Faceless Child

Teen suicide runs rampant these days. I never quite understand what motivates a child to take his or her own life. It's a sad reality and seems to be getting worse. Look for the signs and be vigilant. Someone may be quietly reaching out to you....

Child of wonder, bore preciously. A gift from God, statistically. A bundled joy of hopes and dreams, A faceless doll with broken seams.   Like a million ants appearing magically, drawn to the perfumed scent of verminal stench, of potato rot, flicked cigarettes and tater tots. Wanted, needed...discarded, unheeded. A constant burden, caught in a turnstile of mundane gyrations. Laughing sadly, wanting badly, crying gladly, glaring madly. Needing to be held together... with tape and Elmer's glue. Never taken seriously...in need of bear hugs and kisses. Lost self-esteem, found visine - persecution, blame, tempted to feel...bloated, blistered. Trying to fit in...to size 48 jeans - bell-bottoms, extra-wide loops. Cursing, hurting myself while the world watches quietly, ignorantly, calmly, blindly. Aroused, cared for, a temporary solution...of vodka and tonic. Tangerine Listerine, iced cold chlorine. A quiet place. Secluded, poluted. Sequestered, serene. A permanent escape, only illusionary, Contusionary, quite contrary. A happy space with velvet walls and purple passion fruit, cellophane mirrors, twinkling ceiling stars and chimney soot. Mindless adventures, never leaving my room...filled with thoughts of injustice, laughter...of the sinister kind. Trusted blinders on my eyes' windows, the venetian kind...portals to a world I can't understand, Can't cope with, find reason...for living, for dying, forgiving, denying. I am a marionette pulled by strings that disappear into clouds of mental anguish. Led to believe, bred to conceive, to repent. To wade through a cesspool-ed, Cubic-led, tunnel of escape. Wanting to feel, alive with purpose, with compassion, with meaning...to call my friends. Forgetting what it's all about, What the future holds..in doubt. Reaching for solutions...of vodka and tonic, Listerine and grenadine, NyQuil, Dayquil, Turpentine jellybeans. I am a child, a faceless child, suffering from... Imperfection, neglect-ion, seeking resurrection. Conformity, sobriety, A permanent vacation...from society. Don't laugh at me, don't cry for me... Out loud, insanely, profanely. Understand, this was all unplanned...carefully. Thought out, but spur-of-the-moment. It'll only hurt...the one's I love and those I thought I did. I am invincible, invisible, impermeably broken. My well laid plan cannot withstand, Scrutiny, starvation, incarceration. My blessed room, my cubicle tomb. The place I run and hide. I am a butterfly out of season. I have reached my peak. My wings are tired. I have conspired. It's tranquility I seek. A step-stooled stairway to heaven, or hell. It's hard to tell. I cannot dwell...or linger any longer. Just 2 steps to salvation's creation, to the edge of being... Bitter persuasion, contemplation, perpetuation. The tension's there, a mindless stare. Thoughts are running everywhere. I don't care. I hear music...muffled commotion, silent emotion... a tingling sensation, a last temptation. Standing on the threshold of a dream, Reality, a viable escape. Afraid, curious, defiant. Committed, serious, reliant. A final step toward eternity. The terminal plunge, the taut...lesson of life, The inevitable loss of...everything I've ever striven for. Consciousness, then realization, cold pervasion. The pain is minimal, never really there. I hear the final footsteps...of a life gone by, Slowly slipping away. My mind is drifting, still intact, Circling a drain of cerebral black. My feet are dangling. I am floating on air. Uninhibited, undenied, walking on a cloud 2 feet high. Stretching eagerly for another side. My world is fading, disappearing... Right before my very eyes. I am drifting down a river of solitude. Relaxation is seeping in, As I extend toward an approaching light. Darkness prevails, resistance curtails, No more struggles... To fight the demons I have learned to embrace. I am now free of the torment, confusion, resolution. My need to escape subsides...behold, peace. I am now truly alive.   I was a child with hopeless dreams. Bore preciously, raised normally. Caught in a whirlwind's soliloquy. A blemish of burden to those I met, An incurable disease, unwashable speck. A faceless child that no one sees, On bended knees, With crooked neck.

Copyright © July 2009 Kevin Mooney  

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101509

Walter Augustus Lee

People always touted him,
Walter Augustus Lee.
No one ever doubted him,
Or his sincerity.

He was there to give advise,
You never had to ask him twice.
There was never one as nice,
As Walter Augustus Lee.

Those he knew respected him,
Saw all good reflect in him,
Wanted to connect with him,
And his prosperity.

He always cared for those with less,
Treated them as honored guests.
Sought good will and happiness,
For all society.

He gave away most he had,
Comforted the weak and sad.
Seemed content, never mad,
As far as most could see.

He never turned a heedless eye.
Minced his words for reasons why.
Yes, there was not a nicer guy,
Than Walter Augustus Lee.

Life then took a sudden turn,
Exposed a frailty.
What seemed at first a mere heartburn,
Turned out worse, you see.

Doctors probed and ran some tests,
Bi-pass surgery seemed the best.
When they discovered the seriousness,
They let poor Walter be.

No one came to comfort him,
In his time of need.
He'd wait for God to come for him,
With solemn dignity.

As his last days passed him by,
He just prayed, not asking why,
He knew one day soon he'd die,
Alone and quietly.

Though all his life he had shared,
It seemed as if no one cared.
And so it was no one was there,
When Walter bid goodbye.

I never knew someone who could,
Praise the way he did.
I never really understood,
The final days he lived.

A righteous man with tender hands,
Who always did the best he can.
Somehow seemed a lesser man,
In posterity.

Poor Walter Augustus Lee.


Copyright © December 2010
Kevin Mooney

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120410

Somber Moments

Tempered times help define,
Who we really are.
Somber moments collect in time,
Like pennies in a jar.

Hypnotic scenes within dreams,
Haunt unsuspecting minds.
Thoughts that run undeterred,
Leave painful scars behind.

Tear stained eyes, emphasize,
The pains that we all share.
Together we then realize,
How much we truly care.

When all is said, look ahead,
Let God lead the way.
Let somber moments' weight be shed,
In light of a brand new day.


Copyright © July 2011
Kevin Mooney

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072311

Poor Miss Cynthia Weir

Miss Cynthia Weir wore her hair rolled up in a bun.
She was slight, unsociable, avoided everyone.
Her glasses were unusual, the cat-like pointed kind.
She looked like a librarian or someone almost blind.

Most folks never noticed her, she was plain you see.
She wore average looking clothes, dressed somewhat modestly.
She liked shoes and large handbags that never seemed to match.
No Cynthia, most would say, was not much of a catch.

One day Miss Cynthia Weir did not come to work.
She did not call anyone or even leave a word.
Her co-workers called several times but never got a reply.
They finally called the authorities when several days went by.

When they went to Cynthia's house, Cynthia wasn't found.
Her neighbors said she lived alone and hadn't been around.
Her car was parked just outside, locked and full of gas.
Had Cynthia even been inside was the question asked.

No one had seen or heard from her. No one seemed to care.
It was like Miss Cynthia had vanished into thin air.
She had no friends or family to contact anywhere.
Yes, my friends there was just no more Miss Cynthia Weir.

They checked hospitals, checked the morgue, even checked the jail.
They went through her belongings, phone records and mail.
The authorities looked high and low but it was to no avail.
After several months went by her house went up for sale.

No one ever found her. Perhaps they never will.
A year's gone by and still no sign. It all seems so surreal.
Most folks have forgotten her and when she disappeared.
But I can't help but remember, poor Miss Cynthia Weir.


Copyright © May 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
051511

Oh So Many, Oh So Few

No one really knew her or what she claimed to be,
A queen of propaganda, virgin of the sea.
Those that dared to ride her,
Now lay down beside her,
Haunting those survivors,
Of her maiden odyssey.

Born to bear the brunt of praise and pageantry,
Hers was but a stunt in superfluity.
Though her name belied her,
No one dared deny her,
Fame could not disguise her
Sunken vanity.

Fifteen hundred souls lie lost beneath the sea.
Each a cold reminder how fragile life can be.
Unsinkable they said,
Unthinkable the dead,
Arrogance and tears shed,
For posterity.

Generations will reflect on her tragedy.
Honor and pay respect to all her misery.
Soberly they'll try,
Ask and question why,
So many souls had to die,
And so few live to see.

May you all RIP...


Copyright © May 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
051511

October

This is for my dad...

Its that time of year again,
When nature sheds its skin.
Leaves turn brown,
Hit the ground,
Decay and then blend in.

Its a time to gather,
Harvest family and friends.
To recollect,
Pay respect,
Count blessings and make amends.

Its a time to plow and reap,
Clear fields and restore.
Time to save,
What you crave,
Then pray to God for more.

Its when young couples marry,
Brand new lives begin.
Heartfelt praise,
On wedding days,
Become much more than friends.

Its when those passed are buried,
Fond memories laid to rest.
When grounds are sewn,
With those we've known,
Fall's fertile soils are blessed.

Its a time of reflection,
To prepare for life to end.
To recognize,
To realize,
Just how good life has been.

Its a time of contemplation,
Of what you value most.
Tranquility,
Serendipity,
Thank the Holy Ghost.

October's always meant to me,
A good time to atone.
A season when,
My best friend,
Set out on his own.

Fall's a solemn season,
Warm somber feelings, sad.
That time of year,
Of hope and fear,
When God took home my dad.


Copyright © October 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
102310

Downpour (a psalm)

Whenever life's constant grind seems to get you down. Turn to God and you will find no better friend around. This is a psalm for those that feel completely overwhelmed...

Lord, wash away my sorrows,
Cleanse me to my core.
Ease the heartaches that I swallow,
Pave the path you'd have me follow,
Prepare me for those tomorrows,
I may see no more.

Lord, I rest within thy word,
Commit to thy control.
Though my vision may be blurred,
My faith will never be deterred,
Eternal life through thoust assured,
To you submit my soul.

Lord, everyday the sun does rise,
Though clouds may taint my view.
I take solace you are wise,
Forgive my sins and countless lies,
Love me without compromise,
Make my life anew.

Lord, when the rain will not refrain,
Life's troubles have no end.
Give me strength to sustain,
The fortitude to not complain,
The will to rise above the pain,
To survive and win.

Lord, in the end your my best friend,
The one that I turn to.
Through mental storms' relentless winds,
Life's downpours and endless sins,
Let death not be where my life ends,
I place my trust in You.


Copyright © September 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
093010

Timothy (the day F. Murray fell)

Timothy McVeigh was executed June 11, 2001 for his role in the April 19, 1995 bombing in Oklahoma City which killed 168 people. This is a revised version of the '70's song Timothy by the Buoys.

A horrendous crime, the thirteenth sin,
No one had ever heard of them,
A friend and a man named Tim.

A Ryder truck that was rented then,
Filled with 2 tons of ammonium,
That April 19th, '95 a.m.

Timothy, Timothy, no one was watching you,
Timothy, Timothy, what the hell did you do.

F. Murray fell at 9:02,
That's when the Ryder rental blew.
No one knew exactly what, to do.

168 found dead,
19 children reporters said,
The heart of a nation, bled.

Timothy, Timothy, who was working with you?
Timothy, Timothy, God if we only knew.

As billions of lights shined down on them,
Oklahoma City's pride set in.
Despite the tragic end.

90 minutes later a cop stopped him.
A firearms charge leveled then,
They arrested the man named Tim.

Timothy, Timothy, all the world blames you.
Timothy, Timothy, my God what did you do.

It was 1997 when,
The jury selection would finally begin,
They then convicted, Tim.

They found a man Nichols conspired with him
,June 2001 was when,
They killed the man named Tim.

Timothy, Timothy, Satan's now looking at you.
Timothy, Timothy, your time was overdue.

There's nothing you could say,
You're not missed to this day,
Timothy, Timothy, McVeigh.


Copyright © September 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
091210

Time Well Spent

I spent the day in the presence of,
One that I so dearly love.
We reminisced on days gone by,
Hugged and kissed, then said good-bye.
As I reflect, I wonder why,
I neglected, failed to try,
To savor the moments we'd just had,
Bottled them, good or bad.

Together

In retrospect it's plain to see,
I overlooked the subtleties.
Those that I now understand,
I treasure more than ever planned.
How was I to foresee,
How much that person meant to me,
Not knowing that the time we passed,
Would end up being our very last,
Time together.

Forever



Copyright © August 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
081810

The Carnival of Souls

A synchronized crescendo,
Of thunder claps draw near.
Streaks of light fill the skies,
With a sense of fear.

Crashing, dashing,
Darkness, flashing light.
Crashing, gnashing,
Day turns into night.

Persistent pulsations,
Deep within my head,
Slowly wane then dissipate,
Fears no longer fed.

An overwhelming rumble,
Solid sheets of rain.
I stagger then I stumble,
Reeling from the pain.

Crashing, flashing,
Feeling much less tense,
Gnashing, mashing,
Making much less sense.

As the thunderstorm subsides,
There's a calm refrain.
In my mind I recognize,
The faint sound of a train.

Clattering, pattering,
Pecking at my brain.
Spattering, battering,
My mind's window pane.

There comes a sudden rapping,
At my closed front door.
What is really happening?
I can't tell for sure.

I cracked the door slightly,
To see who might be there.
A tall man bows politely,
Our eyes lock in a stare.

I feel like I am floating,
Floating in the air.
Levitating, loathing,
How I got up there.

Suddenly I notice,
Blood is everywhere,
Bleeding, feeding,
Visions I dare share.

The tall man isn't breathing,
He's just standing there.
I have a sensual seething,
As windchimes fill the air.

Darkness now surrounds me,
Silence fills my ears.
A numbness now abounds me,
The fervor of despair.

I can see slight movement,
Sirens start to whine,
Blinking lights are proof that,
I am still alive.

Now I hear faint music,
A calliope of songs,
Rhythmic, blind amusement,
I sense that something's wrong.

Uniforms approaching,
Suggest I am someone.
They point weapons at me,
As if I have a gun.

My body has no feeling,
As I hit the ground.
I'm looking a the ceiling,
Trying to look around.

Men are looking at me,
Some just turn away.
I don't know exactly,
What to do or say.

I still hear the music,
It's slowly getting cold.
I feel like I am losing,
The life I dearly hold.

There's a light above me,
Pulsing, pulling fast.
God I hope you love me,
Need I have to ask?

There's no more horizon,
No moon or setting sun,
The tall man's hands and eye's are,
Guiding everyone.

As he collects tickets,
Bells begin to toll.
Welcoming the wicked,
To the carnival of souls.



Copyright © July 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
073010

I Am...

I am a book that no one's read,
A voracious hunger that's never been fed.
A phantom that haunts those I've known,
A vision that's seen but never shown.

I have no body, no heart or soul,
I live in the minds of the young and old.
No one can see me though I'm always there,
A flick of a light or wisp of cold air.

I have no sense of presence or time,
No conscious pretence of what's yours or mine.
I take what I want, live as I choose,
I have no remorse for those I abuse.

Some people find me a breath of fresh air,
Other's remind me how little I care.
I rise every morning before every sun,
At the end of the day my work's just begun.

I've always existed and always will,
Many've resisted though welcomed my thrill.
I've been portrayed in songs and scenes,
Crudely displayed upon movie screens.

Some seek my guidance, covet my rules,
Find false reliance, submit like fools.
Some think they know me, the hate that I feel,
Attempt to show me what's fake and what's real.

Though some men deny me, reject I exist,
They often find me, reflect then subsist.
There's no place to hide that's outside my reach,
Those who have died I loath and beseech.

God has his children, the lambs of his flock,
Teachers that teach them to cling to his rock.
I don't pretend to be who I'm not.
I never intend to be void or forgot.

Copyright © July 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
072510

There Comes A Time

There comes a time in everyones' life,
Thoughts test mortality.
The further we go,
The more that we know,
Yet the less we're able to see.

In retrospect we all soon forget,
Years seem to take their toll.
What we long to feel,
Minds gradually conceal,
Memories fade into black holes.

Before we die we should all try,
To inscribe life's victories and woes.
Bless loved ones and friends,
Before it all ends.
Provide memoirs for family and foes.

A lifetime's last epitaph,
Should not just be words etched in stone.
Leave an impression,
An eternal expression,
A collection of words of your own.



Copyright © July 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
072510

Blackbird

Blackbird swimming in the dawn's grey light.
Shake your soakened wings with all your might,
Things aren't right.
You were only bathing now you're fighting to survive.

Blackbird sinking in the breaking light,
Spread your darkened wings instinctively.
Damn BP.
Escape this God forsaken hypocri-sea.

Blackbird try, Blackbird fly,

Reach for the heights of the clear blue sky.

Blackbird try, Please don't die.

There are no more answers, no more reasons why.

Blackbird giving it a final try.
Shaking desperately, trying to reach the sky,

Please don't die.

The world's forever praying for your blessed kind.
The world hopes and prays that your freedom find.
The world hopes and prays your race never dies.

Blackbird, why?

Oh God why?


Copyright © June 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
061510

The Last Wizard

Winning seemed easy, its what this Sorcerer kneW,
Ordained boilermaker from PerduE.
Often revered for his zeal and prowesS,
Detail and basics were what he taught besT.
Endured wife's passing with grace and sorroW,
Nicknamed Rubber Man for his on court bravadO.
Only player and coach ever honored sO,
Forged his legacy down Naismith's college roaD.
Ultimate American like apple pie and PBJ,
Called The Wizard wherever he would gO.
Longest winning streak, went 88 and oH,
All-time great coach, father figure and maN.


Copyright © June 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
060510

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

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

If You Want...

If you want to feel alive,
Look down the barrel of a Colt 45.
If you're lucky you might survive.

If you want to learn a lesson,
Suck on the tip of a Smith and Wesson.
Barely touch the trigger, then listen.

If you want to feel ecstatic,
Kiss the muzzle of a semi-automatic.
After a while you feel like an addict.

If you want to know where you've been,
Push the speedometer past 110.
Close your eyes, feel the wind.

If you want to feel consumed.
Let carbon monoxide fill the room.
It may become your resting tomb.

If you truly want to die,
Consider carefully the reasons why.
Relief and suicide don't coincide.




Copyright © December 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
011610

Fallen

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

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