Dorsovertical is what my head is in,
contradicted to each other like
the ocean between us
But you cheer me up
being the beautiful soul
you are.

I dont see how the the
rainstorms in the New World are,
but i sure know if its
your eyes that see it, then
its all beautiful

We went walking in the rain, the sun
grass, mud and gravel rocks and sometimes
pavements
But in that fog of the morning here
and that of the mid day there
We're lost to be found everyday
im glad we still talk

I know you dont like to be written about
by me, at least
please know though that i need
you to stay, so slowly the
melancholy of the day disappears
I need you to stay, in my words

Can you not? Why do you ask
me how my day was
when days are short this
season, and you dont know
how my answers swings around
your head and winds me up in
your dreams

And you would tell me
about yours, but Simrik
i can swear to you I want
to be a part of your
Camu jacket,
in the cluster of your
combat pattern so it could be
never washed away from it
except from your tears

Can you not ask
me why? Because
the swinging of answers will
roam around and keep you again
in four walls of solitude

I can bleed a poem,
from the compass blades i cut
through my skins for
for directions unknown

For the life lived in
an inertia is better
than to feel and react.
The hysteria of the mind
is too violent to me
and all on my part
i can do is bleed in words

Because if nature abhors a vacuum,
like science says
in between that space
must be letters and sentences that rhyme
there might have been poetry sublime
And we can scribble them down on the
paper
Or we simply can bleed

Blood and bones
never leave the adversity,
with which the lifeless tones
spark with melody

Unheard
live demons,
or monsters whatsoever
The chills of summer
and the heat of winter
Might ignite a million suns
Under the skins of humans

Consumes them till they are burnt
or down under earth six feet
Melody drags with no beat
and no such audibility
Only exists under my skin
In my favors and sins

My demons, my angels,
The hexes, the spells
All under or inside us to begin
All lay there, and then
Under our skins

Self takes one
Love takes none
Humor takes words
words make puns.
Sunset shows birds
birds make songs
That winds sing along

Sore the winds is a cry
A helpless, faithful cry
to hear it takes one
but cry it takes none
To hurt it might take many
to get hurt it takes plenty
To be happy then
takes none,
To smile through pain,
For momentous gains
A gaze into the world of beauty
and be in the daze of tranquility,
It takes one to make
the world, to intake
All life gives

But it takes none
to go astray
of all the good things
It takes none,
to take it all away

Where is Simrik?
she's with me
In the kisses i give
the air i breathe

Where is Simrik.
shes in the flowers i pick
in the streets of lalitpur town
brick by brick

In the sloppy kisses
in my cheeks
under the trees
next to the creek
thats where is simrik
she's under my skin

I am not your good critic
Do not go deep into my critique.
As for me every creature that walks the earth
is beautiful down to their soul.
For me every adversity is a rebirth,
of a thought new to this world

I will never point the wrong, in an action
I will only make you strong, by my actions,
And if i cant i have some words to spare
Some dark tales of mine i can share.
I shall shed light to the brighter side,
show you codes by which i abide.
For those in suffering only come forward
Let this bad critic give you comfort