Do you know the
truth of lies, when
something goes wrong?

You pick up the names
from private dialogues,
to hurt yourself.

Increasingly on edge,
You release the―
doves, to reach the affiliates.

To buy some time
for a debate, I put
off all the lamps.

Why the amnesia,
becomes a blessing in
celebrating the mass beheadings?

Art of dying
comes, after
you listen to the siren song.

The intention
was to **** yourself,
non-violently, when
moon was hiding.

Man was changing the skyline. You can
redraw the landscape without hurting the grass.

Don't offer to sacrifice
the goat on the rock,
where the shipwrecks took place.

You burn that, what you
would not eat. The
assassination charges were true.

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.

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 hear your voice
coming from within.
The disconnect, the cultural clash,
from river,
from tree,
from the golden nest.

The circle was complete,
breech birth,
the explicit insult.

The parched moon―
will bring the cold
tears, to extinguish the sparks
going home.

The roadway leads
to nowhere land. You will
again meet the wounded
cuckoo which will always sing
the hurts.

There was smoke
without a candle. I had been moved.
My gold rings sit on the moon.

I don't claim my pain.
The immaculate crime. I have not
taken the call. The end waits at the door.

I got you easyunder
sacred tree. I am yet afraid of me.
The dry leaves carry the name of the tree.

You try to get back at me
by placing the ultimate truth in the
crucible to sit on the flame.

I want to become confessional,
accepting my fall to behave like
half-human breaking the oath.

You want to prove that
everything is black. All the tragedies
are meant for me. I decode god - as rejected...

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.

Luminous, your head
rests on my chest. I pick the soil
under your feet and apply it on your forehead.

The old love speaks
in a different language. Now the
meaning has changed into greek.

I do not know when
the day ends with the sun. The
guest will come in the dark.

Pain of the day. I hurt
myself. You pretend. At first I slip.
Then the snowdrop bends me.

I will not break in
the sounds of love. You listen to the
fall of a vagabond moon in water.

The starved leaves whistle.
Will you talk with the wind? You hear
the voices of the body in hollow land?

One scripts one's
own doom, standing at the
bank of a dried river.

Bone china reflects
the destiny of ‘being' in war
of grounded ships.

Limbs take you back
to the ruins of young night
outside of moon.

Salt burnt, you come
under the shade
of milkworts.

Not fated, you still
wanted, unaided departure.

Reading the lifeline in your hand,
why did you opt
to kick the bucket?

You wanted to celebrate the luge with *****?

How do you get in my shoes?
You become me?
The blue lake of your eyes was frozen
I will walk on ice to reach your home.

Today I wept. It was
not my pain. Was it a right to ******?
If you were me, would you stand on the pyre?

Unequivocal, someone
commits suicide. The swaying body
tells the history of home.

Vultures are sitting in
a group. Why one has died because
of the debt? God would pay off?

Skin deep, the moon
goes with me,
to bid goodbye to old year.

I have moved nearer
to the door ****,
of the unopened crypt.
The stale air leaks from the crumbling door.

The unfinished books
are under the frost. I cannot
shovel the walk. A grainy
picture emerges, of despair.

Going to dig up the ruins
to find the script.
Ink spills on the paper,
words depart.

Compelled to probe.
O life you have defeated me in
the race of love. No vital signs to drink hemlock.

Attitude. Dead but not dead.
Do not rue. Each day it dies at the
sunset to remake the light for blinds.

The gender escapes from
the truth. Wants to become bisexual.
Do you think the sun and moon will sleep together?

I beg to keep on talking
with the dead. How are you, they say.
Some emotions create a soothing effect.

From evening neoclassical
pain starts. The sun apologists and
disappears. You try to see your hands.

Can you look back to
analyse the muse of Buddha times?
Let the requiem shake the listeners.

In alternative lies,
a which-hunt starts―
to find the blue eyes trapped
in amber.

Who will ask, not to
dig in the land of suicides,
without boundaries?

Behind you, were hidden the
rocks. The thin-lipped screams
would not reach the nests.

The color fades, when you move
in the sun. Survey
was futile for another truth.

Courier was walking limp.
Cherries were withering in moon.

Bare-foot a journey starts to collect
the salt of eyes.

In the crowd of swans― nobody
has found the water.

Nothing was left to talk.
It preaches violence. An illumination
plays fascism. I freak out.

We look at each other
uncovering the truth. Every man
wants to live at the cost of others.

A brief smile, small
tears can open heart. Do you think
we can cross the snakes?

An article will ask you
to change, to become unique,
before demographic
innovation destroys you.

The five-petaled
scarlet pimpernel, waits
for you to write my
name in your heart.

Who will meet your
smile, when I am not there?

A mass hysteria
erupts, against the deity
of ***** violence.

I wanted to freeze
the lovebirds on your
lips- to sing when the
rains come.

And the trust will
follow the tears.

You want to offer
your eyes to celebrate the ceremony
of the break up of life in the bright sun.

What will the flesh
say to the soul? What was the wish of God,
cutting the sky in small temples?

How to disobey your
death? The shepherd was lost to
sheep. You forgot your home?

Half-burnt, I am
raising my hand and my poems are
working crossing the pains.

The collected suicide
of the nightingales have given the worry.
I am living in the desert of love.

Humankind is becoming
rare. The tulips have started
talking. Why the blood spots are appearing?

When the lone night sleeps
I wake up the moon
for a monologue.

You listen with unblinking eyes
and hear by shivering skin.
Constancy remains alert.

You wanted me to define―
the time. Will that change with
our age, unknown to bystanders?

You were not yourself
in my presence, becoming a lost
child in trance, struck by a magic spell.

There was no physical passage.
Timelessly you would stare at me
to enter my thoughts.

Like a blue butterfly, I will
fly in the room to kiss you, and
bring back the feel of merge.
After a long pause we would part,
taking the scented dream
of our interrupted moments.

Why do you forget to return
the debt? You think dangerously.
I will challenge the philosophy of crime.

Fighting my demons,
I watch, the god is buried daily. I walk
like a dead answer to confront a character.

Plato and Aristotle always
come to me. To know your heart, you
will love solitude to become a true man.

Like pine needles,
you *****, draw blood-
doing the beauty.

Between an angel
and angelina, there stood a wall.
Ah! A religion also.

You are asked
to smear the bone ash on
forehead, and drink moonlight.

Cannibals. All the gods
were cannibals, devouring
their progeny.

You turn back and
give a last glance before
going for a faux pas.

Not a heartache-
for a faun, you were too
proud to accept the gift.

The rise, the fall
of twin blasts. Were
you going to repeal the
writ of divine code?

With spring in your arms,
will you throw the dice
to win the ******―
ring of Mars?

Peace makers were at large
for the crown. Who―
else would hold black―
the apocalypse, along with
the black moon?

Locked windows. Someone
was waiting for you in golden
patch of the door, when the dawn was
ready to give you a kiss.

Purpurea, the foxglove
covers your eyes like a hijab.

Sitting on the border wall
and looking at the moon.
Back-and-forth,
Back-and-forth
China breaks in my dry eyes.

Clay into vitrified
ceramic asks for emigration
to the sea for final immersion,
to meet the creator.

I look for your face
in water, that haunts me
day and night. Would you ever
fill up the colors in the map of my pain?

More poems. How could you
stop them coming? My
every ache turns into a daffodil.

When your name
drops in the wish lake
like a golden ring as numen,
I accept my defeat.

Like nanoprints, permeating
in my every poem.

Here I catch a swaying
scent to locate your
home in the jungle of denials.

Till my script is
completed, I will explore
all my options not to forget
you even for once.

Will you make it
easy for me to stop the tortuous
self-flagellation?

Who was better of
us with a magic wand
to turn either into a statue?

The collective
scream of peacocks,
brings the night horror.

The horses run―
in morning blue.
The call has come.

Cotton wool on―
retina. I cannot read
your command.

To immerse
my god in your lake,
the wait must be long.

I don't want to hear,
what you say, now unsayable,
flaunting golden ring.

Another sun and
another moon. What was this
soft December pain?

The smoking gun in
the trembling light of candle tells
a different tale.

Howling wind!
Why were you gathering the―
dead leaves, sweeping
the desolate white road?

A bleak and dismal emptiness
in-between, the
no man's land.

Thousand eyes watch the tiny flurries.
The perfect peace,
descends.

From moon's navel,
falls the golden bloom.

Complicity was ****
Glass windows always betray the
contours of truth. Pain starts screaming.

The silence has many
roots. Why were you born in this
century? Afternoon was cool in black sun

The paradox of wordless
reality has many shades. Religion and
crimes have come nearer. I will stop praying.

I will gather you―
through the uproar,
when moon picks up the sneaky path,
from dizzying heights
of hunger.

The poverty of words
hides the bread, ..
You cannot eat an emblem.

The calibration has failed.
Milk contains the
contaminated water.

Everyone has one's own
book, where you write your name
and bear malice for everybody.

A complex question―
it was. Why your
hands were trembling?

The body becomes
a kayak. You were sailing
alone in the lake of bluebells.

Elegy and epilogue
become one. I have come
to meet my humming bird.

Still suspended in
deathless space, the sun
wants to hide.

The revelation
was not to solve the enigma,
but to listen to inside.

You were lost
in this brutal world
I was a failed truth.

Exotic your heart
still sings for the future
of awakening.

Very old, very pained
were our wounds.
Man was rising every night.

Why were you not
present at sunset, when
twilight was burning
in moon?

You need a gift
of grave to stay cool
when the sky was burning?

With a hushed tone
the shadow of the full moon
falls in the blue lake.

Stampede brings into sight―
another murky tale of fast
disappearing earth.

You must not hear of―
me again, at the pile of
gifts from the red Mars.

Knowing you in end―
to unknow my destiny of
walking on hot coals.

The scaffolding falls.
The end and means
become one. There was―
no other second moon.

The prosthetic hand
feels your face. Blind eyes
hear your lips and a severed
leg walks me near you.

Under the tongue you
hide a word. I will never know
what. The armless sun
steals away my golden key.

Will never find you again
in my poems. My book torn,
my pen broken. I am picking
up the old lost coins.

I don't think about
myself, and try to rip off the meaning
of suffering in the interest of love.

I won't listen to the
voice of painful howling of two hounds
near the cemetry. Do they predict the holocaust?

After insane bargaining
you sell the truth in the death of the future.
Life takes revenge for killing the past.

You were wired, I
won't let you go with zinnias
in this beastly night.

I hate them all, the
ad verbums. Go gently in sea
to drown yourself.

That half-eaten apple
in the rains brings the message
of a fallen angel.

Take me home when I
forget, who was me, standing
in moonlight, eyes shut.

I always felt somebody
standing by my side to show its
belonging to the moon and ocean.

Last words were thrown
up nonchalantly to invite god. Fever
climbs the iceberg in paroxysm.

Walking on sands leaving
foot marks as if to find the difference
between rhyme and suicide.

The war still goes on.
I hugged the words. Would I abandon
the hungry savage life?

No one was going to stop
the pink fever from going up. Not to believe
in my confession of drinking blood.

Somewhere my poems will
never complete to tell my undying
super meteor of pain.

You were trying to become
the truth Can I become a god of stones?
It was a clear faith in Satan.

Who sends the black
magic to turn a man into religion?
I have my own words to translate.

There was a quarrel between
moon and the Bodhi tree. Only the shadow
of the Bo tree bleeds, when you **** the moon.

The horror of you in
lesser light, when you took
via dolorosa, to
meet yourself.

Moon was not waiting
for you in unkind sky. A
pinhole of dark would not send
some hope.

Something unsavory was a
way of unhappening,
tying the knot with the destiny
of doing nothing.

Losing my kernels in
desert of words. I took
the wrong path of liberation―
where no god lives.

You break me up,
with a tinge of salt-
playing with your god.

Like a new moon
talking to sky,
nixing the old bed-
leaving behind the baby steps.

Unvisited words
cause deep ripples.
You were climbing a tall autumn.

Wasn't it the malefic
effect of Mars on the trembling
legs of a pilgrim?

Having no-reservation,
curse of dismantling a pyramid
looms large.

I was not afraid
of half-lion, half-human.
Root suckers were happy.

I catch the sadness
of gray woods. Stone by
stone, gathering the twilight
of fall.

Would you walk with me,
my fallen peaks,
to witness the cold and wet
dark?

A deep silence sings
in my inside. I scoop
out the golden hole of
pain.

The endless pathway,
where, you will find my
immortal verse kissing the
white snow.

The vessel was full,
without eternal verities.
I open my mouth
to drink the dark minutia.

Do I love you or not,
holding your hand I would ask?
Your eyes will speak in
god's language. Only silence of stone.

And when will my journey
will stop, if I don't find you
waiting for me? Do you think we
know each other intimately as the lines
of the palms?

Home, I have again lost it.
Was there a home of god, who
would melt when I was
lost in the dark woods?

I walk with empty hands.
Nothing to offer now.

Little birds
had become stone pelters.
Uneasy would lie the hands, that
had become avid pawns.

Sometimes you watch
the erotica, mating in air,
to listen to echoes
of self-destruction.

The stigma will not go.
Human judgment was
falling. You grab a Rilke
to find the answer.

If man was truth then
what was a beast?
don't commit the eye of god.
Every honour was fake.

The gay philosophy was
for yourself. I had been living
perilously, not hiding
behind the rituals.

It was restless mind
and I ask you something.

The grammar.
When something big―
happens, I find an excuse
to say small things.

O invisible!
how do I resolve the puzzles
of life. It had become a big
traumatic event.

The rain―
of inflected words
backed up by silence, keeps
me running―
to find the import.

Tell me―
how do I remember you.

The gender voice makes you
dumb. One more chapter is beheaded.
My pain comes silently to me.

What do we differ? A beautiful
finish of an era is over. When you faint,
someone chops away your thumb.

Between the cause and
violent hurts, you want justice for
all the souls who left peacefully.

You said
this was it.

The fog over the
shoulders will
sweep the profiles.

You did not know
how to give, and I
would not know, how
to take.

Maples, pears, and ginkgos
will show the fallacy
of colors in autumn.

And you, unblinkingly
watch a
poet's dilemma.

And I would just only stare
into your eyes.

You need to know,
one shouldn't draw
the arcade of night.
When light goes down, I will
wake on the moon.

You choke on
jubilating the silent voices
playing with fire.

Our planet was
breaking. I am waiting
for something to arrive
to salvage the unmutilated morals.

When I pluck the words
from your lips, you start crying
for the lost meanings.

My fingers writhe,
and curl, to shape the question marks.
From where the screams
were coming?

I never got the response.