Treasure Island

Naveed Akram

(15 December 1973 / London, England)

Meat to Eat


To care is too disastrous for me now,
I die, I die, and I did try this night
To stay alive, from warmth and anyhow,
Like supper; like them and then start to bite.

The steaks do taste with juice, like a melon,
But of the earth, of one small animal,
They happen in an instant - abandon!
One animal will be this abysmal.

I fry the onion, on a bright flame,
I eat those bagels as the little fool,
May seasons take a flame as a small game,
The onions, the onions are tool.

Let one of us so eat the plate in time,
Then share, then share with us, without a rhyme.

Submitted: Tuesday, August 09, 2011
Edited: Wednesday, August 10, 2011

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