The mouse in the maze is very weary.
It’s way too much concerted effort
Just to earn a grain of corn.
The route is always changing
And someone turns off and on the lights.
The music plays the same song, over
The humming of the ventilators
And the shutter bangs incessantly.
The mouse is tired of stupid games.
No one cares which way it runs,
Or how much corn drops into the bowl.
The smell of pee in the far back corner
Makes the air unpleasant to inhale.
The will to win another piece of corn
Battles with the need to find
The exit that is at the other end.
Notes have to be written down
Measurements and timings
Fill the logbooks of the staff,
As bored and weary as the mouse.
Protocols must still be followed
Finally the time clock in the hall
Clicks over to the magic hour
And mouse and men can all go home.
I love how the buildings bathe in the morning sun,
The gold and glimmer of hope,
The shimmer and ray of what could,
And in the mirrored reflection,
Caught on windows and thresholds,
I saw myself smiling,
Like the bright-eyed child,
Full of promise and trust,
Not quite naïve but innocent,
Curious like a kitten,
Looking for a distraction,
In the forms of many kinds of fun,
Even if to others it was a bore of a chore,
For I was that girl who loved routine,
Knowing everything and that sense of the familiar,
Where nothing could surprise me,
And I would not be easily offended,
Taken aback was something I only started doing,
At the age of twenty-one,
Or was it really when I was so done,
With the fact that leaving high school,
Meant leaving the physical place in which I learned,
For the jocks and snobs and nerds and pretty girls,
They grew up too like me going on into reality,
Of the concrete jungle in the big city,
The capital of money and sobriety,
Where it's glitz and glam in grids on the Gram,
But the twittering said otherwise,
Oh how were we so blinded by the rise,
Of growing pains and pangs,
Falling in and out of love with ourselves,
As much as we crush upon potential lovers,
None of whom were suitors,
Just mere flings to keep us company,
While we ourselves figured out an escape,
For there's nothing more that we despise,
Than that of the lies, we keep telling ourselves,
That this life is the best,
That I'm happy where I'm at,
In this career or otherwise,
But still, we cry ourselves to sleep at night,
Sometimes sobbing during the day,
In bathroom stalls like ghouls,
Thinking what could've possibly gone wrong,
What'd I do to deserve such a test,
And how could I a top scoring geek fail miserably at best,
Yet we see it again this endless cycle,
As the sun paints a masterpiece in the sky,
Melting away all the tension of the day,
As it slowly dims then darken your way,
Telling you to go back to sleep,
To keep the dream alive,
For I do love how the sun paints the town gold,
Early in the morning,
When all is quiet and lonely,
A kind of peace that feels like it's not all bad,
This life could really be a sanctuary, maybe.
Oh routine you are gorgeous
Let me feel nor old nor young
Oh routine, all my emotions
They are simply dead and gone
Cause routine, you are here
And you're making me flow
From the minute to day
To the week and Monday
All the way to the night
You're my day-satellite
Nothing new on my way
And as long as you stay
There won't be a single creation.
All I have is the routing vane
And the color of hay
Even blood of my veins
And the pulse of my brain
Have the same and old color
Of routine-blinded pain.
It appears that every middle aged woman,
feels the need to drink decaf coffee religiously,
without a jolt.
Is it a habit they couldn’t break,
from the time when they were a caffeine fiend?
Is it simply because Americanos,
frick them up?
Every woman who requests such an order,
has the same short perm-curl-like hairstyle,
and a similar quiet,
passive aggressive attitude.
“I’m not a soccer mom”
the cracks of their teeth,
from the discomfort in their
Maybe I’m unobservant
and it’s actually just the same woman,
who comes in often tending to her routine,
chain-downing decaf Americanos.
I might just be too vigilant lately,
and the idea,
of similar people,
indulging in such café party fouls,
is a threat,
and a punch in my,
In a new place despite being in an old home
There's pain in a good man's soul, but there is also hope in better dreams
You endure disappointment and subsquent apologies
-in hopes of infinite salvation
Permanently remaining in a state of anticipation destined to an exhausting routine.
Today, I am saying yes
Today, I am saying I will
Today, All that I ever was
I am taking along with us.
I will bring home dessert
Even when you do not ask me
I will tell you the story
When you are not sharing it with me.
In the morning, I will continue talking
Even if you do not answer
Until you have had your coffee;
And in the evening, so tired,
You will hug me
While I am already sleeping.
It is not a lifetime I promise
But a routine we will cherish
It is not a lifetime I promise
But a routine we both wish
I will take your quirks and talents
I will embrace your light and darkness
Today I am saying yes
To the past, to now,
To our future, I vow.
I will not love you til the day I die
I will love you every day we live our lives.
Today we say we do
Today we say forever;
And I am yours,
Just the same, a little more each day;
Some days I am only human,
Burdened by a choice of
Which elegant wine?
Existence lingers on non-linear lines
While loneliness seeps in by surprise.
This place is just a home for the greedy,
Ill and confined.
Armed against one another
With needles and knives,
We all weep swollen-eyed.
Where will you go when you lose your mind?
Come find me and I’ll tell you,
Consciousness is not a waste of time.
They say this is freedom,
A place safe to confide.
Well where will you go when the doctors prescribe?
Force-fed till we swell
Home is no place to find.
You see some days I am a god,
Dirty and free.
I have peace in my heart
This angry mouth is a sign.
But I won’t vanish.
I will watch from aware eyes,
As they glide through the streets
Following paths well-defined.
By force of parent or government,
The machines arise.
I retreat to my mask,
Do my homework and post online.
How is this freedom?
How is this human?
Are you even alive?
Why don’t you transcend this?
Your feet are your wings,
I promise you can do more than just survive.
A slam poem inspired by:
Empire Ants- Gorillaz
My hatred for constant routine
Let the present moment in time settle in it’s entirety
Let everything come back to normal from where it started as it is,
as it used to be and as it was prior.
Let everything come back to normal
Let today be a part of routine as was yesterday
Everything will get worked out,
everything will fall in it’s place,
if one decides not to give up.
Odds are part of life
Odds have got a place and make there presence felt in life,
however, life is also incomplete without the inclusion of odds as a part of life
Odds when tackled successfully and overcomed they then determine the calibre, capability and expertise of an individual.
If something has happened for good, then good will be followed by better and better by best, if it’s decided to continue along the same line of getting things done.
To start with something of which there is a faint idea that something like this can be done is the easiest thing
To continue along with the same is an uphill task and that is what is known as doing something apart,
different from routine,
however, everything in life happens over a period of time and so does expertise, which is gained only when experience is earned.
So one way or the other
In someway for sure
Bottomline has always remained the same as it is forever,
Never give up in life,
then no matter what comes along your way.
Keep it in mind and follow the same
Never give up in life.