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Anand Prakasque Jun 2015
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wish I Could ask the moon to settle and stop.
on the evening sky.
so blue and hue;
of an orange fly.
~
Anand Prakasque Jun 2015
~
For tomorrow's gold.
Today is a furnace.
Anand Prakasque Jul 2015
" I'm your orbit "*, he whispered around her neck.
Like a fizz for the shuttle,
calling it home.

To revolve as one.
was obsessed with astro physics one night and wrote this in a play.
Anand Prakasque May 2015
" never make your life a fairy tale but fancy it up a little and assume a character for you to play and live it, live it until you make a new tale to be lived again , to be seen again . Not a fairy tale , but a tale .. "
Anand Prakasque Sep 2015
" You seem busy having dinner", he said.

" on knees, beneath the table. I know you're hungry too", she said while giving a glimpse.

she didn't say a word, sipping wine on table and suppressing the moans.
" I'm drunk ", he said & she kicked.
" in your juices"**, he moaned
Anand Prakasque Jul 2015
You're the butterfly.
Dancing over my nest.
Yes I've stories for you,
to be whispered.
In your fluttering wings.
be,
Anand Prakasque Jul 2015
be,
Don't complain.
Don't be obsessed.
Don't be so calm for not to act.
Don't be so filled to burst.

Be the divine.
Be so yourself.
Anand Prakasque Nov 2015
internet.
connections at night,
awake only with highways, airports, railways and hearts that don't sleep.
Anand Prakasque Jun 2015
all I see beyond the existence,
is truth as pure as Kāshi.
each and every breath,
chants name of Kāshi.
Anand Prakasque Feb 2016
Black & white is a way to talk, a way to have conversation in, a world to travel in, a thesis to contemplate in, a kiss to taste so rare, an art too hard for a description, a language spoken by everyone in their own way.
have a read at whole article : http://anandppathak.tumblr.com/post/139123851031/black-and-white
Anand Prakasque May 2015
good night
my dear poet.

you stream so well
and strong inside me.

that I've searched
for a
new homeland;
to declare
a country for words
you've been settling down.
Anand Prakasque May 2015
my states
and muses
aren't so much unpoetic
to be justified
so easily.

they determine
to exist.
they crawl.

how I wish,
I understood them
so easily.
Anand Prakasque Jun 2015
give me a bank.
I'll make a library.

meet me after few months.
will pay you back with stories to tell.
Anand Prakasque Sep 2015
reacquire these musings,

that goes passing by.

oh girl, oh girl ! won’t you sip my lips like you do.




let me, let me glorify.

those sad dunes covering your rhyme.

*oh girl, oh girl ! won’t you make me sip your pains.
Anand Prakasque Jul 2015
Shuttering winds.
Settling fingers.

Rumbling wings.
Whirling roads.

And a tale of two.
Into weave of one.

In the valley,
along stream.
Anand Prakasque May 2015
i penetrate you with my gaze.
would you raise,
your arms.
and praise me,
with your trace.
Anand Prakasque May 2015
would you be a little slow,
and show.
how beauty is showered.
how beauty is devoured.
how soul is shivered.
Anand Prakasque May 2016
Tell me what you will do with those scars of pulls and pushes
from the infantry of madness
who marched towards
your collar bones and thighs altogether at once.
read the whole post at : https://baavramallah.wordpress.com/2016/05/05/%E2%96%AAregiments-and-nation-of-flesh%E2%96%AA/
Anand Prakasque Jan 2016
how every smoke liberates one thought into something or, maybe a chain of musings took birth. -

-how every smoke fingers my mind, while I'm busy in fondling the tales.-

-how every smoke tingles the imagination, while you're busy tasting me in my head.-

-how every smoke thrills inside, while you are making love to my lungs.-
Anand Prakasque Jul 2019
the more you're attached to your narration of life,
the more you are missing the comprehension;
which indeed can't ever be contained or explained.
we are the derivative of energies and ****** up chunk of proteins, which doesn't want to be a part of anything else but you. '

you're the biggest cover to keep and you're the biggest secret to reveal, to not the very world but very self of yours.'
that's the fixture you do with narration, you never hold it; you give up on it but what you can learn is the comprehension.
Anand Prakasque May 2015
" drop the cloth "* , he whispered in his mind.
" I'm your territory, I won't decline ", she placed her spine onto his lips.

" I will rhyme my music now ", he clasped her waist in a muse.
" I'll shiver your tune", she made a wave onto her hips.
Anand Prakasque May 2015
and here has come the time again.
and here it falls, the sunlight so straight.

and here has run, the time so fast.
and here it rolls, the moments so last.

so last.
so strong.
my rings of tone.
to run around.
like a peak dawn.

and i go so straight.
and i am so silent.

now is the time, to go again..
now is the time, to show again..
the moment of numb, scrolling.
the eyes so red, and it's falling.

the moment unsung, have reached the peak.
the heart so flat, couldn't repeat.

and I...
and I......

i'm catching the back door here..
i'm gonna show my stare into silent dark..
This is not a poem exactly. This is a song, I was saying these to myself and it became a song as my mind wasn't in a flowing phase.
I was stucked and made this a song.
Would it sing and upload on soundcloud too.
gratitude
Anand Prakasque Sep 2015
not only her satin ***** was wet.
his beard was drenched in her juices of suppressed madness.

for a muse to rupture,
on a bed or a wall is all a play,
And tales of desire.
" bend ", he said while sniffing her neck.
Anand Prakasque Jan 2016
-a mind is well deciphered in silence as same as fingers decipher wetness of a ****.-

- how silently, silence enters my mind as same as his hand enters a wet ***** covering a pulsating **** -
this is a simile, both are truth but the ****** aspect is less touched while talks. indeed it'll be always.
Anand Prakasque Nov 2015
we're all art.
we're all magic.
why to become a show for this worldly fake ticket.
when you believe in nature's existence.
when you embrace the universe in you, across that sky.
things change, you know..
Anand Prakasque Nov 2015
cracking lips.*
winter screams, they've been hiding in my limb.


licking tongue.
drying lips, while soaking in my river so thin.


shining eyes.
morning ding, rhyming and echoing till the brim.


what they've been hiding, is all *frost
.
what they've been shining, is all mist.


It feels.  It feels.

**Winter is knocking.
collectively posted in my head with an assumption and whisper of winters arriving as I lick my lips getting dry.
Anand Prakasque Nov 2015
winters bring more poems,
as they cover a lot.
as they make it all silent.
as they brings us close to our warmth,
fuming from our skins.

— The End —