This Philosopher, This Soul Poem by Naveed Akram

This philosopher of thoughts made himself soul,
The man whose supremacy climbed above,
Glistening and polishing other souls,
Yet never agreeing with the same religion
Striking him, stroking him and striving.
One philosopher was pistol, for the pincers
Were not enough, not rough and so tough.
I see the me, I sought a religion and he climbed
Up my being with super force,
With pro-to-fascism, wincing with antisemitism?

This philosophy was against me,
Then he was suddenly anti-christian,
Suddenly the whole of Sudan would wear
Silver and be silent, the shoe of Germany
Would be worn and left to the other people nearby.
Was not the God who was dead himself?
Who are you with death?
Your deadly words seem to evolve from mainstream
Thinking, as the gods wear paint of a glove.