• Keith A. Kenel is an aging cyclist, amateur actor, failing triathlete, prolific poet, terrible singer and ponderer of ideas large and small.

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Tag Archives: Demon

Tiny, Selfish Toddlers

10 Saturday Dec 2016

Posted by keithakenel in Poetry

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Tags

Angel, ’Disappointment is a function of expectation.’, Demon, Fantasy, Love, Love Poem, Lovers, Maturity, Perfect Man, Perfect Mate, Perfect Woman, Relationships, Respect, Witch

How many roses? How many thorns?
How many songs about thumbs getting torn?
Why do we look for lover who can never be?
Will surely encounter disappointment
If from mates demand divinity.

Tiny, selfish toddlers inside each of us
Tantrum throwing tyrant tirades when things get rough
Castles that we’re building, knocked to the ground;
Finger pointing’s ubiquitous when things go wrong.
Number of chips on shoulders? Plenty to go round.

First thing that we see, when we find love?
Grandiose fantasy sent down from above.
Our glasses are so rosy, only see the shine,
Look into a mirror, see what we reflect,
A concocted couple existing solely in a shrine?

Perfection’s never found here upon the Earth;
Examples of perfection? Falls below a dearth.
No doubt it’s our flaws that make us human
If you think you’ve found exception, you’d best look again.
Living example of perfection? Living a fiction.

Torn thumbs and bruised egos always are nigh;
Mate transformed from angel to witch who can fly?
Neither loving angel nor demon of the night,
Is our earthly partner we sometimes decry:
Swear transformation is product of our own poor sight.

Everything is changing every minute of the day,
There’s no magic weapon that keeps time’s wolves at bay.
We all start to crumble with the passing years,
Our wondrous physicality quickly drops away.
Loving only mate’s outside is to only love veneer.

Far too many crying in their whiskey,
Far too many acting  oh so churlishly,
Too many looking for love through goggled beers.
Life spent looking for lie of perfection
Adds up to a lot of wasted, lonely years

Next time that you’re feeling lonely sad or blue,
Wondering what went wrong between the two of you?
Instead of searching for evil villain
Upon whom to rest all of the blame?
Know swinging fists easily leads to eyes blackened.

How many roses? How many thorns?
How many songs about thumbs getting torn?
Why do we look for lover who can never be?
Will surely encounter disappointment
If from mates demand divinity.

 

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