The guy does his part
In the bleeding lady
Sizes them in comeuppance

You're a builder
Here I am a stone
Add your bricks, to my destitute lady

The road was winding it was something it never had
Love like a pedestrian came across telling me to leave fads and clads of Harlem Renaissance
Clutches of the evening cars were watching the scenery like the emollient evening sanctity
Clasps of the automobiles catching the stars too lost to fall from the cliff of subliminal fantasy
Gladly, I'm clapping forward untoward tomorrow is today
The story never ends, as long as it has a road and changes like flat tires like fickle women
Bouldered on the broken arrows of Cupid's quiver, stealing a glance across her shoulder
Changing the tears into wine, changing gears from behind such is the work of backstreet bromance
Street romance is full of plastic love, polluting the heart and the road too
The road was killing me and you, like a Scotsman in his kilt singing from hailing hills elegies
Snowstorms  and memories of lonesomeness grow cold when love brings the luminous light to the numinous ones
I wake up after all these dreams are put to a conclusion with drugs
Dinner sleep comes after afternoon, noon lies with the dawn
Drugs dawn on me, and it's already dinner
I've slept in the anarchy and chaos, afraid of my own thoughts
Sleep comes like a pacing sea, which you can hear in the darling darkness
Puerile cries, mewling, and puking follows life, or it can
I'm unsure and that makes me confused with sickness

We miss you
The morning after every day
The breakfast isn't at the table, you were a friend
A brother to me
You brought me confidence
Though you pushed me around
And away
Although thinking it was the end
If you say I'm short
How come you're tall Marco
You tell me I'm a friend, Hermanos, Spanish are thin
Although I did feel a little skinny instead
This is a poem about a brother and his fated end

Is he coming home too soon
Oh, brother, you left with no doubts
Somehow in letters, I want your hand
Too bad the other Germans they want your name
A psalm reassuring father will get better will do the deed
Indeed, you are quite sly
You died on the battlefield
Without me

And you'll be coming home too soon
As the soldiers draw out
You'll be coming home too soon
I've never had anyone quite like you in the family
We're married and mark it as the page to our dead

There is a continuity
In this curated knowledge we have
Make the right conclusions
Live numbered days
Live long enough to make sense of the universe
The stars are what we strive for
Black holes or this definitive knowledge
Celestial order where there are both motions
And duality, where do we find the end of these processes
To the third stone from the Sun
Many of the phenomena that exist in this expanding astute universe
Will make your wildest imaginations seem tame

In the middle of the night Mary called me
She told me something scary
She told me children were crying on the telly
I switched the ***** on and saw them happy as they can be
I asked what was happening and why
She told me when the President says good bye
To the military literally
This I didn’t believe really
I told her if I feel teased
Then you aren’t one of the saints Mary
And Jesus is a member of Judas Priest
She told me to be wary of my tongue
And dismissed my humour as rogue
I told her with her predictions you’re gonna land on the cover of Vogue
Making yourself obsure and vague in your rage
This isn’t the age
Takes a real calling
Shines like the crystal chandelier on the ceiling
You might think you’re healing
But to me you’re just appealing
What about the programmes that are getting repealed
I gonna get your glass onion peeled
And your dreams sealed in
To keep the world screaming from sin
But you should have reserved the musical act
For a redact of your Biblical tact
The Rolling Stones have lost their sheen
And Pop made Lennon pretty mean
You’re old and ironically it’ll take you time to understand what you’ve seen
And how the relationship between God and Jesus had been
Because the humans suffer war
From religion and logic kept afar
Time has found a way heal
But you have help find a way to stop the rogue wheel
Of cruelty and vain realty
To save us from the Bible’s promise of eternity
Because you and me believe in reality
What will happen will happen
As ties deepen
As the tears keep seeping
Through the walls keeping us interminably apart
So please let the dying ideals peacefully depart
And keep away the evil respite
And help us unite

Caramel cupcake
Made in salted ovens
For the black and sweet

Your coat of cupboards, armchairs
Roccoco and coquettish cupping the wrong coup
We could be disguised as bloodstreams

                                                                       left some streams, to come upon some this up

I will turn your
Destiny into plaster
When you find
Your servant is your master
You will be sculpted
By my hands and fingers
Painted lips of murmurs
The silence is almost colorful
Surely you will be a statue
A cruel work in a kind world
Made of alabaster
Wrapped around my finger

I walk through the Savannah
I've learned to crawl
To hunt and at my prey I gnaw

My stomach's bursting with 20 kilos
My thirst is quenched with 5 gallons of water
My fate away from nature's gallows

But when I think of you
My mouth gets back its piquant affinity as if I can still eat
My throat gets dry because of your charms and heat

Your love brings a sense of emptiness
And your *** brings back the youthful craziness

Going against the flow of information
I found
More knowledge about my formation

Ghostwriters live with through the past
Times in crisis
You can rely on a shoe
A horse, where you lay your berries and doubts
With a capacity
Where do you go with fruits of a French painting
In a stolen
Forged solution
You're trapped
But you can get out there is a fine line of apocryphal doubt
But, with the setee straightened out
With the bow tie kept in your box
With no bone or war buckled on shoulders
There would be no narrative
An opportunity to get enraptured by the essence of something personal
With an ego is as dissociated
With a fresh feeling in blue tweaks of watered bushes
In the cold roses and the peaches
In the present day
Of the sycophant
The colourful mind
With a road behind him to keep enchanted
By its presence
With the years behind
The longest conversation I had with myself
I just thought someone read and knows
The end

The days go by
When I do not stop
A single second to think about
The last time we met
In July

So that once we
Reverse
Time
Time is on our side

Twisted at the seams
Are frills of her gowns
Keeping apart the reams
And papers that are seemingly pronounced
Are the times that are shifting
With each installation of a new
program
But somehow
I cannot have a woman
Who takes to equality
Like the change in ideals
Closer to the heels
Of drinkers
And bellied-bikers
Seemingly hooked to the
Vapid *****
Of the bar scene
Usually, I find myself
Talking to strangers
Irrespective
Of their faces
I take their number
Not judging the *** off ways
Realizing oft'
The womanhood
In the sultriness
Of the womanly

Get out of my inorganic hand
Get on with your organic life
I can't keep holding on to your tears and talent for eclipses
Ambition and dreams
Wild living and dull death has strayed from its highways
We are holding on to your distant dream oh loved ones
Unknown thoughts linger and follow you in the machine heart on wheels

I know the trees provide the shade
I know that the birds leave their cage
Her memory is like the warmth of the sun
A look from her I can only crave

She offered me a cup of tea on a cold day
I know the liquid is meant to quench my thirst
I know love is the medicine
For the hunger that shall never fade

Is it ok
To be stuck
On you
Like a petal
On a flower
Like a leaf
On a tree
Sometimes
I shudder in the
Breeze
Your lips
Weakens my knees
Your hips
Stop gravity
You are the medicine
I need
To be ok
Even when
I cannot stand
For myself
So I look
Into your eyes
And ask you
Is this the end
Or the beginning of it

Master Of
Baroque
Penniless
Architecture
The stones of walls
Compliment the gems
Of darling
Buds
That looks like curves
Of orchestrated opaque
Translucent Textures
Marble is beautiful
Even in it's
Clearness
But the
Human
Loves
Marbles mildly
Wet amidst cells of
Cream colored columns

When hope stirs your soul
Keeping writing the words
In that turbulence
That makes your acquaintances
Bearable
And your friends
Closer, cuddling next you
And the best friends
Sit next to you and
Talk about you
Memories
Slip under the skin
Like musical sheets full of
Musical scales
With a key
You can play the melody

The future cannot be decided
In countless days, I have never met anyone
With the ability to predict what love brings
Yet, when I hear the music of life
And the melody of nature
I seem to know harmony, beforehand
That is why the Earth circles the Sun forever
And without music, life would be a mistake
On this blue planet with a panoramic view of the sky
I cannot help recalling the etude of being with you
As I measure my life out in spoonfuls of sugar
With tea and biscuits, all taken black and sweet

The leaves are playing
This autumn
My heart plays a tune
It's you

Light's left the darkness
Leaving only brightness
Like a candle in the wind

I wait for his immediate return
He sleeps all the time
I crash into his ****** mystery

You and I must go
The time can stay
Blossoming like a wildflower, in the month of aged wine and May
Eternity in an hour, if you may
Treading a path of tears, the midterm naysayer appears in the scintillating imago
The condition of the human, ich mir kind spirit closes on the broken girl
People don't play with knives, they toy around the possibilities of ******
Toys of the occult and ocular visionary, a legionary in the reprise
My soul has lost its appetite, but, has a pang of hunger in someone's demise

I seek comfort
In my regular life
From memories so alive

Places that seem
Nostalgic in your head
Still exist

I bring the cabs on sunny shores
And hail the Gods
When they bring rain
For us flowers on the streets
Waiting to blossom with love
When I saw your heart full and arms fulfilling
My silence was the spoken litany of a dying hatred
Tu prends l'taxi
You still take the yellow car back home
I hope you carry our memories in a movie theatre too
Memories are all I have of these days
Better aren't they now, without you?
Comment aller vous?

She was a beautiful girl
With britches on her knee
And stitches that cut face deep
When we turned highways
We found our reflection
Of true visage in the car mirrors
And death in the rear view
Life flashed in front our eyes
Clothes didn't matter
Verbatim, I could recite her favourite poem
That was true beauty
The ephemeral nature of memories
And people too
Memories are all that live

The way you laugh tonight
Is melodious as the birds singing
The way you smile tonight
Pulls me towards you like the moon to the tide

Your ways are magic in their own right
I slip into daydreams and burn in my desires

My words died soon
With the clouds of doubt and foggy memory
In it submerged was a polished car
I kicked the tire as I wallowed in the mire again

Our memories are changing
Love's fading, tomorrow is today's game
Ill-fated end to every day, unchanging
Writing books by the staircase
Moderately famished, taking the hallway
Downstairs, I live with my sisters and a thousand people
In a diary, a thousand unknown faces
But, memories change
Love's just a whisper
Unchanged, a day can have a happy ending
Books are written in a library
The staircase points to a ruby, emerald colored carpet
Wainscoted walls, feverishly stained by pink
My childhood had gone away in a blink
The rest of us stayed at home, under the revolving sun
Where the sky was clear, we could come out
Playing in the golden hair of sunshine and melodious breeze
Arduously pelting hail would accompany the storm
I could command all the elements
If I were a boy unknown to pain and woe

Getting off the economic crisis
Going through the homesick blues
Getting down to the Memphis Delhi Blues
Getting to play the Memphis city blues
Stopping momentarily in the famed deli line
For a meal and some country wine
Had an Indian Curry
Reminded of my home
Back in big ole Delhi

Shipping my way back to Texas
To play the blues
To grab honey pork ribs and black beer too
In Black’s Barbecue
As my guitar licks through a Gibson Les Paul steak
I go home to my wife and has she has baked a lovely chocolate cake

I’m going down to the Memphis Delhi Blues
To pay my dues
For coming to the US five years back
By cruise
By gambling in Las Vegas emptying chip rack after chip rack

I do win in this game of sin
And I finally pay everything back and have save some too
To finally get away from being blue
To get back to my Ma and Pa back in Delhi
Who have been waiting for me lately

I’ll get back to them in Delhi
First I have to leave the blues
Down in Memphis city

I found a bended gate
In the heart of maidens
I found a place to stay
In the streets for a poor me

I found a door to the free
In the house of the Lord
I found the light of my life
In a dusty motel room

To say or do
During the pale dusky afternoon
I had seen a vision of seas
I was left only with a river of dreams

I saw my memory wane
Like the cold dark moon
It is hard being there for someone
When you are not sure how you feel about them

Memory mixes desire at times
You cannot remember the tune

The sun light
Brings the faces
In the light
Of the Day
At night the
Red Moon takes
Their
Love
And runs away
Along the waters
Reflecting
Along the way

A couple of broken words
Laying crestfallen
Unhappy by the shore
You touch them with your kiss
And the water with your hips
They become a poem that drips from your hair
Lay with me in the sand
And the unhappy words
With their crestfallen syllables
Will join hands
As the ocean finds its mermaid

The moon is beautiful and the skies are glimmering sadly
The stars are scintillating and our eyes are blinded by them
We don't see the sickness of obsession
Only the goodness of perseverance persists
The oceans are clearing view, clearing the foggy sight, for the ships
The mermaids have stopped breathing out the mist
Our love is no longer felt in sighs but in letters and trinkets

Kids who get bullied in the alley
In school and kicked out of college
Try making it to a league of good writers
As they learn how to punch the keys and I just bleed on paper
Also, letting out the anger
My dad never drank or smoked
But, he loved me a lot
Maybe, I was a bad kid who never loved anyone before
Because I never was treated well in school
One fine day, I stayed after school
Losing to my friends in a fist-fight
After a few years, I got into psychedelics and misfortune
Kept reading in the meantime
Barely processing all those drugs
Let alone the literature
Soon, I started a career as an underrated writer
Influenced by Hell and it's angels
Talking to myself, and making clouds of thoughts in my head
I thought I wouldn't be the only angel head who would become a poet in this day-and-age of hippies and world leaders
So, I wanted to be an author as I kept writing out my epitaph while figuring out nothing
Quite like India without the politics
I never liked mixing the two
It should just be country and God
I always believed God gave me my folks
I gave myself my life and my mess.

I love you
And nothing can change that
Except me
Is that why it was me not you
Why did we go wrong with messages
Is it because we were meant to stay on the phone
Ask each other how life would treat us
Or couldn't we be next to each other
At the twist of heartbreak
The laughter of joking
The beauty of kisses
And the silence of romance..
You will always be a mystery to me

Kids who get bullied in the alley
In school and kicked out of college
Try making it to a league of good writers
As they learn how to punch the keys and I just bleed on paper

Also, letting out the anger
My dad never drank or smoked
But, he loved me a lot
Maybe, I was a bad kid who never loved anyone before

Because I never was treated well in school
One fine day, I stayed after school
Losing to my friends in a fist-fight
After a few years, I got into psychedelics and misfortune

Kept reading in the meantime
Barely processing all those drugs
Let alone the literature
Soon, I started a career as an underrated writer

Influenced by Hell and it's angels
Talking to myself, and making clouds of thoughts in my head
I thought I wouldn't be the only angel head who would become a poet in this day-and-age of hippies and world leaders
So, I wanted to be an author as I kept writing out my epitaph while figuring out nothing

Quite like India without the politics
I never liked mixing the two
It should just be country and God
I always believed God gave me my folks

I gave myself my life and my mess

Life has magic
It mixes love and happiness
So, kindly live without the sadness

Life has magic
It is found within an apartment
So, kindly live without me in it

Life has magic
As long as memories keep it alive
So, kindly live without mine

If you wish to move on
You will just have find
And love someone else

Cuprous blue seeps into the hue
Of copper salts that are soluble to a certain degree
Ionized by the quantum physics of fluid mastery
Some of us call it mechanics, unable to find the shapely
This semblance of a resolute material dissipates into amorphous structures
Characterized by homogeneity
The redness of the sky might be because the highest wavelength fits
I guess it's survival of the fittest
But, all of them are pretty light and coruscating
In this rainbow of seven hues and seen from a mathematicians perspicacity
In a chemist's hitchhiking imagination on highflying LSD
Desolate from his experiences, reveling in his trident of discovery
Meditation, microdosing, and maths can make a deadly concoction
So when will you wake up, if a chemist saw the light in ego death
When will you wake up, if a physicist saw the nature of light in it's the essence
Maybe, you understand the mathematics of this astral world based on senescence governed by adic numbers
Maybe, you understand the rush of not being anywhere that is akin to progress
The perfect circle might be a loquacious description of pi
If you are correct till each decimal point
Making your place on this map, with numbers that guide your numbered time

My heart is open
My mind is truly free
My body closes in on my soul
That's the tragedy

Few get through life
Without spiralling
Out of control
And losing their grip
On
R ea li ty

The heart wants
The hand speaks
Through the middle ground
The birdie flies well tempered
Peaks

My mother
Lies next to me
Still doesn't tell me what wrong
Always asks me first
Did I meet someone new tonight
Or was the night just not right
Let me show you baby
What a mother can be
I can see the innocence in your eyes
Child of the universe
You shall play in the next chapter of my life
Our lives are so different, that they have grown old
Like bedtime stories at midnight

Two kinds of people exist
Those who are lost in their dreams
And those whose aspirations keep them alive
For another day and another day
At midnight
Some find solace
Some find ambition - an inner spark if you will
Both are running towards the same destination
While I've known people who would read and read
Through the thick of a warm lamp on their desk
Till their eyes couldn't pore over pages no more
There are some who wouldn't sleep anymore
Because they'd slept through daybreak
They'd fallen on dark times - sleep had lost its meaning
Yet these two kinds of people often
Are just the same
Like two sides of a scuffed out coin
That has been tossed one time too many
Coalescing with one another
Till you can't make out which is which
And who is who
In the memory of you

The best way
To express yourself
Is by praying for many