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.

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.

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.

When I speak to me
your golden skin listens, stretching
the pigments on your face.

The words disappear after
making tears. I start reading a
name on a shrine.

Everyday the worry comes.
How to remain a human being in
the jungle of sandlewood?

It was the acceptance
of a crime in proxy, living out of
the body. Love beats the god.

What was the ethos
without the words? The skin takes the
responsibility to burn the lamp of eyes.

The ****** pathos comes
again. I cannot live without oratures
I will come out of flames, talk to the moon.

Catching the colors―
of rainbow, altering sky.
You kiss me again.

The panic was real.
Confession of a lone wolf
enters twilight zone.

Strange undergrowth sends
misty feeling of raw wounds.
I sing my farewell.

Sorcery comes alive.
You tie my hands not to write
the violent sunset.

All I needed was to address
a runaway pain. Nothing
to do with liberty
or fraternity.

I would never understand
you, upending the-
truce. How it was possible to
survive without speaking a word?

Let the traffic grow between
give and take. You can deceive
yourself by forgetting to
perceive the rainbow dreams.

The supreme truth comes
as a stranger at your portal.
You may shut the door not
giving any stance. Did you know
he was Buddha?

Poisoned to live
like a corpse flower, on the
singed, black earth.

*

The gratitude was
scarce. Can't see your image in
undulating water.

*

With grey ashes spewn,
you invoke the blind hunter
to heal the blue toes.

In a rose garden
What you were searching for me alone?
Metamorphosis? Grief will come again.

You cannot compete
with immortal pain. What was
your place in the Milky Way?

Standing in the dark, how much
light will you throw? An inner voice now
calls the end of the road.

Untied I set myself
free. You pass on-
the moon by lips.

If you cheat the
words, they become your
strange, noiseless adversaries.

The prison has
no keys. You can come out
and go back. Night
unmakes the walls.

Perhaps, one day
I will meet my craft of
oriental track of
drowning in your silent eyes.

Pink death of setting
sun takes away all the glory
of seasoned smile.

Slowly Venus will dip in twilight sky!

You are made anew
everyday. Something is peeled off
from your skin.Sometimes blood is drawn.

It is very hurtful to
your pride. You cannot walk ****
in your house to invite the god of rains.

The sun burns your
wall of truths. Strange, there was
no one to teach history.

Interim a random
love of moon, with a fury of
dawn's innocence. I abandoned the stars.

Chilling grip of fear
amalgamates the blood of Venus.
I watched the assassination of a lantern.

A rose covers your eyes
with scented petals. Would you inhale
my words of ******? A salt lake dies.

Time has no time.
I cannot find myself in skyless
story of many stops.

A bohemian wants
to become Buddha without
sitting under the Bo tree.

You were touched
untouching me, when I
adored the water of deep.

This will be my gothic
poem after cogitation. My enigma
will wait till the grief brings the love.

The attachment was with a
Neptune, who had the silent funeral
after walking over the wall of pain.

Why do you make excuses
to continue your existence with a smoky face?
A sudden flare burnt the heart.

Today bare love of
moon is with tears to miss a lover
behind the colors of rainbow,

I have killed my ego
before you. This evening a biggest glacier
will fall in the sea of intimacy.

Give me pleasure daily.
I will bargain for the nightful sparks
for your rotating pink eyes.

A shut door
without a house
would not open, would not open.

An unsealed house
without a door
will not invite.

The irony of knocks overcomes the visitor.

And why would,
you walk in the
doorway without reaching
anywhere.

A divided world
moves towards a diminished―
family.

You print your body
on my poems. I drop the hints.
You pick the flowers.

A fissured heart
listens to the travesty of truth in dark.
Moon promised but failed to come.

The ruins still have
a charm. A saga comes alive.
The preamble starts life again.

Dying inch by inch
to catch you between the poems
before night ends.

Life changes words
without sounds and vowels.
You will not find truth.

Create a wound
for me to print image
of fall from honeycomb.

A Dirwish is reborn.
Struggling to write a song
for you, wearing the gold rings.

A perfect analogy. Volatile
earth puts on the moons to save the
poetry in the spirit of love.

Are you sure this was
right? Can you differentiate between
truths, myths, and angels. I die daily.

I will return you
to yourself in the twilight
of waning moon.

No more we will speak
in dark, to read the message
of holy night in pain.

A long way to reach
you in misty thoughts after the
priest breaks the vowels.

Something was certainly
wrong. Coffin was on way to
pick up the vessel.

This was the surrealistic
nightmare.

Omitting the guilt
I will paint a ****.

It was not kind of
pink. Cosy with words―
you will polish the legend,
misspell the ******.

Transfixed I enter
the still life. You come
out with bound hands
to say goodbye.

Sometimes I feel, it is
not over. The sap of black
pine becomes red.
Needles ***** me, not to move.

You fold the holy book
and put it in bag.

Are you ok? When
the moon rises on sea, I become
worried about the blue butterflies.

The Morning Glory always
inspires me, in her swaying to
welcome the beautiful dawn.

And when your sleep
goes, you start reciting shlokas
with smoke and sparks.

Will go to any length,
reeking of moonlight
to reconnect with you.

Impersonal, the
red buttons, don't hide
the enmity. Life demands
its pound of flesh.

Crunching the bone
with mysterious pink pain,
to receive the knowledge.

Between Adam and Eve,
there was a poison on the
arrows tip.

Hand care, making
honey without the queen.
You cannot make a fist
without a thumb.

The spirits bequeath
their fireeating sculptors.

No story was left
between us. You will not
start any new event.

You sing the absolution
amidst the hails. I was not
ready to retaliate on two legs.

The vibrations reach the
sea. The waves prepare the
advance attack to pull down the sky.

Two small lips tremble.
Even the irises swell―
before the frost.

The naked dolls swim
before the moon rises. There
were no stars in sky.

Numerical death
walks quietly in the ruins
of hubris and pride.

The neostrength of
the grass, goes for some aberration.
Wind stops at the gate of unknown.

It was not your fault.
We all were responsible
for the fall of grace.

The calculus of the rubble,
would not tell about―
the last words of fallen hero.

It imperils my belief,
when you wear a brace to―
tell the truth in dark.

I wished
a solitary temptation,
to write off karma
and become responsible for the spattered blood.
You were generating hatred, Asia,
in the land of Buddha.
I can hear the glaciers receding.

Answerable to belonging,
the change of generations,
makes me free to become deaf and dumb.
Only I wanted to see, and see through
burning walls,
the hands, who lighted the torch
to burn the transparent shame.

Rejecting the original script
of fighting a god, in the midst of
non-truths, how far the time will decide
the destiny of man? I break off
from the cliches, wait for the leaves to fall
and its drifting darkness on the open land
of wounded whispers.

From the lips I cannot read
me, your love. The fierce life has a high
price. It is poetry of embraces.

What would I do to reach
the milestone? It would be better to go
nowhere to find the dust of a tornado.

How many lessons, you need
to remain human .The ****** give and take
reflect the fall of drinking tears.

You want to preserve the immortal
flame. Everything is to be left in the universe
when you close the door.

At this moment you
should be living with empty hands.
Only the metaphors would survive.

A little woman becomes a
goddess, wants to go into blue water
to search the rare living gems.

I allowed you to
trespass the hollow pause.
We have not reached the temple.

Who has understood
life? The myth of survival is in
ignorance. We agree not to agree.

If you can stop the
cloudburst, I will move away
from the cardinal kiss of the viper.

Words were white, but
in the end days replies were black.
The retreat translates to old age.

You ask the death to
stay at bay. When you were born, there
was a loud sound. Dying will be voiceless.

What is the philosophy
of giving away one by one your bones
and flesh. Only soul will slip away unknown.

Tribal instinct spares none.
You change the script,
and come out to see the murmuration
of a flock of starlings.

The precision, the blend
make you wonder about the harmony
of small birds in unison,
an army moves as one body.

O man, your mathematics
has gone absurd. The sects and
cults. The zealot, the devout.
Brother, I will say unleafing must start.

More poems?
That does not work.
All the daffodils go blind.
Thousands of years go―
in making a vision.

O Earth,
today, standing on your bones
I will study my fears.

I am talking to myself
to say everything, which I don't
mean, presiding over the violence.

Bullet-ridden I
will return your sorrow
to sky, hailing the stars.

From grief to grief
I walk pigeon-toed,
to explore the mines of seed thoughts.

In summer, you
offer the naked hands to me
to write the poem of the day.

Between direct and
indirect lies futurism. How
to take on the inevitable?

Will you leave my
hand? I asked the scented wind.
In sanctuary god takes turn.

You speak via eyes,
how to live in sanctum sanctorum
without dying?

If you must go
empty-handed, the sacred
hymn will always follow you.

Poems had
entered into you. Enough,
you said. You were overwhelmed.

I will wear the cloak-
you had left behind to,
read your beautiful, mind.

Will not give up to find
out your lost footprints. Criminality
on its own would be erased.

Pain was universal.
Coming and going will continue.
Curtains will not come down.

An evil inside,
in your lives. Never done
personal language. Don't fight with god.

Why did you rip-off
the promise and push the statue
in the river of innocent pain?

Not a thing. It was
immeasurable faith of man for a
man through the image. The muse suffers.

I need your touch,
not physical. Spread your wings
and come in my dreams.

You know hills
were crying. The sun has
not fondled the planet today.

Like poison ivy, it gives
you an itch, to break the
orbit and tear away your silk.

Yes deathness was important.
Does everything comes to
an end, unannounced?

The rocks sometimes
start moving to find their home.

Your brown eyes
still chase me to cross
the wet boundaries of pain.

A chunk of a star can decide.

When life stops, will
you learn what death is? A living
death solves idolatry one day.

Why do you run for
more? Am I wrong? When I want
to stop you, you were searching pearls

The exile gives a real
meaning to meet the god at the end
of land. A rebel faces the truth.

Not a doomsday
O hardened life, I cannot
read you like a Rosetta stone.

You walk under
Jacarandas to become purplish
blue without moony touch.

The scented air
brings meltdown, I rise
the candle to count the tears.

A trembling prayer
dries on your lips. A university
of love burns in eyes.

An orange color
abducts the clouds for a forced
marriage with sun.

I have emptied everything
to confront the truth. Humanity
suffers in identical pains.

Enough was not enough.
The smoke is rising without flames.The
picture is always the same.

Homecoming was becoming
hoax. The ashes are still covering
the small temple. Questions have no answer.

A poem writes my name.
I am trembling
on paper like salt.

Flowing like moon
on the black wound.
The lamb and the skull.

I know the saint
invented by masses.
You need a fresh awakening.

A vastness from nothing to nothing.
Later the pebbles will dance
on the bay of death.

Sometimes the scales were jinxed,
sometimes the weight was light.
I was sitting under a chaste tree.

Blood side by side.
Your risqué humor
ejects the foul nerves.

No religion was my
mother. My prayers were meant
for undying.

The vital fluid boils
without sun.

Pythagoras comes back
to retrieve the numbers.
The mystical figures have failed.

Not afraid of fear.
clenching my fist, one day,
I have to meet my other self.

I believe in you, O tidal
mouth, where the salt
meets the stream.

I never had any God
to put the fish in desert to swim,
and someone can write a poem.

I am not different
beyond the unwritten
miracles. I cannot undo a cliché.

It is still my dharma ―
to listen to unheard cosmic
chants of blue birds.

And I reached the emptiness
of a vessel, which had
spilled over the milk of seeds.

When the space between
threat and love disappears, I will find
my blood poem in your red eyes.

You nick yourself sometimes
in the light of the blue moon and the journey
of platelets starts for the unknown.

You said I am killing
myself. Around you the fire zooms.
I am standing on the deck, you scream.

I found again, my
poems, the haunted imprints of
shattered hearts in gothic style.

Poems twist. Old words
are disappearing. Love changes the
meaning. Underground seeds explode.

The foundations begin to
crumble. Would I ever see the justice
of the will to reassemble the grass?

The ****** moon
and young lover―
talking in hushed tones.

The speed was the
limit of suspended
economy of wood pecking.

Sap suckers abound
on the pretext of exploring
the depth of resistance.

My bones were your
enemy, your flesh was
my temple.

I will bring daffodils
when sun sits
and night falls.

Trying to forget, I forget myself.
Who am I? I had
an elective love for unknown.

As a gardener I was tending
you in my palms― a precious plum;
so soft that you
start wilting under the gaze.

The sharp edge― you gave,
to my phrases. I cannot use this
weapon against you―
when you want to leave.

I was very afraid of
disintegration. As far as you go
I will not touch you in
any downpour.

Eyes. lips and long―
black tresses. I won't need
anything more.

Deep footprints are not
visible. You will not say
anything else.

Night begins to fall
heavily. The wholeness, was
breaking the moon. I feel the
slaps of wind.

Throes of time, take revenge.
Was there any difference
between essence and substance?
The marrow will eat the bone.

Between dot and dashes
I have left long pauses to understand
unbroken lines.

Marigolds at the feet
of foetal stones unturned.
You can carry the legacy
of unsung sun, and small daisies.

A butterfly
in a bell jar.
All I know, we understand
each other.

There was no sun
at midnight.
Only a blue black
dilemma of―

the sky, to burn
like human combustion.
I am ready to start
a journey with sunbeams.

You are complex,
I am easy. Some memories speak.
I started reading Gita again.

There was sorrow in
the suffering of a wild king,
he was tortured. The queen dies in sleep.

Will you preserve
the difference between animal and man
but togetherness wins.

After euthanasia,
I was conversing with a ghost.

Foam-born, he
wanted to shrink in a ring.

To cause harm―
a knife, apologizes,
for playing with fire.

That is the life,
of a mortal― to keep his
god, as a prisoner
of books.

And yet, you are called
a great warrior of words.

In your prime flight,
when the sun is setting,
you want to drop dead
like a sparrow, on eternal greenness
of silence.

The horses run in full alacrity.