Car Of Clay Poem by Naveed Akram

I know a wish to stagger streets one time,
Stimulating desires to fold in with lust.
The pad of letters manages mighty darts
Of meaning internally minding us with their dare.

Dear drivers of the countryside forge wands
To climb in their cars of gold and fortunate dress,
Radio annoys masterfully, rats rage on mercilessly,
A rattling of the wheels is a wishing syndrome.

One must have a heart too near lying about
In the muds, cut in the clay that might want
The first man to master the animals of hatred
And the animals of love, the plants of stoves and heat.