The Shores of Coeur d'Alene

This is an acrostic about Coeur d'Alene, Idaho...

Iridescent brilliant blues,
Dazzling, vibrant natural hues,
Amorosity billows proud,
Heaven's scent pours out loud.
Oregon's once rightful heir,
Spokane River gets you there,
Hills and Mountain pageantry,
Eye of the Needle legacy,
Alene's banks flair with grace,
Riverstone, a welcome place.
Thompson's Northwest boundary,
Oregon Treaty's quandary.
French for "Heart of the awl",
Abundant life, fish or foul.
Northern Rocky's hidden gem,
A slice of heaven, Canadian friend.
William Sherman's claim to fame,
Lakes and shores of Coeur d'Alene.

Copyright © March 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001

030610

Blue Tuesday Morn (The 95th Floor)

9/11/2012...9:17 a.m.

I woke up this morning and I heard birds chirping, a plane flying overhead and police sirens in the distance. It was another beautiful blue Tuesday morn.

the 95th floor

This is an acrostic.

9/11/2001...


4:00 am

Astonished startle, half awake,
Restless visage, shiver-shake,
Mental mind-meld, second-take,
Another hour 'till daybreak.
Gratification,
Exultation,
Deliberation,
Determination,
Origination,
Nerves of steel, intrepid state.

5:00 am

Traffic's light, weather warm,
Aurora bright, Blue Tuesday morn.
Levitation,
Invitation,
Beautification,
Aviation,
Newton's apple, cir-cum-form.

6:00 am

Astute arrival, time to spare,
Prodded people everywhere.
Orchestral motions, symphonic flair,
Carnival-istic rustled air,
Adjuration,
Luxuriation,
Yule-sensation,
Proclamation,
Sequestration,
Electric intensity, dawn's time-square.

7:00 am

Plane half full, infernal wait,
Expectant delay, 14 late,
Relaxing music, pre-vegetate.
Postulation,
Exasperation,
Tribulation,
Reparation,
Accusation,
Tribulation,
Entered sky, a minute to eight.

8:00 am

Senses tingling, slight dismay,
Initial feeling, a.o.k.,
Grauman's Theater, love L.A.,
Navigation,
Ostentation,
Fascination,
Titillation,
Hallucination,
Estimation
Elicitation,
Nirvana-cation,
Dreaded flight, eternity.

8:10 am

Open caskets, lots of room,
Silent chaos, terrorists loom,
Aerial assault, impending doom.
Miscalculation,
Altercation,
Bastardization
Indignation,
Notarization,
Labanotation,
Affirmation,
Desperation
Eradication,
Nowhere to go, celestial tomb.

8:13 am

Flight control, "Transponder on?"
Unable to reach or correspond,
Laceration,
Lobotomiz-ation,
Your altitude, "Please respond."

8:15 am

Friend or foe? Show of force,
Under attack, flight off course,
Estimation,
Liberation,
Education,
Decided turn, getting worse.

8:20 am

Armed assailants, attendants down,
Internal mutiny, muffled sound,
Ramification,
Perspiration,
Lamentation,
Assassination,
Nodul-ation,
Eighty-six lives nowhere bound.

8:25 am

Flight 181 silent now,
One hundred degree turnaround,
Respiration,
Concentration,
Elevation,
Direction change, Big Apple Town.

8:30 am

Hudson River, Country Sides,
Insipid horizons, cerebral tides.
Justification,
Aberration,
Consultation,
Koran-nation,
Invocation,
NORAD-nation,
Glorification,
Silhouettes of grey skylines.

8:40 am

September Sky, bluish morn,
Undeterred, Islamic scorn.
Relegation,
Reclamation,
Exaltation,
Accreditation,
Lurid Jihad, Al Qaed-ac swarm.

8:45 am

Severed Streets, urban blight,
Euphoric wreak, conceded fight.
Re-evaluation,
Elicitation,
Normalization,
Illumination,
Testamentation,
Yesterday's gone, twin towers in sight.

8:46 am

Repeated cries, "Terminate!",
Early warnings, too little, too late.
Vacillation,
Eradication,
Last Temptation,
Affirmation,
Titivation,
Indignation,
Ostentation,
Nostradamus visions vacillate.

8:46:20 am

Novocaine numbs the brain,
Utopian crypts of cellophane,
Malfunct-uation,
Bastardization,
Euthanization,
Reverberation,
Necrophiliazation,
Internalization,
Neutralization,
Euphoric, rapture d windowpane.

8:46:40 am

Seventh Sign, Martyrs' born,
Aqua-teal sky is torn.
Lucifer's Cadenced Overture,
Unforgettable Tuesday Mourn,
Terrorization,
Abomination,
Termination,
Incineration,
Obliteration,
No landing strip, no open door,
Sojournal stop, the 95th floor.



RIP
To the Passengers of American Airlines Flight 811
And all the victims of 9/11


Copyright © June 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm025
101509

The Scent of Summer Rain

I love the scent of a summer rain,
When it's been overdue,
It cleanses away pollen stains,
Left speckled by morning dew.

It quenches thirsts for subtlety,
It eases mental strains.
It's essence has a stale fragrency,
That pleases idle brains.

It softens sun baked window panes,
Clears soil caked, dusty feet.
So often it's unjustly blamed,
For rivers in urban streets.

My soul is cleansed of temperate pain
As it pours in tearful sheets,
An effervescent cool refrain,
From morbid summer heat.

Often provoked by hurricanes,
They rinse dullness from pale blue skies.
Violent Tornado and Cyclone remains,
Causing streams and rivers to rise.

Drizzles sweet as sugar cane,
Nature's waterfall overflows,
Hailstones in it's quake proclaim,
Majestically arched rainbows.

I yearn for dawn's passionate disdain,
The rumble of turbulent skies,
Those days when thunderhead clouds contain,
Teardrops for weathered eyes.

Burdens wash down bubbling drains,
Leaving skies vibrantly blue.
They still a mind's quiet refrain.
Make the whole world feel brand new.



Copyright © May 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
051110

Tornado

Cone-shaped, funneled wind,
Vortex wrought with destruction.
Twister, Cyclone kin.



Copyright © April 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001

042610

The Moon

Night sky's lunar light,
Ever-changing, bright and white,
Man and child's dream flight.



Copyright © April 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001

042610

My Morning Cup

Cordially delicious,
Undeniably robust,
Potent, yet pleasing,
Over dinner or lunch,
Flavor-fully familiar,
Jamocha colored rust,
Occasionally entertaining,
Exclusive morning must

Copyright © June 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001

030410

Annapolis City Dock

This piece was written to describe the accompanying painting by a favorite local artist of mine by the name of Paul McGehee. Check out his work. It is amazing...



A city nestled on Maryland's shore,
Nomadic vessels docked door to door,
Naval home to officers and plebes,
Adorned in long pants and white short sleeves.
Pensively quiet cove of cobbled streets,
Originally preserved for touristy feet.
Lined quaintly with shops, restaurants and bars,
Inscribed faintly with time tarnished battle scars,
Steeple-topped domes that reach to the stars.

Alex Haley sculptured with book and raised hand,
Telling prostrate children where his roots began.

Textured calm of dusk's fading light,
Withered balm of a warm summer night,
Incandescent shadows blend pastoral blues,
Latent streaked clouds white wash vestal hues,
Illuminant lusters of candlelit shops,
Gothic tree clusters peak chimney rooftops,
Half hear a buglar's faint call to arms,
Twinkling lights radiant iridescent charm.


Copyright © May 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm024
050109

Gold (Pink Floyd Tribute VII)

This is part 7 in the Dark Side of the Moon series. This is a rewrite of Money...


Gold, fool's pride…
Try to see how much pleasure it buys.
Rush, to find it. Push, to mine it.
It’s what we all measure present wealth by.

Oil, Texas tea,
The Middle East sure seems to have plenty.
Search, to drill it, Careful, to not spill it.
The world’s contemporary dependency.

So many men try,
So many men die
To control each others destiny.

Gold’s the true measure,
But oil’s the new treasure,
That which best defines today’s world greed.

It certainly seems strange,
How the focus has changed.
Within the past millennium or century.

Where Gold’s force once ruled,
Oil’s source is now pooled,
By those in charge of prosperity.

Gold is in bars nursed in forts and cells.
While oil gets dispersed in gallons and barrels,
Each a source of leverage, deception and lies.

Both have been blamed for tensions and wars,
Battles have been fought, while desert flames roared.
Who can say what the future has in store?

Will gold just become another metal or fine stone?
Will oil remain black, never refined to a yellow tone?
Or will the two eventually be merged into one?

The fate of this world has many years relied,
On powerful nations to act justified.
Can the world be trusted to remain civilized?

Will rational minds remain unified?
Can the power of one commit genocide?
Isn’t oil just gold that’s been liquified?



Copyright © November 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
120309

What Would It Be Like?

I wrote this in 1980 when the war in Afghanistan was going on. Ironically it still is...


One day I was driving home from school.
I saw two army trucks, dressed in camouflage and green paint,
Rolling down the highway, heading in the opposite direction.
It was an unusual sight, and ironic at the time,
When war seemed so inevitable.
I watched as they drove by, seemingly unnoticed,
And thought to myself...

What would it be like?

To live in a world such as Korea, Vietnam or Afghanistan,
Where military trucks rolling down the highway is a common site,
A belligerent world, where soldiers line the streets,
And fighter jets and helicopters fill the air.

What would it be like?

To live in constant fear.
To never be sure what tomorrow will bring.
To not know the meaning of trust and love of thy neighbor.
To watch people that you know die before your eyes.

What would it be like?


Copyright © May 1980
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
05011980

The Human Zoo

On Sunday, February 3, 1980, I saw the Lorton Criminal Rehabilitation Center for the first time...


These are the Lions and Tigers,
These are the Catholics and Jews.

Imagine a human menagerie,
Where the stock have no freedom to choose,
Where thoughts are controlled,
One does as he's told,
Imagine a Human Zoo.

One's world exists in a room,
Detached from the world outside,
Completely alone,
A cubical home,
In the zoo there is no place to hide.

They can be dangerous creatures,
They'll rebel the first chance they get.
They're let out in the sun,
At the point of a gun,
Don't feed them, you might get bit.

Their gates are closed to the public,
Inside great towers abound,
The enclosure's immense,
A barbed-wire fence,
The herd has limited ground.

They're by far the most popular exhibit,
Manifested for public view,
Men peer in the cells,
And see themselves,
Confined in a Human Zoo.


Copyright © May 1980
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
050180