A black dog
Whining and whimpering
Sitting at the end of the bed
An omen
personification of misfortune
Forever the dark cloud
looming over
everything I’ve loved
Forever the killjoy
When the party’s over, the rising sun shines, with all eyes squinting
Make-up smeared on face’s, some have slimy snail skin
A woman waiting for a gent to light her cigarette, just hinting
Last thing she remembered the drink in her cup sink’n in
Alas a smoke from the one glaring all night, even his lighter is glinting
That night she lost her balance, her head, and her Gucci slipper
Though in costume, she didn’t feel like Cinderella anymore
Drunk-on champaign they went out to the marina for a dipper
Everyone dancing all night, felt great, with music galore
At the stroke of midnight, on a yacht, a first mate and his skipper
Swirling in gay abandon in her party dress, putting on a show
The first one to leave is deemed a killjoy in this circle fest
They pulled an all-nighter, ‘neith the shroud of the moon’s luscious glow
The first one to leave the event, was weary, in the state of unrest
The sun is setting, the party is ending, a new day calls, a caravan in tow
past curfew kids play
then they collectively groan...
"come inside!," mom yells.
Date written: 12/16/2021
Animistic descent from sanity
Boorish attitude, sense of lost control
Crawl out of your skin, bloody vanity
Darkness claws like a black hole
Eternal uncertainty wreaks mayhem
Freedom not given, glued to midnight
Glutton of attention, cannot condemn
Hungry for life, all bark and no bite
Insanity placed on my sweating forehead
Justification, she’s just sick
Killjoy I may be, the day I dread
Labels in my throat choke me quick
Meaningless apologies, see from my eyes
Nights of liquid lucidity, a dull mind by day
Oh the pain, its thorns shred my heart and thighs
Persistent thoughts, worries carried away
Question my identity, a woman without a face
Remember happiness, a fleeting memorial
Scars on my ribs, my heart’s knives trace
Tears on my face, struggles sensorial
Ugly feelings of hate, daily reprise
Veins of ice or so it feels, words tongue-tie
With echoing sighs my dream dies
Xenolith, smile covered, stifled outcry
Yearning for a hand to hold on to
Zealous recovery, fail and reverse
Negativity can be a pain
The killjoy of life
That sucks the fun
Straight out of a room!
Negativity is such a bore
Got the manners of a boar
This piggy needs to be slaughtered
Roasted over a toasty flame on a spit!
Negativity your such a drag
Negativity get out of my face
Or you'll find yourself
Bashed in the skull with a frying pan!
I'm so done with you
I'm so sick of you
Trying to steal away my positivity
Can't you take a break
From wrecking havoc all over the place!
Can't you leave me alone
Can't you take a hint
Nobody wants you here
Nobody wants your crap!
Take your junk
Hit the door
But don't let it
Hit ya on the ass!
Don't tell me what to do
Don't tell me how to feel
My emotions are mine alone
So better stay back
Or I'll kick your ass!
I'm through letting you
Bring me down to your level
Its time you took a hike
Because your not welcomed here!
Negativity can suck it!
Negativity can beat it!
Your not worth my time!
Your not worth my gaze!
Negativity get bent!
Negativity get lost
Negativity shut up!
Negativity can kiss it!
Absurdity walked this path of a whorish lane,
Dauntingly decked in a dark seductive garb
Egregiously seeks the thrones by craftiness,
Nebulous transverse for the wayfaring man.
Illusions of a well worn thigh concealed with facial mascara.
Killjoy bipolar nagging for control, demanding dominance by demonic antics,
Eccentric public commodity makes it the brothels for quickie.
Acrimony well taught from the market square by “Iyaloja”
Damaging defiance conscripting father to “garri Ijebu” and Fish
Egomania derailed from home and deprived of morals,
Sagged and perforated lurid frame perfumed for a prey
Offensive forlorn factious feigned facades
Lacklustre and noxious mien seduced the prey by lewd bait,
Absurd Incentive the goal, merchandise of greed, A week of affiance.
I've had many heated conversations with . . . myself
over how a circumstance, or life itself, should be perceived.
My best time for self-probing is late at night.
Even now (in my sixties), I lean toward idealism.
Reality--not killjoy, but counselor--reminds me of
my boundaries. Opportunities to balance realism and
idealism have proven successful, warding off pessimism.
Pursuance of goals is still fueled by fire, but the flames
don’t leap so high as when I was young and vigorous.
Effective self-examination can be time-consuming
and painful, sometimes revealing that challenging
changes are required of me. These growing pains, even--
or perhaps especially—at my age, are necessary,
for life is not yet through with me.
I classify myself as the basically satisfied, often joyful
by-product of late-night contemplation.
March 9, 2021
entered in Craig Cornish's Contemplation Poetry Contest
Hippy hyena hid hipster hippo’s hysteria.
Ignominious iguana ignored Iceland’s icky industries.
Jovial jelly jars joyfully jumped jubilantly into June.
Kind kangaroos killed Kansas’s killjoy kindnesses.
Loving lithe llamas languished, lacking lonely leaders.
Marvelous magnificent magicians masqueraded as maestros.
Needless nutcrackers helped hippy hyenas hide hippos’ hysteria.
My world's gone wobbly
Hands clammy, knees weak
Stomach churning, eyes watery
Thoughts swirling, face tear-streaked
Is he really leaving ? Am I losing a son?
I know where he's going -- to Israel
He'll be in good hands; I agreed to the deal
Yet the whole thing just seems so unreal
He's happy, excited, living his dream
I'm afraid to cry; a killjoy I'll seem
I'm scared I'll never see him again
Though I did the same thing way back when
~ Now I know what my parents went through back then
A brand-new fur coat
The latest smart phone
Four cruises a year
An ocean-front home
She must have it all
Says money's no object
Yet at times he objects
To her kind of logic
Youth’s lofty dreams
are bolstered by
supporters: “You can
be, do, have
whatEVER you please!”
Soon, killjoy Reality
speaks up: “Look—
down here! Listen.
You can’t bring
numerous demanding
dreams to fruition.
Choose the best.
Pursue with energy,
gratefulness, and joy!”
Reality trumps encouragement.
March 30, 2019. entered in Line Gautier's Ribbon Poetry Contest
Can you feel?
Unease surge,
Killjoy spills,
Raw nerves urge.
Can you taste?
Unease cuts,
Anxious haste,
Raw pain guts.
Can you bear?
Unease stings,
Pain that tears,
Raw stern fling.
Can you mind?
Unease hurls,
Harsh sure bind,
Raw touch curls.
Leon Enriquez
29 September 2018
Singapore
K-illjoy won't spoil your pleasure,
E-arly June twenty-eighth;
I-t's the mirth deep inside
T-rying to stop the
H-ate.
S-poilsport won't ruin your fun,
U-sing not gate-crashing;
L-ove and harmony found
A-re what the day will bring.
P-arty pooper won't insist
A-nything that can destroy;
S-tart the celebration, you will find no killjoy.
Sadness settles sometimes and drapes itself
Around my shoulders like a grey blanket
Weighs me down
It’s a well acquainted killjoy
An unwelcome and uninvited guest
Who overstays his welcome
Will I ever see the colours again?
It’s hard to believe
The picture’s all in grayscale now
Should I cry yet again like many times before
Where tears fall and follow familiar furrows?
Should I scream or should I pray or should I tell a friend?
Would it help I wonder?
I’ll try to smile behind this burden
Till beneath its weight I buckle
And with a feeble voice confess
That I’m buggered beyond belief
By old walkway
Small people play
Frolic greets fun
Here on the run
Playground meets glee
Stomps wild and free
Feelings fling cheer
Time now sets dear
No time for fear
Or killjoy here
Round and round we
Shout out wildly
Feelings now voice
Moments of poise
Leon Enriquez
09 March 2017
Singapore
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