Under the denuded
chinars, I stand
again, waiting for you.

The hawks were
pining, for a prey―
in morning prayers.

The chrysanthemums
stand in a row―
opening their hands.

Sometimes you
trace the plum scent
coming from lover's grave.

It was unbashed invasion,
and then you were paraded naked.

The marrow was depressed.
I will not be able to collect you.

Lost in thoughts, I
am losing you in every book.

There was no striving,
to be called by any name, any monument.

Hyperplasia. The rot has set in
Would you come to greet the death one day?

There was a speaking ache.
Word was me, I was the tongue.

The turgid lips still remember.
Once the sting was here to take a kiss.

Not superficial,
real inside,
something was ruined.
Tonight I will walk out in dark
beyond me.

Creased,
under tyranny of love,
wanted to unwrite the script
in the stampede of sins.

Impeachment
throws up the shock syndrome.
No wish to swim back.
Drowning, clutching my truth.

A mystic paradox?
Million faces of yes or no.
Wrinkles are getting larger.

The art of faking
will not come to me.

Your breadth
twists the moon, making
a dent on the face
of lookalike.

Becoming a stranger,
celebrating love― without
my arms of flames.

An old story repeats.
Beautiful but trembling,
the farewell handshake.

Neither comes
nor goes, the vase life
of withering roses.

The sculpture
was not yet ready.
The angel recapitulates.

Converging at the well,
for the last rites, you set
the soul free, touching
the sacred water to―
your eyes.

The dead plaques break out on their own
from the walls, and were
flowing in the bloodstream.

Like a sloth you swing
upside down, unmoving.

Do not put up any petition.
You have reached the end of the road.

The dust and alpha particles
come in the way of lightstream.
A cup drinks the fetishes,
you will not.

Purpura, I will breath in you,
the purple-pink flowers of
foxflove, when you collapse.

Clairvoyance. I can see
through you beyond the fog,
in the darkest night.

This was the primitive pain.
My pampering has given
you a taste of surrender.

Like an unborn poem
you swim on my tongue
to find the shores.

I want to lower the―
guard and dance with the roving death.

Ah, the passion flower.
You will not mind, if I
embrace your beautiful sunset.

Smearing an uncut―
and whole moon on the forehead
of night―

the crazy wind starts
turning back the clowns.
Tonight the kitchen would be shut down.

Somebody had climbed
the heaven for a joke, and
became a monster.

Beyond the bread and
milk, lies the cow dead. My
soul cries, who will―
jump on the moon?

The end opens a distant―
black water lake.

Time
was the great avenger.
It takes you away
into war,
with swan words.

My baby poem
cries. Lost in a crowd of swindlers.
Not finding the home of truth.

Was it a rarified
phenomenon, that it was
a dark nebula,
that gave birth to the sun?

Are you free to
agree with me, with my existence?

The conclusion was
beyond the judgment of insane people.

Are you going to harm yourself
by accepting the fireball questions?

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.

Giving yourself,
a gift of trash, you were
waiting for the pain to return.

A shadow overtakes you
as if you were
walking on the dry lake bed.

An abandoned thought
becomes a philosopher.
How not to live again.

The birder meets a rainstorm,
on journey to unknown.
The poet and water become one.

Not easy to finish the
line. Something has remained
unsaid. The vultures descend.

The dark borders
were shifting, rejecting
the inner voices.

The echoes bring apocalypse
with costs. I hear
the silent prayers.

de jure? I want
to letter the unknown fears
of the epilogue.

The whistling pain of the
words, brings
the blood flowers.

Aghast, at the cupidity,
of man, where shall
I start the charity?

On the run,
was a bon viveur―
in amber thoughts.

I start unknowing you―
O invisible. A curse
will follow if you make me
a god.

I plead, standing
on the rubble, I will not learn
to live without the muse.

Sometimes you disappear
unshorn, in the rain forest―
of stunning phrases.

I hold,
the existence of a ghost.
Undying for the sake of
forced acceptance.

That was the art of inevitability.

There was an endless war
between you and me O god
from time immemorial, in the
desert zone.

The scorching harsh light
of sun has spread the veins
of earth with burning oil wells.

Green pods will not open the round eyes.

Now the sky was crying.
Songbirds are gone.The thick-skulled
were trying to find the scapegoats.

The king lies.Wants
to **** the night's moons.How much
big mouth was your's? I wanted
to serve my land.There were
no more waters, which
carried the flight of blue dreams.

Just because, I wanted to tell you
it was not easy to live any more.

Less of charity
was needed, when you sleep
till dawn.

The spirit of the tree
comes down to
wake up the sage.

It spills the light
for a troubled window
cracked by hail.

A drenched house
of words
becomes pale, page by page.

I do not know
how to tell the story
of two bats which flew without wings.

Night falls in rings.
The poetry becomes
a summer dilemma.

A dancing frog
starts foot-flagging.
Mating was the ultimate.

Politics becomes
a ritual. I will not come back
to face the lynch mob.

A mentalist does not feel
secure, when you start
jaywalking in the empty street.

What was the need to
rescue a predator, when
the river was dry?

The ducks were crossing
the road. Stay put, till
the kids want to make a halt.

It was a renaissance
connection, when a clan is
sentenced to speak softly.

Leave your seminal
expression with minimal
damage.I am excluding the
human race.
Your chin protrudes
when you think aloud.
Were you becoming-
a unique animal in haste?

The man has the
erectile ego as that of
gastropod mollusk.You will
never cross the Atlantic chasm.

You always wear
a slippery shell externally,
when your thoughts are born.
God save this earth.

This life has become a shrine.
I will knit the words for requiem,
to paint the unblemished body
for vultures.

Empty punctuations.
Born without mating, like aphids.
You swim like a shark.
Predators wait for hidden lovers.

Live show
of a war
without army. I wanted to know
how much truth was there
in your lies.

Where you sit today,
there was a temple erected
on the- bones of ancestors.

Like stonehenges
in circle. Do you know, how
much I love you?

Picky and neat,
why did I raise you
above my head?

Why are you in snow-clad
to see the talking of flowers. The present
time has become revengeful.

Let the darkness come in.
You will search the light in the eyes
of flying, blind golden eagles.

I am not in a hurry to
meet the end. I have to clear a lot
of debts out of the blue. Let the judgment start.

Do not live like dead.
The minarets were trembling
without a dust storm.

*

Will the man change one day?
Your fair skin turns brown in sun
after burning the book.

*

Stars move sometimes
to understand the weird landscape
of the squirming earth.

Awakened
at the partition.
Left bleeding, the spider silk
had started weaving
the web.

I am trying to understand,
the sign language,
your tears.

You have to become
transparent.I have not
crossed the river yet.

Words not weapons
were needed to heal after
the cannibalism.

This world will
spare us in night.
Trajectory of moon
was changed.

You can legitimate
the loot. There will be no
spineless resistance.

The skull cap only covers
the baldness hiding
the keratinized skin.

The lust shines
like pearls on your upper lip.
Beehive.

Poking the rabbit
before it jumps, you will
remember the ducks have no ears.

Ah, the learned
professor, he has started
teaching the full lips.

This was the rise of animal
after dividing
the pain of man.

The shared past―
would guide the misreading,
calling bloodbath a mistake.

Balancing the pole, walking
on long rope, in sheer
darkness of moonless night.

The words fall on your
feet, begging the exoneration
from name-calling.

Square meals and two lipped
lavenders, will bring the aroma
to wipe out nonexistence.

You wanted tranquility
clean and sane,
scudding at persona
impact.

Some thinking disorder?
You start cutting yourself.

Collecting the body parts.

Yellow jasmine. I will know that
I do not know the fields of hate.

When your world falls apart,
what I would do.

Every day
I dig up a sin
with a knife.

Without trying to become
an avenger,
you were trying to find the―
joy of primitive faith.

The dignity of terror has
to be modified.
You were now afraid of―
yourself in the crowd.

This thing had a dark tone, when
you cross the street.
Underneath, the seed vessels of
past pain, were ready to split open.

The bandits wait on the line
of control. The shock
comes out in open. Society is
generous, accepts your blood.

Amphibious. My pain
wants to go into exile. My home
was becoming a museum.

A devil lives in every
one, brandishing a knife. The
rose flowers are hurled on the dead

Unassuming you dig
in heels; Why does the moon stare
at you, when you shut your eyes.

Like a dwarf planet,
you follow me in distant
sky, so near― so far.

I love you like poet
Pablo Neruda. My eyes in―
your dreams, wide open.

When the tears would wait
to bloom like hidden flowers―
under the steady rocks.

Not me, not you, were
aware of the rising moon,
between snow and sleet.

Can you heal my
insomnia? Raise the bar
and eat your words.

You have stopped
singing. Take me moon I
am getting very hot.

Why people are dying
without blood? Someone
was sending the message?

After the sunset,
the moon comes out whitewashed.
An extremist flies a hawk.

The bird's meet was
disbanded. There was no
mandate to decide the fate
of eggs.

I cannot think. After the
arrest of an anarchist the cauldron
was left to boil.
The bones start melting.

Step out from the dark.
The blind men were protesting
in the street against the sun.

It is a small world.
You meet me again and again.

I didn't want it any more.
In pain footprints, I will
not replace your gift
for any blood money.

The angelic profile
had no deadly option,
only to dip into your eyes water.

The moon
fell for the thief, who
stole away the smile of purple lips.

What else was your
dream, when god made it
to your house for begging pardon?

Hunting in the clouds
a poem was searching a
beautiful title.

Why did you come in the way?

When I was laughing,
I lost my poems. After the iron grip of
venom and fangs there was revelation.

Are you a good listener?
Great poets are on the return. My
thumb prints the key to open the mausoleum.

Will you see the truth
of ****** of a prayer and the questioner
comes to know the flowing blood.

Ah, the statecraft of
present times, was becoming
agender.
The strength of institution
would lie in old oil paintings.

You become stupid
and start living in dark rooms
to understand the sun.

Half-beliefs were―
cooked straight from the
sermons of striped coats.

The delusion was
simple. There was camphora
to revive the fainting glory.

The rain was knocking
at the door. I was waiting for your
occult arrival for beheading of the roses.

It was a gradual descent
without fall. I heard the silence of
fusion of opposites. Ultimately we melted.

I love someone who can invoke
Agni and water for a lied one on the pyre
for the sale of a god who will not come.

In search of―
lotus flower,
you go in water.

*

The frog croaks,
sitting on
bowl-leaf.

*

A lily with
dark pink flowers
for Buddha.

*

For a lotus―
eater, nothing else
was important.

Walking towards you
prudently, lighting
my bones, like candles
in dark.

For salvation. The
lone cobbler cheats on you.
He has placed the rough bricks
instead of cobblestones to cover
the surface.

Healer has become
avenger. Illicitly― drinks
from the ****** eyes, to
be called a survivor.

The cadaver vanishes.
There was no death of
any Fakir. Only flower bed―
will be the last darshan.

You win the battle, waging
inside you and
forget your name.

The brown dust―
floats, while reading
poetry.

It was my first―
love with the dancing words
in the jungle of departures.

The genocide of―
reliefs. I ***** a shrine
for the slaughter of unknown.

Innocently, I utter―
your name in dark, that
lights up the aubade.

Strange things happen.
I stand where the roads don't cross
parting the emptiness.

The deadpan. Another city falls.

Between blue and black
the moon peaks in harsh winter.
Are you in the emergence stage?

Give me the sacred
water. I want to salute the eternal
beauty. I was an observer.

The butterflies dance.
to celebrate earth's marriage.
Ganges invites all the followers.

Under the jacaranda tree,
near the fragrant trunk,
lies a sheet of blue trumpet―
shaped flowers.

You are home, near
the lotus feet of marbled
Buddha, standing *****.

You are walling in
Agni's wrath, with wild thoughts.
The somatization becomes very unkind.

It foretells the reality.
Curves take you to lakes. You read more
of the depth of water.

What was the avant-garde
of new age, against
the tight lips of crusade?

I wanted nothing
from you, O prophet
of the holy tomb.
Lie in rest.

The living memory
fails, I look inside the
sepulcher. There were
only dry rosed petals.

At peace in temple of
flagellation. I am catching
blue butterflies.

I go for metaphysics.
Try to deceive myself
and forget the real.

In defining the being,
an angel wants a
pound of flesh.

Nothingness wins.

What you want to
say? A shocker to dismember
the life to find a rapture?

Crossing the greens
of truth from lip to lip the tears
stand. Why do you live to save an ant?

Lame duck will go for an
ambush? What was in isometric
love? My bones stand for justice.

Nothing other than,
he was hearing―
screams!

**** was not au
naturel, like
a new born chick.

Half-mumbling,
half-clad,
he walked bare foot.

Giving away the
canvas, you are
blissfully happy.

A streak of sin was
always there, when I looked
at you in brief encounters.

Cathartic.
I would not kiss the
eyes of a viper.

The giver was insane.
A bane of togetherness.You
were getting pheromones all the time.

Parenting was difficult.
Now as the holy month starts.
You were always near the moon.

In golden sunset,
I will prepare my elegy.
The flames were always green.

With the relapse of grief,
drums sounded loud.

Misreading―
the time zone, clock
refuses to rewind.

The brain shuts,
absenting the self.
No seeing no hearing.

The street,
resuscitates you.
Train whistles to take you away.

What home?
There was no destination.
You will not reach anywhere.

Courting the dark words
picking up from beautiful life,
I weave the tapestry-
in circle of silence.

The liberty of blood
had become obsolete.
You wanted one ****, one voice,
one faith.

The acid test shoots down
the black roses.What
about the mass graves as a
signature of victory?

You cannot stop
the bloodbath.As if a swarm
of big bees was ready
to hound you.

Closing the last window
I suffer.I would
never become you.

You suffer, nothing
comes to your mind. Like you are fondling
your wounds lying in a tomb.

I will not steal your
face after the disaster of losing faith
in the religion of power.

I will not stop kissing
the red flames of bargain. The tears
will decide, no mausoleum will be made.

The godman also had
an underbelly.
He lost his vision,
came full circle.

Now paper lamps
float in rows
on tear effect.

An underdog―
becomes a horseman,
follows the royal buggy
with a naked king.

The verdict was
very simple.
It was a nightmare.

Take my canto,
me again. My breadth
staggers when I don't see you.

Hoisting my grief
I unbelieve the lamb, that
jumped into inferno.

To undo the moon-
heart will not accept the
verdict of summer- setting sun.

Your jaw drops
when shadows disappear
under the stars.

The distance multi-
plies, when I try to
come near you.

The ash blinks, words
shrink, yet there was a silent yes.
You roll me down in your tears.

How much to live
for you in different ways
becoming just me.

My grief mixes with
the clouds to rain on the
wings of songs.

Chenille. Like lifting
your memories
with beautiful metaphors.

Nonverbally the words
fall on the roses,
without any cause.

I bring back the moons.

Dressed to assassinate,
not having much hope.
Were you really―
serious for me?

Like en face
a star giggles, between
quivering small moons.

The night is drunk. You
hear a long hoot, from
enfant terrible, to scare away
the kiss of inevitable.

What a bliss to live
in the black heart of the moment,
when the sun unwraps
the flame.

Complete annihilation
of million desires. You
become the walking death
of unknown.

I don’t belong to me,
to you, to her, to him.
Who are you, I ask myself
again falling in love for a tender shoot,
uncoiling under the debris of unfaithful corners?

I was watching a small birdie
hopping against a mirror, cracking the beak
to **** a rival.

She was pulling at my arm
white death in red scarf.

This is for you my fellow-traveller,
a beautiful sector of my hidden garden,
where I have permitted you to come for a walk.
Hand in hand we will watch the peerless evening –
sitting on the wings of gulls.
Will you like to break a promise
before I implode on the moon?

You light the earthen lamp daily under a tree,
to possess me, trap me, digest me. Voicelessly
I melt into smoke, fly away in small huffs.