Like a snake girl,
the black tresses trailing
behind the heels.

The wavering moon was,
gliding in blue sky,
for a rendezvous.

The beds had
become obsolete. Time to
use oneiric rocks.

Faith was no
more relevant. Now
you hear the dreams.

The lunacy of
touching you, to plug a-
hole, in your innocence.

I wanted to explore
the horizon in your eyes,
where sun meets moon,
in graveyard of sins
and virtues.

Before you had become
my shadow, I used to smell
a distant scent coming
from a slithering
wet body.

I fumble for the words
for mercy of pain. My desert
was once a sea.

Like a birthmark
you will remain
on my forehead.

Round cups and
blue drinks, the dark
side was capitulating.

You become my
partner, I will unleash
many moons.

I intended to
talk in walk about the
woes of life.

It weeps ritual.

A spiritual walk
on the spikes. Heartache
to meet life daily.

Shadows beat
on the floor. You wanted
to catch the sun
in water filled vessel.

No silver king,
no coins.
You would never worship
the riches.

Forest of protests
grows. Journey steeps
in pain.

You come close to edge,
fall, rise, stand *****
to face the dark.

Strange, in silence, I lose
my way, my thoughts.
I will speak.

The long roots were
stronger,
than the myriad leaves.

A shadaw left
you in mid sun. No
one will follow you now.

The tree at last
enters your―
home in deep revenge.

Sovereignty of thoughts
in the well of eyes. Something tells
about love. Who dictates the blood?

Morosity develops, when
alien hand catches you.Stark naked
buds of roses tear the sun.

It was anonymous to
open the eyes of flames.The lightning
will clear drops of my tears.

When my hand strokes
a flame, the white ash will kiss
me. Were you savior of darkness?

Why low morale? Moon
will never say he was supermacic.
Icons were climbing down the trees.

The other side of the
pain was an evening song. Go Greek.
Life's struggles have no ending.

A street sense awakens
the purple rage.
Ah. Bougainvilleas,
the winter has set in.

There was no encounter.
No bloodshed.
Only bloodstones were displayed
for sale.

A domestic brawl
between the religious signs.
Each sun-flower should
have a separate name.

The pomelos will not
come this season.
There was war between
the brothers.

Living on the fringes of
faith, you become epiphanous.
A halo chases you, its stomach
coming out, like a starfish
to engulf you.

Small winnings, I was
no prophet, as I knew
myself, still unsure, still faltering.
I become a gymnosophist,
managing my destiny.

A death ago, I was
young, walking down the lane
of unlearning. Coming of
pain has made all the difference.
An old man in the sea of emotions.

In a frame of a―
window, I watch
daily, a saddest,

star, and a palm
holding the clouds
like an Atlas.

No winds. The
bougainvillea still
drops the colored bracts―

in wait of moon―
unheeding the advice
of bright sun.

Flaunting your new skin
like a salamander,
ready to endure fire,
O stranger,
read me,
read my tears,
the pathbreaker is going back.

I will not extort, never your integrity.
The trump has committed suicide.
A game was over. I am
gathering my ruins to go
into winter sleep.
Let the sun wait for eternity.

Somebody was climbing
on the breast rocks. There were
no landing planks. Words
mingle with four― leaf clovers.
You can inhale the smoke,
eat the walls of palace. I open
the latch of mud house and
disappear in future.

Something is left
out. I ask you
when you are not there.

It was too cold here.
Can I hold your warm hand?

I hear, what I was
not hearing. The voices
live underground, like land mines.

I sing to myself
to make me sleep!

Do not take my moment,
do not trace my lines.
A half-religion separates
the salt of tears.

There is no art in
saying No. Youwill wait
whole life to say Yes.

A red rose bleeds in my hand.

Sparking the old
pinch a fabulous star flips you
to turn in the chair.

The vanished time
comes to know when the end starts
of taking revenge with yourself.

Nothingness teaches
you. I live in my aches to find the
answer of all time wait.

On your crumpled body
I write my name.

The Kosher trembles. I
place Gita to be unread by
unpraised eyes.

Do not abuse the
crate. It may contain
a pit viper.

I am not clean. You
can wipe out the face from
my sleeve and make a new shirt.

And the messenger will
deliver the gift of a
naked moon signed by black hole.

Attended by kisses
the roses were spread on
ground to receive the severed legs.

Stand in attention.
The beaten god has arrived.

The sexless hiccoughs
have started,
in the valley of death planet.

Sovereignty of pure
kiss, in garden of moons― will
feel threatened.

Cannot wipe out
the darkness. The hooded
fear splits the white heels of running sun.

I jump over the sharp blades
of swaying Passiflora, where
pouting lips spread the dark berries.

The paper boats will
not touch the bottom of lake.
You can collect the relies on red beach.

Not you, not me
will prove the virginity
of truth.

Trying to follow truth
his journey was nightmarish.
Alchemic fusion with past and future failed –
his bowl was still empty.

In the inner space
a largesse, free of present,
becomes the pain of perfection!
Now what to do next?

More afraid of life than death
he tried to manage the fear,
the futility of becoming somebody,
the nihility of ripening in celebrations.

In the darkness, an eye looks
beyond the stars, at timeless silences
of hope, waking, slits of dreams
like lasers, creating new designs.

Turning a monologue
into a hymn
when you take a fall.

The random truth
in flesh and bones.
Not me, not you.

It was grace
to become a fakir
without your gods.

The dead bovine
gives its skin, so that
you can walk on mud.

A shadow changes into
a Buddha, when you
refuse to die.

Taken for ungranted I will
become an argument for half-clads.

A crowd of gold
diggers. It was a risque. The lineage
leaks. Blue blood remains unhinged.

I refuse to learn.
Illusion hangs off me. Who said live
dangerously? You are walking on rose petals.

Where will my pain go?
Each word becomes an alpin to draw
the blood to write a poem.

I take me,
in the whirlpool of bridges
for a nonprofit.

Gathering on rocks
begins. Moonlight reads
quickly, the faces.

I would not give you
my speech, my blindness.
Become mute like the call of
a mountain.

A broken cry will save
the poetry, the river,
the sea.

An old adage brings
the solace.
Somewhere a truth sings.

The tremors. One day
I would know. The trees are walking.
No miracle. We are―
becoming rootless.

The fear, was palpable.
Nowhere to go. All the roads
were blocked. The king
is being anointed after the bloodbath.

No logical lie was needed
for targeted killing.
Why did you start the
bonfire near the oil wells?

Set free the water―
do not harm the spring.
A short poem will write your
theme in air, without asking.

The unbaked bread
will feed the oven.
And the silent prayers
will seal the lips.

The bride of desert―
weeps. No palms, no ariels.
You run over the ruins
to find the tools.

Now breathing stops. A
hammer strikes.

It was the tragedy
of a brainless tumor.
Aneurysm brings the stroke.

Sometimes,
you want to listen to silence―
for repose. Requiem
will come later on.

A dark feeling
is seeping in. I ask the ladybug
when will you wipe out
your black spots?

Temptation pours like lava.
Desires are godsend.
I say to myself-shed the gems,
pride and self, to walk away.

Liberated-to meet
my stars. The return bleeds.
Belongings gone― yet
the hand is steady to write a poem.

There was that last question?
When will you come out of your veil?

Why do we fight without
words? Delimitation was to drag
the truth. Religion breaks into pieces.

It was not possible.to
meet the eternal existent, or can
be seen. I am. You are not.

My philosophy is to
underline the pain of life. The
power of the unknown has no meaning.

A maverick―
neither tears, nor scabs
I wanted to cheat myself.

Confection may go awry.
I prepare the new text
of wearing the pain.

I want you to stay
beside me, when I am unseated―
holding the clouds.

Discarding golden viscera.
This was my last journey
for taking revenge.

Undulation over. There
will be a vertical
drop on the nails.

On the black stones a fig tree wavers.

I did not want
to know you. Then why-
asking the way
to your home.

The dilemma of the
musky scent. Do you think-
it was a traditional
way of carrying the love
of unknown.

This world does not
suit me. Shame to the doormen,
how did you reach there
unannounced under the night's sounds.

The tone you will miss.
The tree has walked away.
No sin was left.

Frightened of ending―
what, that did not start.
I try to touch― the timeless zero.
There were no numbers.

I give you what I did,
not have. The future of gilded doors
and agonized window's past.
You offer an eternal smile.

Will I carry the red clouds
beyond your tears and
my trampled wreaths?
We talk ceaselessly ear to ear.

Your silent invite always
baffles me. This world has
always used me as stairs. Why
were you still standing on the ground?

The twinkle works. I shut
my eyes to grab you.

The cells,
climb the fame,
unperceived.

A bit of nose, blue eyes,
jugglery of stances.
You catch the body art.

The eagle
dives, for a legal ****.
Hail, the beautiful
execution.

To shut the voice,
you bring in, snow,
white blanket for every
one deprived.

Have not we reached
maximus? The perception
lingers on... and on.

Noways. Almost,
caught in the pincers trap.

The handcuffed
blue moon hides his face
after the guilt was washed.

The courtyard was
cleaned off the
stains of the blood tears.

Nihilism was not
mine. You had forced
the sweet tongue in me.

No need to shut
the door. The keeper was
dead. The bell will
not toll for the end today.

The moon at the window
tonight, was like a dreamcatcher.
I am going to sleep in your charm.

Image builders were
becoming scarce. In your tempest
I will find my dustbath.

Amidst the sailing
swans, becoming a semi-recluse,
you wanted to write poetry.

Why don't you go back
to your home, O fairy?
Did I clip your wings?

Not for sale.How
far it was? My liberation
from the shadow of the lips?

Ashened, a fakir wanted
to give away his precious jewel
to an unknown star.

To drink the sea,
spilled over
from your eyes was not an easy task.

It was getting
dark, outside.
Inside an eternal flame
of separation
was flickering.

About the consent
of owning
privacy of truth,
I withdraw
my comments.

Now no shroud was needed
to cover the naked body.

When a gravedigger
mourns―
the impasse ends.
A robot turns on the rains.

With horror, you release
the doves to reach for
olive branches for peace.

Paraplegic, the horse
will not run― on hawthorns.
King was decapitated.

You talk to your seers
sleeping six feet down in earth
to explain the genocide―

of unborn fathers, when
they were praying
headdown for downpour.

Mind-set of fractured
faith, falters.
Now you want to ignore the god.

The bald cypress
hides the buttress roots.
Eagle was flying very low.

The clouds speak
in favor of sky. You cannot
heal the sun's wounds.

Flames are mine.
You burn the poppies to
float the arrogance.

Half burnt-out letters
of a lover, make a glory
of withdrawal of summer.

A mystical dialogue
in swirls-
to drown you.

Blank pages draw you
for a suicide, without
moving your bones.

A thin worded threat
to conceive a sculpted
dream, deranging
your sea of
cadavers.

No dissecting table
you need to solve the death.
All the arguments are tilted.
You will rig the answers.

They will come
in bunches, to beat you.
You will not hear or see anything.

It was my grief.
And why did you start crying silently?
Do you know how honesty was killed?

Nothing was stable.
The protesters were holding back tears.
How many hangmen had come?

Grey people in black, will
come to condole the slaughter
of grass owners.

The fall
was imminent
on the moment of complete truth.
I was talking of annihilation
standing on scaffolding of fear.

Walking on burning coals
was a sacred commitment,
a spiritual solidarity,
with lake salt –
to lift the spirit
of sagging trees.

Of freedom of body
in camps of violence.
Without sound, I wanted to see
the creation in nothing.

Anything was happening
under the bald sky.

To slice a hope in stark terror
he thought to bid holy goodbye
to destiny, and let himself go
in the shadow of weeping deads.

The orange moon looked mutilated.
Quietly stood a suicide bomber,
ready to get killed for a home in white heaven
and destroying the leaping stars.

Who had the blood on the hands?
Hiding in the white gown,
crossing the shelter, to dropp the guilt
on the road, never to look back.


Century of oppression, like baked blood
shines on the coffins of martyrs.
At dawn the pariahs promise to lead
the band towards democracy.

Your hands,
fingers speak your mind.
You will never compromise.

I ask myself
the impossible. The skulls
will not stop laughing.
Face to face the moons burn.

Will you keep
my most precious secret?
how I loved a snakecharmer.

That never was.
White lie on the black
tongue to recite a
blank page.

Why don't you leave
the shade of Acacia?
The thorns will always
entice you?

It was a solar bite. Why
are you living behind the endgame?
You want to suffer without bruises?

Does your anger tear,
legs and hands? The satan outreaches
the religion. Open Handed I give love.

The deceits appear again.
I believe in the lake not crocodiles.
I will drown in your heart. Will you spill out?

Every kiss has a
price. I love you green.
O Magnolia, I have nine lives.

This was the magic of
drooping eyes under the
sparks of a swaying moon.

Who says god was
very cruel. The goddess was
making beautiful dolls.

I will not have any
alliance with your words
I am lost in wordless thoughts.

Ask the dead phrases―
you repeat often. Like evil hydra,
new heads come out daily.

This is my domain, my
battlefield. The letters do not
take any shape. Dots speak.

I love the statue
of laughing Buddha. Melting
the pods of transmission.

You know that, you do not want to say.

Immaculate fall.
I will take the ******
for a stark profile.

Violated with
stones, concept of reason
dies in space and time.

In sharp pain you need
an Aconite to unroll
rose petals on mound.

Words don't speak―
the inner voice.
Words can only ****
the truth.

Quivering like a
hollyhock in wind,
O god, who are you?

Ever wished to
deceive yourself and become
a victim of love, not fear?

Hiding the panic,
you mature into the epitome
of voluntary surrender.
And here lies the riddle.

You will not understand
the effect of distinguished no.
It will burn in my
poems for centuries.

The holy book starts bleeding.

Why would you need a
miracle to become human, after
shedding the skin?

In smoke screen you
become a lizard, creeping on lips,
hips, and chest of an ignorant person.

Verbs would roll down to
explain the gorgeous valley
of sylvian fissure. You had stopped
thinking after tequila.

The agave blooms once in a century
and dies. The man becomes
beast in one night and lives for ever.

Anguish calls. I don't hear my voice.
Become brain-dead, to meet my―
blue gods―

For feeding a false tree
of life, beheading
a god was becoming a passion.

Snubbing the checks
and bruises, you
love to be alone in a mad crowd.

As if to be ready
for disintegration, you walk
in pain. Astounded
earth starts shaking.

In unwholeness, the
lamps become dark. The bones
were visible without light.

You want to run
with a comet, away from sun
in coldness of frozen smiles.

Don't drag my shadow.
I am fixed like a legacy.

Reflection of your
profile in veiled threat
appears solemnly. I
come down as a hawk to
make my ****.

Lines on forehead were
etched very deep. More possessive,
I wanted every inch-
of your space.

Juxtaposed, I bring
my ghost writing art to surface
to understand your drawing power.

Clouds were creeping
towards the moon. Would not be able
to decide for once, who had-
the irresistible charm. I was
freaking out.

My life had been a reverse print.
The watcher had become
the watched. You were the victor
I was the game.

Sharing my sweetbread
with you in densely days when
want spans religion.

You burn my roses.
Exiting the day I go for―
wash of cannabis.

Cannot forget you
once in my emptiness of
harvesting the moon.

Rains. The August night―
invites an apparition.
You walk through the door.

Beyond horizon-
go across the time zone,
and meet the twirler.

You were always
incomplete in the borough
of a puzzled mind.

The artist will paint
you bare without ephemeral
colors of the fall.

Go to the speaking moon
to fell the stars,
and to learn a way of becoming―
unbeing.

It was a rough ride.
How could you open the
fist of darkness
and see in absolute nihility?

Can you unattach me,
when I was seeking your pith
in my poems?

Come to me with unarmed
lies, to fight with my truths.
Life is very short and I have―
many things to do.

In a cruel joke,
the torturer becomes
the tortured.

The colossus in its
aloneness, meets the goddess
of death for once and
messenger turns
into message.

The mixer of violence
and mantras, becomes god of
non-believers.

Let me disappear from
the words, a smoke
rising from the book.

Unpraised I was in between the names.

Trying to meet the
best of you, after seeking
nothing. Two halves never sleep.

Silently creeping,
glaciers were ready for
meltdown. Earth breaks.

Into tears. I don't
want to think, to speak. Staring
at you finding fault in sun.

The poetry seeks
some answers for unknown
questions, sitting in wilderness.

The moon aborted
twice to land on earth,
to search for the namesakes.