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

Recurring Nightmare

Visions keep flashing
Before my eyes.
My mind keeps rehashing,
Clear blue skies.
Planes keep crashing,
Into building sides.
Voices keep asking,
For reasons why.

Media speculation,
Terrorist ties.
Complete devastation,
World paralyzed.
Military hesitation?
Rumors denied.
Immediate retaliation.
Maneuvers formalized.

People falling,
Victimized,
Cries calling,
Terrified.
Glass keeps breaking,
Horrified.
Jihad keeps taking,
Glorified.Buildings keep crumbling,
Compromised.
Body's keep tumbling,
Falling like flies,
Children keep wondering,
Just who survived?
God's second coming,
You decide?

Apparitions walking,
Mesmerized.
Staring, not talking,
Desensitized.
Ghostly illusions,
Glossy-eyed.
Prideful contusions,
Cauterized.

Time keeps changing,
Anguished tides.
Years contemplating.
Pain, Suicide.
Mental whip lashings,
Daunting, inside.
Faces keep passing,
Hauntingly by.

Politicians keep masking,
Truth with their lies.
War keeps lasting,
Youth genocide?
People keep asking,
Proof still denied.
Terrorists keep basking,
In rueful self-pride.

Sooner or later,
They'll open their eyes.
See who's awake.
And who's hypnotized.
They'll see what's at stake,
Then realize,
It's been a bad dream,
They'd rather deny.
 Years of frustrations, still burning inside.
Fearful sensations still blurring the mind.
Repressed bad memories, the fear of reprise.

A recurring nightmare in a blurry disguise.


Copyright © September 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
101809

Bartholomew Dylan Banks

From the earliest memories of friends and kin,
Life was good for Batholomew Dylan Banks.
Early on folks were enamored with him.
All were tolerant of his childish pranks.
People enjoyed his charismatic charm,
His lack of manners judged auspiciously coy.
His obstinate behavior, caused little harm,
As he was lauded with many an "at-ta boy".

Friends honoured him with compliments and praise,
Lavish offerings of presents and toys,
Gifts were aplenty in Bart's adolescent days.
His possessions were his pride and joy.
As he became a young man, people began,
To reprove his social arrogance,
His life took a turn, he could not understand,
Why so many soon avoided his presence.

He was truly inspired by all he aspired,
Things came easier to Bart than you and me.
His one fatal flaw, a self-centered desire,
A lack of grace and humility.
His haughty disdain forged an arrogant sin.
You see, Bart never once did give thanks,
For all that ever really mattered to him,
Was Bartholomew Dylan Banks.

Some say it was sad, the way he turned out.
Some remember him uncommonly thin.
He never did prosper or ever amount,
To the life he envisioned for him.
He never married, never had kids,
Never found his place in the ranks.
And when he died, no one remembered him,
Bartholomew Dylan Banks.



Copyright © June 2009
Kevin Mooney

The Scent of Summer Rain

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

It quenches thirsts for subtlety,
It eases mental strains.
It's essence has a fragrancy,
That settles idle brains.

It softens sun baked window panes,
Cleans soil-caked, dusty feet.
So often it's unjustly blamed,
For flooded urban streets.

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

Often spurred by hurricanes,
They scour pale grey skies.
Tornadic and Cyclonic remains,
Empower rivers to rise.

Drizzles sweet as sugar cane,
Spark waterfall overflows.
Hailstones in it's quake proclaim,
Majestic 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,
Skies turn vibrantly blue.
They still a mind's quiet refrain.
Make the whole world feel brand new.



Copyright © May 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001

051110

The Frisbee Catching Dog

I wrote this in September 1979 for my loving and faithful dog Nugget, the best dog in the world. He was my best friend for 12 years...


He certainly is a lazy ole fella,
This friend of mine.
Some say, "He's just a dumb animal"
I don't really mind.
Besides, I know him better than anyone.

Sure he's lazy,
Aren't all his kind?
He's a dog, part husky,
Their coats aren't fine.
And I know him better than anyone...

Don't let his laziness fool you though.
He's merely waiting for the time,
When I take him out,
Turn him loose,
And let that saucer fly.

For he's the Frisbee Catching Dog,
A legend in his time,
An honest-to-God celebrity,
With the ability to climb...

...high above friends and foes,
'till soaring disc he finds,
Then gradually to earth he floats,
then turning on a dime...

...back to me he brings the disc,
At my feet, he lets it lie.
Then sits and shines, as if to say,
"Come on, just one more time?"

So I grab the plate,
Cock my arm,
At once he's off he's off his behind.
There it goes,
The wind's got it now,
But where's that mutt of mine?

Oh well, like I said,
This ole fella's past his prime,
He's the laziest frisbee catching dog,
The world will ever find.
And of course, I know him better than anyone...


Copyright © May 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm074
090179

The Human Zoo

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 2009
Kevin Mooney

An April Psalm

Another April is upon us.

Consider these events and what might be next...

History's inscribed with painful regrets,
Time-stamped reminders we'd just soon forget.
Life changing moments wrought with misery,
Sober atonement's to God's apathy.


Consider this sequence of mid-April dates,
A 2-week stretch worth scholarly debates,
A series of occurrences without common thread,
A collection of tragedies riddled with dead.


April 12, 1861


A war between brothers, a nation divided,
The question of Slavery, debate undecided,
A Fort's forced surrender, human dignity fought for,
The anguished overture to The American Civil War.


April 12, 1945


Our 32nd President, nationally adored,
Died in office, the free world mourned.
The most tenured Chief in U.S. history,
Distinction was Franklin's last legacy.


On April 14, 1865


While the nation reeled to get back on it's feet,
Abe Lincoln was shot in his balcony seat.
"Sic Semper Tyrannis", his assailant cried,
"He belongs to the ages", a martyr had died.


April 14th, 1912


A ship's maiden voyage, an unsinkable fate,
A runaway iceberg too little, too late.
A Titantic virgin, high society's new rave,
1500 passengers sent to icy hallowed graves.


April 15, 1986,


Middle Eastern tension and territorial defense,
A Berlin club bombed, a dire consequence,
Libya then shelled in retaliation,
60 lives felled, without warning or provocation.


On April 16th, 2007,


A serene college campus in a rural southern state,
32 died at the hands of a class-mate,
Virginia Tech ravaged by a rampaged massacre,
Blacksburg's savage shooting disaster.


April 17, 1961


At the Cold War's peak, a secret coup spoiled,
A surprise invasion to take Cuban soil.
Kennedy's embarrassing political low,
A Bay of Pigs and failed Castro overthrow.


April 18, 1906


A west coast quake, San Francisco torn,
San Andreas faltered in the early morn.
The city shook while most people slept,
3000 died, scores left bereft.


April 19, 1775


Sovereignty sought, a new flag unfurled,
Red Coats and Minutemen, insults hurled.
A Lexington Common to settle the score,
A single shot heard, a Revolutionary War.


April 19, 1993


A poorly planned siege in a small Texas town,
An Adventist's forged stand on Koreshian ground.
Waco's Davidians, FBI, ATF,
82 perished, most burned to death.


April 19, 1995


Oklahoma, City, the last place you'd expect,
A rental truck blast, sheered lack of respect.
Alfred P. Murray's face blown to smithereens,
A day care center and heart-wrenching scenes.


April 20, 1999


Two young gunman arrived at school late,
Their intent malicious, their motive pure hate.
A rapid fire stroll in armored disguise,
12 Columbine kids, a teacher victimized.


April 20, 2010


An oil spill disaster beyond compare,
A world engulfed in ecological despair.
Wildlife and lives scarred thereafter,
The BP Deepwater Horizon disaster.


April 27, 2011


A US, mid-west tornadic storm,
Millions of lives irrevocably torn.
God's epic wrath funneled from above,
Record tornadoes, lost homes and ones loved.



These world changing dates seem random at first glance,
But placed on a timeline they're suddenly enhanced.
I only named some, those most can relate,
There are many others that fall in these dates.
A coincidence, perhaps, they happened when they did.
But consider they're significance, the possibilities unsaid.


Do worldly events occur randomly?
Or are we all tokens of some sovereign monopoly?
Are our future's staged, fates foretold?
Or are we engaged in some Divine stranglehold?


Is the future dictated by events from the past?
Outcomes determined when calendar's cast?
Are questions answered before they are asked?
How long will God's mercy eventually last?


If there's no purpose to one's life at all,
Would there be a need for a crystal ball?
Existence is tenuous, the future unclear.
Will God's beckon call be the last voice we hear?


History's defined in both time and existence,
Misery reminds us just how fragile life is.
The future's traversed with blind trepidation.
With mysteries cursed beyond Deprecation.


Church bells chime together consistent,
While rivers wind forever persistent.
Mankind's time is measured and imminent.
Lives intertwine then are gone in an instant.

  Copyright © July 2009Kevin Mooney

kmm059

070109

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

Happy Birthday Christina

Christina-Taylor Green was born September 11, 2001 and died January 8, 2011. This coming Sunday would have been her 10th birthday...

Happy birthday Christina,
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday Christina.
This poem's for you.
Happy birthday Christina.
It will soon be 10 years.
The day you were born.
All mankind shed tears.
Happy birthday Christina.
May the world celebrate.
Your life's bold beginning,
Was it irony or fate?

The day that you died.
Brought back repressed fears.
With each passing tide,
We wish you were here.
You were so innocent.
Like those that day.
God called you to heaven,
In a symbolic way.
Happy birthday Christina.
Are 10 candles enough?
To hallow the names,
Of those we all loved.
Rest now Christina.
As three thousand bells toll.
May your spirit be with us.
May God bless your soul.
Happy birthday Christina,
Pray your new life's serene.
We were blessed to have known you,
Christina-Taylor Green.

Forever soothe trepid dreams.



Copyright © September 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
090711

Happy Birthday Christina

Christina-Taylor Green was born September 11, 2001 and died January 8, 2011. This coming Sunday would have been her 10th birthday...

Happy birthday Christina.
Soon it will be 10 years.
We all remember the day you were born.
It was the day the entire world mourned.
The day all mankind shed tears.

Happy birthday Christina.
I wish that you were still here.
The day you died the whole world cried.
You were just standing innocently by.
Your death brought back all our fears.

Happy birthday Christina.
May the whole world celebrate.
Three thousand souls' bells were tolled,
Before you were even one day old.
Was it irony or fate?

Happy birthday Christina.
10 candles just won't be enough.
To hallow with flames three thousand names,
Eternally shame those to blame.
Condemn those responsible caught.

Happy birthday Christina.
You died symbolically.
God called you to heaven in 2011,
The same year as Osama Bin Laden.
Before the 10th anniversary.

Christina-Taylor Green.

Happy birthday Christina,
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday Christina.
We were all blessed by you.
We still miss you, too.

This poem's for you.


Copyright © September 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
090411

Atomic Picnic

Oh Mommy, Mommy, look at the cloud,
It's shaped like a big mushroom.
I've never heard fireworks quite so loud,
Will it be over soon?

Oh Darling, what a spot you found.
What a fantastic view.
Other families spread out all around,
All having a good time too.

Oh Mommy, Mommy, what's that smell?
Is something burning somewhere?
I think it's the sky, it's hard to tell,
Is it coming from over there?

Oh Darling, what a nice lunch you've made.
You're such a wonderful cook.
The weather's perfect, it's a beautiful day,
It's just like a storybook.

Oh Mommy, Mommy, did you feel the ground?
Was that a little earthquake?
Did the people in that little town,
Survive the rumble and shake?

Oh kids, don't worry, it's not over yet,
The fun's just begun.
This is something you'll never forget,
You and everyone.

Oh Darling, this day couldn't get any better,
But isn't it kind of ironic?
A picnic together you want to last forever,
Turns out to be atomic.


Copyright © September 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
090411

Men From Mars

Men from Mars can be found in bars,
In trench-coats and strange looking hats.
They drink alone,
Or with their own.
Avoid crowds and social contact.

Men from Mars drive plain looking cars,
Usually live by themselves.
They wear a disguise,
To hide their eyes.
Like turtles, retreat in their shells.

Men from Mars have hidden scars,
That others don't ever see.
They've been places,
Seen foreign faces.
Witnessed what would frighten you and me.

Men from Mars fill empty jars,
With collections of specimens and debris.
Bottled up samples,
Ill-gotten examples,
Recollections of past misery.

Men from Mars have fought in wars,
That other men cannot believe.
They survived,
Barely alive.
To be examined, probed and studied.

Men from Mars look to the stars,
For hope and a chance to be free.
The Martian landscape,
Provides an escape,
A place they'd much rather be.

Men from Mars, imagine they are.
Aliens and monstrosities.
Left behind,
Virtually blind,
Victims of man's atrocities.

Men from Mars have traveled far,
Crossed intergalactic seas.
Searching to find,
Signs left behind.
Penchants of what used to be.

Remnants of their own sanity.



Copyright © September 2011
Kevin Mooney




kmm001
090411

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

A Gunslinger's Last Request

To whom it may concern:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
082511

Frankly Scarlett

Consummate tale of selfish pride,
Illustrious conflict between two sides.
Vivien brought Scarlett O'Hara to life,
Insane jealousy caused Melanie strife.
Lusted for Ashley Wilkes real bad.

Wanted things she could not have.
Architectural plantation gems,
Ravaged by General Sherman's men.

Emancipation yet proclaimed,
Reconstruction's post-war pain.
Atlanta's heart set afire,

Confederates lost that burning desire.
Laden with coquettish scorn,
Aristocratic southern charm.
Scarlett fought for Tara's sake,
Shunned advances Butler would make.
Iconic Gable, Leigh embrace,
Catatonic Scarlett face.

Frankly Rhett didn't give a damn,
In the end, proved the better man.
Left Scarlett to fend another day,
Made "Fiddle Dee Dee" quote cliche.


Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
082411

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

Side By Side, Together

I often lay and watch you breath,
Ever so gently, while you sleep.
I think about,
The life we've had,
The love we've shared,
How far we've come, together.

As I lay and watch you,
I thank God you're my wife.
I then recount,
The day we met,
And can't forget,
How you've changed my life, forever.

When I lay there with you,
Tears well in my eyes.
I never dreamed,
Life could be,
So worry free,
Wonderful and fun, together.

As we lay side by side,
I think of you with humble pride.
I'm so glad that I'm alive.
To have you to always confide.
I thank God that you're my bride.
It's been a very special ride, together.

As I lay next to you,
Life just seems so right.
The future looks so bright.
Our boys have grown,
They'll soon leave home,
Once again we'll be alone,

To live out life on our own, together.



Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
080411

Seal Team Six Solstice Psalm

Aug 6, 2011, KABUL, Afghanistan (AP) — 30 American service members — 22 of them elite Navy SEALs — died Saturday when their Chinook helicopter was shot down about 60 miles southwest of Kabul...

This is dedicated to those that died. This is an acrostic...

Coalition US led,
Operation, 30 dead.
Political patriotic pawns,
Typical post Islamic palm.
Every parents' worst nightmare,
Reprehensive cursed warfare.
Did they die needlessly?
Obama please, can't you see.
Will you end the suffering?
Now's the time, don't you agree?

Osama drama still at hand,
Segregate the Kali-ban.
American special service plan,
Militia's sacrificial lamb.
Anti-aircraft missile toll,
Single shot south of Kabul.
Rest in peace young sacred sons,
Eternal sleep's the prize you won.
Vindication now in hand?
Evacuate Afghanistan.
Navy Seal Team Six's song,
Gallantry, right or wrong.
Elite soldier's solstice psalm.


Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
080811

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

De Captain

Oh Derek, De Captain, what a legacy you'll leave;
You've been a force, a mighty work horse, since you entered the league.
As the end draws near to your storied career, one that's now in year 16.
Relish the milestones you've achieved, and glorious cheers you've received.
Oh Derek, Our Captain, it's hard to believe,
It's been this long, oh how could it be.
One day the world will look back and agree,
It was how you played the game.

Oh Derek, De Captain, you've earned your degree;
You've lived a life of luxury, royalty, what you yearned to be.
You're now the who many long to be, a prodigy, a pedigree.
Some may call it destiny, that you're a New York Yankee.
Oh Derek, Our Captain, you're many a fave,
Fans will recount the years you played,
No one will question what you gave,
Your dedication, passion or name.

Oh Derek, Oh Captain, this may or may not be it.
Take a few moments and sit. Relax and enjoy it a bit.
No one will question your intensity, passion, emotion or grit.
What fans may remember most, is your historic three thousandth hit.
Oh Derek, Oh Captain, how can it be?
There's never be another in your company.
You're now in the exclusive club of three.
The very first New York Yankee.

Oh Derek, Team Captain, careful, don't bend;
You're the team leader, comrade and friend. Keep on pushing as hard as you can.
Baseball's been played since most don't know when. Careers eventually end.
Nobody plays the game forever, but in spirit, legacies can.
Oh Derek, Oh Captain, keep living your dream.
Future generations will remember your name.
You've made your mark in America's game.
You're destined for The Hall of Fame.


Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
080311