Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
To provoke a river, a river of psychosis,
Is to madden the puberty of religion;
I braise a brick of meat with oil to sew
The rivers of juice into the morsel.
To grip is to be busy with seconds I love,
Rivers of love ask us in displeasure.
A psychopath has realms of imagination,
From the rivers of impurity and hate.
Let me outwit the conversationalist,
Who staggers at my speech of psychotic words.
Comments about this poem (Psychotic by Naveed Akram )
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