Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)

The source of the voice came to be known as a vessel,
It was the strangest beginning to overcome,
A man of shoulders and height became the initiative,
His pallid flesh was speaking too politely,
For the lacklustre meat and kidneys were refreshed
As the burdens of colourful men came to hide.
We were to gesture the voice then in motion,
We were the offspring, and we wanted some fame.
The shrivelled up pen ignited and combusted too late,
Fanning the feathers of the birds that took duty and obedience.