I thought we knew
each other by our shadows.
Stratosphere laughs.

Inappropriate,
when you touch the moon
in torrential rain.

You pay a price
to listen to Beethoven.
You become blind.

I want you to call
me, when my shirt was stainless
and sun was rising.

The monarch lands on
my book to read the verse-
meant for the moon.

The empty mind spins.
Script was totally burnt-out in
my voicelessness.

There were some ashes
in your eyes, when
you kissed a flame with
containment.

A golden phoenix
swoops down to ****** away
your signature.

Henceforth the sky will
wear the skullcap of moon,
before touching the blue lake
of silent eyes.

Why do we fight
for our insignias? The saber
dance must continue in
the morning of our doom.

The phantoms come again.
Why you were in dilemma-
to surrender or not?

After all you were my gems.

The noiseless violence.
You don't speak to yourself.

It was cold inside-
the sleeping volcano.

The years roll like
the yogic flying.

Bearded- you are not in air
not on land.

The revolt is my acid test.
Fingers become blind.
Cannot move in the valley
of faceless questions.

Deaf and dumb.
Mannequins stand in a
row to be covered up by the
glittering awards.

Winter is round the corner.
A single dew drop―
cedes a concession to tall trees.
Watchers of virginity
will stay to freeze the fidelity.
Eyes will not let fall
the blood tears.

You were not reading
your mind, skipping your mantra
of departure, behind the
curtain. The winter takes revenge.
Not a single leaf will
follow you, when the blaze
rages in the eyes of moon.


Listen my love. Story does
not end here. Deep within is purple
band. Win or lose, you
will walk on the stings to mutate
the pain of amputation. And
I will paint a fallen
bo tree unfinding a Buddha.

A wine taster was
ready to begin the birth
of night.

A wrinkle displays
the absurd mediocrity
of the charter.

I will not play
in the hands of unknowable
I have my own map.

I am shedding,
my skin, my color. Only
a truncated god will speak for me.

My thinking takes a
turn. An artist speaks inside me.
I am not creating a fancy poem.

My neighbour wants to
climb the wall, not of Sartra. Not
speaking lies to me

All my life, I remained
confused in understanding the
world. It was my spiritual superstition.

An earthen lamp
in loneliness
calls off the day.

After giving you
the golden light,
in its death.

Was it a pure sin,
if I touch
you in pitch dark?

Where the time
sleeps, I will meet
you under no moon.

There was existence,
without space.
I was afraid of my unborn child.

Inheriting the stammer
of history
I could not think of any brand abuse.

On the contrary, fumes
throw you off the road.
Full moon rising on the cleft.

I was, as I am, never being
to any threat of drowning
in contradictions.

A dignity in withdrawl
and coming back after sunset –
to walk in night, alone.

Your eyes return
to haunt me like falling
vultures. I am burning
like Vega.

You had shot down
the wrong prophecy. My
candle burns whole night to search
the lost ring.

Blame of tears
was fading. Larkspurs would
miss the delphiniums. Deception
attracts the crowd. Colors blend.

Concealing the wall
yellow lilies try to bluff me
from underground. Spring was
still afar.

The second existence
was not possible. Trying to
go again for a trial.

Beyond the gaze there is a time zone
of rumored agitation,
when you cannot sleep.
You open your eyes quietly to complain.

The caretaker has prepared the shroud.
Smoke is rising on the hills.
Nobody walks with you.It is a
lone journey, where centuries throw the dust
on your hallowed gifts.

The pyramid of signs, symbols, signatures,
disappear in penultimate flare.
Time to leave the waiting room.

The resurrection will take place now;
of fear, of despair, of foot steps in dark.
I will hear them, holding my breath.

Landscape will change into valley of tears.

The fat moon
rises, when the bland earth
gives a call.

Like the black magic
of depression, in fall,
overwhelming the silence.

Of not becoming, what
you wished me to be,
or not to be.

A conflict always,
climbs the wall to overlook,
the pain of separation.

This winter, I am not
going to witness, the death
of night birds.

A secret poem for
you, to forget myself lost on the
noiseless sea.

Of words. Reclining
Buddha in dilemma, to
wake, not to wake.

I was on voyage
to find the bliss of salt
in starvation.

Another weeping star
comes to me. The twin
presence interacts.

Personified.
A pain sits with me.
I split into shards.

A spooky boom.
Water bends. I kiss
your scream.

White night.
Acacia breaks,
roots won't move.

Fragile calm almost
breaks the silent voice
of dead glow warm
felled by full moon.
There was nothing left
to write about darkness.

Sometimes I don't
understand you in vacant
looks. Weightless you
fly away.

Golden dew drops fall briefly
on hot iron, steamed and
misunderstood.

You are the lust listener
living in wax house. I will not light
the candles for fear of
burning the nest.

The deaf cuckoo
goes on singing with out hearing
his voice.

Moment of truth.
Bougainvilleas
on grass.

A visible absence.
I was searching―
you in poems.

Your fluid eyes.
My moon-clouds
ready to crash on the land.

In my cupped hands
I collect the tears
of the sky.

The power of the
face of a diamond, sedates
the unknown. You smile.

*

The spoken word had
no relevance. You wanted
the writing on lips.

*

How far you can swim
in the shallow water when
alligator dies?

You call an all night truce
of all stripes in moonlight.
Only milk will flow in dark.

*

The violets had a secret to tell.
Tonight the moon will
appear red after meditation.

*

A single parent, gay, has
come to stay in line
to accept his godless defeat.

Genus Viola.
Which gender you want it
to belong?
***** was most effeminate.

The tender touch.
It reaches you inside. You
start trembling
like aspen, ready to fall.

Full breasted, a
crimson moon will spill
the buttermilk for
a rosarian.

It was hot, very hot
for the quivering pearls of pistons;
for merciless decapitation.

This was not the poverty of
experience, finding difference between
humans and venomous snakes.

My remit was to catch
the killers. Mosquitoes resigned.
A new race picked up the thread.

You wanted a painless end.
A happy journey in watercolors.
to meet all gods for an answer.

Like sheltered, as in fist,
the firefly―
my poem shudders
in your cavernous eyes.

You will not bend down,
to pick up the dropped
coin of moon.

A benign lump
refuses to melt for a
speckled beam of light.

The charred bones
of the burnt-out church,
wait for the second coming.

There was no
curtain drop. Everything
will happen before the weeping grass.

The father and son,
were both guilty― of killing
the mother moth.

Small truths
of gun battle,
with black roses in hands,
beg for peace.

You fly with broken wings,
and fall like a damp squib.

The darkened facts
in outsized pain, want to
revert back to line of separation.

How will you enter
into the sinless book to find
the words of a prophet?

Nothing was personal.
I have come to you―
to complain about you.

Your wrinkled eyes
look straight through me, and
push me into a dark blue lake.

I want to go dumb?

You are pinned on the
board to don the cap of watchman.
Jasmines go nomads.

To alter the nomenclature
of pain, to take a nap in the rose
garden. You cannot move a mouse.

Violets are raising hands.
The voices are dim. It is getting
dark. Two small eyes roam.

My personal agony,
very precious to me.

I was carrying you
on the paint brush, on crayon.

Canvas was
empty after you left. No oil
painting of curved lips and digitals.

You hang a man eater-
panther, after lynching.
Whole length suspended from a tree.
So beautiful, as a star night.

You were left
to yourself-to ponder over
the killer and the ****.

Who wins in war of words?
In war of lips?

Slowly the pain of
heart sinks in dark. You write on the
coal-light. Without rhyme love is lost.

Your noises eject some
questions. There were no answers,
when you stand in water to find mercy.

The lesser success-meets
the love, honey, sequence and incognito.
Don't Come when the owl calls.

A severed hand
writes the history of
falling man.

Lynching to raise
the **** rate.
Where are we going?

Unknowable what?
The mystery of
elusive truth?

Collecting the debris
after the impact. Are
we becoming aliens?

Unnamed, a
humming bird reaches at
the anniversary of last name.

In the valley of rainbows
there was no iris.

Some things left unsaid.
I will know you by tremors.
But will stand very still.

You need a space to
feel my lips in silent dark.
Birch had debt to pay.

There was no choice to
break from the past of Rafflesia,
you call corpse flower.

A skirmish starts at lashes
of sun, squeezing the gist of prudence.
You whisper a shloka.

The dead won't see from
open eyes. The wisdom swells, when
war begins between doors.

You smell like white
roses. The dream of slant eyes
will pass through the sins.

I was hurt,
I speak.
Out of modesty,
will write the unspoken stance.

Overview is mine
I have not read you
cohesively. Your vacant eyes,
your trembling lips.

To know the truth
of meaningless nuances, to listen
the gain of sea, watching
the length and depth of water.

Moonlight was aging
where the shadows dance,
in circle to trap the sun,
for a noble sacrifice.

Bondinggoes for mortgage.

Your algorithm
has failed.
There were colossal mistakes.

It brings back
the memories of
counting on the fingers.

A moon, a river
and a night, had
fallen in love for ever.

Why not a langur
should now be
declared a person?

Living without you,
locking horns with unhappenings.

May not harm you,
my imaginary pride
in your shape.

Remember,
when you dreamed of crossing the
crescent gate of moon?

Your audacious leap
into dark to wade into the
mortgage of future?

I was frozen,
standing in the crowd of incandescent
fireflies- heart felt.

My letters will not
reach you, after the dynasty grows
pale, pure as the setting sun.

The lake will not die.
It will keep the secret.

After the long wait
I forgot how to kiss the flames.
All the moons failed.

The world would
freeze, when I burned and
the phoenix did not dive.

Listen, I love you
within me. O god to feel your pulse
when I decided to **** me.

The weight of charity
sits on my shoulder.
I call for healing
on my terms.

We will divide the
funeral rites for undead―
nourshing survivor's massive,
sin. My path to truth opens.

Chasing a butterfly for
redemption, stuns me.
You were born of your―
own seed.

The guilt ultimately
overtakes. You initiate
unloading the vowels. Words
start flying without wings.

Purity of thoughts,
must limit the knowledge―

collective withdrawl from
the valley of words.

Each life you had changed
the bed, to meet the god, in different attires.

Hanged from the roof
to understand the pangs of poverty.

The unborn century will wait
for the collapse of identity.

Man has gone too far carrying
the burden of acoustics.

The white ribbon
gives you an angle.
Moon will rise from that point.

The summer dwells
in your poppies.
I was walking with feet of clay.

My eyes will collect
your scarlet lips,
for a deathless painting.

There it was, the body in
velvet, lying under the shade.
Only moon was naked.

Gifting myself a new
hurt, though ephemeral, do
you feel my nearness
when I don't speak?

It doesn't work, your
patience with a deadpan face.
How would you talk to
butterflies, hollyhocks and
blackbirds?

You had tried to overrun
your own self by giving away
your eyes.Mind it, your
vision will still follow you
at burning pyre.

Weep, weep my poems
weep.The seduction was not
your gold, nor your enemies.
Then whom you are going to make
your god?

The handcuffs have no answer.

Gold fringed, the hood
strikes. You are bound
to throne.

It was unnatural to
demolish the ancient shrine.
God will not show his face.

And what about the dew
collecting on grass leaves,
when you were crying?

The kids won't cry now.
The hunger has put
them to sleep.

It was the dead end
now. You are melting in
great walls.

I was not there
when omentum was incinerated.
No unparing was called for
digging your own grave.

In eerie silence, I
start collecting the shells
of forlorn pearls.

It would be a miracle
if I can read the invisible.
I can become a killer when you
are not there.

The mute girl will not―
give her lips.
Only eyes. I must lift my
poem from there.

The Hamlet's dilemma. You
will, will not taste the
hemlock.

I would not make
excuses. My nothingness let
me go beyond myself.

Sometimes I ask
otherself, why I find you in
pain and sorrow in love and peace.

Will you find freedom
from change, from power
and slavery of the past?

Mind goes blank.
In the interim relief- I will wake
with the moon tonight,
to inherit your pain.

Picking up the marbles
you nurture the memories.
In your speechlessness-
you have spoken a Buddha.

Buried in lake you dig out
the incense of life.
A rumor breathes.The untrounced
myth becomes the angel.
Will you meet the danger again?

The wounds were
becoming older.You want to
start the fight afresh? Against
the inevitable?
Why you were growing the sage?

Ah, this was the comfort of
defiance. You can
expunge the consonance.

You are not proving anything
except to play devious game,
with fossils. The lunacy
will hide you.

A thoughtless state comes
to exit. There is absolute stillness
in the busy bee suspended
in moonlight.

No awards. No flogging. What
you can give without seeking
any space? You cannot
eat your own progeny.

Becoming something from anything
was a great bliss of paradigm.
I take a dip in anonymity.

You will never know,
where you will start a rough patch
on the road?

A prehistoric site could not outlive
the humiliation of proximity to hate.
Violence chewed the dust.

My knees give way to anguish of morality;
horror of captivity of dawn.
The eyes are going to collapse in endless night.

Tapping of kernel in hand, shell of truth bothers you,
like a mountain dew under the stone.
I will destroy the anxiety of grass.

Death of desire may take place.
Fragrance still devastates the moon.

The sun is fading.
I have lost my footprints in the jungle.
The thorns will show me the path.

The Venus of my
poems wakes. The assisted pain.
comes to meet a yogi. The soul cries.

Here is my revenge.
Smoldering on the arguments.
The magnificent memories are buried.

It was not an orb
processing a moon. A spider measures
the length of the distant fly,

I have asked nothing.
The torch wants a pure vision.
Death will not come easy.

It is absurd to watch
the rose garden. The wolves
have destroyed the beauty of god man.

Turning inward,
you stare at death in eyes,
throwing dirt at moon,
half-night away.

The words bleed.
You want to define the
pure relationship.

Loving yourself was
very painful, when you become me.

Walking up to the altar
to break the bread. You wanted
me to become a prophet
of no religion.

But I will never get
the kiss of eternal flame
on my lips.

Life twirls in my torment.
I become a blind sun.
Why did you turn into a smoking gun?

Signs are appearing
again for the emotional turn. The
testosterone proves the nostalgia.

Emotive you sleep on the
grass and your eyes are gouged by
the sun. Death by thousand stings.

Let us find some space
between us. You will survive like
Sappho. A ****** is created by me.

Shortcoming hopes
were fading. Cuss words work.
The nation moves a few feet.

You drink the water
with your hands and break the glass.
What religion will adore the kismat?

You forget the karma.
The repentation passes through you.
I allow the rhythm to accept lineage.

Uncannily sanguine,
wounded by biting gnats―
you return home.

You would call the
family for a final―
drink and
drown the moon.

You have come very
far from the inviting
shores in deep sea―

to be ****** into the
whirlpool of silence―
to end the sounds.

You will not put the
bread upside down. Who
will provide the priceless again?

A small saga of unheard renegade?

Your roses drink the
sun in dewy dawn. I catch the
speed of dying moon.

The rains bring in new
asterisks to anoint the verses
before their burial.

One more mercy to let
the shadows of swallows fall
on my blank pages.

Your lips are like hinged
leaves of Venus flytrap. Become shut
when you trap the words.

It was a waste.
The mantel was too sharp
for the dying words.

Will not give a call.
I was angry with me.

Your skin wearing
on my hands,
O god I want to undo
my sins.

It hurts me,
whena praying mantis
keeps a watch.

I have defeated myself.

Very proud, an instinct
prepares me
for blue burns.
You will never know yourself.

A thick pain drips
from the swollen eyes.