It is a wheel
rolling over you,
slowly,
letting you feel
it all, leaving you
lowly.
You'll be begging
it to stop,
dollars flying
from the top.
Those who turn the wheel
consider themselves holy.

a ****** of crows gathers
over Hamburg, carrion carrying on
with business as usual.
feeding on the festered flesh
of a gentrified populace.

in private jets coughing carbon
they fly from the west on turbine wings,
engines screaming as they dive towards a nation
secured by razor-wound walls
and barb-wire borders.

they pitched a battle in Germany,
convinced that austerity
would ******* the resistance
and give justification to premeditated violence.
but the tables have turned on the thieves again.

we are the end result of your failed policies,
globalization has destroyed our homes.
if your cabal rallies like a kettle of vultures,
you will do so behind closed doors,
cowering in your fortress' halls.

you shall not pass. watch as the power shifts
like the melting gears of torched BMWs.
we will tear the vestiges of your authority down.
we will black out your surveillance cameras,
smash your windows, and block your limos. no pasaran.

flee, while you can still run. this city belongs
to the wild ones, a black bloc, thousands strong,
dancing amidst the tear gas, tossing molotovs.
marching to liberty's sturdy drum,
equal in our solidarity song.

I hate routine
and even though
I hate it,
with all my guts
with all my life
with all my veins
and I have been
saying it
for as long
as I have lived
I am still
doing it
embracing it
enduring it
for almost
two years
I have been
out there
every single
weekdays
from seven to six
without fail
except for
those days
where I cannot move
or think
and sometimes
it stretched until
eight, nine at night
and there were
few times
where it stretched
to ten, eleven
close to midnight
and I have
to go out again
the next day
to do it again
to force
the cycle
and to force
myself
to jump over
the hurdle
just to get
a bowl
full of noodle
and I believe
it is the best
of all routine
that able
to be served
to the human
of all layers
of all levels
of all stratums
that are
desperately
in need of
a life.

So if you
ask me again
why do
I hate routine
please allow me
to ask you back
after all that
I have gone through
How can I not say
that I hate routine?

26/4/14

you have stones and rocks to play with
clothes hanging from a tree
a *** of rice to portion
and you barely think of me

i have popcorn in my pantry
coffee ready to brew
clothes with all their tags on
and yet i'm envious of you