• 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: Discontent

Infests My Soul

19 Wednesday Apr 2017

Posted by keithakenel in Poetry

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Discontent, Disillusioned, Jaded, Malcontent

Fantasy I created deserted me, left me ablated.
Blindfold that covered my eyes now is neither proper shape nor size.
I am withered, I am dry, aspirations know no reprise;
Mirage I was heading for has dissolved and is no more.

Reality far too stark has icy grip around my heart;
All I see is perverse bunch who seem intent on me for lunch.
Smiling eyes that look my way now seem to peer at me as prey.
People play games within games, two faced monsters without shame.

Every rock in every field when uplifted maggots revealed.
Creeping, crawling ugliness infests my soul I here confess
Spring should be time of rebirth; fear I know just costs not worth.
Nowhere to run nor to hide when darkness in self does reside.

Winter of my discontent, cold, hard place with love absent;
How has life come down to this, where all speak in fork-tongued hiss?
Perfidy of self betrayed leads me to this upright grave
Hell in many varied forms into my heart has deeply bored.

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Blind

17 Monday Apr 2017

Posted by keithakenel in Poetry

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Tags

Discontent, Dissatisfaction, Fatigue, Pain

Cheerful pessimism long has been my brand
Wherefore art thou cheerful? Down’s gotten out of hand.
Glory of sun rising in delightful way
Brings glimmer of a smile but then return to gray

Weather most delicious that once brought me up
Now moves me barely from life down in the dumps
Morass of existence I cannot leave behind
Ugliness is clear but to beauty I am blind

Mask that I present to strangers in my life
Is face that seems content to muddle through this strife
Like old Jacob Marley with his fettered chains
From dark desperation freedom I can’t gain

Smiling happy faces with whom I interact
Seem to live in sunshine while I slowly fade to black
I know that there’s great beauty in life all around
Wish it would uplift me and on it could expound

 

Daddy Didn’t Like Shakespeare

01 Saturday Oct 2016

Posted by keithakenel in Poetry

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"Love your brother as you do yourself", "Romeo and Juliet", 16th Century, Angels, Bible, Brothers, Comrades, Despots, Devils, Discontent, Diversity, Earth’s greatest commandment, Golden Rule, Hijabs, Litmus Test, Love, Love Fest, Ockham’s Razor, Prism, Psalms, Queers, Rainbow, Right & Wrong, Songs, Sonnets, The Bard, William Shakespeare, Yarmulkes

My daddy didn’t like Shakespeare, thought he was kinda queer
Wrote sonnets to other men, attractions beyond Dad’s ken
Never did he see the light, how that old Bard got so much right
Loved him past the day Dad died, still long for him by my side

Love’s a most powerful thing, turns despots nice makes devils sing
Don’t give me no litmus test, put your prejudice out to rest
Seven colors in the rainbow, white light through prisms lets ‘em show
Great value in diversity, don’t need no philosophical degrees

Love your brother as you do yourself, earth’s greatest commandment, it’s top shelf!
If we all sing in the same key there’s no place for harmony
Wearing Yarmulkes or hijabs makes folks neither good nor bad
Do they sow seeds of love or curse in name of God above?

Unto others is Golden Rule No need to act a fool
When a stranger comes into our strange land, offer him a welcoming hand
Though his clothes may seem absurd may not speak single intelligible word
We’re all brothers under the skin time to let love’s feast begin

Words are easy, acts are hard, let’s take a tip from old Bard
“I will be deaf to pleading and excuses; Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses”
Words from Sixteenth Century, way past time it seems to me
To act on our more exquisite natures let’s not cut our own throats on Ockham’s Razor

Simplest answers often quite right, must increasing discontent be our plight?
Let us walk hand in hand, as loving girls, boys, women and men
Psalms of hope and songs of joy each of us must now employ
Lifting voices to the skies and with our works make angels sigh

It’s a job that we must do, no slacking for me or you
In this world silence is consent, must express our discontent
My daddy didn’t like Shakespeare, but he held the Bible proud and dear
We’ve all notions of right and wrong, all need values to keep us strong
But different is not always bad, need to accept our new comrades

My daddy didn’t like Shakespeare, thought he was kinda queer
Wrote sonnets to other men, attractions beyond Dad’s ken
Never did he see the light, how that old Bard got so much right
Loved him past the day Dad died, still long for him by my side

My daddy didn’t like Shakespeare, but he held the Bible proud and dear
My daddy didn’t like Shakespeare, my daddy didn’t like Shakespeare
My daddy didn’t like Shakespeare, but he held the Bible proud and dear
My daddy didn’t like Shakespeare, my daddy didn’t like Shakespeare

West Bank Children

When voting is a crime

07 Monday Mar 2016

Posted by keithakenel in Poetry

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"Love Potion #9", Discontent, Jerry Leiber, Mike Stroller, President 45, Primary Vote, Two Party System, Voting

I took my troubles to the voting booth
Heart of democracy and that’s the truth
My soul was heavy as I scribbled some jive
What pitiful choices for President Forty Five

Both party’s candidates they make me sick
Big promise liars full of dirty tricks
Try to look like penitents, church folks who all tithe
Utter words grotesque they hope will make them President 45
They hide their eyes, tell some lies then give a big wink
They glow with pride though truth has died and they don’t blink
It reeks of crime and from it my mind surely does shrink
Shook my head at the sleaze and my mouth it did shriek

What I saw it was a God awful sight
Motley crew whose words could turn day to night
Filling out primary form so contrived
I shed a tear over the contest for Pres 45

They hid their eyes, told some lies then gave a big wink
They glowed with pride though truth had died and they didn’t blink
It reeked of crime and from it my mind surely did shrink
Shook my head at the sleaze and my mouth it did shriek

What I saw it was a God awful sight
Motley crew whose words could turn day to night
Filling out primary form so contrived
I shed a tear over the contest for Pres 45
President 45
President 45
President 45
President 45
President 45

With thanks to Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller for “Love Potion #9”

 

I took my troubles down to Madame Ruth
You know that gypsy with the gold cap tooth
She’s got a pad down at 34th and Vine
Sellin’ little bottles of Love Potion #9

I told her that I was a flop with chicks
I been this way since 1956
She looked at my palm and she made a magic sign
She said, “Whatcha need is a bottle of Love Potion #9”
She bent down and turned around and gave me a wink
She said I’m gonna make it up right here in the sink
It smelled like turpentine and looked like India ink
I held my nose, I closed my eyes, I took a drink

I didn’t know if it was day or night
I started kissing everything in sight
But when I kissed a cop down at 34th and Vine
He broke my little bottle of love Potion #9

She bent down and turned around and gave me a wink
She said I’m gonna make it up right here in the sink
It smelled like turpentine and looked like India ink
I held my nose, I closed my eyes, I took a drink

I didn’t know if it was day or night
I started kissing everything in sight
But when I kissed a cop down at 34th and Vine
He broke my little bottle of love Potion #9
Love Potion #9
Love Potion #9
Love Potion #9
Love Potion #9
Love Potion #9

By the Sea

19 Tuesday Aug 2014

Posted by keithakenel in Poetry

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Tags

Adolescent, Adventure, Chase, Demons, Discontent, Docile, Frolic, Inertia, Joy, Launch, Quest, Sand, Sea, Sensualist, Serene, Shore, Somnambulism, Splendor, Surf, Thrills, Vikings, Void, Walking Death

The sand and surf it beckoned me to leave the cow’s cud shore
To set out on adventure where no man has gone before
I felt the pull of Vikings, longed to start a merry chase
The inertia of too many years glued me to my place
I trotted through the breakers, I played out in the bright sun
But all the time I wondered where has my joy for life gone?
Why am I discontented with my frolic by the sea?
Do I fear a walking death or long for great energy?
I don’t know where I am going, not sure of where I’ve been
Each day like the others, I live in somnambulism
I’ll not be a sensualist who lives naught but for thrills
I need to set out on a quest, find dark demons to kill
Instead I trudge on docilely writing verse in the sand
I can’t help wonder, am I adolescent or a man?
Who comes to sweet earthly gardens and can’t enjoy the scene?
Each time I gaze at splendor I see little that’s serene
Discontent, recompense, a longing for bold renaissance
I must lift myself with bootstraps and into the void launch

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