Hunting For Jaguars Poem by Naveed Akram

The old charts are in the world,
Laughter gropes and gapes at the moist
Ones, who see five kilometers,
In the fog and mist when they die.
In a few days, promises felt like ordinariness,
To poke at the replies of the innocent
Is like rain and fortune,
Of the moonless nights.

I hunt for jaguars and they burn me,
Then geography stays at the building
To be obscure in readings of writings,
My laid ones are the words.

I had no wish to keep saying,
The verses from fortunate people
Kept on ringing towards the end.
Cunning failures terribly swore at the mirror
In the deserts of the higher folk.

My analytic mind saw pieces hide
The whole puzzle of deceit,
A strange strategy developed
Opening the way to the tunnels
Of joy.