The Planners - Boey Kim Cheng

They plan. They build. All spaces are gridded,
filled with permutations of possibilities.
The buildings are in alignment with the roads
which meet at desired points
linked by bridges all hang

in the grace of mathematics.
They build and will not stop.
Even the sea draws back
and the skies surrender.
They erase the flaws,

the blemishes of the past, knock off
useless blocks with dental dexterity.
All gaps are plugged
with gleaming gold.
The country wears perfect rows

of shining teeth.

Anaesthesia, amnesia, hypnosis.
They have the means.
They have it all so it will not hurt,
so history is new again.

The piling will not stop.
The drilling goes right through
the fossils of last century.
But my heart would not bleed
poetry. Not a single drop

to stain the blueprint
of our past’s tomorrow.

Old House at Ang Siang Hill – Arthur Yap

an unusual house this is
dreams are here before you sleep
tread softly
into the three-storeyed gloom
sit gently
on the straits born furniture
imported from china
speak quietly
to the contemporary occupants

they are not afraid of you
waiting for you to go
before they dislocate your intentions
so what if it is
your grandfather's house
his ghost doesn't live here anymore
your family past is
superannuated grim
which increases with time
otherwise nothing adds or subtract
the bricks and tiles
untill re-development
which will greatly change
this house-that-was
dozens of it along the street
the next and the next as well

nothing much will be missed
eyes not tradition tell you this