No Grand Garden Poem by Naveed Akram

There is no grand garden like a soul,
To expose the wrongs of our society.
My gown of gravity and graveness shines
With pity and piety, without a sincere one.
The face of our men and monies is sailing
Across the ocean of ossified beings.

There is no grand garden of our soul,
We are an industry, we have minor spirits.
Our allies spread the word like propaganda,
Letting the garden grow inside the mind.
We see the doctor and surgeon once a day,
Their tea is cold, the milk is stale, and we stare.

There is no grand garden of this night,
The lawn needs mowing so says ethics.
The philosopher questions our souls,
Forcing habits, forming freak occurrences.
It is the scholar's posture, and his wide
Eyes that let him read the beginning and end.