Disruptive Don could not get along
With the fake folks who wish to prolong
The failing notions
And crazy potions
Of governmental plans proven wrong
I was first picked up
In a cast-off shop in Liverpool;
Surrounded by racks of seasoned shirts
Bearing names of old soldiers.
“Draper” draped on an immature frame
In a collage of brown and green,
Overlapping and enveloping
Any semblance of a past self.
Baby-faced and militant,
The paradoxical camo in an urban warzone.
Slogans painted from shoulder to shoulder
In pungent, nuclear-white bathroom paint.
The smell is burned to memory,
Singeing nose hairs with chemical vigour,
Of dance-generated sweat, upturned pints,
A lover’s aftershave, the sting of cigarette smoke.
Washed once, maybe twice,
But anxious eyes watched the spin cycle,
Fearing specks of dislodged paint
Covering my muddy canvas.
Now “Draper” drapes a matured frame,
The only scent that lingers is
The petrichor of Northern summer
Tie-dyed deep into my fibres.
I bare a name that isn’t mine,
Memories of a life I did not live,
Scars from battles I never saw,
And honours that aren’t mine to claim.
Mama becomes a baker disrupting our day
Now we have to get dressed ourselves without pay
It is good experience she says with a teensy bit of wit.
I am not excited about it, I liked being babied a bit.
She is jiving and grooving, dancing around the kitchen.
Throwing in new ingredients – seaweed, lime and a lichen.
I like that she is happy, but this puts me into a bit of a funk.
I do not like having to get dressed and clean and that other junk.
The internet providers grin
We are at home locked in
Their gadgets stuck in China
They think their disruption is minor
Security checks your temperature
Offering you a sanitizer adventure
China makes everything you need
Except your staple feed
World Bank and IMF help more, the political core
Offshore accounts to fatten more
We are ready for vaccine trials now
The stronger our fields to plow
A whole is normally the sum of all of its parts
Cept in politics, stumps even us most clever bards
All rules are out the window
The world is in limbo
We'll soon come to our senses and this era disregard
And when I think of passing things,
Each in a link of endless flings...
How time moves on with a quick blur,
Where once upon a time stray slur...
When space finds void in poise and choice,
In a colloid of airy voice...
Where when and how merge distant spheres,
As here finds now habits of fear...
To notice late that forlorn feel,
The broken gate where fate reveals...
Too late, too soon when fate moves dash,
To surge of noon in midnight crash...
Fleeting fork road of chance and dare,
As burdens load the choking glare...
Disruptive yet the strains of change,
Yet we place bets on seizures strange...
Gone ere the moon bring sure regret,
In awkward croon of dying frets...
Here at last meet true grace most kind,
In soul most sweet with peace of mind...
And thus set free that happy flight,
That wholesome sea in dazzling light.
Leon Enriquez
04 October 2016
Singapore
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