The Letters Of My Word Poem by Naveed Akram

The letter is at the end of powerful crowds,
It grows into words and words, and more ideas.
I slip in phrases of the unique kind, of utter kind,
My stroke is bleeding from the heart and veins.
It is vehement to strike and batter the wall,
It is beautiful to be so ugly, to be so dreaded by all.

My letter is my joy, and my joy is my letter,
Feeding the joys of orphans in their homes of gold.
The silver bracelets shine like lighting bolts,
Coming from afar, and I witness their laughter.
It is brutish to see their passages of health, for
The divine element is forever and ever, like peace.

The letters of the word are constructed like the food
Given to kings and queens of alacrity and joy.
Feed them wine and fortune, fix the talents of servants,
Enslave this, enslave the fortunate ones into submission.
My awesome preacher bloats and solves our problem,
The problem of forces and moments, of motion and rest.