Burning the pages
unread.
A daunting task
to rebuild the bruised relic,

of future, which I see
in my dream. This was―
the desire, till
the last flame dies out.

I am not sure of
myself. I will chase
a spider, climbing the
wall. I want to know where

it was heading, carrying
a headless fly, to bury
a spotless name in the
web of mortal threads.

Opening night's silk,
remembering you, under moon―
walking on wet grass.

You were not fake in
a crowd of naked fakirs,
taking bath in sun.

The truth must come out
to face the mother tongue,
when god was killed.

Where it hurts, the shoe's
nail. Prodigal son was blind.
Did not read the road.

To talk about the
bequeaths, on the failures of oracles,
you were praying about the vain awards.

Do you know about the
witchcraft of a fallen ficus tree. There was
a black magic for healing a broken moon.

A temple was demolished
to change the god. Someone laughs from the
woods at night. A bronze body becomes a new god daily.

The heartwood had the ingrained
dream map, to reach the
divine shape of a solemn god, who
was guiding the sap.

One day you would go deep
in dark, to find your roots
where tomorrow was conceived.

And in the ruins, you will
find the warmth of
your peers, still walking on the god-particles.

A religion now takes over
the mob, ready to plunge into yellow
sands of dry river.

The hopes and promises,
give you a horizon, far away.
Your want to touch this furnace,
that brings the burning day of solitude.

This was profanity.
A dead club moss resurrects,
when you sprinkle the water over
dried wrinkled leaves.

From darkness to light
you break the bowl of an angel
and the invisible spills out.

Brother in terror -
of mixed turbans.You smell
the burning flesh all around.

Speed of light from superflares
was not colossal, than the blast of man.
Look, it is still dark here..

Now climb the holy
hills, rising like the *******
of weeping earth, to collect
the daisies for final call.

When I wanted
to stop you, the flame was
snuffed out by an invisible hand.

I let the missing link
go. My body turns blue.

You return back the
rusted coins. Fountain was
dry. Someone was going insane.

An albino touch with
blue eyes― the planet quivers
in chill.

A punishment for
remaining brown in the
crowd of white lilies.

Summer is breathing
last. Frozen lips now stop the flight.

Encore, faith was
blind, written on the tongue
with a thorn. One awakes the other.

The mysterious pain
was mine, moon watch. The
vespa has a job to do.

The teacher reads the
road. Your step will bleed
unknowingly. Who tells the god?

In praise of body
like a bow,
shooting arrows of clemency.
But I have come to deny myself,
the nemesis.

There was no penitence.
Unacceptable, in the light of
broad-day ******
of democracy.

Freedom to arc was a personal
style, writing poetry
against the art
of manipulation.

I am ready to become
human, after inferno, started
by you, to burn
the story.

In deep bottom,
at first light, I
will give you a call.

Because, I was only bones,
muscles worn out in hymns
and the nudes were―
putting on the masks.

You will not deliver―
a denial, nor you will
put forward the Buddhist stance.

Like a curling fern you
want to go in dark shade―
eyes shut.

The circus of stunted men
and lady birds―
will go on unabated.

I swear by fire,
The battered umbilicus will
not bear any gods.

A miraculous escape. I
will not eat your
flesh, hot and red.

We start hitting each other.

It were not you
at the end of poem. Something
of moon had died.

Time has not come
to intervene in parting
of lips turning blue.

You will not change,
in offering the drink of
stunning Venus flytrap.

Nudging the contempt,
he wanted to become
homeless again.

I had never seen
such human insanity.
Hate me now―
I was your sin.

You made it easy,
making my nest empty.
There was a colossal waste.

The salt was
becoming scarce. Night and
moon were going to break
the hills.

The cost of life
was falling. Diana― the huntress
will not shoot any arrows.
Artemisia was no more sacred.

In twilight
the sickle moon,
waits for the dark.

What a ****.
Roses in bloom
watch haying.

Halix of life
uncoils, to warm
the man.

The butterflies
shiver in sun.
Fine weather.

Ah, in this―
culture of shames
you will need some divination
for mooning around.

You cannot mend the old
shoes, become an explicator―
of complex human mind.

Cannot face the sun to
catch my shadow. Father and
son were water apart.

The things become no-things
inestimable. I keep on intuiting..

First came the rains,
then winds. I stand for nation.
I fall for you.

Everything begins
with numbers, the curves.
The cleavage drops.

History is written.
Young times. You grow old
in shade of stars.

Brave words carry the
burden of weightless truths.
Moon immolates.

Today it is pain vs. pain. Some times
it is difficult to taste the words. How many
lives will pass through many slurs?

Between the instinct and the
genius stands a wall. Memory will swipe
away the war of blood and salt.

Ah the incendiary mind
of a broken man will give a parting
kiss of natural end.

You did not give
space, for a random kiss.
Winter loss?

I will not find you
in spring. The buried roots
of a fallen tree, fail
to wake up.

Days pass dying.
A soft retreat from
commitments. Slow poisoning.

The empty house.
You should plow through the memories
of unlived in dreams.

There is no cue.
How will you bring sparrows
to breed on ventilators.

You are waiting
amid fears. The fretting
does not end.

At where,
the road ends? To find a blue star
where do we go?

The house was
sleeping in fog. Inside the
dome, hooves, quiver.

I have to become
mute. Time was black,
my song blue.

A pure crime.
The vultures come in
cloaks to take away the lamb.

In deafening silence
I was hearing you,
trying to taste and smell
the traces left by you.

Choosing between hope
and despair, I gather
the old coins. There was no
clue to understand the movement of shadows.

Earth is melting into
water. In rapt attention I
watch the footdrop, of placenta.
It will be a stillborn moon.
No honey, no elixir.

In a deadpan approach,
you will not communicate the
death sentence for echoes.
I will not take the side of inevitable.

Let the book start
burning the poems.

Sometimes death
waits. You want to be loved again by
the dying horse of the sun.

You were reading Kafka
to know the meaning of life. The voice of
the black earth calls to see the hollow graves.

What you say I don't
understand. There were many moons and
suns. I want only one black hole

You don't walk with
the time opening the heart. Somewhere
the earth cracks in the dark age.

Is it the end coming?
I will be taking an aim at the
moon. There was a fear of homicide.

At my ninety I plan an
apology. The myths are still surrounding
me. This is the language of cheetahs.

Beyond the moon
spirit, I will wait for the
holocaust to disappear.

Spruced up stones were
becoming idols for pagans
of muse.

The singer is gone. Only
the fluted men will wear black,
till the moon arises.

Sitting near the feet
of saints, the fronds unroll the
untidy sins, as a homage to sun.

The vigilance increases.
Nobody will write one's name
on the growing trees of palms.

There would be no
preface, when the violence
starts without lips.

Nothing matters now
after decimating dreams.
Will not surrender.

Polyp goes medusa.
Free swimming in my
wet eyes at dawn.

And you standing
alone will stop the worship
of rising black sun.

The chase, the speed―
the ****. How far you go to―
retrieve the dead horse
from the river.

Floating bridge, I
wanted to drink the
moon in red.

The chimes would not
winter― in falling snow.
Can you bring me some hot blood?

The ceramic arms spray
the liquid memories on the
grass, all night.

Later when the sky
fails, I will bring the
sun to wipe out the tears.

In eternal quest
of peace I will find you one―
day in flowing tears.

Doors are reticent.
Blue stars were melting. Poverty
will take the back seat.

I promised you, I
will never hurt you even
in my wild dreams.

Take my hand to stop
the tremors of earth. The moon
was dying on naked beach.

In absence of words,
the silence rules. Dying
color of moon conceives
a sun.

There was a subtle
hint of constancy. You will
say something unsaying
to retrieve the blame.

In word war, nobody
wins. A blue stain was
spreading for reconciliation.
There will be no more hunting.

Like a small lake
enters in your eyes. You
start swimming along
the swans.

Stunned butterflies
lie under the paper weights.
There was no argument
between the hunter and hunted.

You're ready to take
on. No second hand. Can you make
a decision without voice? A ****** shoots.

Relentlessly I watch
myself. Will forget nothing of
holocaust of what I am.

Ultimately a star hits
the rock. Will you make a
portrait of deceptive truths.

In grim moments,
quivering with fear,
separating the tears
from buried eyes.

How will you break up
your life from the
stanzaic epic?

The painting remains
incomplete. You don't want
to touch the colors.

Like snowflakes
I am creating a design
of your thoughts.

Sirius will not
rise today over the hill.
It was a rainy night.

There were dark
clouds, even at doors.

Listening to a grief,
I look at your lips, where
the words sit trembling.

*

Teach me to commit
a sin in return for gifts.
Land wouldn't divide sea.

*

Thirst meets the desert
at the edge of night, where
sun was arrested.

Crushed under the sky,
when you had
become a transition.

In the lonely
night, waking without you,
when words start screaming.
like howls of wolverines.

Life around appears now, not
the worth of holy water, in your
folded palm.

Your birthday flowers
bloom in dark. Someone
will dance around the campfire
till the crack of half-light.

The salt lake bubbles.
Nobody will drown in it.
And I believe,
purple stones would stand
to guard the new spectacle.

It was a self-inflicted
wound. You live outside yourself.
Go inside to find the depth.

This was my faith
in the unknown. Do we have to
bargain for our truths?

When you see the beauty
of pain, you fall in love without
sensor of an agitated mind.

Grammarly it hurts.
The pale eyes ****. I clap and ****
the smile. Someone knocks at the door.

Stage was empty. Not
finding any movement. The seminudes
don't want to display cuts and bruises.

Vertigo. My gloves hang.
Wearing a mask, takes away the vibes.
Words sleep on lips. I become dumb.

Street-the evil incarnate
runs after the people. I stay in smoke
to hide the pain of candle in wind.

I feel uneasy. Listen
to earth. Who was crying? I accost the moon.
I have to say something in the fog.

Bilberries leave the marks.
Your eyes are brown. Gold fishes swim.
I peel off my skin to see your face.

A lunatic has found
a touchstone, to know-
your nights to burn.

Gazing in still waters
you forget, to become complicit,
with the incoming waves.

Can you shout at me
without an uproar, sans words,
in the blind alley?

How will you remain
bounded to your consents,
unheard in echoes?

This mystique, this corridor
of authority makes you
insane. You want to go back
to the ruins.

Not judging
your sins you commit
a promise again.

Under a perfect moon. I
missed you at dawn in,
rain dance, when stars
were going to hide.

Beyond midnight, you
were not supposed to stay
in my dreams.

Oh, was it the time
to drink from the falling
dew? Can I blend the nature
with your eyes?

The days were trecherous.
You were not going
to curve like a rainbow.
It was a good old art of swaying.

When you run short of
appropriate words to describe
the dilemma, you start
counting the folds in the currain.

In blue dawn
pure truth will hinge on the
personal moons.

I was ready to tell
you all rumors to learn the
art of mimicry.

The air smells of the
masks. Not fakes. Skin dries
up to dew emboss prints.

Why withering look,
and I will ask the sundew
to snub tentacles.

Noiselessly you step
in my sleep and sit on brows
to count rolling tears.

The wind will start crying
touching the tender buds
you placed on snow.

Unhinged
in final descent.

A distrust starts
the speechless howling.

The veiled threat
to lock the door
and see the other world.

II

Unmarried― the pears
will not ripen.

Sense of persecution
haunts.

The doves fly away
you wrote your name on the wings.

We will talk about
life and death, standing on
the track in dark.

*

Do not reach anywhere
untouching spots on hands
where sparks kindle.

*

Do you want to wash
out your sins, kissing the
black rocks of moon?

I picked you up
after the fall, when moon
was burning.

Why did you call me
from the clouds?
Rain drenched, there was the
smell of earth soaked
guilt.

You didn't want to
share your secret of the
glorious war with me.

The call of peaks
was very strong. A crack in
Antarctica spells doom.
I watch the damaging of future
with grief.

Suddenly a fawn stops at
my glass door, like a light yellowish
color of dawn, gives me a
strange look.

Will we stand up again?

I would take a call
after I seceded from my wounds.
It took me a while to become Buddha.

You outshine, being
a wave breaker. I touch the
stars to squeeze light from dark curves.

Will you remain
vegetable? Your fingers play
like the blind pianist on my face.

You are my philosophy.
I am your uncertainty. Love
belongs to pain.

Shattered with absolutes,
I want to remain single with the
flowers. Nobody wants to think.

Will logic give you power?
Or does the meaning make it clear?
Life was walking with death.

You said a lot today
without telling anything.

I braced myself for another―
night's assault― aching
for tomorrow's journey on
the volatile trail.

All night I will remain
in tizzy. Unceasingly a fragrance
will hover. That would be killing.

There was sheer urge to fly
with untouchable pain. But
the shadow of bliss, the calm walks with me.

I take you once for all,
bring you back to my paved
words, you become my muse.

It was never meant,
to be the triumph
of the death

in the night of the snowfall.
The silent fall of flakes,
covering the stains,
would start a conversation
about the truth of life.

A journey to unknow the evil starts.

Like a cheat love,
moon sail, into the bushes.
I pluck a rose.

Leave me alone
under peach tree for a while.
The moon wants to talk.

Reeling in dark
to meet the guest of lake,
before he jumps.

To become or not to become a renegade,
or to die or not to die for a semi-god?
These were some of the questions
thrown at an incomplete script.

What elevated you to a celebrity?
Your **** or deep wrinkled groans?
Age is abating, abattoir is empty.
Exile from the past is over.
When you intend to comeback to childhood
and become a simple star?

Behind the mask lies the embrace of death
I am afraid the flames will engulf,
the genius of pathways.
Everything will turn into obsolete gossip.
A patch of sunlight becomes a costly exposure
bones are entwined in eternal cuddle.

Testing the wind of
erotics on moons. I was
still stitching my wounds.

*

The strange longings,
surge towards waning ego
to grab intimate.

*

The mentor grieves
after the parting of pink lips.
Words would never come.

Learning the script
of death, scarred by the
things of nature.

From one key to another
the transitional smile
shows the inherited strength
of ancient weep.

I adore you because I don't
love myself. The self-affliction
is to understand how a lamb feels
under the knife of a butcher.

The beast, that impales
its prey on the thorns, while
singing a melody, to become
a companion of dancing god.

There was no antithesis between fangs and stings.

I would let it go
anything now. Will not accept
any grace.

I am moving unfazed―
buttons apart. Let the night
descend.

A hired applause was not needed.

As the gorgeous earth plays its last tune.
I will wait in the lobby, to fail again.
There was no repeat
of the deciduous teeth,
coming back to chew your fingers.

The small steps you won't
take to bridge the unknown.

Scoping the language, watching
itself dying.

It was the last stone.
There was no second coming of the supremo.
The sun will remain black.

The sword tends to
come out. We are ascertaining who
has started the temple fire?

Between the history and.
holocaust world collapses to rise
again,but you don't invite second Buddha.

Nixing hate buds was prime lens.
You thought that it was sagacious.
The roof was leaking fiercely.
It ***** your tangerines.

Squeeze if you can,
all the moons of universe. No
milk of mercy, flows
from the eyes.

Something skinny, peeps
in, from the small holes
of walls in a big castle, where
the ghosts walk at night unclothed.

Was it true that there
was no blood, when the
snake bites a white lamb?

I want to come back
from the nirvana where
only the carpetbaggers live.