Best Paint The Town Red Poems
Oh my beloved,
liberate me from my antagonist.
I feel like a seashell washed
upon an abandoned shore.
I try to leave footprints for you to find me,
but the tide keeps washing them away.
In the asylum of loneliness, silence haunts.
I'm tired of dancing with your silhouette,
because the shadows are always there.
I don't want to be a ghost of your past,
but time has become an enemy without boundaries.
I'm still waiting for you to knock on my door,
so we can once again dance with romance.
I wish I could forget everything and fall asleep,
but I cannot let go, anxious of nightmares,
I've not learned how to say goodbye.
All good has gone, or so it feels,
so I pretend to pretend that nothing is real.
I know a smile is a lie and I'm not fine.
My heart promises my mind,
we'll paint the town red one night,
Illuminate like crimson moonlight,
no longer disheartened by fading memories
but the scars of my heart are like concrete cracks,
my tears falling like titanium drops.
I wonder if I will cry forever.
There's an inconsistency in my sanity.
These fire and ice emotions,
are a repression of depression,
as I cannot escape reality.
You were the most unique petal.
Now I'm wondering if this is the last spring.
I feel like a florist without a flower.
My spirit is vanishing like the winter sun.
Everything is blooming into thorns,
written with blood stained words.
In the blackest night, I'm a solitary soul and
there's a million stars in the sky tonight,
but not one of them can brighten my eyes - only you.
There is no lesson in this adversity,
I have no desire to become a broken heart collector.
I know it's your voice and touch,
that keeps me waiting, anticipating - endlessly.
Instead of questioning the devotion of my attention
why not take some time off from our separation,
because you know my weakness is your strength
This responds to “Operation Raise the Colours,” where some have painted the St. George’s Cross across streets, roundabouts, and takeaway shops. Claimed as patriotism, these acts are vandalism and an attempt to erase community spaces and stirring division.
Red bleeds across zebra crossings,
slick on high street tarmac,
smearing over takeaway shutters,
stretched across roundabouts, stubborn as lead.
Rollers scrape and flake,
pigment cheap, sunlight shakes it loose,
drips into puddles,
history seeping through plaster,
like damp beneath primer that never hides the past.
The streets run red and white,
paint claimed by hands insistent on marking stone, brick, tarmac—
silence made loud in streaks and drips.
Roundabouts stand proud under fresh coats.
Slash Dulux over despair—
coverage meant to hide, but failing.
Paint bleeds over more than roadway—
onto takeaway windowpanes, pavements, shop signs—
a mural of identity, impulse, defiance.
Undercoat logic tries to cover the past,
but no sealant ever lasts.
Brushstroke patriots,
disciples of feeling,
armed with rollers like substitute rifles.
The painting’s wrap is hollow,
dressing decline as though it were destiny.
Every slogan,
a stencil sprayed on the breeze.
Pigment flakes with ease,
truth showing through the layers.
Heritage red becomes eviction scarlet,
brilliant white papered over target.
Crowns drip Crown paint onto stone,
monarchs in tester pots,
empires reduced to monochrome.
Borders cut by shaky hands,
masking tape straining against the straight line of intention.
Edges bleed in private,
lines never straight.
Revolutions run off into puddles of hate,
mirroring the sky distorted,
clouds stretched, colours torn thin.
Tins are stirred, paint slapped on the ground.
Every revolution circles round,
because property cannot be glossed,
despair cannot be mapped.
Whitewashed roundabouts cannot hide the cracks.
Paint peels, drips, bleeds into puddles,
but the fissures of history remain—
veins in stone, stories in tarmac,
layers no roller can erase.
Crowns, crosses, streaks of red and white
twirl and fall like the last dance
over streets that remember,
over walls that refuse to forget.
The cracks take the floor,
silent but insistent,
and they will not be painted over.
Unquotable quotes – VI
(Note : A good many of the « epigrams » in this sequence of quotes are a take off on other well-known short poems, proverbs, sayings or expressions faites, etc . The rest are my own epigrams.)
All the world’s a stooge.
Paint the town red with blood.
Swing low, Sweet chariot ! Coming to carry me on throne !
Turn the other back for a slap on the back.
Can you turn your nose up while sitting on your high horse ?
Finders keepers, Minders weepers !
Black holes also suck white souls.
A bun in the womb is worth ten in the oven.
Cleanliness is next to Godzillaness.
Garbage cans are not rubbish bins.
What goes up must bring Heaven down.
We are all stinkers under the arms.
We are all sewers under bums.
We are all lovers under mums.
We are all beggars under alms.
We are all killers under arms.
We are all believers under psalms.
We are all thinkers under norms.
We are all schemers under qualms.
We are all bribers under palms.
We are all runners under bombs.
We are all rotters under worms.
We are all liars under gums.
We are all swimmers under foams.
We are soldiers under uniforms.
We are all writers under thumbs.
One need hardly fear the extinction of Life on earth through environmental or climatic catastrophe : inter-religious contention will get the job done well before-hand.
Cricketing jargon
« Style mahu kala tida-apa ! » (Doesn’t matter if you’re given out so long as you managed to play the right stroke !)
This « tongue-in-cheek remark » in Malay pidgin is often used in Malaysia-Singapore to describe those batsmen who surrender their wickets in style, i.e., batsmen who are sticklers to the art of playing textbook strokes irrespective of whether the ball is engaged by the bat or not.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
A festive feel in red and gold:
Chinatown deals Goat year most grand.
A splash of will as joy unfolds:
A Chinese fill as cheer attends.
~~~~~~~~~
This lunar year arrives with truth:
Our kindred ties forge a fine fest.
Those who are dear gather fond proof:
Our fortunes high in lovely quest.
~~~~~~~~~
Paint the town red takes new meaning:
Feel fond delight that ushers joy.
Poise favours red in warm sightings:
Feel grand insight in wealthy ploys.
~~~~~~~~~
Now we visit our kin folk here:
Auspicious wit merge with fine stay.
Now each to each greet with good cheer:
Prosper and reach this happy day.
~~~~~~~~~
Give red packets with blessings fond:
Touch now can live grandeur this spring.
Lucky trinkets to fill life's pond:
Joy heaps and gives as true health sings.
~~~~~~~~~
Such festive joy can fill the heart:
A touch beyond primes charming feel.
Good luck funds ploy in brilliant start:
A rhyme upon a springtime fill.
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
18 February 2015
Singapore
Let us color
the colors
in their right
shades and hues;
Is white, white?
Or, red, green
and blue, too?
Red is red but
Green is not green--
It’s yellow and blue,
As yellow is
red and green.
Black is black,
It's in black and white
Black as night
White as a ghost,
Not black and blue,
You get the blues
Out of the blue
Once in a blue moon.
Red is blood red,
Paint the town red,
Red in the face
but not off color,
Always in the pink
never in the red.
Show your true colors,
Raise a white flag
if you see red,
Not your green thumb.
Get the green light
Not green with envy,
Chase the rainbow
Be not a black sheep
Or yellow-bellied.
~1/15/2015
~Anacreontic Verse 2 contest by Edward Ebbs
Happy day after, our Cupid’s little arrow was thrust
To those with a new true love may it forever last
To those whom our little cupid cruelly passed bye
.Do not fret all you need is one big chocolate and candy blast
What is so great about a heart so fluttering you think you will die
Go out and treat yourself to all that is splendid in life
One never ever knows what's just around the bend
Who needs wanting to cut your heart out with a knife
Cupid at times can you to the madhouse send
So keep singing and dancing, and paint the town red
Be free as a bird and fly upwards alone yet fully content
And don’t worry if it is just for sex that you jumped into bed
Love brings huge grocery bills, noisy kids, landlords wanting rent
Who needs love, and those bloody moonbeams in your head
Who needs candlelight, when you're tired and your energy spent
Cupid’s arrow can at times hurt and even rip your soul apart
Yes so much better to give this love stuff a mighty good pass
Or you will find that suddenly you no longer own your heart .
I have walked on fiery morning clouds.
My hair like shooting stars behind me.
I have chased lightning and whirlwinds in Hell,
then drunk the nectar of Spring rain.
I have stood at the edge of death,
and felt peace.
My children do not believe me.
Having ridden in silver airplanes and thinking themselves wise.
They say I am a crazy old man.
I ask them, "if I have done it, how can it not be done?"
I ask them, "if it cannot be done, how have I done it?"
My children put feathers in their hair,
and wear turquois jewelry.
They drink all the liquor in the house,
put on their faces as if going to war,
then go and paint the town red.
Still they call me crazy.
But I have ridden in silver airplanes too.
E.G. Maynard.
46 & 2.
3.
There sits next to me a new paint set, well okay, I got it second-hand.
Nothing about paint comes naturally to me. I can paint neither sky, sea or land.
I only have myself to blame, I now feel rather dim
Cuz I know I bought them on a whim
I used to compare my art to that of my classmate.
I did this with my creative writing also, regardless of how teacher would rate.
Do you suppose the person that the paints to me sold
Would refund my money if I am bold?
No, no I'm not a quitter, I'll see it through.
First things first, learn about shade, tone, and hue.
Blue, gray, purple, teal; all are mixed up in the box
But I love the rich warm colors. So I'll paint the town red, later we can have one of our nice long talks.
The person who sold them to me also gave me a nice brush and some canvases.
The brush she bought while in Paris. So, should I go take classes?
I had better learn to hold it properly.
You'll never be a painter, or writer for that matter, seriously Jo. Seriously!!?!!
Stop dreaming and go complete your list of chore.
The collection of 17 classical CDs. Asking price $17. Lead me to the dance floor.
Next to me there sits a new paint set...
The night lingers for as long as you would
On mine mind, back and forth, with my eyes closed,
You and those eyes, how uneasy I feel,
I kept wishing you'd stay longer, and voila, you're here
In my head, you're there when you're not around,
My special friend, you come over and we paint the town red
Or blue, I love you, pains wishing I could tell you the truth,
I keep on saying stupid things, but I'd rather stop and do nothing,
I'll fare just fine looking at you,
You said, "Let's swim and play with the waves",
Should have "I hope they're strong, I'll be ready and waiting
To help you right up should they knock you down",
Or something like that, I wished I was charming,
The line playing over and over in my head, would've said it but didn't,
Wondering if I'll have the chance to say it again, though I doubt it.
All good things end, (I hate that being with you is so awesome!)
I got all teary eyed wishing we never ever had to say...
"Goodbye", dammit, you said it (how I wished you'd stay!)
Alas, I know that it's hopeless, failed to tell you how I feel
And so farewell and thanks, at least you gave me a reason...
To over-think, that is, of all those things unsaid,
And what should be fine wine sunsets with peaceful thoughts of you
Turn to crass old beer I'd-drown-the-sad-thoughts-in-my-head
'Til I'd pass out and wake up to the same sad story -
That I'm here, you're away, and I cannot forget,
Regret - it's been driving me crazy.
Come on ladies; lets get ready. Take out
the red shoes - bring out your red purse
and put on your purple dress.
Don't forget your makeup. put on your red
hats - lets all go out and paint the town red.
There is lots to do, so don't be blue. It's red
hat time so don't be shy.
Life is short, so lets have fun - with our red
hats on. I got my red hat with a purple ribbon
and purple flowers too.
I got my red shoes, my red purse and my purple
dress. When I put them on - people know that I
got class...
11/30/2012
Written by Lucilla M. Carrillo
Remember that day when you and I first met?
You were dressed in black denims, a purple shirt and flat shoes;
Your straight hair was pulled back in a neat and tidy way,
Exposing your beautiful face which I frame in all my dreams.
Remember how we always talked through words and thoughts?
Our minds were subtly meshed beyond telepathy;
We finished each other’s sentences and smiled all the while,
And at night, those words were a blanket I cuddled with warmth.
Remember that day we walked on streets passed the malls?
We rarely looked at each other deep in the eyes,
But, we walked so close to each other, stealing secret side-view glances,
How I wish I had stopped you and looked right into your brown eyes.
Remember when we sat near the park as evening approached?
It felt like time had frozen between divine frozen time;
It was then when you shared thoughts that came from your heart,
You told me your heart’s desire to someday paint the town red.
Remember how we grew so close and yet were so apart?
How that we had lovely moments each time we spoke?
Those moments are now memories that stake my fragile heart,
I wish I could rewind time and find a way to amend my mistakes.
Remember the day I saw you before I finally left the city?
I had no words to say to you, but had multitudes to write;
That’s why I wrote you that letter and placed it in your dainty hands,
Stole a glance into your eyes, and walked away with tears in my eyes.
Remember the things I have failed to say,
Remember the words I’ve painted with pens,
Remember my love because it still sets me ablaze;
I always remember that I once loved a rare dame.
- written on November 7th, 2016
It’s again that time of the year
When words bandied are ‘Love’ ‘Romance’, and ‘My Dear’
Question popped is,
“Will you be my Valentine’?
No, nothing wrong in it
That’s fine
But to find ‘genuine’ love
And not to be scoffed
Take advice from…
No, no Love Guru
But someone who has gone through
The Valentine charade
That Love parade
Yep, someone like me
I assure you
No consultation fee
Both of you may think
‘We are made for each other’
But just look around brother
See the fun
Everyone’s under the same impression
So, don’t be fooled
By the Valentine feel
You need not paint the town red
On the contrary
Ensure your relationship is on an even keel
In case of incompatibility
Rid yourself quickly
Give her up for good
And don’t say, “If only I could”
If you follow this
You’ll be in ‘permanent’ bliss
Keeping yourself out of harm’s way
For example, let’s say
The snorting father
And the charging mother
If you be both judicious and bold
You are sure to hold
Your own-
Her skin
As well as your bone
Turn to someone else
Let your charm sell
See that your new partner oozes love
Addresses you as
‘My Dove’
Remains with you
Through thick and thin
Above the Valentine din
And before I close
Do you have any questions to pose?
I know what’s passing in your mind
You want to find
Whether it’s my ‘Valentine experience’ which speaks
If it is this
What you seek
Well, only the wearer knows
Where the shoe pinches
So, the matter that clinches
If for someone’s love
You don’t pine
You’d never write
Such silly lines
The next bullet
might have your name on it
Think about it,
cause the slug won’t
The next thug
might be coming thru the telly
Oh, yeah ...
‘copter mouth flying under the radar,
with gunnery claws out
Ready to flat blast devour fat wallet pigeons
who love their paper purse belly
Mesozoic slugs in power
don’t wanna outlaw the deadly hot lead
Cavemen in golden towers,
engaging in 45-caliber clubs to the head
Shotgun weddings politically approved,
selling out the people
to the manufactured ones selling the guns
Spray paint the town red,
keep the blood banks on empty
Talk to those living in dread,
fearful of the silent trigger lady
The next GSW victim
might tell you
they don’t wanna kiss
the barrel bride and metal die this way
Think about it,
cause the slug is moving fast,
with no kind of revolver emotional sway
It’s all black and white,
ain’t no gray
Lead is the color of death everyday
Think about it,
cause the slug wanna have
the very last bloody thoughtless say
I went for a walk, as I did each morn,
I picked up the mail which was always the norm,
A letter, a bill and two lousy flyers,
One for insurance and one selling tires.
Nothing seemed special, all was the same,
I looked a bit closer and saw something strange,
A black and white envelope there in the rack,
I scooped up the letter and then headed back.
The writing was neat, but my name was spelled wrong,
I write it quite short, but they spelled it quite long.
I opened the letter to see what it said,
And started to chuckle, for here’s what I read.
“My Own Dearest Dave, or whatever you’re called,
Homeowner, Tenant,” (I was really appalled),
“I have something special, so don’t go away,
I’m glad that I reached you, you’re lucky today.”
“I’ll give you some money, I’ll give you some fame,
You’ve nothing to lose, and all things to gain,
Just send twenty copies to all of your friends,
There’s nothing to buy and nothing to spend.”
“But if you don’t do this, you’ve no one to blame,
For bad luck will follow and drive you insane,
Your car will not start and you’ll have a flat tire,
Your house will get robbed and your cat will expire.”
I thought it was crazy, another big scam,
A gullible person is not what I am,
I’m nobody’s fool, nor easily swayed,
I ripped up the letter and threw it away.
My life is on track and I’m right on the mark,
I’d paint the town red if my car would just start,
I’m ready to party; (that guy was a liar),
Now what is the matter, I have a flat tire.
I flagged down a taxi and went on the town,
I found a great party and really got down,
I met a young lady and we did some kissing,
But when I got home, my TV was missing.
Now where is that cat, she was here when I left,
She’s hiding again, she is such a big pest,
Oh, that’s where she is, over there by the fire,
I think she is dead, my cat has expired.
I got into bed and thought of my day,
I had a great evening, doing it my way,
I thought of that letter with all of its rules,
I’m glad that my Mama did not raise a fool.
Sometimes the thoughts I’m processing
Have me stressing
Like why do I do this
There’s no point in this writing
I should just stick to fighting
And go back to acting so clueless
I should just take a breath
And start beating my chest
Until it turns black and then bluish
There no reason or rhyme
I’m losing my mind
I don’t think that I can get through this
I’m tossing and turning
Getting sick in my sleep
The skeletons in my closet
Are starting to creep
The secrets I keep are way too deep
Out of the back of my mind
the inkwells deep
I screaming in silence
But there’s no one to hear
I’m drowning in sorrow
And I’m lost in my fear
Who the hell are these people
And how the hell are they here
I’m so confused
I’m not even aware of the year
They tell me I’m ok
What the hell do they know
They don’t understand
They can’t know what I know
They don’t relate to the feelings I show
I just want to let loose
And freaking explode
I’m gonna Raise the roof
And kickstart a riot
in a library yelling
When all the signs are saying quiet
Try it
The voices keep telling me
Inside of my head
It must be subliminal
Because you can’t hear what they said
They tell me that
I’m better off dead
And if I stay alive
I should paint the town red
I’m the big bad wolf
And I’m coming to town
Forget huffing and puffing,
I’m burning it down
How the hell do I say no
How the hell should I cope
I’m not ticklish
I’m not laughing
This is clearly no joke
These meds that I’m taking
Maybe I should take more
Find me Overdose foaming
Collapsed on the floor
I’m my own worst enemy
In my mind there’s a war
And I’m just not listening
Or fighting myself anymore..