I forget,
leaving behind― ambiance
of your arms,
burn the windows―
not to come back.

Preparing for
water burial of moral questions,
where the unnamed pledges sit.

Now theft has taken
place of stakes, meant for black lungs.

Tongue ***** the acid
of hairless assault. You
won't subscribe to buy the oral taste.

From trees, death strikes,
without wings. Tears float
with glory.

Will, not count
the ordinal numbers.
There was a zero to begin with.

I start breaking―
after the hate call.

Like emery paper,
something rubs my lips.
A raw affection bleeds.

It was only dust. I don't
want to wait for my tomorrow.

A conduit forbids
to improve the congenital
lisp of a godchild. You want
to preserve the ****** innocence.

Tears on both sides,
who will wipe off the scars
of the moon?

Not universal,
you were the cosmos,
staring into the eyes of void.

A small galaxy
had been devoured. I was
watching earthworms.

Blots reached the moon.
Aborted, the last year's plan.
No starfish moves.

Scooped the dust
of ruins. Brilliant gems were
scattered by you.

You collect
the crowd and it will
change the truth.

Have you seen it coming? The
sounds?
The kiss of greed?

Are you going to climb the rope
in air?
A magic of collecting the coins
to become the richest man.

Irregular beats
will stop the band.
The vision falters and you let me go.

The burning bush
will take you.

Completely eaten up by
coherent light;
the dark niche smiles.

Your collect the toadstools
under a pine.
Butterfly will not need a siton.

You breathe tumultuously
heaving up like Himalaya.
A croc has taken a girl.

Silence has become
my book. I read-
from your eyes.

A wall you had
raised to unreach the
gifts of moons.

Electra complex of yore
still haunts you, walking
on blue lake.

I will sail crossing
the water barriers
scaling the heights.

There was a panic attack
igniting the stars of night
I will stand by the sky
when you rain-
in dots and lines.

Homeless, you
remained on the
wrong side of moon.

Trying to steal
yourself from light.

Now money speaks,
undoing Fabian formula.

Why one should exit
from the cabal of choosers?
Your infirmity will
sink you in wet sands.

When salvias were blooming,
you wanted to become
an accomplice of a sage.
Killing without crime.

Sometimes you fill
your life with meaningless words.
A trivia of hurting others.

The snow mounds
have started gliding―
on the rocks like
mute swans.

I was collecting
the landmarks of my failures.
From jade to jade
and wins.

Plucking the fear
to remain alive in the
ruins of wingless dreams.

I cannot catch your
face now, in my words.
The grey hounds of dementia
would not wait.

Not a single word
counts, when disintegration starts.
The catastrophe of cadavers will stop.

I want to move away now.
The tattoo on the arms is not
able to get the mercy of a Satan.

You can ****** the moon
Bee hives, shut the doors and
Helianthus will open the big eyes.

Everything I give to
you, to purge and touch the purity
of truth. Life has made me a broker.

You will never let it
happen, your unpredictable laugh
will break my invincibility.

There is no wait between
us, still we are bound to carry the
burden of an ocean of scars.

There was nothing left
to say, after the great
decline of humanity.

Knowing yourself,
watching without any action.
Then who triggered the quake?

A little candle in storm.
But the selfish man will
not keep a date.

Migration will
continue towards the edge.
You were not there in my verse, today.

Handcuffed, you digress
from the vacuity. A bucket
full of hymns, will not―
erode, the fog of winter.

Let us start telling the
unsaid things of monstrous life.
The milk bath, the roaring and
the panther in the dry well.

The cortical pain, seeps into
the medulla. You will not find
a single soul, who will talk
about the fall.

The clocks are being moved
to save the light―
which splinters into myriad
faces, when you scream.

Undying you speak tall.
I will resume to watch
the soul outside yourself.
And I will receive the body
of dried river.

Observing your shriveled
hands, I dig again the―
bed of stones. Glass eyes
appear beautiful in dying sun.
There were no spaces left
between the clouds.

I had always admired
your stoic glance, repeating
the verdict word by word.
The persona stepping down, pure
as snow. There was no rain.

A dewdrop reflects
the sky, and the train was
ready to leave for the last stop.
Then the journey will start
for blue darkness of naked swans.

I would not bend the
truth. A grape in mouth

will stimulate the wedge.
Night will hammer on my chest

with glossy fists. I am born
again in your muteness.

A ghost line walks with me
to pull out the delicate verse.

Everyday a tulip is delivered
in the folds of woodcraft.

To end an impasse,
I had placed a yellow rose
on your lips.

Where the world ends, my
poem starts to seal the bond.

A flock of birds flies- to reconnect
the warring factions of blue winds.
And the chemistry of river,
sings in between the two.

The green rattlesnake, falls from
the moon, stops the enmity. You are
not afraid, not nervous.

The hummers are in vogue,
flying backward. I will bring
the caped jasmine to celebrate
the truce.

You are now astute
beautiful inside. The bell
will not toll today.

A sleepwalker gives up
a snake,
inside the sleeves.
The dog outruns
the moon.

*

You draw a blue line
around the summer night.
Flames.
I will drive out
the ghosts.

*

The acid attack
went for the thatch.
You will snorkel now,
under the reeds.

Once you were a
walking tree. Drifting. No one
stops planting the seeds.

The pangs. Moons clap.
A renegade makes a temple to die.
Therewas no other space left.

I will not call you.
Your book has been soiled.
I cannot read my own writing.

Sometime, somewhere I will break
into many moons -
an oblique answer to a terrestrial question
of a pale river.

The heat is on, because of the
fatal mistakes. Violence has pregnancy.
Walls stand alone without a roof
hauling the suicidal balloons.

Blue berries are becoming scarce.
Vision short, we cannot see in the night.
Crystals in candlelight become green,
images creeping tall under the trees.

Of total failure, the chemistry of love
patches up with arithmetic of aristocracy.
Spoils the show of neutrality
in sky, hurting the gods.

I am stuck with autistic heroes
in poor desert of a waking sun.
Death on grass will never show
the second birth of the pain.

It was a glass house.
A burning boat capsizes
in milk body, creating
a schism.

Relentlessly, a classical theme
was furloughed. I
refuse to sell,
sell anything.

A deemed thought is
nurtured, hiring the
tall grasses, to hide
the ****. I am writing―

a poem of falling leaves
to eat the huge steps
of a giant, who started
the blood time.

Never- before you had
come on my wall. The flash point
was seething with boiling plasma.

A blood bath repeats
the history of violent empires. The
implosion comes with ingenuity.

Speaking less brings the
judgement of wise pains. In rapture.
love proves thicker than blood.

When you would not be there
where I was, my fingers will twist
like questionmarks
not getting any answer.

Baby talks were increasing.
Time to leave this planet. There
was no death. We move from
breath to breath.

Sleeping without blinking,
dreamless, with hope, to
resuscitate the dawn.

Who will keep the fire
burning? You have not kept
the promise to come back.

King of stones, don't throw
the black statues in river.
Water was red and palms were
burning.

Why the naked cells of
heart- were fearing exposure
of blood pain?

The poem at midnight speaks itself
without throwing signs unto
the moon.

The night slaughter,
of beautiful dreams begins
in the hands of the
dead light.

There was no myth
of mercy. You cannot exonerate
yourself for not jumping
over the vipers.

The venom spreads
slowly, reaching the distant
thoughts which were buried
in wet eyes.

A red scarf
covers the blue lips.

Again you took a wrong path
to meet the angel.
Like larkspur, you had
the dolphin's back.

Tears will not stop in the―
eyes of the moon. The
eternal itch remains. You will
not drop your smell like musk.

Like the **** salute, you
raise your right hand to bless
the crime of telling truth. Now
people listen― when you are gone.

The poesy suffers. As
also the ink. You want your
dark spots to come back. In
contrast, the sun will shine.

Inexplicable.
I run my own life, when
epicenter moves to periphery.

A drink of hemlock
from your purple― spotted eyes.
You want to squeeze the blue sky
in your chest.

Was I violating your
sanctum sanctorum, hidden
deep in crevices of ancient love?

Your voice was cracking up
hoarse, as I listened
in silence, concealing my
poem not to explode.

Wings become the tongue
flying off, like possessed
celebration of loosing
the glaze and becoming a naked mammal.

A cold-blooded laugh!

Being outsider,
you will not be excused.

Deluded perfectly.
This was a holy crime to be
burned out.

You can walk
round and round around the bed,
in search of sleep.
This night was yours.

I had embarrassed
the moon. It was watching me
from the window with a quizzical look.

Of meager existence
an asteroid wants―
to beat the sun.

The palm holds the secret of orbs.

Vicious, we are going farther
from each other to sensationalize
the sting of a rare kiss.

An algorithm makes a
new pattern to live. When you
come I like walking moss.

The white ash gives
birth to who you are. There was
only one book which broke the centuries.

I do not know,
If it was a religious assault―
to meet god,
face to face―
when my poem was burning.

One tooth broken―
I cannot speak properly. But
my eyes will show my angst,
my unretrieved light
from a tunnel.

Who will find the sun, when
night was sick? And grievers
had gone to dig up a grave?

There was a meaningless pain,
in waiting. The poem was dead.

Day you are in, day you
are out. It was a beauty
to hear nothing.

Tracing your eyebrows on paper―
eyes mine, we will
write together our religion.

Each night catches
my moons from the lake
of tears. The days were
becoming shorter.

Surely, I have not
arrived amidst the seekers
of easy death. You give me―
the hope of resuscitation.

I promise myself―
I will not give you a call―
till the nightingale sings in
mango grove.

All night it has rained.
Lacrimal. I prepare myself to
wash my eyes again―
to read your face.

Vespa,
the live wasp
of paper house,
feeding the insects
to little ones.

Silicon valley.
The oranges were very sweet
and carpet beetles
eating away the fabric.
I have come from a faraway place
to taste the blood-stained raisins.

Do you know why we bury
our truths? The ancient gods
were very pleased to eat them.

The hymns don't tell the lie.

A secret moon
climbs.
There was a sudden
drop of height.

All along you were
there, inside me-
to hold my tremors.

I will try to recall
a lost call from horizon.

The triangle breaks.
The born, an unborn,
and the maker perish.

Only the designer
will survive.

The swamp was in
boil. It was raining
again on the open wounds.

The scissors will
play a ***** game. You
divide the river
in right and left.

Enough was the greed
when you follow the bun.
After the surgery, no blood
was left.

I will go.
You would sing in praise
of coolness of water.
It refuses to move.

Escaped the blast, the
sparks. You can sail
in bottomless boat.

A broken step―
halts me. I move towards
you at the inner call.

Clockwise, going
sensual, you turn into
a greek fire.

Make me angry and suffer.
Don't carry the legacy
of dark peers.

Reading my poetry for
a while, you fumbled
tracing your fingers on some beautiful words.

The moon would
shine tonight to share the crocuses.
I may write your name
on scented winds.

Easy lips. Were your trying to say something? Yet
you fall on ancient adage.

It had touched, the wind
of sky.

The viola goes―
pansexual.

Purple, blue and white
dog violet,
one of the petal was
landing gear for politics.

A fugitive poet
grumbles, eating the dark words.

After suicide, the viscera
was found blank, except
the half-eaten plums.

Like for Terra,
the goddess of the earth―
I will leave everything to you.

Hot legs run,
run for the sea of shame,
to wash the holy guilts.

It was a holocaust―
stonewalling to elicit,
the number of dead bodies.

Dark circles under
your eyes. I love them―
for the sake of darkness.

Prepare the swan
song for once, the blasts
were ready to encircle me.

For a lake feel
to find the four-leaf clover
grazing your absence.

But the road does not run.
And I cannot reach
the wicked rapture.

Where the gray sky
meets the water's shadow
every wave weeps for the moon.

Like a dragonfly skimming
the import, floats on the
dampened page of life.

You will not be able to sleep
in this full moon.
The pilgrim hawk was flying
very low.

Struggling with-
a fakir's heart, at random
fall, remembering a reverie
in quest for unstopping
in your home.

It was not a personal
guilt to modify the echoes
to let go the original voice of
the shelter.

Not believing in-
a parasol, I asked the moon,
why the sky was crying?
Walking alone in the
valley of dolls, I
assemble the broken watch
of faultless decisions.

Time was up and you sing
in honey-trap of life.

Your night eats the―
umbel of light with curved lips.
What was the ethics―
of this getty image?

Your responses are weak. You
walk in, on unsteady path.
Will not lift the rock from the chest
unlike Sisyphus.

You roll down on lilacs
gnawing at my pain― nibbling
away at my poem. There
is no gender, there was no god.

The spilled milk of moon
now washes the face of night.
I become you in the embrace
of unlimited death.

Nobody was bigger than
your destination, you
were obsessed with the birth
of a new caste.

I was very angry
at me, to be myself.

We will not
meet at one dot
of separatism.

The arousal upsets
the mongrels. The wagging
starts liberally.

We will not exclude
the romance of delusion,
while interpreting the spirit
of the book.

Living by yourself
the inadequacy will
indulge in self adoration.

Where will I go?

This was the first
evidence of altered genes.
Keeping you in abeyance, the
barbs fly from lips to lips.
It is pitch dark.
Reaching the tortuous path of climb,
unabashedly you want to say
it is over.
At the edge of hurts.
What was your pride? Very
private, very distant, thinking
to and fro, when someone wants to pull you back.
Do some questions arise?
Are you ready to talk?
The sermons, the prayers won't
help you become a subject―
to unseen god.
The delusion of being chased
begins. Truth becomes silent.
Will nihilism overtake?

Colored truth,
becomes a hot balloon
in denial mode.

For your own―
relevance, negativity will
not accept the defeat.

Between the stars,
anger erupts―
to reorient the gaffe.

Outrage and despair
are writ large
on the face of non-white moon.

I am changing, not
fractious. This was a mystic feel
of talking with muted god.

The stealing power snubs.
Why the protester needs an ally to
unravel the unwritten prayers.

Ah the snobbish light
perceives the darkness to understand
socratic sermons. Why I will suffer?

Tears locked, I
resume my journey,
moving away from
an iceberg.

Ethical stones were
erected in pristine memories.

The animal gods sleep,
until the drums awaken them.
Black cohosh will not
shut the buttercups.

You tremble like
X-ray. A magnetic effect
brings us together. Creamy pink
magnolias laugh.

Did I hurt you? I
will ask again. The weather
was fine, when you landed
between the words.

I will bring the groundwater
of deep crevices for you.

The words are flying
away, enigmatically. There was a
family of god. Is the end drawing near?

Half- way you are talking
about sequences. Oceans are on fire.
A weak voice cries. I don't want to die

Who will call from the future?
The night will dance for the solar eclipse.
Don't touch me. I will not melt.

Be what you are.
As night falls,
I start moon spotting
standing starkly against the pain.

Reaching for you
from you, in―
moonless night.

The relationship of
dream blood, was never
seen but heard.

The pursuit of location
where the eclipse descends like a dot
on truth.

I am going to touch
the surreal constellation
again in your wet eyes.

Very scary, I admit―
your vintage―
******* with
a ghost.

Life in a crate was
creating nonpoems.
Water on the ice moon
was never there.

Unmasked you shoot a
songbird in flight.
The soft music went into
the barrel of the gun.

Come and meet my other
self. My penchant for talking
to flowers has made
me a martyr.

One day in a dream,
I will ask the deity of ancient
temple, why did you father-

*

the elephantine
blunder of creating universe
to destroy it again?

*

I was also the builder
of bold world on the paper
for nightingale.

You drape me, with wet kisses
O moon.
I will not forget you
in freezing rain.

At dangerous arch,
blue-veined―
milk in milk has made me red.

The ecstasy digs out
the hidden lyric,
I would never sing.

Will you find any
questions, to defeat the―
intimacy of a ****?

A hurt here, a bruise
there, my faded shirt
covers the poems.

A running poem was
condemned to die. I will not change
the route. You know the art of breathing last.

Uneasy, you never returned
for confession. The fear eats away
like a virus. You belonged to me.

No strings. We are tied
by sacred words, like swans. We
are intertwined by necks to stay alive.

The euphemism goes―
beyond the soft
feather, becoming weightless.

You must put it in
the hysteria, after the
laughing gas was released.

The triumph and defeat
of the rising *******―
ultimately gave in against,
the coronation.

The brooms were in plenty
to sweep the rubble
after the sky fell―

between the old
and young.

Debt laden
I turn the ashes
where you left the footmarks.

My native pain
will not go, for a distant truth.

Unscheduled
like a robot,
you **** your own, noiselessly, and then
think with your guts.

Achingly you admit
the alien for a lipless kiss,
struggling to hold back your tears.

A star breaks, in green dark,
without throwing light.
I beg the sky to give back my baby.

Forgive me,
O unforgettable, I never
understood myself.