Treasure Island

Naveed Akram

(15 December 1973 / London, England)

Like A Bad Lady

Like that bad lady making rolling eyes
I stay even clear of snarling generals
And the clinic staff, who lumber by with yellow
Teeth that smell of old clothes.

I purse my mouth to be sure,
And my cheeks are swollen by the hits,
A nice trick has emerged from the ocean
And it is one I confess, one I trust.

The face I have in my possession rocks
The ship with glares and white light,
One foamy sea burdens the quest
Of my illusions and grandeur.

I want to be fixed on the green mountain,
It is square-faced with flaring noses
That entwine with the darkness of the night,
The sea has now abated.

Submitted: Sunday, December 30, 2012

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