Pain Poem by Suhel Akram

Riding athwart alpine of aversion,
traverse the woods of confusion,
I ambled meandering to step,
in acreage mine oculars set grap,
mundane to me even at past,
athwart apocryphal ecstasy rust,
I step in the coulee of pain,
hermit me, my coeur capitulated,
no road from here negotiated,
steep down sliding coulee feet thrust.
path forth wrapped blanketed upset,
sodden despondence to shower,
and an agonize press cover,
faded is last curve on labium.
Its here coulee of pain grassed,
cinders flaming the oven robbed,
zephyr away in is languid smog,
its where the regime of pain in tog,
subjugates hearts and the brain,
its where the air to insufflate,
is pensive cimmerian exhaust plate,
cremating throats and lungs grit.
for end is the vedic funeral rite,
cause i am born foundling,
cause i am hermit in thy ring,
had pound-flesh born in agony
had ocular rejects sights melancholy
visage flattened straw on lament,
breast shelter seule thee to cavort,
is that a aberration i am lid with,
if that me anathema of the filth,
if that all be true in there,
its than i deserve be here,
in coulee of pain for exile.