Naveed Akram Poems

I see the whole bun of meals,
These controversial people object
To easy meals, suffering from them
As the heat climbs and you taste
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This philosopher of thoughts made himself soul,
The man whose supremacy climbed above,
Glistening and polishing other souls,
Yet never agreeing with the same religion
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What is good O perfect saint?
What is right with those who do a perfect priest?
Those are the righteous,
These are the very hostile to transgressors.
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Waves draw back in the distance,
Smart and simple waters up to the waist.
The ebb is certain, like the teeth that munch,
Forming a tide of grief.
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An avalanche was a screen to be with skill,
On the fourth of July a smaller man became;
Then they rejoiced with wicked nature,
A myriad of martyrs wickedly destroyed
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By the basic discourse on life
We project our thrown sight on the life.
We are distinct as the praises of some
Who live according to mighty stature.
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A huge gun fires its load of lead
Internationally, yet on this nation
It has pitfalls to burn and rub.
One clock is a place for change,
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Towards Him we recline during the season,
The next brings joy, like royal visitation.
One supposes a backyard is full of sounds,
Like the birds talking with each other
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I am covered in black grease
Forever in a quick search for evolutions,
This is my offering from eternity.
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I am covered in soot from too much fasting,
Loathing the fuel I sustained,
Looking at faces that married my glance.
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