
I've often wondered about them too.
Surely, the Who's that Horton knew,
Weren't The Grinch's Who-ville Who's?

Did Horton really hatch an egg?
Or were you only pulling our leg?
How can an Elephant sit so well,
On an egg and not break the shell?

And what of the Grinch, that grumbling stooge?
Some say he looked like Ebeneezer Scrooge.
Was Boris Karloff the voice we heard?
Somethings he did were quite absurd.

That poor max, his faithful friend,
What happened to him in the end?
You would have liked Jim Carey in green,
Ron Howard made him believably mean.

Dr. Geisel you were ahead of your time.
I watched the Lorax in prime time.
I liked his concern for the Truffula trees,
Nothing was worth ol' Once-ler's Thneed.

Now Marvin K. Mooney got a reprieve,
How many times was he asked to leave?
Could Marvin have been a political jest?
Was he Nixon's Watergate guest?

Oh Dr. Geisel we love your stories.
Their poetic rhymes and allegories.
Children find them simple and fun,
Yet they challenge everyone.

Dr. Geisel, thank you please,
For all your character memories.
I'm sure one day they'll reveal truths,
About ourselves and Dr. Seuss.




Copyright © July 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
072510

The Good Humor Man

Hark, what yonder tinkle breaks,
The still silence of the air,
Tis a knight dressed all in white,
Weilding stocks of frozen ware.

Yea, ye nave of Youngstown,
Carried forth upon adorned white truck.
Spare thy neighbor a cold cool treat,
Erst he be forsook.

Ring thy magical bells, me Lord,
Chimed beacons to women and child.
The Pied Piper of suburban streets.
Moves slowly through the wild.

Anchor there upon yonder corner,
To peddle a stick or two.
Sandwiches filled with solid cream,
Should satisfy a few.

Waffled cones with cold creamy delight,
Topped with sweet milk chocolate lids.
Dreamy sickles of orange and white,
Seem popular among many of the kids.

Oncest thou mission is complete,
As dusk eases cross yawning land.
Take heed of this urban Wizard of Lore,
The one called The Good Humor Man.



Copyright © July 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm050
070109

Guido The Mosquito

In the town of Escondido,
There lived a mosquito named Guido.
He had a wingspan,
As wide as my hand,
And his last name was Esposito.

His brother-cousin Alfredo,
Came from outside Laredo.
He had no fear
When females were near
He was nicknamed the Texas Tornado.

Alfredo and Guido the mosquitoes,
Had fairly large libidos.
They could be found,
Hanging around,
Poolsides in their speedos.

In the evenings they wore white tuxedos,
Went to clubs and played blackjack and keno.
Though often annoying,
Folks couldn't help enjoying,
These social misfits and pal gringos.

All of the female mosquitos,
Made fun of the Espositos,
As they walked around,
Like a couple of clowns,
In their speedos and white tuxedos.

One day Alfredo and Guido,
Decided to go to Reno.
They hitched a ride,
By flying inside,
A '69 Gran Torino.

Little did either mosquito,
Know the driver was Tito the bandito.
He was heading,
To crash a wedding,
Then rob The Pink Flamingo.

When his plan became clear to Guido,
He asked his friend "What can we do?"
Alfredo replied,
Stay low and hide,
It's better the less that we know.

Well that didn't sit well with Guido,
So he decided to confront the bandito.
He thought maybe then,
The plot would end,
It was all he could think of to do.

Well Tito had a bag of Doritos,
Sitting on the seat of his Torino.
When he looked aside,
Guido climbed inside,
And perched himself on a frito.

When Tito reached in for a Dorito,
He pulled out the frito with Guido.
Without hesitate,
He up and ate,
Poor old Guido the mosquito.

Now Tito loved burritos,
Cheetos and all kinds of Fritos,
But what he just had,
Tasted real bad,Of course he'd never eaten a mosquito.

He instinctively spit out 'ole Guido,
And saw it was a large mosquito.
To his surprise,
It looked still alive,
And its body spelled "Don't go to Reno"


Well this totally freaked out Tito,
And he missed his turn to Reno.
You should have seen,
How his face turned green,
Then he noticed old Guido's libido.

He flicked the mangled mosquito.
Into the back of the Gran Torino.
Then changed his plan,
As he wiped his hand,
And decided to head to Toledo.

Well Alfredo flew down to poor Guido,
And asked if there was anything he could do?
Guido replied,
Then quietly died,
On the floor of the Gran Torino.

Alfredo flew out the window.
And made his way to Reno.
There he reminisced,
About the bravery missed,
Of his cousin and unsung hero.

How Guido Esposito,
The mosquito from Escondido,
Saved the Flamingo,
From Tito the gringo,
By pretending to be a Dorito.

So if you ever see a mosquito,
In a speedo with a large libido.
He just might be,
From the same family tree,
As Alfredo and Guido Esposito.


Copyright © July 2010
Kevin Mooney


kmm001
072510

Itty-Bitty Persian Kitty

Itty-bitty Persian kitty,
You're so small, soft and pretty.
You sit and watch all you can.
Fit right in the palm of my hand,

Little Persian kitty cat,
Where the heck are you at?
You're always playing hide 'n seek,
Getting sillier week to week.

You're the cutest little kitten,
Feel just like a fuzzy mitten.
A fluffy, fuzzy ball of fur,
Always causing such a stir.

I love to watch you chase your ball,
When I roll it down the hall.
You use your paws to claw at things,
Fingers, toys and dangling strings.

You have a funny little mug,
It's scrunchy like a feline pug.
You barely weigh an ounce or two,
Pounce on everything that moves.

I'm not sure how big you'll get.
You'll never be the biggest pet.
I just pray you'll always stay,
Cute and cuddly and like to play.

My itty-bitty feline friend,
I'll love you dearly, thick or thin.
And when you've grown old and fat,
You'll still be my favorite cat.


Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
082811

All That In 100 Years...

Here's a list for consideration.
Familiar to our generation.
Thoughts, ideas and inspirations.
Events that influenced our nation.
A cavalcade of imagination,
100 years of innovation,

Ferris Wheels,
Automobiles.
Newsreels.
Frozen Meals,
Airplanes,
High Speed Trains,
Restaurant Chains,
Acid rains
Radios,
Picture shows,
TV shows,
Videos.
World Wars
Chain stores.
Price wars
Nuclear cores,
Elevators,
Escalators,
Percolators,
Calculators.
IBM's
M&M's,
Internet,
Ethernet,
TVs
PCs.
CD's
DVDs.
Ice Cream Cones,
Telephones,
Styrofoam,
Cell Phones.
Electric scooters.
Computers,
Rocket ships,
Space trips.
Cruise Ships,
Radar blips,
Microwaves,
Cellophane.
Traffic lanes,
Modern cranes,
Youtube,
Jiffy Lube,
Elmer's Glue,
Rubik's Cube,
Post-it notes,
Umbrella totes,
Speed boats,
Women's votes.
Movie Screens,
Trampolines,
Gasoline,
Listerine,
Football,
Carnegie Hall,
Dirigibles,
Remote Control,
Rock 'n Roll,
Rap and Soul.
Crayons,
Digital Songs.

Think about what's appeared,
In the last 100 years.
I'm sure that there's a whole lot more,
You never thought about before.
I wonder what the list will be,
In the next century.


Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
082011

The Man Of A Thousand Voices

Thank you Mel for giving us,
A thousand fond memories.
You were so many voices,
On all our early TVs.

Mr. Spacely from The Jetsons,
Barney Rubble to name a few.
Captain Caveman, Heathcliff, Tom Cat,
Woody Woodpecker, too.

Of all the toons that you crooned,
The one's we most adored.
Were all those famous LooneyToons,
We watched on Saturday morn.

Shhh...Be Berwy, Berwy Quiet,
The name is Elma Fudd
I'm auways hunting Wabbits.
Be quiet if you could.

Therwe pesky wittle queatures,
But one espeshewy.
Dat 'ole Bugs Bunny Wabbit,
Is berwy rascawy,

Munchin' on his cawots,
Aweways wants to pway.
Evwy time I twy to shoot him,
He seems to swip away.

I know I'w get him dis time,
Just you wait a see.
Shhh...Be Berwy Quiet,
Wabbits are my speshwulty.

Well sufffferin, succatash,
As Sylvester cat would say,
He's always prowlin somewhere,
Beneath Tweety Bird's cage.

Tweety on the other hand,
Likes to talk and swing.
He never seems too concerned,
Loves everyone and thing.

God bless Tweety's Granny,
With her trusted broom.
It helps and comes in handy,
When Sylvester's in the room.

Mee Meep, there goes The Road Runner,
With the coyote after him,
It's old Wiley Coyote,
And another Acme mayhem.

Speedy Gonzales, amazed all of us,
With his bursts and grace.
I always wondered who would win,
If he and Road Runner raced.

Fog Horn Leg Horn, that big blow hard,
Sounded like W.C. Fields.
You'd think a rooster ruling a barnyard.
Was such a great big deal.

Daffy Duck seemed out of luck,
With Bugs Bunny around.
If not for Bugs, Daffy might wear,
The WB Cartoon crown.

Yosemite Sam was a wanted man,
With mustache, guns and hat.
He never caught that dang varment,
Ended up on truck mud flaps.

Now Porky Pig, you gotta love him,
He's my favorite Loon.
I love the classic way he ends,
Each LooneyTune cartoon.

Bda, bda, bda,..that's all Folks.

Thanks Mr. Blanc.


Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
081511

You're Still a Good Man To Me

To all you Peanuts fans...


Oh Charlie Brown, you bumbling clown,
You call that a Christmas tree?
Everyone knows how your story goes,
Your riff with old Lucy.

Linus seems to understand,
With that blanket in his hand.
Snoopy knows that you're the man,
He's always been you're closest friend.

With sister Sally by your side,
And Schroeder's piano playing pride.
Maybe Violet's a better bride,
Instead of that red headed girl.

Pigpen needs a bath each day,
Woodstock only wants to play,
Is Peppermint Patty straight or gay?
Only Marcie can really say.

Does Snoopy's dog house have a bed?
Have alter egos gone to his head?
Is he a World War flying ace,
Or Joe Cool with a jazzy face?

Why do you stand on the pitcher's mound,
While all you teammates goof around?
When will Lucy have the gall,
To let you kick that stupid football?

Why don't grownups ever speak?
Is Mr. Brown a social geek?
Do the van Pelts really exist?
Why do your teachers speak like this?

Mwa, mwa, mwa. Mwa, mwa, mwa.

Oh Charlie Brown, just look around.
Why was your head drawn so round?
Was there a time you had hair?
What's with that silly shirt you wear?

I suppose Charles Schultz drew you,
Cause in ourselves we see you too.
All I know, as a Peanuts fan,
Charlie Brown, you're still a good man...to me.

Thank you Charles so much.


Copyright © December 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
120410

My Three Shadows

I have three little shadows,
Who follow me around.
They are barely 3 feet tall,
Much closer to the ground.

Whether I'm in the house,
Or doing things outside,
They are quiet as a mouse,
Always at my side.

I don't have to call for them,
They know where I will be.
It's hard to hide from all of them,
When it's only me.

When I go upstairs at night,
They're sure to meet there.
I always bring a treat for them,
To show how much I care.

In the morning when I wake,
With pillows 'round my head.
My lazy little shadows wait,
Till I get out of bed.

One day when I'm old and grey,
Feeling all alone.
I will wish my shadows were,
There to take me home.

It's funny how one yearns and aches,
For things no longer there.
We should all appreciate,
The shadows that we share.



Copyright © September 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
091210

They're Only The Piano Players

Someone saved his life one nighT
In an empty sky, he rose quite higH.
Rocketed charts with a Man that would bE
Eventually saw Daniel in a plane wavinG,
Levon brought madmen across water toO,
Taught the world what a crocodile could dO.
One of his songs was of the Your kinD,
Never believed dancers too tiny or weaK.
His captain fantastic was no EinsteiN,
Electrified Bennie and freed 'ole PhilI.
Remembered Marilyn and Diana in sonG,
Circle of life made the whole world sigH.
Ushered bitch back, gave censor's a taunT,
Lucidly found diamonds made Lucy much higheR.
Earned critical acclaim for Lion songs sireD,
Said adieu to brick road we all kneW,
Joined hall's few, wore an island girl's leI.
Orchestrated pinball song that he sanG,
Hated sundowns and sad songs so mucH.
Nikita, not Aida, was another Bernie cuT.

Bronx big shot to his Levittown creW,
It's still rock 'n roll to him, you and I.
Got fires started without any fueL,
Allentown's factories are still on triaL.
Pressure's paranoia was Captain Jack's alibI,
Played Leningrad to ease cold war hysteriA.
Listed Movin' Out as his Broadway symposiuM,
Entertainer extraordinaire when at venue or stadiuM.
Stranger struck a flare of colloquial euphoriA,
Piano man rare with an innocent man-terioR.
Induced a lust for the Italian restauranT,
A matter of trust for great wine and spaghettI.
New York state of mind's where his music begaN,
On tour these days with UK's Elton J.
Good night Saigon touched veteran and herO.
Uptown girl Christie played real life wife rolE,
You may be right, his honesty's about souL.


Copyright © September 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
090810

The Fourth Mr. Mapother

This is an acrostic...

Had Renee when he first said hello,
Endlessly loved his first picture show.
Fourth of July earned little fan fare,
Eyes weren't shut when Nicole was there.
Lost that loving feeling most nights,
Top of his class in F-fighter flights.
Thundered 'round tracks, earned racing stripes,
Had fun as Joel Goodson in his tighty whites.
Earned respect as Rain Man's brother,
Needed right moves to impress others.
Early Taps showed temper and dark sides,
Empties were juggled in Cocktail bar sites.
Did impossible missions both far and away,
Few good men proved more than a play.
Ordered Jessup from Guantanomo Bay,
Revisited War of Worlds as Ray.
Spent many a night under Vanilla Skies,
Played a civil war hero turned Samurai.
Enticed new wife Katie, passed another Cruz by.
Even Cuba and Newman sought his dollar side,
Did movie that featured the Bob Seger slide.



Copyright © September 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001

093010

Pardon My French

Parlez-vous francais?
Oh, by the way.
There sure is an array,
Of French stuff these days.

Close your eyes, pass the French Fries,
They go great with French Onion Soup.
A little French Bread on the side,
Along with a glass of French Vermouth.

A little dab of French Vanilla,
In French Coffee cannot miss.
French silk pie and a silk pillow,
May just earn a guy a French Kiss.

I like salad with French Dressing,
Along with a slowly roasted French Hen.
A Fresh French Pastry sure is a blessing,
But don't let French Dip go to your head.

A French Horn is a wonderful instrument,
A French Trotter a beautiful horse.
A French Window's a subtle supplement,
A French Drain a reliable recourse.

French mustard instead of Ketchup,
A French twist to spread it on.
French toast and warm maple syrup,
Served with French press and a fresh croissant.

Is there really a French Foreign Legion?
Do movie goers like French Foreign Films?
Did Mr. French leave for a reason?
French Poodles best names come from butlered realms.

I'm not saying the world's less pragmatic,
I like Italian and Spanish, too.
German and Russian I find less romantic,
But "French" seems to preface our food and our mood.


Copyright © August 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
081810

Monkey See, Monkey Do

Percy P. Orangutan,
Had a purple boomerang.
When he threw it,
People knew it,
Cause it made a real loud bang.

C.C. the Chimpanzee,
Liked to play hide and seek.
Now she's here,
Now she's gone.
She can play all day long.

Spunky their monkey friend.
Always likes to play pretend.
If you smile,
He smiles too.
Sometimes he acts just like you.

They all live at the local zoo,
And play together like kids do.
But all are shy and don't like when,
Other people are watching them.

One day Percy and C.C.,
Got together with Spunky.
They decided,To play a game.
So Percy grabbed his boomerang.

He picked it up and turned around,
But CC wasn't to be found.
Spunky fell down to the ground.
He did not make a sound.

Percy got worried then,
Both of them were his best friends.
Where the heck did C.C. go?
Poor old Percy did not know.

As for Spunky, he laid still,
Percy thought him dead or ill.
He went over to check on him,
That's when Spunky cracked a grin.

He could not contain himself,
They laughed so hard that Percy fell.
Just then CC reappeared,
Percy laughed then heard a cheer.

Right outside the looking glass,
A group of children had just passed.
They saw the threesome playing around,
Stood and watched without a sound.

Then the primates realized,
Much to all of their surprise,
Their playful pranks were recognized,
And brought sheer joy to children's eyes.

Then the three in unison,
Turned to see the children grin.
All together they grinned too.
As if it all had been on queue.

The children couldn't help but see,
The monkeys' curiosity.
Then they all jumped up and down,
And acted just like little clowns.

Spunky recognized their game,
Then decided to do the same.
So did Percy, then C.C.,
They all jumped 'round real silly.

Then the children hid their eyes,
The threesome decided to oblige.
They covered up their eyes too.
Then all together played peek-a-boo.

The kids then covered up their ears,
The monkeys did the same to cheers.
Then with their hands they hid mouths, too.
The three now knew just what to do.

Percy, Spunky and C.C.,
Were as happy as can be.
They played games all afternoon,
More hide and seek and pretend too.

The three primates sure had fun,
Playing games with everyone.
From that day on they weren't shy,
Especially when kids walked by.

Now outside you will find,
The primates have a brand new sign.
People come from near and far,
To see the brand new monkey stars.

It reads:

Welcome to the local zoo.
There's Orangutans, Chimps and monkeys too.
They like to play games with you.
Hide and Seek and Peek a Boo.
They imitate and pretend they're you.
They act just like they're your friend, too.
But their favorite game to do.
Is Monkey See and Monkey Do.


Copyright © July 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm
001073110

An Albino Rhino

 






There once was an albino rhino,
The only such rhino I know.
He was certainly a sight,
A pale ghostly white,
No color from horn tip to toe.
 
All of the regular grey rhinos,
Found him somewhat absurd.
He never socialized,
Was often ostracised,
From their otherwise, colorized world.
 
One day the albino rhino,
Met a pink phosphorescent elephant.
He didn't know,
An elephant could glow,
But saw her special and like him different.
 
They became best friends which was rare,
Ignored random gawks, laughs and stares.
After awhile,
All the elephants smiled,
Saw them as an interesting pair.
 
One day some hunters came by,
Thought they'd give elephants a try.
The grey rhinos knew,
There was nothing they could do,
But stay back and not question why.
 
But the albino rhino couldn't stand,
To watch his friend's slaughtered by man.
He considered the situation,
Then in sheer desperation,
He decided to execute a plan.
 
As the hunters drew close and took aim,
That's when the first charge up and came.
From dust that was stirred,
Came the cloudy white blur,
Of a ghostly rhinoceros frame.
 
Slightly rattled and somewhat confused.
The hunters were not that amused.
Though something charged by,
In the blink of an eye,
Their deadly efforts would not be refused.
 
Having had their first shots deterred,
They refocused, regrouped and conferred.
Dug themselves in,
Retried once again,
And took aim at the pachyderm herd.
 
Suddenly the earth shook and swayed,
The hunters turned, looked in dismay.
Toward them rumbling loud,
Came an enormous tumbling cloud,
And sharp horns of a rhino parade.
 
Without time to regress or refrain,
And no one but themselves to blame,
The hunters bid adieu,
Then backed off and flew,
Leaving guns and sought after game.
 
When the clouds of dust had all cleared,
Two crowds of musk appeared.
They stood tusk to face,
Each distinctive race,
Then both elephants and rhinos all cheered.
 
As a great celebration began,
The rhinos regathered their clan.
But off to the side,
Attempting to hide,
Was the albino rhino that first ran.
 
Together with horns and trunks raised,
The two herds offered honor and praise,
To the Albino Rhino,
They all now loved so,
For his courage and unselfish ways.
 
As for his precious pink friend,
The rhino remained loyal to the end.
Despite her big ears,
She never had fears,
Of standing out in a crowd again.
 
The moral of this story should make sense,
Don't worry if you have a difference.
God's creatures are born,
With all features and forms,
What counts is the love you dispense.


Copyright © June 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
061310

The Gator Ate Her

Where did she go,
Does anyone know?
Has anyone seen Mary Jo?

She was just here,
Drinking a beer,
Where could she possibly go?

See some people hate her,
Miss Mary Jo Slater,
They'd just as soon tell her where to go.

She's a conflict creator,
A quarrel instigator,
Some folks just loathe her so.

Flo our neighbor waiter,
Could always imitate her,
She put on a pretty good show.

She tried to persuade her,
To be a better neighbor,
Not to be the Jo we all know.

It didn't dissuade her,
Dis-intoxicate her,
Just infuriated her more so.

A few minutes later,
We couldn't locate her,
We looked for her high and low.

Then Flo said she paid her,
To get beer from her refrigerator,
And showed Mary Jo where to go.

See Flo our waiter neighbor,
Though she didn't really hate her,
Thought very low of Mary Jo.

It turned out later,
Flo had an alligator,
One that poor Jo didn't know.

She called him Little Tator,
Her silent terminator,
She'd had him for 5 years or so.

So Mary Jo Slater,
That little agitator,
Went to the home of Miss Flo.

Lying next to the refrigerator,
Was Tator the gator,
He eyed that poor Mary Jo.

She met her creator
Not knowing what ate her,
And no one even found a toe.

Flo our waiter neighbor,
Never really gave her,
A proper goodbye or hello.

A few days later,
A police investigator,
Came asking about Mary Jo.

Seems that Miss Slater,
Was not in good favor,
With most of the folks that we know.

When the investigator,
Questioned her neighbors,
All they could say about Jo,

Was the gator ate her,
Tator the gator,
They said it like it was a joke.

They didn't locate her,
And decided to wait for,
A letter, a phone call or note.

A month or so later,
A more important caper,
Sort of made folks forget about Jo.

As for Little Tator,
That hungry alligator,
He got a belly ache from Mary Jo,

Seems some folks can't wait or,
Take time to fully savor,
The flavor of the food they love so.

So Tator the gator,
Decided that later,
He'd eat his next victim real slow.



Copyright © May 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
053010

Just A Buck?

When did a dollar become just a buck?
Seems if you have less,
You're sh_t out of luck.

There was a time a nickle or dime,
Could buy you a phone call,
A song or parking time.

Even a quarter ain't worth all it's cents,
You might get a gumball,
Or a postcard sent.

Loose change today seems a convenient way,
To avoid more change,
Or cover tax paid.

No, pennies alone won't get you very far,
Seems more folks collect 'em,
In dishes and jars.

A dollar's not worth a decent tip,
The price of admission,
Or a subway trip.

Seems an embarrassing economic disgrace,
Total disrespect,
For George Washington's face.

It's so hard to tell where it's value went,
Today's dollar's just a buck,
Worth less when it's spent.



Copyright © June 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
060110