The Cities Of Mummies
By Naveed Akram
The new quarter was well brought up,
They were immaculate, well educated like the spawn
Created by the predecessors, a city of well built types,
My majesty quakes, as I lay awake.
Thus the contributions diverged, angry mobs sounded,
Like waves through sight and limb, ace and spin.
These mobs were sheer diversions of rot and care,
There were limited connections, green awkward pains
Of divine origin, offering the twin engines of youth.
The old quarter was a stagnant caring mouldy site,
Exciting me, the owner of dreary rivers and golden arms,
Carefully chosen by the mummies, frank was I,
Cordial.
The cities of mighty joys were in communion,
A charming man resented the Hungry Light,
The Twelfth Night, The August Sight.
My arms spoke of the man of the spring,
Whose eyes caught the sunlight in a day that shined.
One almost feels love and talk, mummification,
And fright, the dead city was a walking miracle,
A zombie in this half, of this entire world.
