Honourable People Poem by Hira Ahsan

Like a toddler woes
in excess of stomach pain

like lover's blood palpitates
in excess to vena amoris

like a rivalry hooligan
in excess of anger
hits his head with doors and panes

Whirled a cyclone
over the pure bossom
of persecuted earth

that raged the heart
of touch-me-not

hardened brows, metal bossoms
noxious smooches,
nor pure even sobs are

Opaque statues of appearances
Visible nor even the shadows of reality are

Alas!
Still considered 'honourable'....
On Holy Earth 'notorious beings' are! !