Naveed Akram Poems

The finger triangulates fluently,
It footworks frightfully well as a block
Afforded by the very richest free-men.
This friend of djinn fumbles through
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This universe continues without bridges
To the other side of this good country;
This continuation of life increases duly,
The acceleration is compulsory and just.
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Eyes are made for you in being,
Cares are thrown at you with dally,
The thumb of servitude is again,
And the fingers become leaves once.
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As I sway to the other side of the river,
The bank is arriving, the banks are retelling;
I see a tale to be delivered, a tail is made,
To walk the action of a boulder and man.
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In this octahedron, the twists are moulded
So that your play is serious, so it merges,
Slides, involves the fingers, fixes a sight,
Satiates the obscure sight, the light of a shape.
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Two soldiers have nearly died fighting with heavenly
Swords, their names entwined, necks bruised, legs shamed,
So blessed are their bodies once chewed by the earth.
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My sack overweighs my alcohol,
It burns the skin of all its gold;
The luck of a box rocks the world,
One neck has to be country-madness.
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The will of the fountain is like cloth furled,
My faith earns from the Briton, and is like cloth furled.

My button is clenched with anger and mood,
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My internet disappoints me as I walk the good walk,
Little are the malefactors of this generation,
My soldiers are against my businessmen with aftershock.
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In more wishful ways there is abduction,
On the misty highways of Preston and its action;
Preston, that small community of doers,
Remains to be good-looking sewers.
...