ROUTINE

The sun knocks my door

to visit me again just like

everyday as it always has...

on another morning for industry

do we live just like chickens?

"scratching for breakfast in the morning,

scratching for dinner in the evening"

on our feet our longing to go bed to bed overcoming

the window of life opening...

another day. another day. another day.

reality not seeming as lovely as dreaming

It is said we also possess dreams;

but here our dreams

rarely become reality

thus that is us:
we breakfast on dust and vehicle fumes

for the sake of the lifestyle

chase after the bus because we have no car

try to beat the punch-card machine

count the fallen leaves and rubbish by the roadside

as if counting the years of your life gone by

what is the reality of living like this-

Heavy too is the night that descends

this troubled story is far from its end:

while they 'party'

continually searching we can't even find a run-down shack

longing for part-time work we cannot be free-

tomorrow the addicts of debt yearn for promises

end of the month the bills pile up at your feet

Perhaps this is an old song being replayed again?

or a new rhythm that was around long ago?

as we hold fast to the words:

"a handful cannot be a sackful",

"even the worm under a stone can survive",

thus shall we continue to survive...

following the same routines,

forsaking reality, lulled by the dreams-

Ahmad Mohd Tahir 

Mingguan Aneka, 1st August 1987