Lord Of The Canvas

This canvas burns on my chest like a cart on the road,
Butter would melt and sell my cause for a price;
Building chemicals came from the right and left,
Cards were chins to rest on, cards mattered to some.

By the cake of splendid chalk and wine and cheese,
The camera in our eyes adjusts the way we eat;
A button pressed is a button too much of the luck
That is hidden in this church of rights.

Let change be a master of the certain events,
There strives a little party of the lords of the manor.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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