The Perishing Soul Poem by Naveed Akram

The Perishing Soul



Who has had his secret in the perishing soul?
Offering peace to the straightforward man is secretive,
I utter knowledge to the heart of the origins of men.
Why do you search for him in the dust and yellow ocean?
It is indeed slippery dutifully, it is striking a voice of noise,
With a lofty truth, a reclining belief, an independent sound.

Upon the lips an utterance forms, forcing the waves of saviours,
Seeing for yourself, like a blind hard beggar, like a fallacious mover.
The park I have visited is absent from the head and heart,
Precautions believe in themselves, hazards are matters of the flesh.
I must resolve matters, my family needs the act of a willing man,
Opening doors, to others of fault, to the relaxed kindness.

But mine is the power and glory of a gruelling man, a hungry fiend,
Who never blasphemes, in any way nor in any form, not in any scent.
The eyes confide in the eyes of a reckless sword, the dagger of authority,
This time it blazes, destroying the souls of a lofty goal, seizing the hearts,
Ruining their chair, resting on beds of justice, running a future time,
Like the office of a man who redefines justice in the ways of genuine laws.

Wednesday, August 14, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: soul
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Naveed Akram

Naveed Akram

London, England
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