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May 2023 · 198
Misopportunities
Matthew Mckeown May 2023
Misopportunities, how they haunt the mind,
Those chances that we let slip through our grasp,
Regretful thoughts, a burden left behind,
Our hearts in sorrow, drowning in the past.

The roads untraveled, dreams left unfulfilled,
The words unspoken, love we did not show,
The chances missed, our fears left unchilled,
A life half-lived, with so much left to grow.

The clock ticks on, our time is not endless,
The future calls, a new day, a new chance,
To seize the day, and make it our own quest,
To rise above, and take the lead in the dance.

So let us not dwell on what might have been,
But seize the day, and start anew again.
May 2023 · 197
Ode to Coleridge’
Matthew Mckeown May 2023
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree
And in that dome did he behold
A maiden fair, of beauty untold

But though her visage shone so bright
'Twas not her outer form, in truth
That captured Khan's enraptured sight
And kept him spellbound from his youth

No, 'twas her inner beauty grand
A grace that radiated out
A heart so pure, a soul so grand
That all who knew her had no doubt

That she was rare, a gem so fine
A treasure not of earthly kind
For inner beauty, so divine
Is rarest thing that one can find

And though we're told that looks can charm
And beauty is a prized allure
It's in the heart that one must farm
The loveliness that will endure

For outer beauty fades with time
And what was once so fair to see
Will in the end, no longer shine
A mere reflection of what used to be

But inner beauty, that will last
A flame that never fades away
A light that guides us through the past
And leads us to a brighter day.
May 2020 · 150
My Stranger My Muse
Matthew Mckeown May 2020
My stranger-
you inspire me to write,
the way you walk, talk and cry,
invading my mind- day and night,
dreaming about the poised comply.

Let me compare you to a caring bay
fearful, splendid, and tired,
a shy breeze ***** the daring
dancers of May,

Now I must go with a staring heart,
your bright words surounding me
shining through while we're apart.

With dutiful hair, lips and eyes-
filling all that I would say,
my love for you is left-
only in the memories...
May 2020 · 151
Finding Hope
Matthew Mckeown May 2020
For the first time in a very long time. I left the party early, I wasn’t even drunk, I had remained sober

I walked out into the night and looked to the sky. The moon was fuller than it had ever been to me and bright, piercing bright! So bright you would swear it was the sun if you didn’t know the hour.

Beyond the moon were the stars. shining shimmering twinkling each one of them appeared to me as though they were connected. A string of tremulous lights hung on some celestial Christmas tree.
They made me feel giddy like a child on Christmas morning

I breathed in the clean crisp fresh night air, it filled my lungs to capacity. One might say that it was exhilarating or invigorating. For me it was Intoxicating it made me drunk with clarity

Its intoxication caused a strong Epiphany.  In that moment I felt no fear, anguish or depression, that normally hangs over me like some dark and brooding cloud. Quite the opposite-

I was suddenly enlightened with what could only be described as an eternal wisdom that flushed over me in one grand,  magnificent swoop.

It was the revelation that my mind twisted by foreign agents I drank smoked and inhaled, made me believe I had super powers. Namely an impenetrable soul covered with emotional invisibility cloak.

All the while causing the opposite anxiety and depression. Leaving in its wake, like a pile of dead bodies. murdered relationships and wounded loved ones.

Now under this rash, stark intervention that my previously seared conscience was orchestrating I began weeping, crying, sobbing profusely I couldn’t catch my breath my heart was pounding it felt like it would pop out of my chest. Like I was having a heart attack .

I fell to my knees and I shook my fist up at the dark midnight sky. Crying out Oh God! Oh God what have I done? What has become of me now?

Then without warning a peace  flowed over me, it had an aroma and was liquid like a hot bath filled with lavender petals. It was golden, a field of marigolds by the side of a mountain in some distant land blowing under the warm breeze of summer’s sunshine.  It’s sound was that of the ocean’s waves gently caressing the sand of a long powder white shoreline of some tropical dream island one longs to visit.


It was most incredible feeling I ever experienced and I didn’t want it to stop. It was wrapping me in its love and I felt faint under its spell.  Then as quickly as it came it left me. But not untouched, it did not leave me empty or shallow.  Rather it left me with a steadiness a calm, best described as a hope, no a living hope.

This hope sat on me on my shoulders but not the way my depression previously had like a heavy armor of guilt punishing my very soul for every mistake I had ever made.

Not at all this feeling of hope was light and airy, ethereal. It allowed me to as a poet one said, “On gossamer wings, soar with flights of fancy into heavenly realms” it was whispering to me in gentle harmonic tones such as that of a lullaby. Whispering that there was still time to make amends that my life isn’t over and that there is still a chance for me.


And so it was that night the cataracts of my own selfish, emotional blindness fell off revealing myself - to myself

Though this new found  wisdom that I was enraptured with in that mysterious, miraculous moment is so simple that even a child could have revealed it to me. It knocked my life over like a feather.

why I chose not to indulge at that party, in that which I normally longed for-even before the end of the workday, I do not know.

This I do know -
I have Hope!
Sep 2019 · 145
No Strength in the End
Matthew Mckeown Sep 2019
I paced back and forth across the
wooden floor, it didn’t  squeak like
it’s done before

Anxious, full of Xanax and alcohol
to calm my fear, not one creek
did I hear

As she lay in her bed dying that day,
I was a coward in the hallway

She wanted me by her bedside, I stood
out there drinking whiskey as tears filled
my eyes, feeling guilty, telling myself lies

She needed me in there, holding
her hand, kneeling by her bedside-

proclaiming “ I love you!  when you go
a part of me will die”

I never went in,

Now a nagging question
driving me insane,

Was the Cancer or my Weakness-
her greatest pain...
Apr 2019 · 166
The Violet Floor
Matthew Mckeown Apr 2019
Beneath a gentle morning breeze,
splashes of purple play,
at the feet of trees,
Lilacs, in a forest of grey

delicate and sublime,
a purple ocean, a violet sea,
with the scent of lavander,
their aroma captivates me
Mar 2019 · 700
Grapes of Forgiveness
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2019
Refrigerators are made
to keep things cold-
a job well done,
grapes in the bowl

Knew they were yours
tasted delicious-
this part’s not fun,
I beg your forgiveness
Feb 2019 · 244
Groundhog Blues
Matthew Mckeown Feb 2019
no oil or pitches
to make tender
leather

ball and mitt
sidelined till
mercury is
ascending

shadow of
the groundhog
weather-
depressing
Jan 2019 · 273
Marigolds
Matthew Mckeown Jan 2019
A sea of marigolds blowing in the wind,
one hundred thousand strong if I were to hazzard a guess, each golden top brighter than the next

standing tall gleaming under the warm summer sun, emerald green leaves contrasting an ocean  blue sky, soldiers parading in their finest  military dress-

covering the base of a mountain the focus of their conquest
Jun 2018 · 458
Intellectual Suicide
Matthew Mckeown Jun 2018
The death of discourse on
the minds of elite professors,
free speech slain-

highly educated zombies.
feeding on
un-maturated brains

Safe spaces created with
the mantra- see no evil,
hear no evil, speak no evil,

all the while inciting
riots and kaos, fomenting
campi upheaveal

Learning being crucified
the latest fad-
intellectual suicide...
Jun 2018 · 245
Self inflicted wounds
Matthew Mckeown Jun 2018
A thousand miles
to that promised land

seems like nine hundred
and ninety nine always loom-

fighting every battle,
real or pereived
with guns a blazing

shooting myself
in the foot

a tale of-
self-inflicted wounds
Matthew Mckeown Jun 2018
She is the keeper of secrets-
mysteries untold
hidden behind her blue eyes,
her complexion of gold

She has an inner peace,
a fire of joy burning inside,
aloof and near all-
at the same time

She is known and unknown,
a dichotomy to the senses,
her beauty lies within-
and without
no walls no fences

She rises with the sun,
soaring on gossamer wings,
surrounding those she loves-
with the song she sings

She is She is not…
Jun 2018 · 213
The lonley among us
Matthew Mckeown Jun 2018
The lonely heart is unseen,
a dancer alone-
spinning on an empty floor

no partner to tango
with anymore

Feelings hiding in shadows
while faked smiles wrinkle
mournful cheeks

empty wine bottles
strewn on a cold floor
aside bare feet

Melancholy poetry read
by a dim light-
tears dripping on somber lines


the note to end it all
thought of -
a thousand times...
Matthew Mckeown May 2018
I remember the day like it was yesterday;
the temperature was 7 below zero by 7 A.M.
Then it was 13 below, and at 7:25 A.M.
on Friday, Feb. 9, 1934, the coldest temperature-
ever for New York City was recorded.

Believe it or not that is not the reason
I remember that day;
it was the day she walked in my office.

She had the kind of look that made a man's-
and a few women's mouths drop open.

Like I said a real looker,
5' 8' endowed with more curves and-
hair pin turns then the Pacific Coast Highway.
Eyes crystal blue, hair platinum blonde
(without the bottle)
she was well put together for sure.

When she spoke;
the words that came out-
of her ruby red lips
made you want to slap her
and kiss her all at the same time.
May 2018 · 230
You, Me, We
Matthew Mckeown May 2018
I found a pearl in the
ocean, where I drown
my sorrows, it reminded
me of us.

You-
white lace and pearls
draped your wedding
gown and a scarlet
veil covered your face,

Me-
a shiny suit
of armor tarnished
with kinks of flesh.

We-
cut ourselves
with our emotional
knives,

the love burned hot-
so hot, it burned
down our lives.

I threw the pearl
back.
Apr 2018 · 164
Gummies
Matthew Mckeown Apr 2018
I’m eating gummies
by the dumpster,
they taste real good,

soft-
cause’ they’ve been
in my pocket all day.
Apr 2018 · 195
Sugar fling
Matthew Mckeown Apr 2018
Cherry red lolipop lips
covered with shinny sugar,
turned my head-
who is this

I've work to do, don't care
have to pursue-
this candy girl

Can't eat, can't sleep
approached -
couldn't utter a peep

She smiled, heart melted
we both felt it,

A sweet connection
we couldn't deny-
Love's confection
Apr 2018 · 162
Leave the kid alone
Matthew Mckeown Apr 2018
Twenty years wise know everything
beats in my ear every song would
declare the truth of my-
generation

The mall the movies the arcade
the eighties alive flowing in my-
veins

Living in every moment for every
moment pleasure seeking never
retreating from my-
hedonism

Young immortal invincible no nukes
world changer peace on my-
mind

No regrets, forgets or wished
it never happened thoughts
enjoyed it all, that's what my-
youth

was for...
Matthew Mckeown Apr 2018
Those scars rooted me. Stigmata stalagmite
I sat at a drive-in and watched the stars
Through a straw while the Coke in my lap went
Waterier and waterier. For days on end or

Nights no end I crawled on all fours or in
My case no fours to worship you: Amoeba Behemoth.
—Then you explained your DNA calls for
Meaner genes than mine and since you are merely

So to speak its external expression etcet
Ergo among your lovers I’ll never be ...
Ah that movie was so faraway the stars melting

Made my thighs icy. I see: it’s not you
Who is not requiting me, it’s something in you
Over which you have no say says no to me.
Bill Knott, "The Consolation of Sociobiology" from Becos, published by Random House.  Copyright 1983 by Bill Knott.  Reprinted by permission of the author.

Source: Becos (1983)

If some of you don't know Bill Knott here is a sample of his work
Apr 2018 · 162
Natures reality
Matthew Mckeown Apr 2018
Flowers in the warm sun
never taking care
from where
the light has come,

trees in gentle breeze-
sway,
as birds nest in them,
knowing not where those
winds begin,

they never need-
worry or take heed

yet man for his sake,
the gentle breeze
that once comforted-
now a cold chill in the air
Apr 2018 · 232
Race Car Love
Matthew Mckeown Apr 2018
Driving down your highway
speeding toward your beauty
recklessly taking chances

Pedal to the floor over you
drifting next to your body
I long to careen into your life

Turbo charged passion
losing all control now
headed for the ultimate tail spin
One for fun :)
Apr 2018 · 176
The Bedding of Anne Boleyn
Matthew Mckeown Apr 2018
The blood red wine of
pomegranates,
seeping into marigold
sheets of desire

political fires,
in need of quelling

telling,
a kingdom broiling over
in anticipation

expectation,
of a life barging in quickly

swiftly,
one night of passion
the melding of lives

legitimized,
a royal heir needs
to come into the fold

or heads will surley roll
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
whats going to happen to me-
now that the sky is falling

can't see the forest for the trees-
now that the sky is falling

you thought I was strange,
you never knew my name,
you perverted the game,

ain't no more zombies-
now that the sky is falling

everbody believes-
now that the sky is falling

you laghed when they harassed,
you didn't help when I gasped,
you joined in when they kicked-
my a**

words of the prophet writen on the school's wall-
now that the sky is in free fall...
Warning adult content or theme
Mar 2018 · 170
The Constraint
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
Knowing all too well that my flesh is weak,
I have to steel my mind against its proclivities
and ravenous inclinations, 

embracing the necessity of the tyranny 
of my conscience by the Spirit of God,
I pray the circumvention of 
my succulent tempestuous desires,

taking every vain imagination captive,
subjecting them to the will of-
Christ our Savior,

else my murderous heart of depravity, 
given opportunity, would devour-
even my eternal soul
Mar 2018 · 192
Day in the life of a Poet
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
I found myself in a place of peregrination
and nonplussed,

it started earlier in the day when I became petulant
with a situation that caused me to ennui over
its poor design

I had to get out of the office and evanescent
to clear my head, I just wanted to be alone;

with my thesaurus :)
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
Whispering softly now, gently in your ear,
speaking little nothings, trifles to be exact,
fanciful things of which I do not care,
smidges of silliness, just something to distract

I love you dear, though you do not know me,
your mind once sharp, and memory strong,
now faded, ravaged by this wretched disease,
yet to me, my beloved, you will always belong

I wish there were no more stress and strife,
a moment you could look at me and remember,
all that we had and shared; our love, joy and life,
it was like spring in May, now winter in December

You will never know worry dear,
so hard seeing you this way, it causes me anger,
I want you to know, I will always be here,
though I have become your well known stranger
Mar 2018 · 153
The Folly of Man for Birds
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
Oh, to be a bird and fly!

Freedom,
soaring above mortal toil,

Fleeing in altitudes-
the gravity of the mundane

escaping the grinding down
of a measured life,

What chance of flight now,
for me-
thirty five summers
then consumed of dust

Pslam 39:4
LORD, make me to know mine end,
and the measure of my days,
what it is; that I may know how frail I am.
Mar 2018 · 166
Who is Who?
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
His face-
greasy and worn,
like fly-paper strips
melting in the sun.

When he gaped at me,
I felt his emotional scars.
They were as tangible,
as those on the back
of a whipped slave

There was a strange
familiarity about him,
breeding contempt.

His sunken, distant eyes,
bore the lives of a
thousand nobodies.

I didn't want to be
anywhere near him,
yet there I was.

Seeing myself in the
reflection of his glare,
suddenly I realized
that in his eyes,
I was the freak show.
Mar 2018 · 153
What Shall our Love Be
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
If I were a grand ballroom
You its breathtaking chandelier
Our love shall be for a bride and groom
A new dance, an exciting twirl
holding each other near

If I were a blossoming red rose
You the savor upon which is so sweet
Our love shall be for a nose
A delightful aroma, an aphrodisiac
a nares treat.

If I were a mountain great and tall
You a wondrous peak
Our love shall be for climbers all
A challenge, an adventure
a journey to seek

If I were an ocean deep and wide
You that horizon of sun setting gold
Our love shall be for couples watching
on the seaside
A warm embrace, a first kiss
a story still to be told

If I were me and not another
You my partner and friend
Our love shall be for each other
Deep passion, a glorious union
a true love without end
Mar 2018 · 176
Saturday Morning Coffee
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
It was a small cafe, the sign that hung
outside appeared wider than the shop
itself.

The logo was a purple monkey
with a large cup of coffee in his hand,
it read "Worlds Grapest Coffee".

Once inside the first thing you notice
is the place smells like brewed heaven,

not like those fru-fru places with all their
exotic flavors, this was just good ole
coffee aroma, thick in the air and
delicious to the nose.

As far as the ambiance,
there wasn't any,
no pretension here.

The wooden floor was old,
worn and uneven, It almost felt like
you were standing on the deck
of a small boat in the middle of a storm,

if you didn't know better, you would
swear the tables and chairs could
come sliding your way at any moment.

The counter looked like it was installed
in the 80’s it had a blue gray formica top
with tiny speckles.

The woman who took my order
had these remarkable sea green eyes,
I was taken aback immediately
when I saw them,

she wore a white button up blouse 
with a black apron wrapped around
her waist, the kind with a pouch
in the front.

Short slim, long dark, chestnut
brown hair with a contagious smile,
definitely not ******* these old eyes.

When asking for my order, her voice
had a smokey jazzy feel to it, adding
yet another layer of soothingness
to the place.

I ordered a regular coffee, black with two sugars
Mar 2018 · 433
Oh Savanna
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
Six months of unberable heat
and dry stubble have taken its toll,
The weak have perished,
strong survived and
heards have been culled

Wildlife in the throngs of death,
in anticipation of the forth coming rain,
huddle under dreary trees-
that loom above the coarse harsh terrain,

Clouds wildly swoop in to cover the bright sky-
frantically diminishing the presence
of the scorching sun's rise

Clouds pregnant with hope burst open
to the rumble of thunder,
Lightning dominating, illuminating
announcing the birth of new born water

The Savanna is in finally in her high season...
Mar 2018 · 212
The Shrinking Sky
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
Visiting the home of my childhood,
standing on a tiny patch of grass
I called my back yard.

Looked up into a small sky
with an even smaller moon and
tiny stars.

There was a time that sky appeared
as the vast never ending universe,
the great proliferator of this boy's
imagination.

My perception of the moon and stars
all those years ago,
seemed  much bigger

Older, devoid of adolescent
innocence and the belief that
somehow all my hopes and dreams
would magically come true,

I realize like the tiny sky
I now gaze upon,
that my life too-
has become smaller
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
She says my ride makes her
feel alive

like some midnight ghoul
with a vampire's drool

she drinks the blood of
my deception

a little push-
some warmth in the veins

then her own special
island
Mar 2018 · 144
Liquid Mistress
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
A thousand white lilies adorn the edge of the craggy cliffs,
below, the sound of the ocean smashing,
waves breaking on the golden sand of the endless shoreline,

The spray and mist thick in the air with its briny smell,
wind howling while gulls squawk in the near distance,

Ten generations of seawater for blood call my name...
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
Sitting in my chair in a blue room-
maybe it's a blues room,
with depression and despair

Sitting in my chair in a red room-
maybe it's  a red hot room,
with anger and seething

Sitting in my chair in a green room-
maybe it's a green eyed monster room,
with envy and jealousy

Sitting in my chair in a black room-
maybe  it's a black as midnight room,
with darkness and fear

too many chairs
too many rooms
too many colors

I'll be back you wait and see
gonna make it on my own

Next time it will be a WHITE room-
a bright white room,
with everything you could
never give me
Mar 2018 · 150
Canarsie
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
Faceless doors and
grimy dry windows
loom above
cracked sidewalks

The old corner store
longs for warm bodies

The "L" roars past
like a jackhammer,

Ah, the noise
Mar 2018 · 155
The Lawn
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
In a beach neighborhood
with pink plastic flamingos,
lawn jockeys, palm trees and
bougainvilleas on manicured lawns.

She sits staring out the window
while brushing her long brown hair.

The chihuahua yaps to be picked up,
Kathy gives in and puts the feisty
pup on her lap.
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
It was my understanding that is not failed
took to my knowing from early age schoolhouse did
    And the books piled and the room
            insisted more
        The teacher beckons
With order saying and call of schoolbell and look
And the smell of school books on the hard wood desk
        Myself to get took
            That second
to the still teaching room and set down.

    My first day began with the room-
kids and the older kids of the advanced years calling my name
    Around the pole and the waving flag
            And I rose
        In doing homage
And talked toward it a crowd of all my peers.
Mar 2018 · 259
As Night Falls
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
As night falls
romance covers
her wounded
heart.

From nigh' to morn'
te' crows knew,
awaiting the night
at dusk, love
shattering
the nightly mood.

Her lips awoke
the sleeping city,
grabbing the moon,
as the stars
screamed.

Blood dripping
from her lustful
sword, time to
cast away hurtful
memories

Requited love
burning like
embers, melting
frigid hearts.

Unbridled passions;
nay of ceasing,
bereft of fear,
aught of pleasing.

Truly nothing
of all sums,
tis rare or fine,
ever is so nigh
‘til morrow comes.

— The End —