Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
I Must Confess
But I must confess that
At the bottom of the crater
They run no chance of sin;
Freeing the world carries signs
Forming a height of strangeness.
They were prosecuted for heresy,
As the play of the winds was alight,
Licking contortions and playing
With controversy, the way they were
So they would like to persuade
And engineer what the season spells.
I must confess the secrets of lunacy,
Yesterday, and today.
I am the crater of some kind help,
Answering the river and its waterfall.
It plunges and suffers the pool,
Like the strange sins of our fathers
Bending to the desires of mothers.
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