Night is a river,
The moon sails on her dream boat;
-Shambolic waters!

Every dainty dish of love
she rapturously serve him
has an unmistakable  distinct flavor!
He repeatedly wonder, often aloud,
that what would be the magic she applies,
in her smashing haute cuisine ensemble.
When,
it's love, like butter, pure and dense
in large dollops,with it's flavor invariable,
is the one constant major ingredient,
in every which dish she  cooks;
for all his questions, persistent and curious,
her answer would be just a smile mysterious.
In their love life enviable,  this one thing
still remains the million dollar question!

***** sun beats down-
On bikini beach blossoms.
Igniting moment.

The river, her vigor sublimated, is a thoughtful flow
after the daring dive head on from the pinnacle of the cliff,
madly arrogant roaring rush through the dense woods
in spate during torrential monsoons muddy red,
satiated now, at ease, meditative, inner currents subdued.

These planes are different, the river an uncanny imitation of a pond,
the white swan, she  keeps still, unfazed by the pulls to four sides
falling in love with the enigmatic pink lotus, my witness
that blooms alone, in the marshy shallows, only for her to fall in love.

Amazing is the swan's prowess,she  makes the mighty river
accept her ease, wise tranquil pace and brings to a slow down
little by little, listening to the inner music,which is oh! haunting
the river now comes to trance yogi like, in sync with the
foaming green waves of trees along both the banks,
the whisper of wind to coconut leaves,if you listen
is the mystic mantra, "Ï am that..I am that..I am that"

wisdom isn't alien, don't look for it atop only the mountains
it's in the wind's hands,on the lap of  land and in water's prompt,
what space evokes when one merges seamlessly in nature's divine ,
the song one hears silent within, echoes aloud in nature's chant.

My heart is ruled only by her, the white swan.I realize.

drink  some  hard cider,
           the world looks quite wider

It’s unstoppable.
Rushing, water plays her flute;
All become zombies!

The spider, in many hues rules.
But I never could understand
The complete operational rules.
                                    Still I have
Unflinching  faith,like no other
On the spider, that it knows
The rules of transactions inside out.
I am in the web of a clan of
Spiders, day in and day out.

I just lie supine in comfort  
And let my song bird fly high
In the sky blue oblivion
Of my mind, listening to
The singing of the bard of
The absolute, transcending limits.
        I am more and more lured
in to his cave where light is present
By its physical absence.More and more
An innerbeing after substence
In the company of this siver luminous.

She comes alive, fire risen from smoke,
Her red hot eyes capture my truth quick!

The spider sitting on top of me
And working on me with
Her oceanic mind that seethes
Agile vaginal muscles, I picture
Is still reading "Every Women"1
From memory; I just feel it
as each of the steps to the
thousand petelled lotus is
left behind one by one.

My silver spider
who flies with me from
the conjoined base of
"Mooladhara"2 at the ****.
If she is the fire, I am the sky.
Hear the silver bell she rings,
In mind's eye I see how her
Silver strips gleam, wet with sweat.

As we step out to the garden path
The green spiders of thick foliages
Waved at us.Golden spider of the sky
Hanging low beamed at us.

On the blue black paper, western sky spreads,
mirthful white storks in a formation write-
a poem that steals every heart in an instance.
When the colors of dusk infuse meaning, it gleams,
cumulus clouds above are flush with goosebumps,
below, the green trees  start a spirited samba dance,
evening breeze translates it, in to a jaunty song.
Oh! celestial poet, thy immortal verse, comes alive
rings aloud, without words and none reciting it.

Making her senses keen to discern it better , she realizes:
"This giant of a tree, is no less than a wonder"
on it age plays a game different, no one is able to gauge,
ancient times nurtured, wind and rains embraced it tight,
scorching sun, in all his tropical fervor, couldn't daunt it,
eventually sun and the tree must have fallen in love with each other,

From morning till night, this banyan listens to many voices,
long days didn't make any difference, every day is new to it,
the roots searching under the earth, the hanging ones above,
create their own world, the ones below earth search for water.
when they come up in certain places, they look like creatures
prowling crocodiles, reptiles, or even  imaginary creatures, without names

Hang roots defy all rules, prefer the shapes of snakes it seems
anacondas, vipers, pythons or cobras in search of prey.
This banyan is a catalyst,  from bird to humans here,
find a shelter,take rest for varying times. It's Grandma attitude
makes each seeker of  solace and rest go back with happy smiles.

Some times here, a pauper speaks to a pundit, roles get reversed,
experience speaks louder than the knowledge in the book,
the many voices heard under the banyan makes,
one awake, from slumber,  the orchestra of many voices,
builds a music, euphonious in its composition, pregnant with meanings.

Alone, she collects pebbles
from the sands of seashore
only to throw back each
with all her might, as if
its her revenge;
all of a sudden she stops
throwing them
back on the flat waves,
just to see them leapfrog,
a few times and vanish.

A sandcastle, he was busy
building on damp sand,
laboring alone like a child,
as if it means a lot,
but the spires refuse to
stay up, collapse again and again
against his wish.
it has become a total mess,
irredeemable for him alone,
or even with some help.

Perturbed he looks,
at the very moment-
from somewhere close by,
wind brings the overpowering stench
of rotting sea weeds and dead fish,
that makes them both look up
at once, by chance
and gaze at each other's face
as if they don't
recognize each other,
for a long, long moment.

Hot headed one eyed nerd,
                 walking blindly with the herd,
                 be aware, every time you croak the F-word,
               cussing like an irritated toad,
            you denigrate those moments on cloud nine,
            you inch up the rainbow panting, 
                    smearing all colors together;
                            the very moments you hanker for,
                                        past every sunset
                                  as if there is nothing else you can sanely  think of,
                                                   till the ******,
                                                     and your partner is the only one that exists,
                                                      in this whole wide world.

The sky kept speaking in a dialect of grey,
did stay overcast all through the day,
like a new bride upset about
her nuptials, right after it.
"Could have been with some zest,
I feel drowsy and totally lost"
she repeatedly whispers, it  seemed .

A vast net of haze fell, first on the skyscrapers
standing in a row, pushing, jostling,fighting,
it then descended slyly on to the tree tops
adorned with garlands of flowers
red, cream, or violet on their coiffures.

They looked lost, at this turn
of the story, unexpected.
A helicopter, with tourists
Criss -crossed the sky as if clueless,
perhaps seeing sights in that light
curious, who knows what they look for
in a bad hair day like this?
we could hardly guess!

A stray bird appeared, as if from nowhere
hastily retreated, sensing the prevailing mood.

"We'll just stay put" she said "til the night would
 rework the story board. perhaps with starlight "
She bit ******* my upper arm, as if
to exhibit her aggressive mood just once
I loved it , she deftly made it erogenous.
She is a tigress, forcefully kept in her den
with a purpose, she slyly smiles imagining.

When the wave of oily dark night advances
inundating us, she is a promise, exquisite

As I drive past, I spy, in the sky
above the air force station of Bangalore,
two vrooming fighter jets,
three hedge hopping choppers,
five flitting dragon flies in mirth beyond words,
a swallow in love, with his lady love in tow;
fly in formations-
creations of own convenience,
(except for  the machines,
that strictly  follow rules)
against the big, round, magenta sun,
getting prepared
to set behind the mountains.

Matador, **** the beast
that run amok inside your psyche;
the urge to throw in the towel
then becomes natural.

My eyes slyly asked yours for a breeze
But your lips quickly gifted a tornado.
Uprooted, with you  I flew across like a bird,
To an island where your sharpend  nails,
Etched murals on love going sweetly violent,
On every inch, making the pain pleasurable,
All over the canvas of my down turned body.

An oracle possessed by a spirit disquieted,
                                   he contains a world unknown even to himself,
a poem gets written by itself, within himself,
                                     organizing material eclectically on its own
from roots to crust, essence of experiences,
                                    mingle with hopes, fears and yearnings,
creating alloys of emotions, welding words to mean different,
                                     fixing formations and evocative images,
when he stops contended, unfinished yet, many parts in dark still,
                               then the readers get themselves invited in to the thickets,
disentangle the vines, make way through the foliage thick,
                 hanging  branches and twigs,  light falls in the darkened corners,
the poet and creator, the oracle himself, sits looking at the flowers and fruits
                                 bathed in a new light, on what the subconscious spoke,
when he listens,  the singing of the birds acquires new meaning,
                                  sound of the running brook has a rhythm not familiar,
that take him to the sea, where all end in a swim, like in a dream

Show him your knife, oh! lovely killer, he wouldn't mind,

Seeing your weapon of destruction before the bull is felled,

How much should he suffer,not any more swiftly bring to an end

Was your's love?In such ingenious disguises, how clever!


Well polished and sharpened is the weapon, such meticulous care,

For the precision expected, never ever you missed your target.

A gleaming cutting edge, you sure want to make him proud.

Now I  see this clearly, the magnificence darkness processes!


If a sanguinary end of love life is thy pleasure, may thy will prevail,

Yes your love has been expressed tarantula like , from the day one.

The dark angel, with a vengeful gift, you are, the dark bloom too.

Yet another martyr of love, all his pain equals to your one searing kiss.

In the backwaters, as waves lapped on a canoe violently rocking
we kissed;  two eager lovers quickly turning in to winged creatures,
eyes shut, she crushed her malleable ******* against my chest,
we took this journey through the labyrinth of love leading to
the gallery of ****** artifacts, arranged in progression, in our minds.
Her lips swelled up and took mine so deftly in to their control,
and in some moment when our languid eyes opened unawares,
the kiss , a golden fish swished in to the water, gleefully swarm around,
the gathered backwater fish , viewed astonishingly this rare species.

"Amour is the most intense kind of sweet fever,I can vouch that
When it's clandestine, the effect on victims is much more acute"

As the trembling example of that condition, she whispers in his ear,
Between adventurous  samba steps, every one watches agape.

"Don't you know merciless girl,that's what makes me go pale quickly
in your presence,this illness is mutually induced, that's for sure"

Eating ' Grass', achtung! was a serious business,
if you think I was a vegan gone mad, I wasn't
In one go I devoured his "Tin drum", oh! Oskar!
felt enchanted, loved Grass, looked for more,
finished "Cat and mouse" next, sought further,
then"Crab walk"ed through "Dog years", delighted!
with the wish list in front, I continued to
go for Grass, an eating spree unabated.
Now the hullabaloo over my love for Grass subdued.
who wouldn't see what
Guntar Grass in German,  was doing
to my voracious literary hunger.

The shadows get frighteningly long,
he watches in silence like a painter
whose mixed up colors in the palette
are found to be of no use, the pictures
are muddled by inept handling of colors.

once colorful skyline is suddenly
pecked in to pieces by winds,
the belligerent evening birds in discord;
the child playing in the park now gives up
her carefully structured house,
receiving cues from swarms of darkness,
looks at her mother as if she isn't  interested,
anymore, as if feeling the encroaching loneliness.

"Evening is a spoiler of beautiful things"
he jots down on the page of the day in his mind
"it's  enticing beauty is just a masquerade"
a truth he would vouch as a fact of life.

It's time to be back home, the dusk falls
holding mom's finger she goes
back to the lighted space of warmth
that has an assurance of kiss any moment,
on his way she sends a smile, just a stranger
till two days before, as if saying "See you tomorrow"
this little one is a fresh guest of breeze
a pure blessing, sunshine rare in winter.

This rusted garden bench knows him well,
the fragrance of mango blossoms from a land distant
in a season long past still spreads the scent of musk
touches somewhere deep, brings
memories from a land so far,  a land where
evenings were spent under the shades of mango trees
in exhilaration, awaiting the mango fruit season.

A change in the lighting of sky overturns everything.
time administers it's hidden poison drop by drop,
the memories of an evening from afar asks in a feeble voice
"Will the child come to the park to play tomorrow again?"

A burning star, her pyrotechnics
arrested him, with her he resonates,
he too is in fire, by this affair
though fully aware of his folly,
he could do nothing except hopelessly
falling for her fatal allure.

Legion of lovers, once adored her
but none left now, she beams only at him,
is it gratitude, or enlightenment, at last?
Fading celestial pulchritude, he feels
too had so much gravitational pull.

A supernova she is, a majestic celestial
no words could describe, her
even in this moment of tragic burst,
the whole galaxy has gone dark
on her splendor, though for a while.

A nebula, all gas he is,being in love with her
though while she is embracing death
will make him aware of his own  immortality,
prepare for an incarnation, in the womb of space.

"All star material one day will be spewed,
mineral dust in the interstellar loneliness,
from that planets and beings get incarnated"
The moment of zen, sings in them a resonant tune.

Eyes are blue gleaming diamonds,
words concealing gold dust
are sealed between the lips
that avidly taste thunder,
expression of my hidden hunger.
Hands bind me closer til
rib cages say "No more"
Like nibs, nails on my back
write ****** verses direct,
forcing one to spread eagle
as the orchestration moves to crescendo
itinerant eyes emit sizzling light,
the cloud that engulfs , caresses every inch,
a bamboo grove in wind
dances whispering love, in many tunes,
tells one to lie under it's canopy, I submit,
hear my songs from a secret center,
eyes speak the lingo of  love, light spills
heart beats against heart, in mad frenzy,
we need no words any more.

A castaway in the island of failed loves, my heart
moved in jungle pathways, lived alone in caves,
I sold it to a courtesan who courted it steadfast
never had I felt such an ease in my days dark.
Love is a clandestine merchandise in market places
by lovers, men and women of charm and magic
mixing power and allure, when the price is just right.

The street of our evenings was full of laughter,
my love life there saw many sunny seasons.
We walked hand in hand and my sweetheart was eager
to please me as my heart was full of  love's languor
the meaning of love was still obscure for me and her,
though we thought it was nothing but love, that
kept throbbing in our every vein, it really mattered.

To the tune of Blue Danube, we would wildly waltz,
the sad thought it brought, made me weep inside.
if the world is so wicked let's die together,
and I see her dance away totally inebriated
footsteps sounded near, we lost  true interest
pain was chasing us, all the way from behind,
we were disillusioned, love slowly got drifted
gently  dissipated breaking our hearts.

As I cross the corner of the street alone,
with my heart bleeding, often the girl for the day in tow,
I feel the pang of a heart, seeking my love waiting
the courtesan who kept watching me, her glassy eyes moist,
all these days of wandering, eventually our eyes met.

I sold my heart to the lonely courtesan, she wept, received it.

Colors of love, I've never seen was painted on my heart by her,
lust sublimated,was the primer she preferred as the base to start,
music of love, she conducted, played in the background day and night
caressed me softly, made the colors dry, made it remain there ever
my wounded heart, demanded only love, nothing more from her
but she made it her piece of interest, for her million desires to adore

Her alchemy transformed it to gold, that never would lose it's sheen,
used all her riches excavated, from the valley of her placid mind,
to embellish and make it an invaluable dowry chest for her, ever
the skies cloudless,I was tranquil,her love made me feel elated,
on her, the wave-less lake I perfectly reflected, even at dark nights,

What else would make one dedicate, all mind commands,to her
and all flights of soul to higher echelons were inspired by her,
isn't that state, one knows as bliss, we are bound together by that .

flying
        in perfect
                        mating formation;
dragon flies-
                     excellent *copulative acrobats

Deep from her eyes, he doesn't fail to notice, cruelty peeps out,
the hidden message he reads: beware eager to pounce.
Her ample cleavage signals there is warmth in store,
making the picture, quickly cozy and clear.

Seventy million light years away, my eyes fly

see two spiral galaxies collide and get distorted

taking eyes off from the telescope, I turn to  your face

where the impact of the collision is on graphic display,

in many colors of fury of a love gone sour, for no reason

we still are seventy million light years apart, my smile

a dove orchid, withers in this shower of inter galactic dust.

1.
A wind shakes the tree,
Sudden death for all dry leaves.
sad, cold, earth awaits.
2.
A dry leaf drifts down-
In to an angry cyclone.
A life unforeseen.
3.
Churning storm's still eye.
The leaf quietly ponders,
Enlightenment strikes.

1.The Serpent

Pensive, she lies alone on her soft feather bed expectant.
Her eyes widely shut, imagining moments wildly exciting.
Serpentine desire contained in the burrow of her mind,
Sneaks out, slithers, snugly coils around her dainty waist.

2.Fact finder's predicament

The fact finding committee at last,
met in silence, in all seriousness,
But each member was found
taking a walk, in  a direction different.
Each one's sweet whim, clearly
did reflect in the facts they unearthed.
Reaching a point of convergence,
therefore was not something expected.

Which sublime symphony,
makes me fully forget
I am a limited being
rooted on the earth.
The booming wind's
the running water's?
or the serenade that cascades
as the wink of a million stars
filling the limitless skies?
which blue evokes,
the hue of my inner world,
the sky's or the sea's,
perhaps the turquoise of her eyes?

On the meadow green,
the grass under my feet,
is resilient, never lies low,
and the sun at dusk
showers gold dust over it.

Now, I feel a lightness, no word can tell,
I am ebullient, feels omnipotent,
on newly acquired wings, I hover up,
the evening silver star, waking up,
at the far corner of the sky
extends her hands
to invite me to her boudoir.

"Aren't you now tired of that green?
different from the zeitgeist once was
the ****** pulsation existed all along with me!
I can see it in the movement  of yours
when I  deep kiss you, not there, you are!
it's too long, our liaison, my love listen,
now it's time for a change, haven't you
seen the clouds in quick changing formations?
Yes, rest you need and a period of leisure
would do you good.You have to don a hue
to suit to to the mood, and yellow it is"
The setting sun,languidly to the leaf said aloud.
She felt the relief, she unhurriedly received
his words  purple tinted.pointing the direction.

The mountain wind, when the leaf  was green,
an intense lover, moved her,always.
A leaf callow and green in the wind,
passion personified, during the gale she was
the aggressive partner, demanding more,
"You are hanging here for long,on this branch,
knowing all, now time to let go, hear the music
permeating through dust and clouds and lives
transform yourself, you have danced enough
with me here, change pace, let go, begin
a journey new and find, what the cosmic hum
tells to every single cell, and what's in the end,
get ready to take newer forms from now on my love"

Wind took her by hand and she let go every thing
and naked to the soul, she jumped in to the deep below,
a valley, in ferment, flowers, fruits and leaves
in abundance, stood with bated breath,
beckoning, welcoming, cheering the fallen leaf,
the last dance it was,with the wind and sun,
in whispers the wanton wind told her" time to go,
feel light and explore, discover the secrets still left"

Earth, red and fertile was much pleased, smiled at her,
"Come down beloved, here I lie in wait, impatient,
this is your bed, not a minute late you are, here
as before in the appointed hour,you are aware
at any time you have to end up as the salt of the earth,
you'll love it here as much you did on a flowering branch,
bit by bit like the fragments of a cloud in blue sky,
you will become one with me; the fecund muddy earth,
new seeds with a vision encrypted inside will fall on you
get nourished by what your love donates and would sprout.

On the lower rung of the ladder she stands wide eyed,
that ambiguous smile on her lips and my yearning
has a mysterious kinship, with the mysteries of the semi-lit attic,
I could discern from the bits and pieces she revealed
with that sly look as we walked  hand in hand
through the garden path as slowly as we can.
The ladies in the neighborhood would stand in groups
and look curiously at us as we walk, a sight rare in the village
where movement in thickets were the symbol of unspeakable pleasures!
A shy boy and a girl unusually bold; no demure Indian girl she is!
"See how she leads the boy, knows how to play her tune, so well
sometimes I spy the pair  stand together at
the mouth of that dark cave, contemplating mysteries perhaps"
overhearing their words, I would cast eyes down as if guilty.

Beyond the uppermost rung of the ladder, is the attic
I haven't seen it yet, but she is a girl and a woman in one
who could see far beyond a boy's ken, she acts her age
what her nail marks etched on my skin  is the map of her desires.
In our stealthy expeditions through winding paths my lungs
get filled with feminine smells that are intense in certain times,
our feet become slow and stop without prompt at shaded corners
scented by musky orchid blooms, where blue beetles
hum amorous tunes, then  longing takes many forms of expressions.

She knew the art of looking in to my heart,
through the peep holes of eyes, then I hear her whisper as if possessed,
"You are full of sweet poetry, it's beats permeate to my body
when I hold you closer to my *****, but you need me to make it loud"
In the dark attic where the  scent of  black pepper and dry ginger raged
she kept her promise, her lips caressed mine,with such urgency
my eyes involuntarily, close  tightly and I hear her murmurs
it was her way of bringing out my inner poetry, making it flow out
such subtle power it had, we rolled uncontrollably on the floor,
when we did we sighed together, plunging in to a wonder moment.

Threatening demons prowled in hoards
in the mysterious outback of her psyche;
knowing this,she decided not to be perturbed,
tamed them, one by one with poetic mantras.
Now, they recite the chants of forces she invokes
as soon as she feels like going in to a cosmic trance.

Atomized eloquence of the ocean,
heard only by those few  who cared,
i felt, wanted to tell many things, to me
so expected a knock at the door
of my mind. Waited.But it didn't.

                She stood near  me oblivious
                of this in her happiness.
Life is driven by false notions, corrected by experiences
Unsaid words.Scattered things.Do not get astonished.

Waves brought, decomposed sea weeds
and wriggling fish,  sliding against each other
I smelled ***

We were watching waves. 'Savage'
do I have to answer to that?
( sudden exclamation, betwixt silent *******)
The waves tickled our naked feet,
she was happy like a girl
on a date first time ever.Excited beyond limits,
passion of every woman  on being in  water.

'insatiable urge'- a soft voice exclaimed,
(in a room, light gently penetrating in to darkness
I eased my weight against her body)

Shells and bones,
I was thinking, and saw them in my mind,
lying scattered under shifting sands
One  never is fully aware.Though one knows.

Bones
reminder, at last of all that love and hate,
Flesh, completely dissolved, went back to elements.
Sea is like us, men and women
hides so much.Listen and look around, you will see signs!

'You look like a hermit'
she said by way of compliment.
Love is the gleam in her eyes.Evident.
"Is it my shaggy beard?
I am a lecher.Even worse"
i whisper in to her ear,
She took it as a joke,
laughs like the waves,
that go zigzag, for a while.

Yes life, when you look,
after the peeling of wraps,
supposed to be  serious stuff
ends up as joke,
obscene gleam of of white bones,
laughter of white teeth on a naked skull.
Like the avarice of the  never ending waves
signifying nothing in particular.

I was ******* her in my mind,
in water, she  vaguely reminded a water nymph,
stood with hands on both hips
as if she understood my shameful plot,

Her drenched dress stuck to her curves.Lubricious.
Slightly plump, with lithe limbs,
i get a vision of her, squeezing me tight,
in a brutal embrace,
at the precise instant,
the waves of ****** strike.

Waves withdraw,
naked sand bars look like dead whales
under it lies scattered bones.
              O

If you willingly forgo the possibilities of nights
why, feel sad and lament for not having dreams?
find a life of fun easily without any dream-
there are millions around never dared to dream!
don't make guilt demand, a disproportionate price from you,
The city night, regales us  in the flood of artificial lights,
eradicating  the distracting dreams  once and for all,
all through night digital advertisements
blink and die continuously till the morning light appears.
when a  day dies out, on earlier times, a night would begin,
now at the end of the day, night too  dies , in the flood of lights.
why make futile dreams, that wouldn't deliver anything,
make your dreams fishes in show ponds that swims at night.
On the dry ears of sleepless in cities,
music from radio  demands attention,
still solidified sleep, with the wings of darkness
sit on the night trees,
no sleep, no dreams, no secrets, what a happiness!!

the speakers of the personal computers of girls
celebrated, sleeplessness with fanfare
then boys and girls danced out of some instinct.
Night stood sad at the corners of sky...

Ocean currents exuberant, spell out what turbulence, really is
expressions of brute force, takes over the whole of ocean depth,
a puny little fish, blinded by thick foam, navigates alone, finding path,
sheathed in a silence going beyond mind,to a destination luminous,
never perturbed, calmly exploring that state, not fully discernible yet,
an impression abstract, getting infused with more and more clarity
each passing moment,then the orchestra of waves resonates with heart.