Forsaken Men Poem by Naveed Akram

Going to the gates of glory is like forsaking the warm air,
Opening the freedom of pathways is like warming the dinner.

Offer me a suggestion to make a collective gift, a giving present,
To enlighten the few who are profiting the crafts of design.

Give me a prayer of resentment, of dreams and nightmares,
Mixed with folded paper, electric shocks issue like curtains.

I have a deed of the death and after-life, swollen from hurt
In this world of worry and wanting, the world devotes me to it.

The arms snigger like a ladder in mid-flight, of a flight,
That lands on the beaches of my lap, my other leg.

If gates of glory are forsaken then rainbows speak tall problems,
Whenever just rulers hit the Earth like Adam or a fine fellow of Man.