I Saw Her

I saw her eyelids revealing my secrets
For she forgot the idea and the door
Was an ostrich for the pens of the sages,
For the portal closed and we commended
The professors with eyes and eyes.
This lying partnership extended
Into the very heart of man's offspring.
Men call the bridges
As we also are people with intelligence
Which hurts the passion of the potential man.

I understood with crimson light
The fight for a liar to win,
And to parade the innocence I have kept
Forming within my prism and sign.
This day, this day shall mask a crowd
Fulfilling me once I am over,
Their rage is secret and my pen tastes no
Death on the night we answer.

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poem by Naveed Akram
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Bones And Light

To brew the bone of brilliance is to shine in an exact way
That bright light resides in your very basket.
To be the best of beings your deeds buy more deeds of splendid actions,
The light that is dim badly wallows in the sires of the masters.
To be light is to be darkness
Once the swallowed food tastes of innocence.
This lets joy in, and peace out,
To be this perfect we swear an oath of great happiness
That murders our future happiness
Turning into war.

My war has a beer and whiskey of rejoiced beauty,
Dogs of the war drink more happily with water
Or that innocent blend of chemical elements
We shall define as hydrogen and oxygen -
These are the finest bricks of our understanding.
For when we are sustained by the whole brick,
A wall develops in order to sense our bright light.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Works Of Nature

A nab was naked, carrying a malady
Wasting my time once my damaged brain saw
The differences of a wet day and night,
The feeling of purification bled tonight,
Once my station became my stage.

This looks like my complexion,
In the way of words and deeds,
Cast in the shadows of ambiguity,
And their words warred forever with foes
Bending in the valleys of winds.

When one strolled in them the winds chased,
As the flight of the birds surrounded,
As these works of Nature fought like golden delight
And ruinous riches, the same way of the works of man.
Their abdomens were their abdomens.

Jobs of the never-land rescued us finally,
Skilled in war and the heavy factory,

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poem by Naveed Akram
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Words Again

Thoughts can be words, can be flowers that burgeon like words,
Thunders that are right in the middle of happiness,
Ones that make talk with books and with all speaking sense.

The sounds are not anywhere near us,
Yet the word can believe in living free,
Where actions cannot, and nor can thoughts necessarily.

We work on the words of leaders like listening is,
When speech is hazardous and non-wrong,
And liars can speak offensively, like a long long wrong.

Speech is therefore recommended in the form of words,
Of dementia I give word not or word obvious,
But of sound advice for any goodness to come and seize.

Deceased are the word-lovers as much as fences are put up,
As if the sea is given a status that delves too deep
Of words, and it is funny how many words that there are.

poem by Naveed Akram
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End Matters

We strive to end all matters at the start,
Like the arrow that finishes and exerts,
Must the final scene be of the dart?

I see wonders and forests of trees apart,
They struggle and inhabit the comforts,
We strive to end all matters at the start.

Likely outcomes reside in the cart,
Rolling into the street that reasserts,
Must the final scene be of the dart?

My living is called a sentence to depart,
Mine is the life that is of introverts,
We strive to end all matters at the start.

I catch the idiots of the hour in a flowchart,
Forgetting the tree of animals with efforts,
Must the final scene be of the dart?

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poem by Naveed Akram
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Formula

A formula has been contrived for our benefit,
Once more the divisions can keep,
Reasons are for living, ones to admit.

May defenders arrive too early to befit,
A new religion contacts us asleep,
A formula has been contrived for our benefit.

What do we control when we backbit?
The whole collision concerns the cheap,
Reasons are for living, ones to admit.

Mastering our language is needed to baby-sit,
The adult who does this is no barkeep,
A formula has been contrived for our benefit.

Strange honesty is at the bottom of the bandit,
He who claims divinity, loving us so deep,
Reasons are for living, ones to admit.

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poem by Naveed Akram
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The Martyr

My martyr was also an epicure as a rich man,
Bold are the epithets to describe him, all a ban.
The job epitomizes good goals and strong life,
An epoch of calamities and casualties that were rife.

My understanding is of a fetish that spoke alarmingly,
It became a fetid smell, a sensible touch was the ability.
Most of the hankering became a mission,
To intercede on behalf of the demon.

Festal reactions described him fully,
As the honeydew pleased him abdominally.
It is the largesse, it is the probity of good singing,
Underneath the grand sea, that inspired the abandoning.

You have naught as a martyr, elsewhere there is naught,
All is morbid, and the scaring is dwindling, to be fought.
I can evangelize the youth into goodness,
Yet my breathing is harassing me like an actress.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Luck In Space

It was pure luck of survival, before the event,
The whole journey was plenty of protein;
A few wanted a launch into space, an universe
Of authority that terribly spoke to the sun.
Stars followed and pattered due to light,
Smart accusations to aliens were made.
A deadly slow space-craft was the effect,
Helmets were worn to save a crew of special captains.

Then survival became essential, like the fog,
It crept and dismayed me as a work of craft;
The vessels of space supplied me with fortune,
My fuel for the fire became the sun and stars.

So much the better. The astronauts were readier,
Without their cricket and gold on Earth.
A few hours in space meant a century,
For time became slow for some reason.
The dead spacemen had to be found for they lived
Among the stars for all eternity.

poem by Naveed Akram
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A Kingly Man

O Friend of always the right,
The clue of time is hidden in my purse;
Inside is also a great travel that I embark upon.

O Friend of mine, why is this?
It is inside the purse that lingers a shiny bauble,
A shiny ring, and it lets us journey the hills of space.

The Friend: O Little man, I seek a helper
To lift me into light, and majesty is all I can utter
As I am a king who needs no travels nor journey of rings.

O Friendly King, my love is an ornament for you,
And the light of the ring is more spacious,
So I may think the task too great for you.

The Friend: O Little man, I am not dazzled by your ring,
My jewels are with me, and my friends are not.
Your journey can never begin.

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Children Today

I open the way of feeling to everyone
Who glances in my direction that stays.
I frustrate the coldness of the air today,
Eerie are the ways we splendidly follow
Like the cattle and children of our day.

I have seen many wonders in children of light,
Light encompasses their being, it is essential
To their upbringing, to their destiny.
My authors and children contemplate
For a day to begin their tragedy.

This is a comedy of alertness, inside us,
As children the feelings rise and fall
Like the waves of the sea and river.
In our country we see children
And more of them as well tonight.

I have offensives and defenses today,
Like the children of risk and despair

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poem by Naveed Akram
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