Treasure Island

Naveed Akram

(15 December 1973 / London, England)

Their Enemies


Their enemies result in air,
To stand forever now;
My work does work as your affair,
This stance works on this brow.

The meaning of this world is cruel,
A life has one event,
You start from one of them able,
Towards the event bent.

Disaster looms on this old world,
Defend itself, to live,
My anxious reading so unfurled,
The reasons now active.

The mind encases wildly this,
Too much of it is wild,
This mental work comes not amiss,
The world is reconciled.

Submitted: Sunday, June 20, 2010
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