Ice Cream Poem by Naveed Akram

The ice cream is a factory while it rains,
It is the catastrophe of the century,
The sweetness of this lie.

We munch the ice with cream, we start
To abandon its glare, while we touch
The balm of this land of dreams.

The church will conspire with the foes,
The beauty of the magic is at woes,
We are the coach of this hundred percent.

My ice melts with growing unease,
Like the falling debris so blank,
Like an authority of the century and decade.