Night blinks.
Light sits under the door.
I am ready to confront the moon.

Too much brilliance
was there. Would you redesign
the blue sky and paint the new stars?

Poverty was my great strength.
Nothing to lose, when
you were dancing with the shadows.

A poem
borrowed from the roses
sits today on my lips.

Crowded with ******
at night, words move
around the flickering flames.

Thoughts.
They fly like sparrows
encircling the mind.

The sky falls. Import
of faceless assaults thickens. Red
poppies bloom in wheat fields.

White mushrooms,
come up in summer to complain
against the muted surrender of clouds.

Tonight moon was
gliding like a swan,
white and graceful.
But you slept on my hand
like a skylark.

Your eyes lit up
when I squeezed a verse.

Do I need to tell you
that fireflies had gone mad
after striking you?

And the weird thing was,
Aurora blushed after running into dark.

To catch your shadow,
time stood still, until
the sun passed away.

The caterpillar on the lawn―
in the name of god,
eating away the copper,
the blue veins of thighs.

Barefoot I come to wish
you farewell. You must stand―
in the decaying woods,
to pronounce me dead.

The auburn fawn climbs on
the podium, to mimic a birdsong.
It was sloth time. Moon was
away and it was dark.

The eagle swoops on tiny
*******, popping up from the
nest of muse. There were no
feathers and no beak left.

In less moon days,
I will remove your love. Cracks
are appearing on the floor.

We are going to
become ash one day. The life
has become treacherous. You are not yourself.

Digging a gold coin
in a buried lake. You will see your
face when god refuses to come.

Looking at the stars,
what you said? You wanted to take
me along with you to meet invisible?

Would I jump off the cliff?
Mangoes have ripened on trees.
Existing pain will **** the moon.

Would you give or take?
Willing to lose the bet for god sake?
Fingers crossed, we don't exist.

A city burns.
The child carries the father
on his head.

The museum of skulls.
Nudes had blue veins
and scars on thighs.

The names were inherited.
Gettysburg water
refuses to mend the bones.

Ah, daisies are throwing
up the seeds in despair.
Civilization has come very far.

Progeny of death
were searching the mother
of all sins.

Celebrating the death.
Neither physical, nor nostalgic-
I adore the finish,
in place of wages.

Not cerebral.It was
my pledge to remain a husk
after the carnage.

In manthanal I will preserve
the memories of hairless moon-
my nomadic friend.

Like a woodpecker to mark my
territory, I want to stay
alone in my grief.

March and dahlias.Sometimes
I stand before them and,
talk about ephemerality of the beauty.

When would you come
to say goodbye?

Perched on a tree high
wave,
a moon was talking long
to me.

A live-in partenership
was in vogue. We always
loved each other ******* apart.

The weather was changing.
A plane load of tears would
disappear without a trace.

From somewhere a benign
lump explodes, making night,
a brilliant dream of
sleeping sky.

The hare jumps on the moon,
to ****** away the ambulatory
age, browsing around the death.

Eggs went freezing in the sap.
Lips of moon were hot.

In the flare up, the
rebel had cast doubt
on cartridge.

Missiles were unique
but, hands trembled -
concept of sky was a lie.

Saturn and moon were coming closer.
Two way mirror of sun
was watching.

The fallen leaves on grass
refuse to be blown away.
They were waiting for the fruits.

Once in a blue lake
you had cheated the boat,
you may not be lucky this time.

Like a wound-bleed,
the glacier falls in lonely
sea. A river ages inside you,
collapsing in despairing loss.

It was not true, that
you live an impossible life.
On water you may not
leave the footprints.

Beyond human tragedy,
a knife falls on the gospels.
Stunned at the edge
of tears, I tremble.

Adieu to Arcadia.
Dust demands the price for
red clover. A dark cloud envelops
the kind hills holding
the sun.

It casts a spell.
A rock licks the moon.

I know, what I want.
Like peeling off the left thumb-
not to leave any whorls
and lines on your heart.

Gloved hands, seek
the vocal cards, to discern
the scream. A tea cup spills
on your spotless table cloth.

Can you read the tea leaves?
I never opted to know
my future; when there was
no present. Why to brood for the golden eggs?

Toric lens. Two curves.
I see two faces. Far and near-
My eyes blur. I cannot read the doric
of your lips- the rustic dialect.

Lets exchange the contours
of yours and mine.

Why did not you
cross the black river
and remained innocent?
Unhealed, failed inside, broken and honest?

You won the race,
the space, the heaven.
Moving away to the farthest blackness.
Your god sits crosslegged, clotting.

Brown hands on white shoulders, boneless
move in circle. Deportation
of words opens the green wounds.
Birds carry the snow on the wings.

I was confused, wanted to love
my broken vowels, for absolute you and me.
The baby face pops up again
in my perfection, speechless.

You want more charity
from poor, collecting moon seeds
to brighten black walls.

*

My eyes become
lakes, you would walk in moon, when
monologue ends.

*

Why dip your fingers
in blood of sacred book
and drawing two wings?

Cupping the water in hand,
you feel the nativity―
near the mute swans.

The silence of a bird, explodes
before it flies.
The hands flutter in excitement.

You take a cipher to
measure the infinity. Figures
become drones. One of the
suspect throws a bomb.

The quietness of sea, when
you start drinking the mist.
I will discover the beauty of death.

The words will reach,
when you would not listen.

Trying to quantify the vices
in you, I am becoming
brute.

Going my own way.
I join the migration
of invisibles.

A plucked tiger lily
roars. Amphibians were ready
to invade the mountain.

The curled fingers
had become question marks.
Blindness had become a bliss.

Inlaid in the redwood
lies my blood. I lived under
the branches, naked, carefree.

Your breath
a prayer in water, when
vision fails.

Life will treat you
in beauty, when you were
ready to meet future.

Like touching god's
feet, to smear the lunar's
dust on fore heat.

The journey never
ends. Bright stars beckon to
you, but you will not
find Miranda.

The fever was mystical.
In delirium you will recite
a poem.

I do not want to become
plaintiff or defendant.
Untethered, I will punish myself
for metaphysical nuances.

Sometimes a silence talks to grieving sky
about a fake truth.
The tears will never stop now.

Give me my freedom to cry,
to exhume the body of justice
and bury my future in memories

I do not sell the dreams.
Eyes tell it all.
History repeats itself
when message dies on legs!

Intercepting the random
poems, pick not
the holy water, in your palm.
I cannot lift the words.

Dark bellies, in moon's
autumn, will play with flutes.
You will swoon on the
sight of blood at the hands.

It was not the first time, a
lamb in the midair―
falls on the golden spear of
new theme, to bluff the naiveness.

Somebody takes a turn, to
find the bell, which will not send
any sound, on the death of
the poppies.

Ready to barter my
last wish with your tulips
glowing in eyes.

I didn't ask for
any help to decipher my
blue dream of edge.

Two little words may
be sufficient to
resuscitate charm.

From the fog to fog,
grim reminder eludes me.
Where had you been?
•
The gray dark circles
confine the blue lilies.
Unkissed by tears.
•
The shifting dunes
hide the silver moon.
Don't cry. O brute!

A tree waits to hug me
after shedding the
leaves. The man

becomes a child, entwining
the snaking trunk
for a brush with infinity.

The supreme dedication
become humane, enough
to **** the non-man.

A lethal mix of
parodies brings a comic
relief to sparring partners.

After all you discover
the white fog, god-made
to unlisten the lyrics.

I will say no more
ritualisation. Digging out moon to
win back the honor from sky.

Was it apocalyptic?
Or a trend of self-immolation syndrome?
I am going to sit for atonement.

Do not wait. Lop off
the sun of the destroyer. I will
live in the dark to realize the truth.

The prediction goes awry.
I wipe away an exotic
smudge on the paper.

I was trying to fight
venom of adverbs and
adjectives.

I want to retrieve my
poem, as it was― before
the digital onslaught of beheadings.

Give me my garden room,
baby moon and spotless
needles. My blood was blind.

I would come again in
my burial mode, when
your trenches are ready.

Like a ****** birth,
a poem floats
without any pain.

Superimposes, as if
on a face, like Mona Lisa,
with her mysterious smile,
longing a release from
the cycle of rebirth.

Are you going to reperform
for me, your silent
surrender, bewildering
a lost pilgrim?

Will you become a
sitter like a moon-faced, veiled
by crying clouds? I had been
trying to touch your lips, eyes.

This vicious assault
was for me. Stony eyes, and
the striking hood―
impel kleptomania.

One final leap
from high solitude
into city of dusk,
takes you to presence
of charred remains
of a fallen god.

A housewife moves in the kitchen
to prepare a farewell dinner
for the encounter of fatal descent.

A paranormal parting
to comeback to body of truth,
as you pick up your words.

Space odyssey in eyes,
palms folding,
to receive the punishment.

No complaints, no grieving
conclusion of foregone stopping.
A line will start from a dot.

Want to entertain
like a zany in the space when
it is bright moonlight.

The craze was to win
your smile in the drifting snow of
earth for dying flames.

And you cry for small
things which make the weary life
simple and beautiful.

Do not let me say
goodbye. I will pick threads of
tears from slanted eyes.

Not for your sake-
I did make the blue temple.
It chairs my goddess.

Sitting under grape
vine I drink from your orbs.
Don't drop the heavy lids.

You always said, violence
was in you. Everything was dying
around.

There was a tacit understanding―
enacted,
interceding with―
a lasso. The baked silence
always stares at you.

I have no praise,
no condemnation for anyone.

Inevitably you **** the moon,
your thumb,
your blood.

A poem falls on the ground
to breathe again.

Your thin white skin spreads
on the front. The blue
veins have become the strings,
annexing my peninsula.

You had said, it was a
bit of stretch, to cover the
lies of a fading sun,
for a delayed penitence.

Living water will bring clouds
to fill in the lakes of grief.
One day the lilies will grow―
meet in the air, for sombody's sake.

The black moon was still
raw. All the weeds had
become snakes. I start
hating this season of mating.

The eternal pain exploited.
I don't belong to me. A hiatus breaks
the emaciated trust. I want to quote Socrates.

At night you come to
unroll the red carpet to dwell in my
tears, accosted by blind light.

Will you burn the past?
There was no dearth of bleeding.
hearts. Weeping willows start laughing.

In-between the spaces
body moves
untouching you.

A poem crashes
on the tongue. You
will not confess.

The wordless thoughts
swim like swans
noiselessly.

Unreaching the abode,
you will invent a god
for a knifed boat.

The sea is turbulent,
you will still sail,
not to reach anywhere.

In suddenness, I will
write a poem for you.

You had stopped at the
outset, like a black moon
opening up perfervidly.

Remote from the oneness
of life, a flame leapt up
to ignite the process of birth―
without perceiving.

Come let's meet at the
navel of the destiny.
I had the penchant of
burning myself.

You, who would never be
visible, I will dust all the mirrors
to find out.

Waiting for the festival to begin.

The spat between the hydra
and sea,
was the end of perfect relationship.

Now an unqualified, unknowing―
will take on the depression.

Were you feeling liberated? I would ask the moment.

Let us delete
the faces and go to war
without limbs.

This was a summer afternoon.
The books are in cauldron―

and you are praying alone.

You open me up
like an envelope without
a knife. No blood spills.

Like arriving from Auschwitz,
you embrace all my skins,
my incompleteness.

I would know, you
are coming down from the
attic to meet the unknown stranger.

Goosefoots. You are
crawling, hugging the remorse―
a clear submission anonymously.

Wrapped up, I give
you my heart, still throbbing
without the rib cage. The
night brings the red moon.

He used to dream
of date palms, covering
the defended wounds.

The scoli crab after
the fall will stay. It will
not change the referendum.

The neuter will not
form the trinity. I will
not hear the signals.

Night was not yet
dark to explore the moon.
My stars remain faded.

O country, the people
O planets, the goddess
of **** is dead.

Walking in shadows
with bated breath to find
the sun. Your forehead was telling
my destiny.

Gradually I was moving
away from the shores,
towards deep sea-
to discover myself.

In blue space-
you will meet an
unborn suitor in forgotten
pain.

When you think solemnly
you look innocently-
beautiful like a larkspur
in naked moon.

In hushed silence I
propose the diamond ****.

Moon injured―
after reaching ******.
At the death of a poem
nobody was ready to climb the pyre.

A collapsed river was
sleeping in your eyes. I will
come and wake up the sun.
Now I am melting.

Some troubling signs were there.
You were becoming vulnerable,
if the rock cried. And you
wanted to die in my arms.

O brute, cold-blooded
murderer, the shadow of the comet
was lengthening. I don't
want any roses for funeral.

A self-image had the last laugh.

My pick,
I will keep on giving you my best,
after the fear bath.

The cosmotic pain
caves in. Hirsute limbs climb
the steep cut of fog.
I will not punish me anymore.

A nagging doubt lingers on.
How long the dark night will last?

It causes a nip
in your voice. You speak very faintly
to understand me.

The earthly smell of your bare lips.
wafts in. Was it a surrender?

You become misty.
You tremble, like a poppy in
scented wind.

Like a walking fern. I may touch you.

Give me your smile
like dew drops of rose―
the tears like pearls.

The flight of swans―
writing a secret message
for the forlorn earth.

Celebrating the return
of the lost river―
after the torrential rains.

A boat sails
in bright moonlit
dark waters of the moat.

And death shall
not walk in the street,
on the shoulders
of dead dreams.

It was not a
mythical slip, when visuals
had no mirrors, no ink.
When I go into rage
flames will rise from the sea.

You will not count
the burning rings. History
repeats the rule of blood.
Skin alters the frontiers.

The insane love
demands your toes, so
you would not walk away
from the periphery of blue hills.

Roses had gone wilting
after surgery.
Biovision
of acrylic lenses
was projecting a corrupt green mount.
The rubber king had a papery laugh.

How you deal with a maverick –
matter – of – factly?
Pall bearers of a tall legend
were carrying nitroglycerine sticks
unfazed.

Saboteurs of moon night were scheming.
I was sick of pretentions.
Brown and black scars
become a honeycomb
hiding the agenda.

Stigmatized devotion gets back at you
after still birth of truth.
I will wait sine die for the verdict
of hope.

After knowing you,
I want to unknow me.

Did you reach the
head of the mount to bring
a piece of god?

Nonetheless,
he went mad asking for
godliness in stones.

When I wake, make
me go to sleep again, among those,
who are slaughtered
by tongue.

Dig me deep. My bronze,
my blood, are going in a free
death, like the fall from
the mission.

The muted thoughts
go for you,
in loud echoes.

I do not speak.

Skin-hot, I will bake
my words to impress your unique
martyrdom- sans blood drops.

*

The apple on tree laughs.
It is not going to fall down-
in this Omniverse.

*

You conceive a
baby god in your mind to know
the eternal truths.

Celebrating spring
punctuated with an
apostrophe.

How much you owned
your conscience,
in deathly silence?

Love was an execution
drug. It works
inside, not outside.

When the hummingbird
stops flying, would you
get the nectar of pain?

The myth of flying
backward was true
of destroying the ascension?

You give me hope
and insanity, making a
bonfire of incomplete truths!

Farce,
you think―
you will not come back

like Argentine
dinosaur
130,000 pounds

That was
metaphysical

There is no space sacred,
left to die

No time, cause
or substance

You can speak to me, unspeaking
without wires

There is no carrot
for the god

There was a strange carnality
in flowing robes,
a waiver penetrates
in incorporeal ellipse.
I must speak of him in his absence
combating for the actuality.

Knowing lust manifolds,
yields a prayer,
primrose opens the eyes.
The knowledge liberating -
you cross the inlets.

Anxiety peels off your mind.
An obnoxious presence of unbeings,
the weeds, the vocal generation
of priests, are anything but art.

The body blooms, in suicidal note.
Birds shriek, before the moon climbs
on the dark trees. I let go the orange,
only the white spreads.

Do not give me a shrine.
Not for me.

A no-name.

Between hollyhock and
rose, I like the
laltern.

I am not a savage,
mangling, the bush.

Happy hormones,
I am coming at peace with me
but no opioid sleep.

Thumbs-up for my failure
to become a joke.

The waves
had brought me to you.
Do not be gentle to time.

Lower the songs
into a mass grave,
as the violence spreads.

This time-travel
will take you to panic attacks.
Blackness moves very fast.

Hypoxia.
Photons will take you
to fading sun.

Glitterati,
now hurts. You cannot
haul the gift of reeds.

When you stand still
in unbearable agony, the unquiet
dark starts settling
around me.

Why this crisscrossing of
ill-bred beliefs and credences?
Hacking of the circinate thoughts?
After the rolled up,
tip of pain lies in the center.

The dead leaves,
noises of the past-are gathering up
with ugly exhibits.

As origami, you fold it
and put it back
in ice box.There was no need
to decorate the death's crown.

Eyes half-shut
will not see the moon rise.