Routine Now

Routine
Inflicts on us
Republications of stupid books
And bloodless
Assemblages of proletarians.

Routine is when we
Need some action
Some free fight,
Fairy tales &;
Love affairs.

Routine though
Offers nothing else
But a cursing and spitting hug,
Herself,
Her grief, nothing else,
Her revolver between our eyes.

Our voices broken
Our skies lost
Hurrah

Cold is our blood
Endings are our days
Dark are our angels
Hurrah

The fearsome populace
Dressing the stone of life with saliva.
Hurrah

Let's be

The official traitors
Of an unfair Peace.

Hurrah!!

? Stavros Zafiris, 2003