Facile Poems

Possum Trash

This sandy shore is mine, I am its vassal;
building my fort, I was much too facile.
Just as I finished, here came a passel,
a passel of beach possums, razzle-dazzle.
I'm not quittin', though it be a hassle;
possum trash'l be an awesome castle.

Around the World

One day I took the subway
and I went around the world
From one car to another 
a new nation’s flag unfurled
The train took off from Brooklyn
and I hopped on at Times Square
and by the time that I got home
I’d been most everywhere

The couple that spoke Yiddish,
and hurried on their way
were deep in conversation
which she ended with, “Oy vey.”
And then I heard some talking
that turned out was Portuguese 
At first I thought was Spanish
might as well been legalese 

Rushing through the last three cars
so packed, I had to squeeze 
I heard an “Arigatou”
which I know is Japanese
“La vita non è facile”
I smiled because I knew
The woman spoke Italian 
and the meaning came right through

Then right before I exited
the girl who dropped her toy
Said “Shukran,” as she took it
from the little Arab boy
There aren’t many places
you can hear a language mix
After work, around the world 
and still be home by six

R-U-N-N-E-R

Breezy, 
break away free bird, 
as free as easy as the wind
wanderess go onward
 ~ through life~
with an incessant need
to find solace 
and meaning
back in god’s grace
It’s penetrating places you roam
and journeyed from
Free bird without
a home, without your flock
Once wings spread across
golden honey horizons
then held still on a dock
Cries o’er the retched waves
drenched in its chunder
into  the     d 
                e 
                  e  p   
pulled 

u 
n
d
e
r 

yet, naïve waif,         
like a seagull in the skyline so free, 
inside is a breezy pathfinder
Blowing are the winds o’er the sea
facile and carefree
Jagged are rugged roads that block,
all paths ahead obscure
bone trails lead downward
Mountain lions abound stalk, 
smell the desperation on sweat
dripper of hurt, rebellious 
When ships pass in at night,
they speak in the darkness,
disappear in the vastness
Free bird fly far—far away,
never to return again
A tempest moves the wind
wildly through the trees
s~h~a~k~ing sands
Put your hands together
Wanderess,
be still, runner
contend a prayer
come into sense
come home ~

River Of Lies

Tears, they flow as giddy gushing streams,
and meddle with our facile sense of joy,
seamlessly they interface cod emotions,
whirlpool laughter smothers trite elation,
smirking bogus rivulet, weeping willow branch,
to that toxic ocean known as hollow mirth

Life's philosophy

A man was born to dignify 
Deserving every piece of respect 
For the fantabulous of intelligences 
For the bright shine of mindsets 

Of the pure and sharp eyesight 
And of the facile and sturdy hands 
Finely handles with delicacies 
While the decency of the manners 
Bestowed its glamourous graces 

Of these evidence for the grades 
Of its freedom and dominance 
To be owned by a respectable man 

No third parties could obstructing 
Nor the contrived defer his shining 
Of its presence as a master of men 
With rights legitimated by nature 
Rather, by artificially made with power 
Into a headless minion of followers 

Harvesting the man-made bumptious 
Though, may success for glossing face 
But deemed meaningless in a man's eyes

The Pets of the Old

We are much alone when old,
after lifetimes of accompaniment,
of tacit support and connection
from our friends and peers.
Must I now label as mental failing
sometime strange behaviors I exhibit?  
These are a consequence of long living, 
result in my speaking to the air, to myself and
to my beloved pets. No one else is around.
This becomes habitual. I explain that it is 
only to retain my sanity, ability to speak,
to think, to hone skills of artful conversation,
of facile verbal composition. 
Although silence may be soothing
or oppressive, calming or profoundly 
disturbing, pets are a great comfort -- 
though they sometimes underscore 
and magnify lack of human interaction.  
Loneliness is a sad consequence 
of aging, intensifying losses, magnifying 
declining mental agility, dulling consciousness
of changes in behavior.  To fill empty hours,
to calm fears, feel at peace,  welcome 
the company and affection of pets. 
Treat them as deserving beloved ones.
We must protect, support, preserve them.
They are as central to our lives as we are to theirs.

A Little-Known Poet Dies

A new intern,
nervy, eager.

Old guy in bed -
terminal ticket to wherever.
He opens his eyes,
points a trembling finger
to something or other,
then speaks.

"Google me."

The young Doctor
only watches TikTok
for the cat videos...

This facile observation,
is not a metaphor
for anything at all.

Find your Voice

It's not facile to express what you feel,  
Always do, lest your pain denies to heal.  
Search for words to share your heart,  
So they can capture your deepest part,  
It’s your fight, a dear fight and true —  
To wipe emotions, your restraint through,  
So you will break free with a new song,  
A victor’s melody, where dancers throng.

Faded

I’m stuttering on this facile analogy      
Like I’m tripping on dubious morality
I’m lisping on my plain quizzicality 
Like I’m limping on roads to tonality
I’m damaged.
A marred good with no return policy

I’ve bled alone to one too many fights
I’ve slept wide awake one too many nights
I’ve stared into oblivion one too many sights 
I’ve chosen death to one too many plights 
Save me,
I’ve sullied too many lives
                                                                                                   
I’ll lie to your face again
I’ll smile with no grief again
I’ll die to your words again
I’ll fly with no wings again
Leave me be.
I’ll dry your ocean eyes again  

I’d wish my life color
I’d vie a stolen muller
I’d carve my own collar
I’d slit my neck in choler
You’d tempt me,
I’d fade in my own luster 

It’s just that,
It’s hard to breathe these days
It’s sad that,
‘Languish’ is my ultimatum (huh), what a cliché’
And it’s worse that
I’m the cause of my own decay.

Halo of Happiness

To those who seek instant gratification - 
I am a process, not a destination. 
Happiness.  

We attempt to crack its code, however, 
It remains a lifetime long endeavour. 

Deeply desired, wondrous state of mind - 
Its fleeting facile feeling redefined. 

Teasing and taunting us with verve and grace, 
Happiness’ touted appeal won’t erase. 

It collaborates with chaotic foes
Under scrutiny of their highs and lows.
 
It often veers from solid status quo - 
Moment of now would be its best m.o. 

Even though happiness scoots on the run, 
Give it a shot and catch it when you can!

TRUE LIES

TRUE LIES

When expressed love is all for show
Almost a hug, and that fake smile
And yet thinking no-one will know
Yet looking elsewhere all the while
It’s just a poor version of guile
Who might question gestures like this
But if they knew, they’d run a mile
Still more room left for artifice

It is reaping what one may sow
Unlike feelings that raise the bile
No response is the Quid pro quo
Pretence one step away from vile
With no honour left to defile
Yet one can tell it from a kiss
It feels like turning down the dial
Still more room left for artifice

When love is real the blood will flow
Sensing more substance over style
False expression is pretty low
Be found guilty when gone to trial
Lie after lie in a great pile
Think if you believe it is bliss
Maybe resistance is futile
Still more room left for artifice

Claiming it’s normal is facile
Of truth, it is antithesis
So adopt another profile
Still more room left for artifice

Maid's Flaw

there once a maid from the castle
whose weaving was rather facile
	her warp matched her weft
	but developed a cleft
she covered it with a tassel!

Running the Gauntlet

~Running the Gauntlet ~
Simplistic in its structure…
Nearly amateurish…
Unpolished attempt…
Superficial…
Facile…
Without subtlety…
Nonsensical…
Journalistic attempt at prose…
Lack of complexity…
Unimaginative…
The underlying message is vacuous…
Unsophisticated…
Puerile attempt…
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Not the right fit…
Not quite right for this publication…
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Inner Frankenstein

They call me the poetic master
a genius storyteller
writing poetry
channels the inner Frankenstein in me
with a simple press of a key
in each rhyme and stanza:

I can craft a lucid love story
into a dynamic Romeo and Juliet tale!

I can craft a smooth nature poem
into an oil painting of figurative language!

I can craft a facile poem of Bahamian nationalism
into a rejuvenated national anthem!

I can craft a plain tribute to persons I admire
like producing life like clones from rented samples of their DNA !

I can even craft a vague comedic poem
into a skit on Saturday Night Live !

Facile Poetrix

It's facile to be a windowpane -
        when you have the stone
           and laughing, unfunny.

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