Sweet Odours Of A New Palace Poem by Naveed Akram

For a few minutes we pack for the journey named no more
By our successes, and life revolves around violas and violins.

The musicians have a stigma, the revolutionists cause mayhem
In their dozens of parlours, when secret script delivers its ridicule.

I have hours of misfortune inside my soul that has letters and food
Handfed by serial killers and I am now aghast at the burgeoning mayors.

The cities bespoke a merciful message that pursued logic after logic,
Only from economies that ran anew, from the devastations of slayers.

Inside the committee a new palace diverged into our minds that spoke on the topic,
For the mirrors kicked our bellies afterwards, from too much darkness and energy.

A wave is not a suitable partner for another wave, for swinging among the geography
Creates a six-day religion of created beings who surpass the men in the supreme quarters.

For a booth contains a hue that awoke for us to keep our tunics and shields,
To fight with a sweet odour, as the cavalry of the life we lead has passed us by.