Cruelest thing would be-
you are being watched all life
as from the sky in dark.

Trembling, you open
the knots of entangled life,
to watch the baby sun.

When you try to find
yourself in the lies of society
where will truth will go?

Once you are labeled,
The human input is out and
you start falling apart.

My home, and I am trying
to set the walls free after―
the explosion.

A sinkhole eats you alive.
I am walking in air
contending with the old god
who would not listen.

Suddenly it is time to
back drive. The wrong road
taken has given in glimpse
of people starting the war.

The land becomes black
and paper lanterns adorn the doors.

Standing in the centre of a circle,
trying to reach the periphery.
Was it a mistake―
to exhume the entombed
injury?

The ****** withdrawl
takes you back to brown
earth from the red sea.
How would you receive,
that you don't receive?

Your eyeslids flutter.
Sun will ask you for
shutting the eyes. The
glass breaks in your
globes.

Fibrosis cracks. You are
moving faster now in black rain.

And I will hear you
without noise,
in the yawn of night
when I will open
my wound!

Burning in the
intensity of time's blood
I will not touch
you in my dreams.

A fakir wants to leave his skin on the
rocks in sun to become
parchment, so that you can
write your name on it.

And my vacant eyes
in summer night, will search
the legend of undying
grace, in the wasteland
of life.

The thirst of newness
makes you move away from the crowd of
grievers. I ask the moon, why does he cry?

What was the ritual, when
you seek redemption from
the bonfires of forgotten love?

In fact, sorrow was
a beautiful heritage of truth processors.
You make a temple, and god breaks it.

The giant pain was nameless.
Held captive in
tearless screaming.

I have come back in
my deserted home.

The sitting peace was unstable.

Never I will say,
I do, going outside the
accepted boundaries.

No honour killing.

Misfit for the slot, you were
making your own sky, where
you seek liberation
from twilight zones.

It might happen- that
I become you, in your spring,
you remain winter.

It will never come,
my birthday, till your bright-
red lilies bloom.

The lips won't move
for a kiss of the black rose
under the blue moon.

Bete- noire. Let's improve
the grammar. Words will never change.
Shoulder to shoulder the eternal pain jumps.

Can you invite a star
in the dark? The earthen lamps are
always trembling to throw bright light.

Can you swim in a poisoned
well, where are snakes and eels?
This was the spiritual bath after a black life.

Unreturning
I will honor my commitment.
I will face the
volcano alone.

The burning pit―
inspires me. The eternal
flames. There was nothing
blended. Not alloyed.

I shall not forget―
the curves, the falls. The
flowing down of the
stream from godhood.

The half moon, where
does it will land?
Umbilicus kinks. You break
the anatomy.

Like radiation, I
am turning gray.On
extremes, there was no light
nothing dark.

Returning to the ragpicker
like a lone fly
of love triangle, said― were you
writing a letter to confess your love?

Like a glue sniffer, I
am stuck with you.
O brown earth, raw
wounds heal …

When I sing a blade
of grass, when I sit
under moon, holding your
hills for comfort.

My head nestling on
your heaving breast, while
I sleep without―
a dream.

It was devastating to eat
you. Your cauldron, bubbling.
Someone wants to pay
back your sun, your moon.

A veiled threat,
a muffled cry. It was not human.

No beast, no monster
yet unhuman.

The feel of wolf's
lair, was there in dark.
Anything would happen.

You wanted to become
a self-proclaimed divine Being.
Yet, you were not a god.

A black pit opens. Do not shout.
The clogged artery had bursted.

I give you back your city
you can scale the high wall
and jump into eternity.

We should go and
meet the fire god to release us
free from the moment
of truth.

In space you want to
weave a daydream, making
me ready for the kiss of destiny.

This was the journey
of bliss unlocked from
the dark tunnel of sinless prayers.

Will you plant some
seeds on the palm of future?
The barefoot
refugees want to divide
the body of water.

We go thirsty when the
rains come. Why
of red color.
Were there predatory clouds?

Asking for privacy, a
green snake becomes deviant,
and turns lunatic.

Lunacy demands innovation―
like atavism, returning
to primitiveness.

The fear becomes
your enemy. Instinct develops
to ****, to slay.

Again a beheading, you
wash your hands
with the blood of a god.

And dedicate your
life to a goddess of bodypiercing
crime, soaring high.

The art of losing the
core-hurts, standing in deepest
mood.
You want to see, what your
prefrontal cortex thinks.

The suffering: the debris
fall on the eyes.
Vast Greenland melts.
The terror strikes. You
inherit the barren land.

I start talking with the
spirits. In the shoe box, lies the
past. The water was rising
in eyes. The scent of moon
sometimes misses the earth.

The butterflies, sometimes
come, declare the deadline
for garden prayers.

Light a candle. It burns
white in a black stormless garden
******* the anger of water.

What do you do with
my poems? Where will the libido
go? Something has been left behind?

Ah, my friend, what is
relationship in a millennium ?Was it
a song to a lone nightingale?

How will you be defining
a war, when you
meet without machetes?

Between real and fiction
lies a deficient bridge.
We will go for a walk to find―
the weak spots.

A dead city moves in its
entirety. You prepare yourself
to read the tea leaves.

The dregs were in power.
Why you were becoming schizophrenic?
Do not blow at the dead sparks.

How long the shadow now
you want to throw?

Deadpan. Far off an
explosion. First a lull, then
rises cicadas shrill.

You release paper―
lamps into the river. One for
black rose in the book.

Blue birds, will they come
again in my lonely patch
of abandoned home?

Missed beats will not
appear to pick up the pause,
between absent words.

The city breaks me,
when you try to bury memory
in the feral woods.

*

Pains shall not buy
the tears as an evidence
of endless slaying.

*

There was no time
to halt between life and death.
Someone pulls the string.

You will remember―
what I would not― the
inner darkness of noon.

A bright sun goes
blind for a caged bird. To
dream or not to dream in
the path of unknown.

Any celestial movement―
will bring the halcyon days?
One day the man will change?

This culture, your
ethos were making the
sense datum extinct― a fossil.

Far from the meanings
the body language flies
in wings of wax.

Again an era ends,
the very blood of stones.

Say something
on this crucial moment,
standing near the funeral home.
My gods were dead.

Last night I had
left the bed on the call of―
mountains― where I had to
climb back to my final abode.

Any poem in September
was worthy of the rewrite
in rainy day of mourning.

One by one the―
fruits fall. You unwrap
the kernels to bring out
the shiny seeds. One day they will
become the tallest trees.

Friends and foes.
I rise and
become a pagoda.

A severed hand, after
the blast, working on a script
writes about the
musicality of blood.

Blood of moon and trees;
of poems and bees,
contributing to making
of republics of grass.

The roots know the secret
of god and grief of humanity.
The sound ot truth resonates
with the art of dying.

Between the sun-and moon―
under the sky sleeps a
shimmering axe.

The intimate god,
versus the body of slain faith,
was not ready to bring in the rains.

What quality was the substance
in shadows, while you were
reigniting the inquest?

The space was shrinking
noiselessly. The nest―
was crowded. You would not

place your frame on the wall.
This happened, which
was, not supposed to happen.

The eyes don't blink.
You are looking straight in the
glass of elegy. Why coming and going

of a name should affect the masses?

Living on margin he was deceived again.
A grasshopper was perched on door
shedding green pigment.

Granary was empty and he was,
worried about the health of nation.
Glare and splendor always hurt his eyes.

In the name of prosperity, leftovers
set the ***** houses apart
from polished faces.

He was again afraid of interior –
bursting with statements of elegance,
releasing the bald answers to nettled questions.

The stench was glorified discreetly,
giving a pause to sorrow.
Who was destroying the sweetness?

The cat was finally
dead.
After a professional cut.

An infant injury
of the cadaver, will not speak

of the dead river, of elegy.

No life―
after the rite of passage.
You are confined in a coffin
buried in ice―
in north and south.

The space shrinks
between the screams.
A syncope overshadows the moon.
The howling starts.

The name. You were my
flesh, my bones. Forgive
me for this moment. I am
burning all my belongings.

Looking at small things,
weather beaten. I have
come back to pay my
indelible debt.

Darkness was always there.
Who am I to light the candles
in storm to glorify the thoughts―
the shrine of past sins?

Ichthyotic. I am peeling
off the skin, the dirt― the stains.
Want to stand naked, firm, rigid
and ***** in my aloneness.

It was time to climb blood totem.

Tends to droop,
the narcissus, after
shedding the tears.

Per minute, you
were drawing
a self-portrait.

In water,
your image splinters
in thousand names.

Holding the―
earth on your neck
where would you go?

Cleaning the Augean
stables, I was going
to punish myself.

A soldier of your conscience
you will not commit
suicide for the sake of heaven.

History repeats itself.
There was no waiting
to open the morgue and
search your cadaver.

A burnt out stigma
still spreads the incense.
Blackbirds fly in unison.

A crepe bandage
was not sufficient to alleviate
the pain of centuries.

I am still asking
myself to receive a gift
of poverty.

Truth has lost its glitter.

No time was left
to call you to bring in
black rose to ward off
the ill omen.
Garden was burning.

Between the dense
smoke and golden flames,
blood moon was disappearing
like brisk pain.
Nothing matters now.

I had kissed your
hand only once, before
the door was shut. The
lips would count the poems
we didn't share.

Clouds come, clouds
go. The story ends
of rags to riches. The riches
of knives become blunt.
The Beekeeper was dead.

Can you define this relationship?

In a tumultuous city
I was missing…
But in this absence I become whole.
A chemical clock becomes awry.

Night was my poem
I was writing for the moon
and throwing a handful of dust
to meet the dust.

Black flamingo will not
eat tonight. Wading through the
water, its will broken,
searching the pink eyes.

How do I catch you when
you have flown away?

Let's go to search
ourselves, in our bewilderment,
to defeat each other.

In our home, what
was this game of the
infinite mystiques?

I will ask the blind
moon, are you
a futureless theme? Validating sun?

A hallucination effect
ensues after choking the
missives. The reject it was.

My dream becomes
a volcanic glass, crying
for a mother's hug.

I was losing the Midas
touch. Clay was shrinking away.

Inheriting the unending wars
of human beings.

This was not physical.
Which part of your psyche,
I would touch?

Sometimes you swing
without a rope. A chasm
appears, then vanishes.

Blindfolded you open
a death door to see the fall.
The deep pain bifurcates.

The distance was increasing
between clouds. A crack
of light burns the dark. Animals
awake.

You remember a yawn
of cosmos. Someone becomes a fever,
high as sun, in earthen heart.

Equality in suiciding.
Who wants to live in your world like
Dante. Enemies don't care to die.

The mob will not go to
god to seek justice. When the surgeon
dies, the patient stands up.

It pierces the heart.
What about the hand which does not
follow the mind. Blood will not touch the needle.

Why did you want
to become mine,
when god was not there?

This sun, this moon,
these stars. My Miranda,
my nightingale.

An Atman floats
without a body. Can you
touch it with lips only?

Like potter's wheel
starting, you want to create
a body with words,
not hands.

Then why did you follow
me, watching me to take
the ash-bath, becoming
sinless?

Tears runs faster
than blood.

I left a piece of moon on my
table and started writing about
the broken mirror. There was a time
when we used to cry together.

Dusting off the old books, uncared
for months. A rare ritual
defines the motion. It was the
temblor giving me a dustbath.

Do you know who was the leader
of the pack? The greed, the authority?
There was a bright door, between
the umbels. Would you taste the hemlock?

Every thing is in disorder. You
remember how cranky I was when
I found you unframed. Today
I will embrace the empty wall.

Night was pregnant
with the moon.
The execution will follow.

An arrow finds
a path, which leads you
in fog of baby steps.

Adoration lived in
the narrow eyes of firefly.
The dark bush sways in
flightless arms.

Embrace of an
angel goes amorously
tense. Negation leaves a
deep wound.

There would be no exit-
of the trembling pain,
live on the flames.

When the time faults, it
becomes metaphysical for me―
to write a poem in flesh and blood.

A night's terror, descends.
Buzz of an insect hovers,
until I give in.

A thoughtess invasion―
makes you unstable, when
you reach the heights, where
snow wails, time and space
start collapsing.

A vacuum bubble expands
into a dome. You draw frescoes
in dream. The colors penetrate.
Blind landings begin.

Looks as if you were sitting with dead,
till eternity.

Sun breaks
on green lake―
into myriad of white birds,
fluttering their wings.

In wet grass
you sink, inviting the black clouds,
to hear the echoes.

You follow the sunset
in a glass of wine,
to become complete again.

Blue moon of white night, wants―
to bring down the sky
in a spiritual bliss.

Talking of reincarnation,
I am skinned alive, like
a cadaver, talking ceaselessly.
You are burning sans fire.

In absence of god, you
become a god father
to a beautiful progeny.

Leave aside the lineage.
On the horizion, a flock
of swans was returning
home to spread the watercolors.

The recluse comes out from the oblivion
to greet the inevitable.

Waging a war
for peace. Rage of
silence abates.

The heart of a flame
has an earthiness. It will
bear a smokeless slight.

There was a terror
link. You could not handle
the trick.

Come to the fore now
and place the honesty,
on the back burner.

I will not speak
between life and death
going from light to dark.

I was the shadow,
and I was the moon.

Becoming,
antinormal was not a―
big task, like discovering a new mineral.

It was upside down
a binary star.
Mother and son of morning.

From your absence,
I pick up a poem
and milk the words.

Unlike the purple poesy,
you write,
when the pith becomes the spirit.

The houses set apart
have no boundary layers.
We were immersed in our
strange thoughts.

How would you describe
the stampede, when there was
no crowd sourcing?

You can draw a perfect
square. If I lose and you gain a miss.

You cannot win a war
without coitus.

The life and death
of a jinx was there to see.

The sun will have a moon―
moment in dark.

Who was building the pain
of emptiness, when
I am filled with grief?

Ask the destroyer
of the day, why did you
cross my path― when the
sun was setting?

A subdued sexuality was ready
to get the answer―
from the ultimate punishment.

Meanwhile I search
the ruins of old empire for salt seepage.
Freedom from bread and roof
was still far away.

The cultish nativity booms.
Who was the inheritor of this―
earth? Are you sure the face
of moon was shrinking.

Why the defence of
blood corporates? Shame
the arousal of hooded king cobra.
Snakecharmer was dead.

Hiding the meaning
of life, you caused the
absurdity. Theater was not
ready for the audience.

An interim relief
comes for the aging. Blue
stars were moving away.
You will ****** the sharks.

Skulls start playing. I
yell against the salt that splits
the tongue. Thick-lipped gods
start making the paper-nests
for the wasps.

Winter becomes warm-blooded.
There was no snow on
the trees. Owl butterflies
come out at dusk to collect
their dues.

When the sun sets, moon
shaped boys unroll the centuries.

Arithmetic becomes poetry,
when you start counting the stars in Milky Way.

Light will cross
your path. Your own sun
becomes a logic.

You step into a holy bath
to collect all the scripts
of the dark circles.

Where the infinity starts,
you become the center?
of all the conflicts.

A simple way to burn
without throwing light.
How would you raise your finger?

The orifice was absent
from the face.
The hatred will unite the enemies.

You won't speak
in the debate, how to
****** the humanity.

Old affections are made
anew.You can score the
highest tears


Armless, you move
the clock in-
opposite direction.

The stigma still remains
after the flight.
I am going back home.

Brutal poem. But you
want to touch it. It severes off your thumb.
You climb the rainbow to see a ****.

Will it go beyond the
kisses of a cobra? Walk slowly in peace.
The panthers wait for the fall.

This is April Fugitive
trees have started unloading. The
forest goes in flames. I am counting rocks.

In a pinch of light,
waiting it to happen―
becoming me.

You, my crush―
floundering in fever
of the moon.

I track you down
in the tears
of earthquake, when
snow was trembling.

Thin needles in eyes―,
I retrieve the―
history of fallen
god.

A survivor would
rise from the rubble
to reconstruct the shrine.

The night shift starts.
A moonbeam comes and lies
beside me.

I was not hungry.
Cuckoo gives a call
I will not raise the flag.

The flesh, starts eating you.
Sometimes, for this
unnamed, you run cross-country.

Memories flare up.
A primitive wolf sends a howl.
You start reciting a prayer.

The age, will not pardon you.
Limbs spring to catch a butterfly.
Noiselessly a door shuts.

You are living on
your own, to find me. I was
in between the lines. Was it a misophonia?

To make a temple for
each other to give a farewell. Will give a
relief when the pillars will stand forever?

Who will touch my poverty.
An invisibility gives a resilience
for a love song in reverse undying pain.

Poetry stares, unblinkingly,
in dilemma―
at mindless extremism.
Evolution of words,
was going retrograde.

Your pretty face―
needs dusting. I was
curious to know about the story
of night shifts.

Sometimes I am hit―
by your feline grace to go for
immolation of male chauvinism.

You ***** the barriers,
so that I won't
reach your lips. The moon
went laughing whole night.

A slow poison, like
hemlock, you drink the hurts
to stay alive in a wax house.