My Street Under The Sky Poem by Naveed Akram

My standing is on the sighing street, lacking health and vitality,
Its hideous warmth caresses me with whiteness and height.
The poles are apart, taller buildings contaminate the air once more,
Taller, dreary clouds flamboyantly curtail the crazy skies.
One waits inside, wincing as distress calls like a baked cake,
One submerges the head in the heart to falsely approach a reality.
It is real joy that empties the street when dying armies connect,
Tanks bombard a soldier one by one, trails are left trained.
We submit the force, we destroy a felon and a criminal like crime,
Our tanks beat down alcoholically, our trek is longer than lesson.
One winces and grimly, symmetrically conveys a smile to the world,
Laughing at the street of its promise and desire, a calling tyre so told.