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Anais Vionet Nov 2020
I used to be excited on Fridays.
I used to have interesting plans.
My weekends were non-stop hectic,
my time was in high demand.

Now I live in repeated patterns,
I’m a servant to boring routines.
A fleshy teenage automaton,
waiting for science to intervene.

Oh, I'm readier than a girl-scout,
I’m more prepared than a marine,
I’ll be out the door like a cartoon coyote,
the second I’m shot with vaccine.
This pandemic is a barrel of monkeys
Nylee Aug 2020
it was always this
a routine
it could have been different
but it is in line
going out of line
the usual unusual design
the impending death of routine
the beginning of the changing times.

some days you start
with a want of change,
but the change
changes you in so many ways,
it has its consequences,
constantly changing,
no matter what
and you are stuck in the routine
resist it even if it is a good thing
but mostly it is bad
rarely it never is.

known problems
follows a routine
but unknown
it is a pandora's box
you never know
the enlisted
routine to follow ahead
tweaks and tricks
and, back to the road.

it challenges you
changing your views
doesn't listen to you
you don't know
who to turn to
it is so out of
comfort zone.

I know it is imminent
the make and break of routine
I am rarely going to pass my years
just like this
inside my bedroom
with the closed doors.

It is happening
I cannot follow my previous year routine,
talking to same five people I have known
you have replaced me from your routine,
It is changing, I am changing
so are you
You don't need me the way I do.
CandidlySubtle Mar 2020
Oh! I am so bored with the same,
The repetition that makes my brain go lame,
I am frustrated of tasks so mundane,
All my routines are just so plain,

The changing of clothes in the morning,
I draw circles on my teeth--I’m brushing,
The mindless drive to work on the same road,
I am just on an automatic mode,

But all of a sudden there is ****,
And I drop and sink into a pit,
So dark, I can’t see what’s ahead,
No, because I stop caring what’s ahead,

Like everyone turned off the light,
And there is no more color in sight,
The taste of food turns bland,
Can’t even jive to the tunes of my favorite band.

And then I really slump into auto-mode,
Slugging to work on the same old road,
Brushing my teeth from swirl to swirl,
Still showering when my world is in a whirl.

Still changing my clothes at every sunrise,
And then one day I suddenly realize,
As I slurp the milk and the grains,  
There is still a part of me that remains:

My dear routines.

When everything feels dead,
And nothing beautiful seen,
Routines keep me fed,
Routines keep me clean.

When my heart has hit the sack,
My mind saturate with thought,
My routines got my back,
My routines need not be sought.

When there’s no motivation to be,
When I don’t want a thing,
My routines does it all for me,
My routines that cost nothing.

When it takes all my energy just to smile,
And all time is lost in it all,
And the next step feels like a mile,
And moving forward is like a crawl,

I still got my routines,
I still got my routines,
I still got my routines,
I still got my routines,

My routines to take care of me.
Naomi Firestone Feb 2019
Wake up!
It’s time to wake up!!
I mean really wake up!!!
It’s not about the hands on the clock
That tick tick tick tick tock
The clock that never stops
Like a pendulum weighted rod
Reducing peripheral awareness
Routines that seems senseless
Coffee, breakfast, traffic relentless
The hands that clock you in
and clock you out
Never do you stop and doubt
The beat to which you march about
The mind checked out
It’s 5 o’clock somewhere
Drown my mundaneness out
Blindfold and gag my inner shout
My robotic need to march to the monotonous beat
For what will i have but despair and defeat
Oh holy one, save me from my inner beast
My natural instincts would have me feast
On love and lust and defenceless defeat
No boundaries, no walls, just vulnerability
The clock keeps tick tick ticking
The mind keeps click click clicking
Until finally I did see
Beyond its purpose to notify me
of daily chores and deadlines to meet...
It was in the hospital, starring at me,
A clock that asked how to be free
For time is not a commodity
It cannot be sold or bought for a fee
It has to be lived despite pain and poverty
For in the struggles there is also glee
No matter how sad our sorrows go deep
The time that we have is worth it to keep
Unchain that inner beast
For love is a necessity
And lust a natural need
Don’t waist your time on complacency
Live each second, minute and hour
Every day, week, and seasonal flower
Growing each year, knowledge is power
Don’t take one moment for granted
For time is no fairytale enchanted
A seed that flowers and dies
Was originally planted
The crack of dawn,
Grogginess kicking in,
Struggling to get up for the day,
Everyday just like the rest,

Same routine,
Sleep. Eat. Learn. Study. Sleep.
But one day something changes,
A kink is thrown in the system,
Nothing is the same again,

Going to school different every day,
Trying to adapt to the change,
But it is hard to change,
To this lifestyle that is different,

Not knowing what to do,
Or what to choose,
For life has thrown a curveball,
In my life plan,
And I don’t know what to choose,

Eventually will have to make decisions,
Which I’m not ready to make,
For I’m afraid if I choose,
I will make a wrong choice,

Time is ticking,
And I have to choose soon,
For not being ready is not helpful,
It is coming too fast,

For panicking is what I’m doing
Do I choose sports or school,
Will I make the right choice,
Or suffer my own doom,

These choices will help mold my fate,
And the pressure of the choices is unbearable,
For I can’t decide a choice,
I love all the stuff I do,

But I don’t know if I’m ready to say goodbye,
To my friends. Sports. School. Or life too.
For life is going by fast,
And I can keep up with it,
I wish I could just stay back and live in the good ol’ days.
SelinaSharday Jul 2018
Good morning new day..
I arise early I pray..
I'm humbled and grateful..
Not too sure as to which tasks to tackle at first.

There's a hint of thirst..
The desire to get accomplished what was left undone yesterday.
Good morning again new day..
I'm reminded its still so early..
Don't know what will feel the worst.

Not getting done all the mind usually has rehearsed.
Or not getting something new done first.

Ok breakfast.. no nothing till lunch..
Maybe do a brunch.
when do I fit a workout in..
Best time about ten..a.m
Be sure to get your vitamins taken.

Anxious to get prepared for today's work.
Allergy flared up..
Showered and all cleaned up.
All kinds of task yelling for my attention..
Some for work, some about business.
And some for my own pleasure.
Twenty four hours is the length of measure.
Yet theres this sense of pressure.


No wonder I feel tired already..
It's only the beginning..
Yet so much is already awaiting..

Thanks for reading this lil dose of new day waiting..
selinasharday's @H.E.R Poetic Collectionz
s.a.m copy right..2018
new day starting assignments pressure, needs, wants, must be dones today is the day.. procrastinations and the more.
Between the P's of Pressures and pleasures!
Kalliope Apr 2018
I say I attract toxic,
Deep down I think
I crave it.
Kalliope Apr 2018
I can't stand you unless you're between my legs.
It's not love but can we just pretend a little longer?
Kalliope Apr 2018
I always run to your bed when I'm lonely,
And fifteen minutes later I'm still lonely but at least I'm
daytime rhythms
of coming and


out the door
in the car
to the place


twiddled thumbs
swivelled chairs
barked-up trees
and morning teas
and banter

on knees
and eyes to

and this meeting
and that duty
tick tock

a-flow through
time and space
and light
as the
sun turns over
in its sky
and rests its
head down on
the other side

out the door
in the car
to the place

for something quick
to have for dinner



© 2017 Adelaide Heathfield
The march of nine-to-five sets the rhythm of the day, both soothing and begrudging. It causes flare-ups of activity at certain times and lulls at others.

Collective shufflings here and there make people cranky but keep them on track. And the sequence of sounds—predictable, as if orchestrated—makes music of the mundane.
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