My Bones Poem by Naveed Akram

My sack overweighs my alcohol,
It burns the skin of all its gold;
The luck of a box rocks the world,
One neck has to be country-madness.

My sack of bones creates and enters
The fray, the copse of this deadlock;
A speck of blood seethes the cloth
Of a long time and longest day.

I hear the tock of the candle and clock,
My bones are outspread like fortunes of war;
The booty dams the sinners, like the golden
Virtues in all the moral philosophers.