Treasure Island

Naveed Akram

(15 December 1973 / London, England)

Grey Spaces


Grey spaces conquer speaking and talents that absorb
The stations of brilliance, a clinic of wonderment;
May the head bulge and destroy the wonders
Found inside the box that sold itself.
I sat on the sofa of gray space, my head hurt,
But my feet had revolved somehow and stared.

Along the back and arms there tingled my hare
That ran along by the way, waiting, waiting,
Longing towards the harbor often enough,
Loitering in the districts whatever the reason.
Near the window I sat, forgetting all those deliveries
This time by a way of remembrance that shook asunder.

May the hugeness feel like a worst throat of loose partners,
Holloway prisons speak only of majesty, that abhorred
A free thinking or philosophical outlook then in return,
One that forsook the life of leading, a little lesson for the devout
Of knowledge, of the knowledge devout,
Liking and loving all those words that devour.

Submitted: Monday, March 25, 2013
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