Put The Moon In My Body Poem by Naveed Akram

Put the moon in my body, in jars of torahs,
As suns no longer contain data spreading finitely.
My longing is righteous as the clowns pass
Their tests, those of the worshippers make humid
Nights of love, their days are naughtier everyday.

My shaking is my blowing of the horn in this age,
At my age we cry loudly, fixing the ways of wonder.
I must be mature, not be dog or cat, so humans will
Conquer those of lowly stature, so they will lose over me
When a star collides with our one, like the last day and hour.

Put the hunter of thoughts into my head that hurts overly,
Pain converges with delight, as the rhythms of strength
Oscillate in the twisted manner of a king who triumphs.
It doesn't sound the distance of endless hours, but we
Join hands, like the older men who visit the actual city.