The Essence Of The Sciences Poem by Naveed Akram

The essence of the sciences, is a skill, a skull of illness,
We stammer when effort sentences the man to energies.
A scientist shares the entrance of knowledge, his demands
Are continuous, demonstrating a feeling of goodness
For society, as the clock kills the clown of Neverland.
We are in his time of imminent danger, drowning in death,
For effects are continued by those in personalities.
A death for a scientist is like a professional reputation,
It is bravery, it is manhood, it is prison, it is repartee.

When do these men of offices and officials collide with death?
Death stares at their eyes that stare at death, with flowing rivers
Of blood after the bullets and the bombs of bombastic speech.
We stagger at their stillness, a society of men built to eradicate
And build society, feeling the eels inside their bellies in innocence.
The sight of a man is like the oil of the plant, the fat of the animal,
We see a man and woman varied by the times, the effort of deals
Spanning the centuries, millions of factors and fallacies are against
The brain, full of momentum, desirous of speed, and working in unison.