Behold The Jungle

This jungle of sorts recognises me when I deliver,
The revolving doors are open, then we conclude the monument.
The river dangles behind like a sea open to enemy,
Much sauce collects when the sewing has begun.
An industry of collectors works hard to consider
And contrive a reality to question at all levels.
This is acceleration, the red mountain so told,
Behold it when it erupts and concentrates on us.
The jungle has trees dangling, dawn shall appear,
With fountains of red and blue, the sun has goals.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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