Who goes haywire?
You make me to break again,
I break you to make.

*

Latch on to a poem
and you become yourself a
warm heartfelt song.

*

The saddened thought
was a omniscient truth,
between you and me.

Your face becomes
an eye, a saga of
holding the assaults.

A body hails
the sagacity.

A child becomes a man
away from home
of truths, god forbids.

The innocence gives
rise to a mound of bones.
Death lingers to
take revenge.

Brutality breeds
brutality. Can anyone
break this cycle by giving
one's life after receiving the award?

The space had a scent.
In stunned silence, I will
speak my mind.

More was less. Nothing
stirs, the raging pyre.
As if the poverty of thoughts had ended.

The happenings, splinter
the dream again. Sun steps out
from the black clouds.

You find yourself
interpreting the propelled blaze,
sleeping amidst the mirrors in dark.

The ******* jumps the
boundaries. I am your only
dilemma. I never speak in whispers.

The genial face of nephrite.
Jade, stone of the flank,
was becoming sectarian.

The pain was excruciating.
Not the evidence of god―
an imitation love.

The anatomy of conflict
looks ******. The street fight
comes out in open. A new born baby

on trash bin. I will not
ask who was the father of
truth. Today I commit myself

to the walking stones. There
was no music. You are
awakened by a loud thud.

The god falls from a big height.

A city grows in you
overnight. You stand on the bridge
to watch the train whistling by.

More poems in starry
eyes. I catch the bouquet
of nicotiana― the night bloomer.

Nihilism tends
to wash the pungent smell of
purgatory. Who was
not a sinner?

When you are sad
I forget good byes and bring
the swan song of an oracle.

The truth does not
shine now. I make friends
with black ciphers, which
were pure.

Digging your own
grave, to find the golden end.

In a casual kiss
you went for initiation
by fire.

Open yourself to
receive the pain of flowerbaths.

Poorest-of-poor,
go on telling me all the lies
of becoming beast.
I will tell only the eternal
truth, to crimp Archeology.

It does not heal,
the history of man. There
were only ****** wars.

Again I pick you
for my sake, you were
my lost child of nightmares.

Cannot see through,
when you
take different avtars.

Deeply quiet, I want
to be defeated
in your hands,
like a small Buddha.

Who walks in my poems
when the god fails?

When the blueprint
appears on the moon, I empty
my glass of Aconite.
The snake sleeps for
my self-esteem.

Here and there,
I find you in every rhyme.
After the dawn
whispers would die.

Becoming numb to poverty-
in terror mode,
you fluster and behave sensibly.

The anonymous entry
of a walking grief-
covers the violence of words.

Your sun burns without
giving light. You climb your
poem to find the answer.

The eyes shut. You feel
the assault of night. There was
no undying love between the strangers.

The conversation ignites
the sparks. Carbon spreads
on your shirt. The red circle
blunts the knife.

You cannot **** yourself.

Your heart breaks.
My Mind was hurt. Tracing the pain
to know the poem's survival.

Nature and rhymes.
I translate the sorrow to flowers,
making a conduit god.

But who was responsible
for infidelity, as you like it to turn the
identity into dharma of consciousness.

Backlash of scars
becomes glamorous.
It was not my fault.

Pulverized temple―
rebuilds the god lying
in dust.

Miracles are no more
relevant. You treat the ending
as part of rebirth.

******* plundered―
galaxies were ready to
reglitter the dark moons.

Why to hide anything,
when you don't possess
any earthly gifts?

Ah, my soiled words
may hurt you. I placed them on
the altar of faith.

A psalm delivered by
a crimson red rose. I will write
another sacred poem.

The torches are dead
and I cannot read the script of
unwritten dharma of god.

After you gave me a
split rupture,
there was a mirror pain.

The bruises get away
without mercy. A hand will
write reversely a poem.

You cannot erase
the stink, which comes from
the mouthless words.

And the triangle
will eat the floating bodies
of bloated dreams.

Who always chased
me with subtlety, when
hills were crumbling.

Moon becomes lunatic.

So normal, the poverty
makes you rich.
At the same time, you cry.

Not needed to be
adored, I was my own slave.
The long journey suffers.

The big shark makes
a dive. You fall like ginger-
bread in mouth of kismet.

In war of words
you were your own-
image in sea of blood lunacy.

About the diplomacy
dawn brings the-
stings of wasps. The spirit
rattles the peace of mausoleum.

This is the curse
of unknown gods. A black
throat kills you by sweet lyrics.

Barehanded you
catch the lightning, and
the moonstorm sinks the boat.

I do not listen,
I do not read. Perceive
you in my silken thoughts.

The colors are fading.
Shrine lives by its unsung music.

Endogamy.
Don't hear much
of human voices.

Moon will rise again?

Deep angst,
pitch dark.
There was no truce
between the trees.

Undermining-
the sanctity of god's words.
You want to take the chair
of judge and hear to yourself.

I spot the blood
on sleeves. Who had used
the cleaver?

Can you bring
a period of silence, to
meditate for peace?

Somebody was laughing hilariously.

Barebones, they come
in droves, to drink blood moon
praying in catacombs.

A summer night sets
over the hills with black eyes. The
cleavers have some jobs to be done.

In perfection, the bodies
should be laid― along with red woods.
The autistic moon will find its lover.

Aborted dawn, the clouds
had covered the womb. The
terrible sun had been roped in.

Earth weeps. There was
no peace.A ghost town rumbles
on. I cannot crack the code.

Let me do, what I want
to do. Lights on street are gone
and I have to meet my last hope.

Don't bring any wealth
before my eyes. I become blind. Will
not be able to read god's verdict.

Where has gone my
universal pain? I want to walk
in burning woods to final seeds.

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

This was my faith
on unknown. Do we have to
bargain for our truths.

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

Brutal stance, the art
of blood is done. A snake was eating
its tail. I am a poem,you are the ink.

The assault on the moon
was not worthy of a sacred cow. Suddenly
something was coming towards me.

Does it influence you,
a raised hand coming out of the earth?
The newness knows the politics also.

It was a direct hit,
meeting an immaculate
moon tonight.


Was it possible― that
a star flew off the sky
to undo something?

I was the mist,
and I was the sun.
Describing the accident―
not the truth.

The molester.
Time, steps out taking a big
chunk of life.

Unhinged, a messiah
drops dead―
at the door of equity.

How vain, was the
ego of man!

You cannot bisect
the darkness,
in this unreal world.

A silent pause in words
ups the rejection. You
go out of your mind.

A shadow fear,
follows you in corridor
of light. You become friendless.

Amnesty comes in
way, to dismantle the truth
of ****, without blood.

Don't chase the columns
of light or beautiful
orbs, in intense winds of black hole.

It swallows you
whole, when you want
to touch them.

History repeats. Youare
drifting away from point of return.
Life cries hurt, in eyes of Venus.

The golden gate of love
swings back to flames of forest.The
lovebirds want to be caged.

The sensuality of moon preens
before the broken mirrors. Time takes
revenge. After pause sun comes up slowly.

You are putting
stones in empty coffin.
It may harbor the ―
methane after the tribal savagery.

The internal search
still goes on to find the
abode of no-gods.

This grief of burying
yourself in deep freeze like
a mammoth to―
be found later as an ecstasy.

How do you count the heads―
that will not say―
any prayers now, without
the bodies?

You can walk the rest of miles in universal pain.

You were shrinking
like microcephaly,
the mankind's evolution
in expanding universe.

The new thoughts-
do you think we were
always talking nonsense.

The real tragedy was
here, in your hands
when you held the
gun.

The lead in water,
and arsenic in earth.
Like celebrating the man's
victory on space and time.

I cannot understand you.
You walk straight
into enemy's den.

The skin peels off. A naked
boom. Silver domes
turn black. Ethanol drips
from eyes.

Praise the God. Tears
become poetry. Moon dances.
No door opens in bleeding night.

I ask for the lips. It
is for death of the priest,
who would not accept the streak of sin.

Until you become hot.
Flashes of fireflies have
become longer. Tail to
tail the message will betray the address.

Buddha takes his own time. There was
no light between the dark hills.

An earthly love, wears the sun
to collect Delpheniums, the larkspurs
made of blue color of your eyes.

I had given your name
to the crazy black rose for all time.
Moon starts fading after the night.

Wherever we go, hydrangeas
mopheads of purple, pink blue colors
come as strangers to meet us.

What happened in
ritual abetment, you will
never know in dark.

*

One has to severe
off one's head to see clearly
the object of suicide.

*

The calligraphy on wall
gives a romantic relationship
between life and death.

I cannot hear you
in my absence―
for a transient heartache.

Life gives you a ***** slap
and you write a poem
and this was not to happen overnight.

Looking at you straight
I discover myself
surrounded by glares.

From where the horse
was felled, a warrior makes
a hole in earth to reach
the flesh of time.

The flames take away the
gifts of death. Only the grey
ash smears the face of moon.

If the time moves
in reverse, I must have loved
you when you were not born.

Who came first, me
or you? I will never know why
I had caught you on the moon.

This nerve-breaking
world will never tell. Will you
see me again in the next birth?

Indicted,
the firm grass―
will start a fire. I was trying
to find my path in smoke.

On fingertips, was at stake,
the creek's departure.
I would wear a mask
hiding my emotions.

We will wait for the spring.
There was still a mound of snow
at the door.

The **** of the moon
was not in cards. We were ready
to sit in moonlight, reading
our hands.

Philosophy of death
has many questions. Religion
of birth has many answers.

Your trajectory was
rising. People rode the stars
to reach the moon at night.

Anxiety of name.
How to draw the figure of
god who was a giver.

It was your decision
to abandon the earth for
a golden chair to sit.

I won't give up.
Don't throw the water on me.
I am playing with fire.

Killing quietly you
slither like a snake to change
the *** in honor of seizing power.

Why was death being
sold very cheap after the wrath?
Paper- thin love carries Himalayas.

It was a quaint
feeling. Something was
going to happen.

I had asked the fading
moon, are you going
to die?

Fear was going to
win, it said. The blues
are approaching.

Do you believe in
probables of phobias?
The killing of big hugs?

No mercy for the
obsession of noisy celebration.
A god was changing the gender.

I forgive the fire,
forget the light and
start embracing the dark for a bang.

Are you there to listen
my voice,
in the wilderness of violence
and other atrocities?

My toes were hurt
in uncharting the path
of arms and rams in avenging
the dead silence.

You will get back
what I did not give you
in the aftermath of tragiccomedies.

Life walks by pink
pythons to trade the peace
on the name of gods.

The calamity of the angels
to become hard warriors.

Like snowflakes, you
fall on me to understand love.
I sit on a toadstool to write a poem.

When I think of stars
you want to know me to sit on the
grass, to filter the truth of pain.

A torch misbehaves,
when the sun dips and the moon
refuses to rise. Milk was not milk.

Your nature shines.
You are my other half-
thawed out from permafrost
of purity.

Can we discuss
the perfection of primates,
their genes?

White blood
and black blood. Why did
it become red, touched by sun
and moon?

Was it a sleight of hand
of god? You cannot hear
the howlings?

The city of ghosts was
growing. Nails spread on the street to
stop you.

The omens were weired.
You still come back
after painting the chariot blue.

The crozier makes
you or breaks me, but you should
stand on a burning deck.

There was the poverty
of words teaching non-violence
to very rich people.

The pain of biting
humans was sharp, refusing
the mercy of god.

Silent dialogues,
had given me
a new lease of life.

The discussion between
two mute observers to explore,
who was animal
and who was god.

Take me once,
I am writing my life story,
standing before a crumbling
wall of weeping stones.

Tilting minarets and
rising domes, under the burning
skies engage me. I just
wanted to be human being.

Who wants to swallow
the flames? On ****** legs
you move to find the absolute truth.

A cold-blooded ****** comes in view.
There was no witness.

In lies and crimes
who wants to live for eternity? How
green was my valley, I used to die daily.

It was difficult to
exist in light. You must ****
the truth to go back to zero.

A tree has a big philosophy.
It will not leave the ground and roots
will never die from end to end.

Bending the gravity
you start falling upward.
There was―
no distinction between earth and sky.

Unsaid thoughts without words
blend. A sign language conveying
the ageless twinge
of a faceless spirit.

Against the outrage of morals,
flatness becomes deep. The
quality suffers. Inception
invites the crime.

Strange things happen. Man
becomes a fireball, torching
the domes, shrines and littering
the streets with newborns.

Time within the earth hour
was lengthening.
The other god was sleeping.

Becoming was inviting the death
while climbing.
Frostbite amputates the memory.

Ending without beginning,
I was asking the seeker to stop
searching the answers.

The houses were burning on the road,
silence, had a vertical sound,
no words, no tongue.

Death had tears of blood
riding on the horseback
it was charging on the wandering incense.

I am your crime
You are my sin. No guilt to ****
the shadow king. But art of life continues.

How many times
does the blood flow? The time goes
backward to know. We learned any time?

Your flesh is disappearing.
to expose the bones of our culture.
The skin still has the god's signature.

It came like a hail
of leads.
An avalanche of
frog words.

There was no apology for pods.

Living in a seed vessel,
was very precarious. It
splits open from both sides.

You stand naked amidst
the barbs.

Will ever the man will do god
to a man?

I come near the lake
when moon lives.
Something was wrong. He was
looking very thin tonight.

I was not prepared for the pink tears.

The bald eagle's pain.
Man-made monument
of cruelty. Summer was drawing
near. The black noon.
Waiting to bring to life,
sleeping cacti.

You have lost your
home. In sand storms. So
you will find shade under
the long tresses.

And eyebrows were arched
skywards. You purse your
lips to start chewing the blood
words. Crazy pain-
I did't ask you to come back.

You be my death. I
will sleep in your lap. You
stroke my poems.

You were poised to leave
your love, and deliberately ****
your dreams. Autopsy done. Time elapsed.

I am given a hemlock.
I will not give up a word to become a god.
The mystery of man will never be solved.

What is the pain of
living to become a robot? You
were the master not the servant of lies.

Leaving a trail for
the game of **** in watery eyes
for sane surrender.

*

That was a fake turn,
when you slipped from the edge
of enduring pain.

*

Like first raindrops,
I was going to wet your brows
to write my hurt poem.

By the time you had
left the podium, you―
had turned gray like an
overcast sky.

Life was short like a
twitter. How do I―
call you from the jungle
of screams.

Do not go into the woods.
The nightingale sobs
quietly. Flight was good
but there was no depth.

Want to nix my day? Take
away my pen. I will write
a poem with soaring
flames of my heart.

Very difficult to go into
the tomb. Full of flowers. Impartially
waiting for the resurrection of truth.

Are you really gone?
I don't see. I don't hear. Something
happened. I would cover the door to bury the pain?

Will you say something?
What was the mystery? Only modicum
will matter? Am I ready for holocaust?

When the stonecutter
becomes genderless, I will ask-
who was the master of sky,
as sun goes down to sleep
behind the hill.

Deep and strange, beginning
always held the charm. You don't
want to age.

No oblique answer will satisfy
the sorrow of centuries.
Why the man was still wandering?

I touch you in full moon,
when it hangs on the tree,
and you shiver like a yellow moth.

Maple and sea don't learn
from history. The ache of bending
to shed the past for forgetting
the future. There was none to walk with.

Ask the queen of night,
who was more brutal
than the crucible.

All it took was a change in
a single drop,
and you become a beast
from an angel.

The unthinkable, was
possible. You can execute
the extended family of a dove
by sending a black crow.

The rivals will engage
the history. I have stopped
reading the dates.