Don't throw the light
on rocks. It gives
more pain, explaining ethics.

What was passive
violence? You want to
**** your poems with out
hurting anyone.

The teacher lives
without giving a lesion but
you won't learn.

Want to read
Kafka again. Why does
nonviolence exit? The
silence tells the truth.

You can understand
yourself, when you don't
speak in the twilight of
moon and sun.

Blood has one color.
No face. Was always ******.
Has no other name.

*

I cannot find any
nativity of violence in
breaking novice heart.

*

You in disarray,
will not find the path of
death's spin. Truth will pay.

How deep was
the lake at sunset-
where my life trailed
from beach to beach?

My animal inside
was dead.
Do you believe in
reincarnation?
I will embrace the non-violent
palm.

It was the carnage
of moment. The brutality of
its strength casts spell.

There was a quick
about-face. Dark night
will paint your face
with stars.

Becoming a drunk
survivor of your grace
I am blunting
my pain.

The living dead are going to
ask for the right to be
forgotten in gender dysphoria.

In grimed apparel,
the deities were deported back
to the barn, for housing the antiques.

The future turns blue,
moon-eyed, hooking up the
hopes of running heels.


Is that true that there
will be mass suicide after
the fall of the fort?

The fat lanterns now
don't throw the light. Incense
of burning flesh floats.

It was a damp kiss
of an image.
Dispassionately you drop
an old coin into my hands.

Faithless in your poem.
I adored the Venus in twilight.
Carnation. A rose pink color,
appears in your eyes.

Rising from the marshy
slush, greater flamingos
keep watch underneath, at the
army of urns.

The sameness now dithers.
You want to weave the moon
in your breast, unpreparing
to open the heart.

A moth love was evolving,
without a flame.
You are going to bang the wall.

It was too early
to sing aubade. Night was
still rolling on the leaves.

A tall tree failed,
to send the message of moon drop.
How will I read my palm now?

At funeral, a crowd
waits for the bride. The groom
jumped off the dam.

No music was left
between the lips. Angst
was palpable in stumps.

Unbashed you
come and go in dreams,
like chrysanthemum.

*

In captivity
of clouds, the moon paints
your eyes with tears.

*

Dethronement of
roses was the art of
bare all artist.

Life plays the tricks.
You become a meteor-
a streak of light, in the almond eyes
of a god.

I don; t like the grey areas.
Can you become fearless
and confess the guilt of drinking
the mercury? Blisters had
appeared on your face red and blue.

Was it a pure fault?
Mother earth smiles.When buried
alive thirty below the mound of lies
you remained alive.

Dehydrated, you speak
the truth and spill out the
false teeth.Your mind separates
from the heart and blood stains emerge.

Vast emptiness preceded him,
when he stood inside a glass on road.
Sun did not contradict him,
light had entered back in stars.
Failed fingers knocked out the magnet. There
was no reason.

Pain in neck neglected for long
now becomes time,
impatient to meet beginning of end.
Blood was spurting in vain.
A black pearl of pure love
uncenters the lazy death.

He knew the secret of pathophobia,
had known the morbidity of troubled mind.
There was no return now to new words of mourning.
Grave masks were hiding
the smiling faces of unnames.

A method cuts you out―
in hunger pangs,
to set you free from bonding
of four― leaf clover, or word.

Love has become a
one way pain, without libido―
in want of a fairy ring.
The maternal cost was high.

Drifting between the
black sea and dead sperms,
you want to raise a
new cult.

The religions betray.
Everything was marketed with
thumbed scripts.
Gods were threat to sane hymns.

I am trying to carve
a face, from the rocks, not
animal, not angel.

Arranging for a ******
in ****** land-
to buy peace.

Human voices were
forbidden.

You look absolutely
cozy in fragrant mode,
sitting eyes wide open, under
the jasmine shrub.

Raising the conscience
money for no guilt.

Now sit beside me and
listen to the pinnacle crumbling.

Naked as a moon, I don't need
clouds to cover my scars.
A watertight, flawless promise
with destiny was made of-

Incontrovertible friendship.

Occasionally small
things betray. Lurking in your eyes
a parallel pain becomes extinct.

Saliva turns into lava.
Your lips were dried like a river bed
searching for words to say goodbye.

Do you think separation was
real? Did we try to unmake the thread
of unbreakable handshake?

A deathless shadow
follows us O god. Your pain
was bigger than me.

Each day bears a
witness of my love for dying
truth in your hands.

A damper brings fog
in eyes. I cannot read
your citations.

Call me avenger,
after the punch line had-
damaged the hidden ghost.

I want you to
let me go now after the sunset.
My odyssey has not ended.

You are not
what you were, once
upon a time.

The seven colors
are wearing the dark dresses.
Trading has become the hallmark
of light.Let me write my name
without alphabets.

The echoes come back
to pick the mundane sounds.
The celestial music will not be played again.

Night was descending
on the tonsured heads,
terracotta robes,
clasping the palms, hiding the seeds
of earth.

Against a ban on lips
for belonging truly.
Blissful. The squids settle in the weeds
of overbrimming sea of arms.

Blood was red, brown and pale.
oozing from the slit eyes,
soaking the green voices, herbs and sad kisses.
In the death, your name will be engraved on your shoes.

The steps were small
but shadows were very long on the ice.
The stings unflawed, did their job.
Suddenly you go
in anaphylactic shock.

You don't have to walk
in self-discipline
and abstention.

To transcend
the prying eyes and
rub off the naked shoulder
of moon.

2.
Would you come back
in dark to light the lamps
in my eyes?

I need no pain
to write the epitaph of
an undying poet
in jungle of wild screams.

3.

There was no beginning
no end. So from where
you will start reciting
the beautiful saga?

I don't think of your
luxury to pick up my craft
and hack me to hundred stanzas.

I shut the door,
unwanting any exit
from the choked cries.

Like solar winds will
become predatory searing all
the tender buds.

No moon water
will wash the face of
root questions asking healing
replies.

I will not leave
you alone on the burning deck.
A dark night
follows the sparks to give
birth to a moon.

An exoplanet was
ready to go into smoke
if you don't melt.

Let me go into long pause.
I want to dig my consciousness.

How many intimates
you need to share the hyphenated
half-bloods of air born myths?

Surrounded by lacerations
I go dim, and then I invoke
you to come and sit beside me
to look straight into my eyes.

Days are ripening and months blending.
We listen to the unheard calls.
Can you see through me
to find the depth of my blues?

Wind hides the replies. You
go unhinged, suspended in
sun, waiting for the sunflowers to
bloom after the dark.

I often forget myself and become you.

A bruise has appeared―
where you had kissed me,
last night. O Miranda―
I am not going for any other moon.

Like Uranus, I bleed
in my eyes; from every pore.
Astraphobia― I am going to
stay in dark.

This theology of aneurysms?
Who was hoodwinking
the ancient gods in the battle
of murderous themes? My hands
start shaking.

A blue rash spreads.
In honeyed voice you invoke
your angel and seek blessings―
before you go for a ****.

I punish myself daily
to deny a god.
Do angels cry?
Pinning hope in a crisis to extract
the truth from a dying moon?
A ghost walks on the
wall to enter the alphabets
of living deads.
Ambrosia― was not
sufficient to resuscitate
a bleeding cross.
I am charting my life
for you to forget me.
Quasi-surrender. No never
I am just learning―
how to meet the death.
Another name of victory.

Not impassible.
Buried in snow, I
will bring back my moon.

There was no divination.
I still stand on my legs.

I will not talk about shadows
or any haloes. An urge to find
unknown. Touching the feet?
No I don't submit to body.

No rewards. No citation.
I will walk alone in the jungle
of prying eyes, in my
visible bones.

The flame-test. The truthless
blames, and a naked god.
I have come faraway from my childhood.

Yes it would remain
incomplete, my story―
my poem.

The henna speaks today
against unadulterated lies,
against the rage of
losing path.

No more the wrens
will sing, till the clouds don't send
apologia for not
sending the rains―

of blueberries. If I
were you I will turn the
bees into butterflies.

Stares down, the grey
moon, fixedly,
in naked aggression…
Fire and brimstone.
I move one step, towards you. In semidarkness
I have lost the address
of peace.

The transgender, stumps
the ghost. There was no noun,
no pronoun, only an abstract
feel. Do you see the
wooly trail beating the dust?

When did you hit the dirt road
not to come back…
What was undone? After
the death of the cuckoo, there was
no wedlock in words.

You were a one-sided
coin, like grief
of the dour moon-
righting the wrong.

Maybe I was not able
to recall your beautiful face.
O, Miranda send your
smiles some time, as the
tempest was reading for a fall.

A salt mountain
will break to teach you fidelity.
You may run, may not run.
One day nemesis will come
to ask your name.

On trampled leaves of time
a huge pachyderm roams,
to find its master.

I will wait in my half-cave.

Hitting from the
arch of eyebrows,
my pain were you.

One brief death
in illusion, settles on
all the descents.

Not taking any
road to reach the moon
on hill, when you were gone.

For all the half-
spoken words, this was
the moment of liberation.

Solemn signs without a
phrase don't turn the
key and door remains shut.

Between coming and
going, time remains still
like a frozen lake.

Oh, templed god, why did
you snare the palmer?

The importance of being
the autonomous? I am trying to
stay away from me to keep
a watch on you.

The itinerant sorcerer had
become a legate of gold trade.

The flesh is for sale, the
small mouth with big hunger.

A fledging of scar has become
a bleed. The synopsis was out.

I am going to ask some question
from the bo tree today.

Sperms and legacy.
You scream for the justice
for the space between words
and sentences.

I don't want to be separated
from my half-eaten moon.

Without a dance
your anklets have broken into songs.

Someone commands me―
to sacrifice my pen.

Hallucinatory- be seduced for the sake of fashion.

In anguish I watch
the terror was becoming a religion.

Do you hear the voices
coming from the crypts?

Why did you want
to become mine,
when god was not there?

This sun, this moon,
these stars. My Miranda,
my nightingale.

An Atman floats
without a body. Can you
touch it with lips only?

Like potter's wheel
starting, you want to create
a body with words,
not hands.

Then why did you follow
me, watching me to take
the ash-bath, becoming
sinless?

Tears runs faster
than blood.

It was past endurance.
Flattened rage went into shaking palsy.
He moved into sculptured dark
like false reason,
to defend the ankle-bone,
for sequential pain.

Every one seemed a fallible saint
wet eyed, sitting on extinct volcano,
between tickling bombs of flesh.
He imagined –
that he was evaporating,
from the eyebaths, steadily
for a spiral journey.

By way of fear,
he wanted to break monotony –
sitting upright in a lotus position
to reverse the clock, of hunger, of extreme failures -
choking on words, mixing
continents of hate.

A dumb copy of me.
You were done for.
Sometimes the design goes awry.

Ptosis. You are called for―
a fall. But you refuse
to die.

You survive the clouds, the
first moon, the brown eyes.
Me before the sun.

Let us take a risqué humor.
Forget each other
and become strangers.

One intentional error.
Honey, honey, honey.
Bees ready to fly away.

The shrine of a flier.
Where it was?
I was searching the sea.

Don't print on the body
a pattern, grayesh red.
Damask rose?
The cilia will propel you
into the tunnel.

Clowns have assembled
on the street, to write
the history of fall.
Acts of kindness are being
translated into profanities.

You are hurt by the
petals, thrown at you.
Kingmaker, why you have become
a joker?

Red lilies?
Do you like the buttercups?
Eyes ago, there was a bouquet.
I am not sure, why you were walking
on nails.

Watching a full moon,
trying to mend myself, meeting
the hermit of me.

A sacred promise
was made under the eyes of moon
I don't know why.

The quirk of fate?
Can you decipher the script
of unwritten oath?

Sometimes you want to
walk to the gallows,
for my sins.

It was a big fight
over the ***** stop, but
I had a different version.

Living in mirror had
become a charm. At least
you were visiting me daily.

Like ****** fire.
It was a volley of bad names
for a nameless, nearer home.

In quest of fear to
understand the unknown, I
have sacrificed my birds of night.

Life, *** and pain were
of mundane existence.
From where to where, we
have arrived.

*

From a bridge to bridge
you cross the river
without touching the water.

*

When a nameless projectile
downs your flight
you fall like rags
from the sky.

*

A spider runs
on tiptoes
you wilt like mimosa.

*

The ink spills
an the sheet
hiding the code.

It was a breech birth,
scuttling the forecast,
under water search.
Sad night.

The sand fills your
pockets. You start
licking the salt
jettisoned by violent waves.

Don't focus your mind.
D-Day is drawing near.
No deference to sun.
Unfurl all the sails and ride the breakers.

A sparrow knits the-
dim moonlight to sleep in
my arms all night.

My devotion was
different. I would watch
the meltdown of moon.

You must move like
water. There was nothing to
say, nothing to catch.

The weight of the ideology
flattens your upheaved chest.
You speak, what you did not want to say.

A fake hunger and pseudo-demands,
put you on the pathless clouds.
How would you now fly towards the sun?

The polarization was deliberate,
to usurp the authority. Blue jays
have refused to join gangs.

A faded document tells about
your missteps. A bunch
of eunuchs have come to guard the palace.

Black versus black will
not brighten the screen. One third of
generation had the criminal record.

Whoso stills the
thunder, it was difficult
for you to lift yourself.

A failed past was―
asking for a date
with destiny.

What your gut bacteria
would say, when
it is raining hot kisses?

I extricate myself
from the shelled house
of pride against the risk.

Should I prepare myself
for the worst? Midnight
syndrome will attract the moths?

I had met the flower
after a longtime.
The rose.

And its fragrance
hauls me to childhood
after the big dying.

A tender, scented dream
will touch me,
to become a poet.

Lying on dewed grass
you think, a promiscuous
microbial libido begins.

The explosion will eject
free verses, waiting in silence―
to witness― the April fall.

The ache of taking a
call, when my
book was burning.

I scramble to warn
the bees, not to
come near the sundew.

Words hide the
sticky floor. Walk prudently
to swap the hunger strike

for bread and wine,
as the fingerprints untangle
the mystery of desires.

Upgrading clock
was not a wise decision.
Who will read the past?

You are coming near
me on water. Where will you
hide the leaky boat?

Time moves on stings.
Lamp flickers. A moth wants to
burn the golden wings.

Hold me tight, my friend,
I am going to sail in damnation.
Between devil and saint
I have lost my home.

A wooden ship is on fire
at the turbulent sea
and I am going to welcome you
on the starboard.
I would keep the funeral in waiting.

Flowering of the ashes has begun
in urn. Sitting in semicircle, you watch
the spilling. Bones meet mother earth.
Death creates the challenge.

Go for a tree, watch your silence,
we are going for a contradiction.
The thoughts are same, but not similar.
I am walking on sharp edges.

Would not move the things.
They had moved me.
I will never be the same.

Probably a time to learn,
listening to yourself. The
sensors didn't go wrong.

More often I will unroll
my candles and burn
them with my life.

Ripening old, in dry
fountains― waiting for
rains in songs of sorrow.

History does not repeat.
I am preparing myself
to start again writing my book.

Will not commit anything.
Standing in morgue
searching for my unclaimed face.

Every night you become
an insect, crawl into
the bed and chew the lips of unknown,
listening to the music
of flowing blood.

Outside the slogans―
tear at you. It was a wound
night, the words, untouching the space,
go― straight into the echos,
without any halo.

So where did you sink in
defiant orange of the sea,
while turning back from your designed
path? Another terrorist's sexism
was on play?

There were no barnacles, no
frog mimicry. I silent walk into
the arena to find the length of
the caravan.

What was the deal with
Zen? Words are disappearing from
mind. Behind you there was a long shadow.

It was easy to bury
morality at the bank of a river.
I am digging out the god.

I give you a blood flower
moon. Awash with woods, I am selling
life very cheap. Who Was rich?

Children of stink, cannot smell the rose.
Lithium in their blood
fathers were happy.

Power over the fire of groins,
was a music to ears.
Everything else was secondary.

The wishes squealed
on the mattresses.
Grief was served in the bed.

Big tears flowing
on the cheeks of ice.
Antarctica was crying.

Sexed up vendetta
did not **** a fly.
Bee was hovering over the heads.

I will expand till infinity.
Life will take care
of ferocious clauses.

The forbidden candle
burns alone in the swarm of
clouds. I read your eyes again.

I take off the sparks
to write a poem in black sky.
Why does the world revolve around love?

There was no trending.
It was auto-hurt to prove the fidelity
of the moon amidst the galaxy of sins.

Life had tossed you in
flames.
Like hearthstone, I sit
deleting my colors.

Time on black feet
runs, on the sacred
river bank.

Molten lava will ask
when, and from where
the funeral procession will start.

A ******* wants
the evidence of ****. Two
leaves will not cover
the naked aggression.

The spooky game had
become, ultimately― the biopic. Once
angles used to roam
on the burning coals.

It was a cloudburst-
from your saddened eyes.
I want you to hurt me.

Like blood fingers writing
a name in sky-of
a towering fault.The sin
0f unabandoning a hymn.

The breach will swallow
the lamb.I would not know
of the Aquila, how
big were its wings.

Burn me in your eyes.
O goddess, why you always

look like a fireball?

O liberty, what was the color
of your torn gown? The aconites and anemones
have beautiful buttercups.
How would you drink the lethal dose?

When you take a false
lead, life will undo the seeds
and the cataracts freeze.

This is the story of
a butterfly, in disturbing amber
buried in snowfall.

Can your body take the imprints of flogging?
When you start sketching the polar ice
in the story of death, compounding
the mystry of
unleashing sea
of the fawn eyes, whose message
was sent in water?