I Read The Business Of Mine Poem by Naveed Akram

I shook my blood, the reading light turned off,
I swore to the earth that bespoke what my suffering was
On this world as I appeared before a friend, who
Delivered a light to bestow mercy and blessings.

I must write and bestow mercy through the written slides,
Opening war after war, word after word, with jaundice
And headache, station and state, weariness and flexibility.
I murder the weaker men who stride before the stronger wine.

A busy man is a bantering mage, a woman of pride is a crook,
Why does blood run to the oceans from here when I write?
Is it a southern gale, or a northern pearl or peril? My master is
Glad to see my facial facts, martyrs of the right hand side.

Let the writer tell the reader all of creation, with all destruction is
A created spirit, enough to relieve a man's word and phrase.
The reading is rule of the house, dark, gloomy; read the horse
And the shepherd comes near to keep warm with the penn.