Long Hollow out Poems
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She drifted past the spiral arms in white,
A shadow snuffing galaxies to dark.
She held the dying pulsars to her breast,
Like children, singing chaos into sleep.
"Do not be frightened," hummed to worlds of ice,
"The dark is velvet-deep, you are not lost."
She swept the dust of nations into glass,
Preserving lovers' vows before they broke.
There is a beauty in the sudden halt,
Perfection in the stop, like gravity
That waits to catch the ocean in its fall.
She severed light from heat, and form from mass,
A cold tranquility beneath the storm.
So infinite her mercy, grace so strange,
She wiped the seat of life from Nature's face.
For eons she has walked, the gardener,
Who plucks the solar systems like a bloom.
She does not take with malice or with hate,
She only opens wide the iron door.
And now she stands before your yellow sun,
To answer with a kiss the final call.
You tremble at her silence?
Fear the end?
You think she brings the night to kill the stars?
She weeps to see you breathe, knowing the truth.
She is not here to hollow out your soul;
She kills you now to save you from the Hunger.
Unicorn had to find a good hiding spot.
So she chose the best place she knew.
Forest of the giant monster oaks.
She had permission of tree that grew.
You can hollow out a bit, he said.
I will maintain your secrets, keep you safe.
She had elf helpers who did the chiseling
Especially fond of head guy named Rafe.
Rafe assured her his brownies kept quiet.
She was not concerned, she knew them all.
This is how she came to hide in the oaks.
They kept her secluded, towering so tall.
No one ventured forth in this magical place.
She was free to roam whenever she chose.
People were terrified of this forest space.
They often are scared of luminous glows.
For at night the unicorns have a skipping dance.
The faeries, elves and brownies and butterflies galore.
They had so much fun their muses would prance.
And the oak trees kept them safe forevermore.
I keep trying to fight but everyday it gets worse,
I'm trying to carve out a path but it hurts
and I loop around to where I stood first.
I'm stuck suffering,
but won't let no fat lady sing.
Relapse,
forget the feeling,
I'll just get back to my feet and I'll stand,
because fate demands,
I'll never live it down if I don't rebound.
I honestly promise to be at my strongest,
in fact no impact or test
can crush my chest, ever,
I'm a last and never rest
not 'til I bask that no flag flew at half mast.
I'll dip and I'll rise like a rollercoaster ride
but I'll never hollow out inside or lose my pride,
I'll battle depressions wickedness with all my witty grittiness
and when I'm knocked down I'll breathe, go again and believe,
with a greed for freedom core and seed 'til I'm freed.
That's the wish beyond painful twists,
a thirst to slit wrists through self hatred,
and the positive drive is confiscated,
but don't be mistaken I'll reinstate it,
I aint breaking, this life aint there for the taking,
I'll rehabilitate me inevitably.
Sunshine Poets
We are the ones who write in gold,
who dip our pens in liquid dawn
and spill it across the broken world—
not to hide the cracks, but make them holy.
They call us naïve, these sunshine poets,
as if hope were a weakness,
as if to see light were to be blind
to all the gathering dark.
But we have walked through midnight too.
We know the weight of shadows,
the taste of ash, the way grief
can hollow out your chest until
you’re nothing but an echo of yourself.
Still, we choose the sun.
Not because we don’t see the storm clouds,
but because we’ve learned that light
doesn’t erase the darkness—
it reveals what lives inside it:
the shape of your own endurance,
the outline of tomorrow,
the seeds that only split open
when buried deep in earth.
We write of resilience not as escape
but as the hardest work there is—
to tend the garden when the floods come,
to sing when your voice breaks,
to believe in bridges while
the world is burning them.
They say we’re foolish, these sunshine poets,
for speaking beauty into the void,
for insisting that a single flower
pushing through concrete
means something.
But maybe that’s the point.
Maybe courage isn’t the absence of fear—
it’s planting words like seeds
in the scorched ground of now,
watering them with stubborn faith
that somewhere, someone
will need this light we’ve left behind.
Ashlie's animal house
was bigger than mine.
She drank Red Rose
tea with milk
and honey.
We were in fourth
grade at Park Road
Elementary school.
Now I wish for things
I cannot hold or collect:
playing Four Square
at recess,
more melted
popsicles, time
with my dad,
or roller skating
backwards, just to
show off.
I never, sometimes
wish on pennies
or miss my grand-
mother with a shade
of self-pity.
She is still busy
playing bridge with
Uncle Bill in heaven.
No time to waste
on emotional
self-indulgence. No time
and too little daylight
for frivolous
reflections.
I also have
a handful of dimes
that I don't want
to throw away,
and today.
when I was 10,
Tahira was still
healthy and she didn't
wish or ponder over
silly pennies.
I never, sometimes
see myself in a pool
of shining zinc
mirrors. They don't
offer circular
understanding.
My son Ben saves
his change for tomorrow
and he sees an ocean
of sparkling coins
up in an ocean of black
winking white dots
at night.
They are his future possibilities.
He rarely wants
for what was
or falls into
the cavity of regret
that will hollow out
his heart, if he allows
himself to pine
for something
behind him.
"Ben, I don't want
to do sixth grade
over again. Now
is your moment.
I am learning
other lessons
now.
(Verse 1)
This cannot repeat or loop around anymore, in my direction,
I've had the wind kicked out of my sails due to depression.
And everyday
I hide away
I'm not displaying
the fight I'm saying.
I'm down inside and sink,
I'm more flipping down than you'd think.
Lost for love and lost for laughter,
facing upto my fears always ends in disaster.
So I'm always down and doubting me,
a desert there's a drought in me,
while rain downpours are drowning me,
the logic's leaking out of me.
A mist hides the positivity
you find in creativity.
From an infant up to those last rhymes thinking I can't do s**t,
so life devoured me.
I need to shake that habit,
'cus this talent aint transparent so I wont bow out cowardly.
I'm wasting my worth,
but have a thunderous thirst,
to rediscover some turf.
Watch me now and you'll witness,
as I drift with the surf,
and wet the earth,
of this desert,
as I p**s on the dirt.
You just heard now watch and observe!
(Verse 2)
I keep trying to fight but everyday it gets worse,
I'm trying to carve out a path, it hurts,
I loop around to where I stood first.
I'm stuck suffering,
but won't let no fat lady sing.
Relapse,
forget the feeling,
I'll just get back to my feet and I'll stand,
because fate demands,
I'll never live it down if I don't rebound.
I honestly promise to be at my strongest,
in fact no impact or test
can crush my chest, ever,
Ima last and never rest
'til I bask that the flag never flew at half mast.
I'll dip and I'll rise like a rollercoaster ride
but I'll never hollow out inside or lose my pride.
I'll battle depressions wickedness with all my witty grittiness
and when I'm knocked down I'll breathe, go again and believe,
with a greed for freedom core and seed until I'm freed.
But that's a wish beyond a series of painful twists,
a thirst to slit wrists through self hatred
overlooked and underrated
but not quenched of desire that'll fire home victory.
Lock up your guns and count the cost
Carve up the soul, buy back debts still foaming with froth
Blank stares for the logic so deep as the sea can see
Second handed stories crisp on ends that flutter up from flames through trees
Dog pile into the ashes of hometown sweethearts turned inward, and downward
Spiraled lives intertwined, dinner for schmucks lit by neon flights
Relentless ego pulses for a breath of fresh air, despising the days with small beginnings
Future proof that fatal attractions have come and gone
And all that's left is the cynic bound on endless holidays
We cut our teeth in the hollows of garages damp with the death and life of the funeral ancestry
Fresh blood to be spilled against foundational methods of aura farming
Foundlings of ghosts that circle the lighthouses torn down in panic
Now adrift on hostile waters, while hosting this season's drowning parties
Loaded on shock rock and rotting junk
Fishing for certainty in a sea we can't afford to be
Souls who owe too much to stay above the piss and vinegar drink we serve to thee
Absent deaths in hollow identical musings
Deny any parts unknown gathers the residuals
Bite that tongue, hollow out your words
Friendlier fires come through here every now and then
Our Daily Bread
Flour, yeast, and milk, a bit of butter too,
and giving it some time to rise,
into a loaf, it grew..
From this mass of sticky flour
will come warm, pillow soft bread.
My body continues its weary work,
as thoughts float through my head.
Looking out my window,
I see the vast and clear blue skies,
my heart fills up with longing…
like dough, perhaps I'll rise.
My arms will grow soft feathers,
my bones all hollow out…
giving me just what I'll need
to fly and float about.
Freedom from the daily drudge,
from burdens and all my cares…
I'll flap my newly made wings
and fly away from there.
Out of this very window,
into bright skies I see…
over the distant mountain tops
to unknown mountain peaks.
Perhaps a place where I could find
A peaceful people who…
give higher value to a woman's mind,
and all that women do.
We sisters of the uterus
We captives of the Moon
We who bleed to create life
Soldiers in stiletto shoes…
...carry more than our fair share
of heavy burdens and the blame…
our bodies are seductive
and so, seem steeped in shame.
These anchors bound to my arms
These binding ties, severed,
when bone turns to hollow straw
and skin sprouts supple feathers...
...then I'll rise like this yeasty dough
and bake in the oven of the sun.
I hear the ding of alarm bells ring
telling me my bread is done.
Be sparse like the saltbush plains
of the outback, short on adjectives,
mostly verb and noun. Let the sun
scorch shadows into the sand,
hollow out some shade where a little
life can hide from the heat.
Celebrate the light, its clear passage
through the air, hard as the sharpened
edge of a steel blade. See how it cracks
the land, opens wounds where
the inland snake hides and brews
its venom in perfect silence.
At night feel a cold descend
from a sky emblazoned with stars
set in the icy distances of space.
Endure a solitude that drains the soul
as it leaks out towards horizons
of absolute nothingness,
here,
come face to face with yourself.
Note.
The Australian outback is largely
a dry and unpopulated area covering
around 70% of the total land mass
of the country.
By comparison, this arid region
equates to a little over 50%
of the area of the United States,
( excluding Alaska ).
Charm wears a face with curious poise,
Embrace sure grace the way of choice.
Dare to see truth in misty haze,
Seize then the proof in anxious craze.
Let fancy talk be put to rest,
Brave thus this walk with feisty zest.
The unknown way calls out profound,
Greet well each day upon these grounds.
Let hollow out and seize joy's fill,
Dazzle with shout each touching thrill.
Go with a smile where hurts etch deep,
Wear well your style through pains you weep.
The road and way seem puzzling here,
One day you'll stay that certain cheer.
Charm starts the show with faith by choice,
Voice frames true flow of profound poise.
Truth shows beauty the way of ease,
Do your duty with ample peace.
Leon Enriquez
06 July 2016
Singapore