Life!

Looks wiped clean,
The earth.
The air too.

Smells like, Satiation
Like exasperation
Like a poet's inspiration.

The perfect morning!

Standing at the sixth floor,
He finishes his cigarette,
And goes off to bed.

Of sons and fathers

This one,
doesn't taste good,
when not served cold.

It does,
when  it's chilled..

They might call it revenge..
I plainly call it-
A mug of beer.'

Contemplations,
Half-developed insights,
of half developed minds,
Meet their fathers now.

Right here!
Yes, right now.