Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
What is the origin of a prize?
Do men buy it for another prize?
No, it's bought by the creams and almonds.
One feels exhilarated by the dog howls,
Sounds of love empty into the plain mirror,
Rejoicing like capitals.
What do you listen to in the mirror?
Is your prize a fondled object?
Or do you feel red blood with a song
That blathers for the righteous men?
Why can the men do this old crime?
I see the summer's sun with a man,
He is buying a deal from summer.
This man jokes of his poverty and hell
With some gusto, let him!
Comments about this poem (Origin by Naveed Akram )
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