The Angels Of This Dominion Poem by Naveed Akram

The angel was to heaven a property of living
By so much and so very little;
If it would be one it could have a new minion,
Not what she or he likened to grass and roots
But what you shall be from when it is all over.

The butlers of this cooked earth respond daily,
Brainstorm their angelic craft to see a brand;
Brainwaves are a highlighting path like the innocence,
Cricket has passed, football shall croak, as we die.

The angel’s nails shall scream with biting fragments,
Carnal habits take us from within, cameras are alive.
The hundred days are over when witches lie and stagger
In their seats,
They are no veritable ailment for their use.