Any need to stitch an acid,
bare designed, in endoplasm,
when moon was walking like a full-breasted bride?
The synthetic feat was neat and clinical,
yet I want to turn back and talk about
something which heals the spirit of winged sorrow.

Marrow implant blooms like pink dough.
Can you walk straight,
think clean?
Organs for sale; mannequins are real flesh, bones, heart.
Roasted incense of sick birds floats –
you become a possessed iris.

Can you do something?
My limbs are aching, terrific pain.
Want to run like a stricken buck,
go for fasting like a schizophrenic,
become a letter undelivered
and message written off!

What is the truth then?
I cannot afford to accept the defeat!

The pain waits for ever.
Nothing to ask, nothing to give.
You make a house of glass to be transparent.

The sculptor sexualizes
the stones by carving a beauty of
ancient human walking undressed on land.

A truth be unwrapped?
The stigma will not allow the flies
to sit. The fruits will never come.

Answering your own question,
wrapping the ****―
as manifestation of
God's will.

The old earth
still bears the fruits and
comes face to face with the
ungrateful human being.

Not touching your breast, I will
hear your heart beat
once-over.

Before the rains come,
the rage will sleep with the stones
and reconstruct a―
prehistoric fault.

Apollo wants to leave
Delphi and become a monk.

Sometimes you want
to drink monkshood, dust to dust-
ashes to ashes.

*

Creditability in half-moon
fails. There was fierce battle
for new algorithm.

*

I wanted to know,
who you are in the jungle
of beautiful newts.

In the stand-off
between stolen history
and presiding deity
priest was hanged, while a blue cloud
was shedding the yellow moon.

Who was selling god on the road?
A tall coconut tree was my home;
all but your mouth was shut.

Face to face I am ready to leak
the secret of panic attack in open space,
it rips open the unhealed wounds.

The shot holes on the walls
were still bleeding.
I am getting visions of birds, trees and hills.

A pacific coast was punished
for not joining the conflict.
Corpse is being sent on shores.

I have become disconnected.

Talking of pose, while shooting
in back, several questions
arise of a staged drama―
missing the lethal word,
releasing the venom.

Poetry of politics becomes evident.
You may spurn the actors,
but the pretence overwhelms.

For testing the secret of depth,
you go down in water
unarmed.

You pull a stretcher, now―
unwrapped. The cremains sink
in the sea― of tears,
unsettling the designed pebbles,
the needles. The tapestry starts burning.

Predicted to fall.
Man battling against his
demonic spirits.

A killer silence
becomes a knife. Slicing your thumb.

You want to invoke
the missing gods, sleeping
under the dams.

No one should bring
me to tears. I disapprove
the color of blood.

My bones are becoming
stronger, without flesh. I walk
without legs on the hills of fog.

Do not throw the
acid on moon. Hands
will do.

You cannot pass through
a ring of fire. Bonding fails.

Today you are a king
in sunlight, stalking the moon
in rainy dark night.

*

Staying innocent-
in pursuit of happiness,
living with wolves, beasts.

*

Celebrating
dawn, before sun rises to
melt down your dreams.

When Rilke stops
whispering, I search
the cut flowers of gladioluses.

You don't speak
at all, blinking your eyes
anxiously. There was no
spate of quivering lips.

The exodus of long
breaths had the lethality.
Words come and go like,
a bunch of bees.

My problem was,
how to meet my beautiful
end.

The culture, the
wisdom would wait for
the angels.

Knowing the beginning
and the end,
you stand in water.
Transparency should
come first, waiting
for your time.
A blind pursuit for a brilliant moment,
to break the black rock.
The bloodstained eyes
tell the opacity of eternal lies.
Can you melt the darkness?
The holy edge was inviting.
You want to settle
for a suicide, after the hymns.
O golden peaks
I don't want to climb the illusion.
Sun was sitting in my room.
A bluebird was
staring at me. When do I
start laughing?

A lake walk,
in the forest of limbs.

Like the blind man said,
I can hear the truth.

It was more of a ritual
to sit in intense moonlight
when seagulls were stealing the sky…

And you will belong―
to the darkness, of unknowing―
self.

Knowing the inevitable end,
that will come, uninvited.

An ailing sun.
I grieve for a lost song
unheard in rains.

*

The kneaded flesh
of a weeping star pulsates
on the split grains.

*

Let the mother resolve,
who was the immortal son
of the bruised earth.

Feeding the mouth
of fire with tribal love.
My contextual wait-
for the pledge begins.

You come as an
accused, wearing the
veil of moon to explain-
the vanishing act.

The purple nails
scratch the scented skin
to bring out the red,
flowing love.

If you become
beautiful in praise of
moment, I will bring
the burning moth.

The vicious bell rings again.

Becoming impersonal,
the observed will speak today,
not the observer.
There were no complaints.

It drills the hole in heart.
But you don't die.
No blood spills.

On the rocks―
stands a temple of unbeing
I am ready to become a monk.

This was not a ******,
not a suicide, if you
want to become a martyr.

The heaven trembles.
Let the veil rise, unmasking
the blind truth.

The mercury was rising
without fever.
There was no alarm.

The yellow jasmines
are dead. My ache returns.

My language does't
speak. My agony will describe
the authentic death.

It is a long prose.
One eye sticks out from
the socket to read clearly.

The see-through veil
leaks the story, which can't
be taken to the beautiful
end.

First you grill the
moon, then ask for the
slanted answer. Love takes
off the makeup.

How long the poems
will cry?

This was paradise.
I will meet death in life and you
will find life in death.

No one was legal.
I am writing a poem on fire. My
earth explodes when truth cries.

The kiss of the moon was
short lived. I stood on the burning
boat to slap the sea.

Nothing helps.
The colossus has failed.
A naked fakir-
walks in dark moaning.

You ride a torpedo
to **** the gossips.It
misfires.All around
us is deep water.

An avalanche buries
the camp.You will not
climb the peak now.

The goddess is stripped
and alighted from
the rock.Let us pray
for the wildfire.

The sparks become the tears.

The Zen wants to confront
my invisible presence, breaking my
self-restraint. I meet my death daily.

Let not existential fear
tear your confidence. After all the
god sleeps in every house.

What do I want to see?
Muffled cry seeks the body of pain
with immense inner rapture.

Your jasmines smile, when
you handover a bunch to me.
It makes you win my lips.

I do not know how
you turn roses pink, when
I hold your hand under the moon.

In an esoteric way, love
will make the words disappear.
The cage was always empty.

Pain of the day comes
again to light the lamp.The moths
are ready to become fumes.

What a hidden beauty
of love! No one wants to see the silo
burn.Who kills the god?

One day seeds will explode.
They had given a promise to build a
huge tree of bo for Buddha.

It was raining blood.
I am frozen. No paternal gene.
Silence was weird. A cake.

Don't stand in the line
of ****. What a name can do? It becomes
dangerous. Needed self- restraint.

What was claimed? I
want the milk of you. I am impacted. No
war. Every pain deceives, like stray moon.

The lake was calling.
I will go untelling every one
conch shell on the beach.

Morning star moves
away from the stranger, who
brought the silent pain.

A stigma, an ache and
tears, embrace moon sitting,
on weeping Ashoka.

The grief was intense
in individualization. I walked on
the singed coals due to rain brutality.

Someone comes from
your back after touching Buddha
in sleep. I did it again. Killed my poem.

A speculation. I am
alone. Who lives for others? A toeless
ghost laughs, but walks very fast.

As if opiated,
something impossible, I was
asking from you.

I was very angry
with me, carrying the unborn-
baby-dreams, in my arms,
and leaving you behind- flawless.

Learning against the past,
I would commit the old fixation
in my sight, to clasp
your sweaty hand for a while.

And under the April moon
you were walking,
scattering the rose petals-
on the way to a shrine.

Do prayers heal a man
who preemptively
went for the assault?

I was, what I am not.

The divination.
A broom―
becomes a wager.

The penury
begets the rags.
How much you need?

Sweep the
courtyard. Tonight,
moon sleeps here.

I have come,
a long way to
meet my lost friend.

What would you give
when I ask for nothing?

A mysterious lineage
of the soul. It has no sequence,
no flesh, no body.
I was heading towards the edge.

Did you know the perfect
no home? It has no crumbling walls,
no hurting windows. The gray roof of sky?

The earth, the damaging
winds. An hour of awareness
in wait. You start
exploring jinxed mind,

hearing voices, but no words.

My laces would break
whenever I will tying my
shoes. Why, O man why?

Stand in wilderness
of last year and walk in the
honeytrap of new year.

Intimacy in dark
carries the emptiness,
pauses in the way―
under the faint moon.

A homeless bird heads towards
the lake.

Passiflora.
The flowers remind you
of crucifixion.

The human loss was intense.
The fire within, extinguished.
No stone was ready to move.
Do you want the sound to be on?

The firmness now starts
melting. A holy river caresses
the bridge. Shores tremble.

The bird of prey
had the dignity. With
hooked bill ant sharp talons
he sings the victim―
a death.

Salt was invented
by faithfulls. Petunias would not betray in summer.
A bleeding heart cries
before the adversary.

The stones regret after the
lithographer left. There was
a fault in design. Shards in the ink;
You cannot kiss the script.

The perforations
leak in pain. Something obstructs the void
I have come afar from
the lies. There was no truth in peace.

Decoding the love
which will not do us
apart, like death transcending
the history of man and beast.

The perspective
of history was changing. I
didn't want to be happy, with shifting
epicenter of pain of severence.
Let the river flow between the banks.

I was there, where
you did't reach. Becoming stupid
was the choice. My pen will
dig up your mind, when you were
hiding behind the unspoken vows.

Taking revenge was
no career. You will fall from
the heights of rosewindow.

The sculptor was ready,
to anoint a fallen angel.

My mouth burns.
I speak, because I don't want to
speak. It was the red rose, responsible.

I must start conversation
with death. It was enough to visit me
again and again. A kiss will silence the voice.

Untold, the domain enlarges.
You would fight sexism. It was rising
like crimson flames. Do you know the real?

In transition, of
a starry namesake, holding hand―
in priceless moment,
of anthropic lineage.

Give me the heritage
shock, contents of unknown.
In ghostly silence, I will
talk to an empty chair.

Remember Van Gogh. Why
did he cut off his own ear?
Not to hear a big No?
Million fragments speak the truth.

I will write on my skin
my dark name in blues.
Do I make me understand?
Soon the moon will rise
to take a side.

A face drowns in my arms.

Fear is on rise.
How long would you live with that?
Terrible questions bring
arousal bouts.

The days are demanding
answers from the red noses.

Like patato peels
you were wrinkling.

The burning moths.
How do they smell? Young
beautiful faces wearing explosive skirts.

Evening fever. You must
be rooted not, to listen to―
the call of desecrating the comic book.

Being you,
not the bee queen.
Volatile as it appears, would say
one day, I don't know you yet.

The estranged mogul
returns home, empty-
handed.

Don't tell me in
stark and straight words, one
needs clemency.

The flame had touched me.
A strange panorama, created
by the geometry of violence,
now hurts.

Speed and direction
liberates the path breaker.
Resonance of your voice rises,
reading the same poem
again and again.

Segmented icons would not sleep
on the same bed.

Like a vampire,
night swoops down.
Temple bells ring.

I am happy―
not to invoke any god.
Crickets share my muse.

The tall minarets,
stand ***** in dark.
Muezzin gives a call.

My friends long
dead, would come and
talk ceaselessly.

When white mushrooms
come in procession
after the rains,
you bring back my ache―
O pink rose
words fall like birds.

Caparisoned, the
moon was rising from
the sand dunes, like a
camel after the festival of kiss
of love. The singed bank
of the lake was submerged in tears.

Fold your wings, O peacock,
clouds are going back home.

I was not the truth.
From where comes the light
in the dark tunnel?

Na, supposedly the sun
immolates itself in its
own flames?

There will be no
contrast with a cameo.
You will embrace the shadow
of unknown nemesis.

There was some
****** talk about the dancing-
moons. I always loved
the hissing snakes.

Like a terrible
toothache, my poem throbs.
I call the genie to rub the lamp.

A summer tree was breaking
into blaze.

When terror strikes,
fear inside you
makes a hissing sound,
breaks the vessel.
Pain spurts out.

Your limbs swell like sapphires
in a naked suffering.
You were searching the face
of your dead brother on burning ghat.

And then on, it pours.
Babies were burning in incubators.
Blasts devouring the eyes,
ears and noses.

But the dredging will continue.
Irrespective of ocean of death
leaping to fragile shores
till the waves send back the relics.

Whom shall I call for condolence
in the thick of fog?
I was closing the weeping chapter.

I want to sell my
thoughts, to feed my heart. Do not
come near the volcano.Lava is still hot.

The king was slaughtered
amids hawthorns. No one loves him after
death. I quote Kafka. Love comes back.

The fallibility is the truth.
Bones break, but the body
still runs like a jaguar.

For death of conflicts,
and conflicts of death,
the coming of cessation, I was waiting.
Tomorrow must come
before eternity,
that inness, I will come to terms with one day.

The absoluteness of certainties
creates a danger of half-truths.
An intelligent mind suffers _
in ther era of hoaxes and contradictions.
The happenings of existence
continue without dignity.

Hand-picked rainbow is dumped
face down in shallow creek,
drugged, ***** and abandoned
to lose colours in water.
When the sky hangs on the shore
the blue sea sends the condolence.

The sharp cleavage of silicon *******
weeps for a failed performance.

The witch-hunt starts
for an unexploded bomb.

A racist slur becomes mute
for posterity.

The words start migrating―
coming out of their skin and colors.

A dead man walks into
a coal pit for exoneration.

Breathless, I become privy
to mass suicides of the flying moths.

You become a child, hiding
behind a tree, watching
a tiger maul a striped ariel.

Climbing up the sun,
you had no expectancy.
Pressed between the lips
there was pure blankness.

Something dies in me
daily. It was time to commit,
your shirt to a magician
asking the miracles not to happen.

Beneath moonlight
dark tears of stones flow.
Someday the mountains will cry
and the snow burns.

The world does not end
here. It thrives on hate, ******
and abuse. Will you stand up
between love and blues?

Autumn sets
deeper, after equinox. The
homesick moon comes close.

*

Was there any hope
beyond the darkness?
My hands are very *****.

*
What was the maniac
pain of the sea?
No boat wants to sink.

*

Soundless was your
enemy in bush.
Why were you lamenting?

Why ending your life,
on death bar,
close to terror―

of life? This is how
your dreams come true―
to play with inevitable ?

You had nothing to bleed.
One million times you
kiss on the lips of wounds.

We're all insane, chasing
the muse in dark. Earth
weeps in turn.

The walls are coming
up. What does the time tell
about the age of many tombs?

This was the art of killing.
From the dizzying
heights you throw the
vesicants.

Now you need the gliomas
to finish the job.

At wrong time, I was
raising the bizarre questions.
Why the wealth brings-
the change of life?

A wandering pain
caves in, where the moon
looks sick in its paleness.

The massive lies, deep
in ***** tricks after the traffic
of voices.In blank space
I plant my poem.

You wouldn't know,
what you didn't want to,
after a sweet osculation
of a cleaver.

There was blood
on grass, after witnessing
the afterlife of a future god.
The goddess still weeps.

A black moon hovers
in blue sky. Was there a
polite embrace after
a violent actuality?

Delicately you hold
back your tears. The most
important exit was to
remain reticent.

Unsaid ache was the
greatest bliss.

Make me wild―
weirdly ethereal. An abstract
pain will unite us―
after the scarring.

It was difficult the body
count, lamenting
for the limbless faith. What
would you do with the
tinned sardines now?

The wasting must stop.
We are not able to catch the―
spring. Cold war was settling
in space. Where were new worlds beyond the stars?

I am still trying to―
write only three words verse.
Man was shrinking
and so was tall god. The
mooned eyes were closing.

Almost touched
the birthmark of lips
on my poems.

Will not want
for it to happen, when
the sun breaks into stars
in your amaranthus eyes.

Syllable by
syllable, you weave
the inferno to burn
the sins of voodoo.

No one was
traitor when grass
dries up under the feet of
glaring moon.

Ah! this was
a Vedic punishment. I
want to learn the
early form of revenge.

Amygdala gives you
space. Rage implodes.
Hottest day gives a blast.

Burn, burn, O leaky
night. You **** the moon
with dust. Language
slips.

How will you invite
rains, without nightingale,
who had left for a
quantum revenge?

Visuals haunt. Ash
will fly. An old touch comes
back. Everything looks blue.

I start collecting old coins.

Retrieve me, by my
voice, to stay at the pause
between wounded words.

Unopened scar
beams from the moon to heal
the breached faith.

You know, lips always
remember the kiss of sun
in raging snow.