The Final Tour

This poem was written to describe and compliment the accompanying work of art by the popular new age artist, Jon Pitre called Heaven. You may want to look closely at the painting before your read the poem.


Everyone have your tickets ready,
The tours about to start.
Stay behind the bright white line,
Please don't drift apart.
Anyone with children,
Should step to the front of the line.
Help a child that's alone,
So they're not left behind.

Okay now, we're going to begin,
Tickets if you please.
Slowly step to the front, get in.
You might at first feel squeezed.
Everyone ready? Great, let's go.
Hold the railings tight.
Those of you in the middle.
Hold the person to your right.

It will only take a minute,
For us to reach the top.
The car moves fast yet pretty smooth,
And comes to a gradual stop.
Here we are, now everyone,
Slowly step outside.
You may feel a little dizzy,
We're up pretty high.

All of you look straight ahead,
See that twinkling light?
That's our destination friends,
Isn't it a wonderful sight?
Some confuse those vapors,
With ordinary clouds.
Actually they're a billion souls,
All wrapped in soft white shrouds.

Now you may be noticing,
All the bubble cells.
How they seem to replicate,
Grow bubbles within themselves.
These are both birthing places,
And where those passed now dwell.
This is where one's spirit goes,
Unless it goes to hell.

If you look very closely,
Within each bubble's core,
You'll see a very intense light,
And wonder what that's for.
That's is where creation starts,
That's where life begins.
That's where we all come from,
And where our lives will end.

See all the bubbles, big and small,
They dominate the sky.
Some are floating to and fro,
While others just pass by.
And within each and every bubble,
Someone's born and dies,
It's every human's life cycle,
No need to wonder why.

And as the bubbles drift away,
They lose their clarity.
Each core's bright intense light,
Is all that's left to see.
They become vestal spheres,
Of who we were and are.
Each a person's life-lived years,
Blends into the stars.

You may wonder what this means?
How it effects you.
The reality is that you're here,
To see as those passed do.
We're only moving forward friends,
There's no turning back.
You've all lived exemplary lives,
Please be assured of that.

For what lies here before you,
No mortal man can see.
You have crossed the threshold,
Of immortality.
This is Heaven, your new home,
There's no door or gate.
You'll not suffer or be alone,
It's every good soul's fate

Once inside you'll realize,
How good your life has been.
You'll look God straight in the eyes,
Then give yourself to him.
There's no turning back now,
No consequence or cure.
Here my friends, your first life ends,
This is the Final Tour.





Copyright © May 2010
Kevin Mooney


kmm001
050110

A Darker Poignant Calm

I originally wrote Poignantly Calm in March of 2009, It has always been one of my favorite poems. I like its message and I like its current, yet retrospective feel. This is a Another Poinantly Calm poem, a little more current and a little darker. Hope you like it...


I thought I saw JFK,
Wearing a baseball hat.
It was at a Red Sox game,
He'd grown old and fat.
No one seemed to notice him,
But he looked straight at me.
He tipped his hat, shook his head,
And nodded reverently.

And then there was this calm...

I saw Martin Luther King,
On a subway train.
He was carrying 2 large books,
And had a worried look of pain.
Both the books were old and tattered,
Each was worn and torn.
Their content seemed to him what mattered,
Their testaments forlorn.

And again there was this calm...

I thought I saw Pope John Paul,
On a Harley Davidson.
In front of a VFW hall,
Among several AA friends.
He tried to look away from me,
Knew that I knew him.
He wore a leather bomber jacket,
With a POW pin.

Stronger grew the calm...

I thought I saw my Father today,
It was rather odd.
He was older, much more grey,
He looked a lot like God.
He mouthed to me several words,
That I simply could not hear.
He had this very distraught look,
His eyes were filled with tears.

All became desperately calm...

An earthquake leveled Haiti,
A quarter million died.
One month later Santiago,
Chile rocked side to side.
An airplane bound for Russian soil,
Where a massacre occurred.
Crashed and killed Poland's President,
And shocked the Polish world.
An Iceberg the size of Rhode Island,
Breaks suddenly out of place.
A volcanic eruption in Iceland,
Stymies north airspace.
A child of 13 hangs himself,
Without a single word.
Seems only friends on Facebook,
Knew what his last thoughts were.

The whole world became calm...

Are these acts more prophesies?
Messages that God sends?
Are these signs indicative,
Of the world's impending end?
Are these images what they seem,
Or induced, subconscious psalms?
Lord I pray they're only dreams,
Illusions poignantly calm.


And once again, came rain...



Copyright © May 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001

050210

From Manger To Cross

Once upon a time, many years ago,
A very special child was received.
He was born in a manger with no place to go,
His future and purpose preconceived.

The birth was foretold, by generations old,
In books and psalms from afar.
Those that bore witness had come to behold,
A miracle proclaimed by a star.

Man's future lay, swaddled in hay,
His mission, transgressions to bear.
Surrounded by animals, shepherds and Kings,
With good tidings and gifts brought to share.

Do you suppose that there were those,
That knew who this child would soon be?
The living word, the one that arose,
Sent here to save you and me.

That night in a stable, a child proved able,
To inspire all nations to pray.
A story was cast, one sure to last,
It was proclaimed a glorious day.

Years went past but few people asked,
What became of that fortunate Son?
A man came forth and performed great tasks,
That inspired and astounded everyone.

As it turned out, many learned about,
His ability to heal and foresee.
His fan base grew and many soon knew,
That this was the child of prophecies.

He taught how to give, to love and forgive,
Performed a miracle or two.
He set an example for people to live,
Through suffrage, abuse and solitude.

One day a friend, one loyal to the end,
Pointed him out in a crowd.
Those that he served had forsaken him,
Admonished and cursed him out loud.

He was sentenced die, for no reason why,
He carried his burden upon his back.
His head was adorned with a crown of thorns,
He never complained of what he lacked.

He struggled at times, but managed to climb,
The hill where his cruel fate had led.
He was nailed and tied for committing no crime,
People watched as his hands and feet bled.

They lifted him there, up into the air,
On a cross firmly fixed in the ground.
All he could bear was to suffer and stare,
As onlookers gathered all around.

Many souls left, bereaved and bereft,
Unable to watch or comprehend,
Those that stayed, silently prayed,
That his suffering would eventually end.

When his time came, he offered no blame,
He asked only his Father forgive.
"They knew not their sins or where to begin,
To atone for the lives that they live".

As he died, all mankind cried,
At that moment it began to sink in.
This was that child that years ago lie,
Swaddled with the burden of sin.

That hallowed day, far, far, away,
On the eve of man's eternal cost.
Was when it began, the first Christmas day,
Jesus journey from manger to cross.



Copyright © December 2009
Kevin Mooney

What Christmas Is All About

Anticipation begins and gradually kicks in,
While shopping days wane and disappear.
Excitement blends in and slowly transcends,
As traditions and good tidings reappear.

Children grow restless, as school days dwindle,
Their lists continue to grow.
Moms and Dads spend and find ways to rekindle,
The holiday spirit they know.

Houses are decorated inside and out,
Trees find new ways to glisten.
Mistletoe hangs and stories come out,
As eager ears strain to listen.

December days mount, while parents recount,
Fond memories of past gifts and toys.
Yuletide ghosts greet the heavenly host,
Through time spent together, love and joy.

These days it seems, not everyones' dreams,
Are packaged and adorned with bows.
Those without means go to extremes,
Just for food, shelter and warm clothes.

This winter's eve, try to conceive,
Of those with no gifts to give out.
Help children believe, to give's to receive,
It's what Christmas is all about.



Copyright © December 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
123109

Noel

This is an acrostic...


Two thousand ten years ago,
Heaven reached down to earth.
Everyone there would come to know,
Freedom through one single birth.
Irrespective of color or creed,
Rebirth was offered to all,
Serving witness were Shepherds and Kings,
Transfixed on a child in a stall.
Never before in man's history,
On that first Christmas eve.
Eternal life's solved mystery,
Lay free to those who believe.



Copyright © December 2009
Kevin Mooney

kooney001
123109

Ever Wonder?

Ever wonder where you'll be,
When the time has come?
What you'd hear, what you'd see,
When your time is done?

What if you met God today?
Would you know what to say?
Do you think you'd know his face?
Would he seem out of place?

What if Jesus passed you by,
On the street? If he said hi?
Do you think you'd know it was him?
Short, heavy, tall or thin?

Do you think he'd say hello?
Extend his hand, chat then go?
What do you suppose he'd think of this place?
Would he be proud or disgraced?

Would you even recognize,
The sad, pained look in his eyes?
Do you think you would see,
If the future is to be?

One thing's certain, He'll come one day.
He'll walk among us in a normal way.
He'll probably be like you or I.
Blend right in, a regular guy.

He'll see how we have come to be,
A self-absorbed society.
Concerned mostly for ourselves,
With little regard for anyone else.

I'm sure he'll bow his head in shame.
Find himself the one to blame.
He'll recognize those good things.
Acknowledge pain and suffering.

And when it's finally time to leave,
He'll take with him those who believe.
Those who've prospered at others' expense,
Will cower at his omnipotence.

In the end, come judgement time,
It's in the heart that most men find,
The humility, truth, faith and love.
That comes from trust in God above.

Ever wonder where you'll be?
When that time does come?
Ever wonder if you'll be,
Among God's chosen ones?


Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
080411

A Unique Eulogy

To all those gathered here...

Please don't mourn for me this day,
Celebrate instead.
Remember all the good times had,
All the things we did.

As I gaze upon the faces,
Of those I won't forget.
I thank God for all His grace,
I have no true regrets.

To all the friends that I hold dear,
Your thoughts now comfort me.
There's no need to shed a tear,
For I've lived life fully.

To my children and to theirs,
I cherish the memories.
I live in you, I'll be there,
To guide you in your dreams.

To my beloved, my one true love,
The one I'll miss the most.
Please be strong for both of us,
Know I'm always close.

Without you by my side,
I'd be an empty frame.
You're my rock, my everything,
I know you feel the same.

Live your life joyfully,
We'll soon reunite.
And be together eternally,
In God's majestic light.


Copyright © July 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
071511

Fallen Fathers, Forgotten Sons

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

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

Spirits of those,
That history knows,
Pride buried 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 groomed decay,
Fertilized with the dead.

Lined with stones,
Eternal homes,
Soil hallowed and bravely fed.

Gravestones reveal,
What loved ones feel,
The sacrifices made,

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

Fallen Fathers,
Forgotten sons,
Died with dignity.
Their families cried,
For their unselfish pride,
Their heroic 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 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,
Our blessings from deep inside.

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

Those that suffered,
Died 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,
Fly Good 'Ole Glory high.

So live forever,
Know things are better,
That your souls are 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

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

Dear Mom...

I had a friend who was adopted and never knew his biological mother.  He's a Christian with strong, anti-abortion beliefs.  This a letter written by him to her.

Thank you for my birthday,
And all those in between.
I often wonder where I'd be,
If you had not had me.
Though I never knew you,
Or the father that you made,
I think about you all the time,
And the price you paid.

I know I was a burden,
Something you did wrong.
When you're young life's uncertain,
I'm glad that you were strong.
The life you bore and gave me,
Might not have ever been,
If you had never saved me,
And God had not stepped in.

Mother can you hear me,
I wonder if you can.
Though another raised me,
I'm still who I am.
I foster no ill feelings,
Hold no one at fault.
I've learned a valued lesson,
One I was never taught.

I have a new perspective,
How precious life can be.
I am more receptive,
To others just like me.
Mine is a unique view,
Of what life truly means.
Had it not been for you,
I never would have seen...

The beauty of a sunrise,
The solitude of rain.
The innocence in childrens' eyes,
The way the seasons change.
The colors of a rainbow,
The moon and stars at night.
The silhouettes of distant mountains,
Against the day's last light.

Mom, know that I still love you,
And bear no hidden scar.
The children that now call me dad,
Ask me who you are.
I tell them you are special,
The mom I never knew.
That because you made a choice,
I am here for you.


Copyright © October 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
100810

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

The Day The Apostles Cried

Sit with me in silence friends,
Share with me this bread.
Still the voice that violence sends,
Searing through your head.

Each of you must seek accord
for the life you live.
Every man can ill afford
To die and not forgive.

Pass the retribution,
Hear what's not been said.
Bear life's borne confusion,
As feeble minds are fed.

Let's bow our heads and not forget,
What brought us here today.
Drink my blood, the tables set,
Let's all join hands and pray.

Father bless us for we have sinned,
It's in our DNA.
Each man here's new life begins,
On this blessed day.

I am but your vessel Father,
A means to reach an end.
Besought, betrayed, bereft of bother,
Chastised by my close friends.

Forgive them Lord for they are weak,
Their destiny's contrived.
Heal them for it's You they seek,
To eternally to survive.

Oh my Father, hear my prayer,
Let me bear their sin.
They're but children, unaware,
They'll only sin again.

In solemn eyes help me rise,
Above the wrong that's been.
Resurrect the calm effect,
That once defined good men.
Amen.

Now let's feast one last time,
Let God be our guide.
Heed at least one less crime,
Through faith in Him confide.

Each man carries his own burden,
Life's no piece of cake.
Nothing given, nothing certain,
We're bound to make mistakes.

Look around any table,
Examine each man's pride.
In the end men must be able,
To reach down deep inside.

Jesus bore man's transgressions,
He suffered and he died.
He taught forgiveness, sought confessions,
The day the apostles cried.



Copyright © March 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
033110

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

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

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

From Manger To Cross

Once upon a time, many years ago,
A very special child was received.
He was born in a manger with no place to go,
His future and purpose preconceived.

The birth was foretold, by generations old,
In books and psalms from afar.
Those that bore witness had come to behold,
A miracle proclaimed by a star.

Man's future lay, swaddled in hay,
His mission, transgressions to bear.
Surrounded by animals, shepherds and Kings,
With good tidings and gifts brought to share.

Do you suppose that there were those,
That knew who this child would soon be?
The living word, the one that arose,
Sent here to save you and me.

That night in a stable, a child proved able,
To inspire all nations to pray.
A story was cast, one sure to last,
It was proclaimed a glorious day.

Years went past but few people asked,
What became of that fortunate Son?
A man came forth and performed great tasks,
That inspired and astounded everyone.

As it turned out, many learned about,
His ability to heal and foresee.
His fan base grew and many soon knew,
That this was the child of prophecies.

He taught how to give, to love and forgive,
Performed a miracle or two.
He set an example for people to live,
Through suffrage, abuse and solitude.

One day a friend, one loyal to the end,
Pointed him out in a crowd.
Those that he served had forsaken him,
Admonished and cursed him out loud.

He was sentenced die, for no reason why,
He carried his burden upon his back.
His head was adorned with a crown of thorns,
He never complained of what he lacked.

He struggled at times, but managed to climb,
The hill where his cruel fate had led.
He was nailed and tied for committing no crime,
People watched as his hands and feet bled.

They lifted him there, up into the air,
On a cross firmly fixed in the ground.
All he could bear was to suffer and stare,
As onlookers gathered all around.

Many souls left, bereaved and bereft,
Unable to watch or comprehend,
Those that stayed, silently prayed,
That his suffering would eventually end.

When his time came, he offered no blame,
He asked only his Father forgive.
"They knew not their sins or where to begin,
To atone for the lives that they live".

As he died, all mankind cried,
At that moment it began to sink in.
This was that child that years ago lie,
Swaddled with the burden of sin.

That hallowed day, far, far, away,
On the eve of man's eternal cost.
Was when it began, the first Christmas day,
Jesus journey from manger to cross.



Copyright © December 2009
Kevin Mooney

As We Gather...

Friends, lets toast another year,
Make the most of what brought us here.
As we gather, united as one,
Spread love and joy to everyone.

Lord give us this day the right to receive,
All the blessings to those that believe.
Should we stray, stumble or fall,
Show us the way to conquer it all.

Your Word is a blessing, a comfort to share,
With those who are lost, spiritually unaware.
A rock to cling to when storms will not cease,
A cornucopia of hope, a formidable feast.

Savor the moment, be vigilant, sincere,
Think of the less fortunate this time of year.
Reach out and touch those that you love,
Honor friends, family and God up above.

Lord give us this day the power to see,
How truly wonderful life can be.
As we gather, bow heads and pray.
Humble ourselves this Glorious Day.




Copyright © November 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
112209

Psalm 23 1/2

Lord, thou art my vessel, my comfort and my stone.
I bow to thy wisdom, in thy shadow I lie prone.
I confess transgressions, for my sins to be atoned.
Through Thee, seek direction, guidance toward Thy throne.
I humbly kneel reminded of the weight Thou bore alone.
I pray, Lord, Thou find it, in Thy heart to lead me home.

Vast the mountain that I climb, Thou layest before me,
Rely on Thy countenance, ascend most graciously.
I seek Thy heartfelt kindness and generosity.
Honor cold reminders of born burdens selflessly.
Forgive my utter blindness, should I fail to see,
I worship Thee, your Highness, through reciprocity.

As I reach the pinnacle of my labored climb,
I fear I not be cynical, toward Thy blessed sign.
I will seek Thy hand, my Lord, to hold in my descent.
Savor the beauty of Thy land, Thy sober innocence.
Death I will not fear, my Lord, waiver in my stride.
Anoint me with Thy breath, dear Lord, rid me of my pride.

As the light begins to fade, in trust I will abide.
Eternal life I will embrace, to dust and so subside.



Copyright © December 2009
Kevin Mooney

Where Heaven Used To Be

A child climbs on to a crowded bus,
He squeezes toward the back.
Around the middle,
Finds a seat and settles.
No one notices his backpack.

As his wait begins, more people cram in,
There’s hardly room to breath.
Two Jewish men,
Look down at him,
And smile as they start to leave.

It’s a busy day, before a holiday,
Most people just want to get home.
Many have fasted,
Others outlasted,
The scores of those traveling alone.

A siren screams by, just outside,
As the driver closes the door.
Folks try to see,
The calamity,
Exactly what the excitement’s for.

As the bus pulls away, those standing sway,
They’re packed like a can of sardines.
As the driver shifts gears,
Thoughts turn to prayers,
Anticipation turns tensions serene.

As it nears the next stop, those inside move up,
A large crowd is anxiously gathered.
People move forward.
Prepare to unboard.
No one cares about each others matters.

The boy closes his eyes and leans to one side,
Bows his head as if in prayer.
No one seems to notice,
His undeterred focus,
His solemn, unemotional stare.

His innocent face, seems out of place,
He cannot be more than thirteen.
As it comes to a stop,
All the lambs line up,
And in an instant they’re blown to smithereens.

On this solemn day, before a holiday,
A child climbed on to a bus.
A premeditated suicide,
Where scores of people died,
An act that makes no sense to us.

In a land long forlorn, where Jesus Christ was born,
Somewhere far beyond the Red Sea.
God’s laws are forsaken,
Lives brutally taken,
In a place where heaven used to be.


Copyright © November 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm010
112309