The Friends Of Intelligence Poem by Naveed Akram

The lively friends are browner than the mud we were made of from Adam's plot,
It was scene after scene of aggression, worry and forsaken character.
Open his heart, a measly organ of repetition, the very instrument we call
In our heads about the air we breath and fixate with tongue and eyes.
I am near to the veins of the heart, flowers fall from it,
Office is a name of the state experienced by hearts of all levels of love.

The friendship lasts with eagerness, a terrfic tree of happiness,
More than the houses we inhabit with intelligent men,
The last of the men who see flawlessly, like an animal of innocence.
The chief anxiety enters the heart, a tiresome organ of delights,
One of the defeated centres of worship, like the organ of sanity,
It is a pure blood of the spine, a magnificent feeling of the brain.