Regular Evening(Poem)

Sunset—hoped eyes
woke up like a spilt secret
in a state of scepticism.

I walked on the rotten time
and sang with the biscuit-ed moods.

Play “Beats of life”

The Athenian cat
did what he does—
ignore the petty mortals.

Nazi birds on the poles
were thinking without a bannister.

With stooped shoulders,
Poetic pyjamas and
Marxist beard
I serviced the civilization
by reading newspapers.

Milked the pen
to give caffeinated thoughts
did the moonwalk part

Next time
I’ll try clean-shaven.

—Drunken bread

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