When the hang over pesters me as a child,
To stay on the bed with heavy head ache,
Pouring of lemonade into the esophagus,
The dried tongue pelt with the messages,

The hangover has made me to be truthful,
For a minute, until the next session on the pavement,
Of downtown and up market embankment,
Where knowledgeable and intelligent men like us meet,

We have dreamt everything that is gendered and neutered,
Neatly tied removed and tug in shirts pulled out,
Where we gather to celebrate the night after twilight,
Our women are at work and on the other side at risk,

They too have learned to gather to vent out,
We are the new group of civilization, like to prank,
The autumn leaves are shed to show the twigs,
When the new foliage erupt piercing through the scar,

We forget many of our troubles, not like to remember forever.
Hangover and Mondays are enemies and these met regularly,
Resolution and promises are just a waste, but life has to revolve,
The drunkard earth is uneducated, never has had a hangover.

veeraiyah subbulakshmi

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hangover-13/