Treasure Island

Naveed Akram

(15 December 1973 / London, England)

Waters Of Grief


Could stagnant waters stare into grief?
Could blame be cast on shadowy streets?
My hearts are structured on unique winds,
Blowing through the veins and arteries of size.
I preserve hearing and seeing for glories
Seized by soldiers from heaven and hell,
Both styles within, both fears without.
That form of straight road is again in flight,
Crazy fierce armies of hate are arranged before
Me, like phalanxes of mighty hearts
So loved by themselves.

The stagnant water is deeper than blood,
A truce is in eerie ways, as a tribal custom
Asserts the dependency and independency.
The fighting of wars is a serious hurdle
For artists of the human rights.
The soldiers are seized by the power of the wind,
Nihilism contracts and exhales its stench,
Nightly the dreams come roaring in,
Let humans be absolved of all their tin and sin,
As they are robots of the mightiest wars in
Some form of existence.

Submitted: Monday, April 28, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, April 29, 2014
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Topic(s): war

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