Long Paint the town red Poems
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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
Questions
If form follows function,
why does everything have too many bells and whistles?
Especially cell phone.
If everything is so simple a rocket scientist could do it,
why aren’t we all Werner von Braun’s?
Checkbooks are a mystery.
If the early bird gets the worm,
why are there birds out getting worms in the evening?
I get up early but I don’t eat worms.
If you are letting the cat out of the bag,
why are you telling the secret?
Why was the cat in the bag in the first place?
If curiosity killed the cat,
why aren’t more cats deceased?
I don’t like cats so_______.
If it is raining cats and dogs,
why don’t we have sturdier umbrellas?
Must get kind of messy when they hit the ground.
If we paint the town red to have a good time,
why are all towns pretty drab looking?
I only like red cars not buildings.
If someone is coming out of left field,
why don’t we just ignore them in the first place?
I played center field in little league.
If we can’t have our cake and eat it too,
why even bother having cake at all?
I just made an orange pound cake, so_______
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.
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
340.
The Revenge of Match Girl
Never will I allow myself to die in this dim zone
Though the snowy night freezes me to the bone
I will not expire this way all alone!
Come with me my selfish & cold community
As I warm your houses alongwith thee
You also deserve to burn alongwith me!
So rise now, oh match girl and show them your wrath
This is the moment to bring this town to its blood bath
Add pain, subtract life, multiply death, divide homes – perfect math!
Oh little matches, let's begin with this dry barn – our chance
Let us confound these creatures from exit to entrance
Dodge with my army of flames as they try to advance
From house to house as we paint the town red
Like the fires of hell, like the blood of head
Like the wrath of volcano, like roses on bed
Burn! Leave no trace of this rotten civilization
This is the night of its fated extinction
Watch the Revenge of Match Girl in fullest demonstration!
-02/19/2015
(Dumarao)
*Opposite Endings Collection
Even in the dark, your beauty shines brighter than the brightness of days,
Success lives in your home cos while the sun was still shining you made your hays,
You share your bed with great fortunes and on the pillows of prosperity your head lays,
So, your home is the truest testimony of the dictum that being good always pays.
Your enemies cry their tears abundant to form them a massive ocean,
They got drowned in the pool of their sorrows cos they took no caution,
Their bitterness confiscated their happiness for you to have God's favours in larger portions,
So, rejoicing with your success is now their only available option.
The wake of days gives the pleasure of your beauty for each mirror to savour,
Gorgeousness sculptured allurement into your shape adding sexiness as its extra flavour,
As you toil up and down, God the almighty is always there as your saviour,
So, prosperity is now the testament that your labours are enjoying God's favours.
Bring then, many friends from far and near to dine on your tables,
Show 'em that all year round God's favours in your life have been very stable,
Groove happily with your family and friends cos your bones aren't feeble,
Paint the town red with your success and leave your enemies to rumble with the rubbles.
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
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