The Morning Routine


She held that mug
brimming with a piping hot brew
fresh and as aromatic as it should be
strong and flavorful,
and overpowering
She took a big gulp
let it wash down her insides
and she put it back on the table
to let it linger for a while
while the froth died down
and the heat dissipated
Held the newspaper in her hands,
expecting it to deliver something new,
and exciting,
But then again,
same clutter
Same old riots
exuecutions and bombings,
rapes and killings,
Godmen play with emotion
and comics turn chicken,
rampage in a temple,
over the top political theatrical
rage on the roads
senseless murderous hordes
subjugation of women
and bra-burning feminist fanaticism
patriarchal supremacy
and democratical hypocrisy
it all exists
in all but one nation

What is good?
What is bad?
What is ugly?
She couldn’t acknowledge
She couldn’t decipher
For she didn’t have a clue
But she knew one thing,
it was time to drink up that brew
and make hay
while the sun still shines
“And yeah !
damn you !!”
She said,
to the newspaper

Posted from WordPress for Android


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