Books Galore Poem by Naveed Akram

I have a scrutiny of meticulous books,
I wage war on the sensibilities and hooks,
By the jeopardy of the soul, and benevolence
Too cold, so kind are they all, so kind.

Words become a holocaust when directed,
To be feasible a book enlightens for food,
But these are dockyards, those are mere sounds
Of the world, at war and at averse conditions.

My amicable maid is a wordless soul, a wife of
Jokes and jaundice, the disease of the soul,
That impetus to subjugate the fabric of society,
By the jeopardy of the soul which is at war.