A Lemon At War Poem by Naveed Akram

A lemon the size of a brain rolling slowly,
It concerns me afterwards, as I ask my art,
Glistening grass protrudes as I am person,
Forced pleasures await me when fought.
A lemon lasts for lengths of rolling, a right
Innocence is entered, we bestow ease.
A watch on the hand clicks, a fruit appears
On the screen so slightly I cry screeching,
Wasting the water of my taste,
Wetting the seat with size of haste.

The brain rolls on, with roleplay at heart,
Letters let out their inner envy at the heart;
My fruit is my heart, it lengthens so shortens
The day without daily composure, this tense nature.
My rolling is royalty, quicker than science.

Scientists tick, ticking the landscape with buttons
Of distaste, letting the missiles matter one way
Then the other. I see a missile mark its target -
Wasting the flesh of civilians, as my lemon is rolling
And rolling and rolling, forming a majestic battle.