Oil Seeps Poem by Naveed Akram

Oil seeps from taps of gold and silver good,
My author wrote the books of old and new,
And why do men shine on, like gold anew,
The world inside does stick as if it could.

How is this person with an adulthood?
If childhood is a job, I eat bamboo
Like Pandas, like them, and they brew
The blood of men so great with fatherhood.

But, if they steal the trees and mock as well
Then jungles carry wild notes of music,
The real breath blew a horn so huge that today
It blows a noise of horror big as bell,
So cells of plants are smaller than epic,
I want the flowers over a slight melee.