A praying mantis,
After playing the part of leaf,
Merges seamlessly!

"Red chilly and spices in excess,
would  burn your sensitive taste buds, no doubt"
his tongue contemplates the warning a bit
along with the taste, and decides,
**"curry in a hurry is the  perfect recipe for rumpus "

Choosing between a witch and a vampire,
should have been a real dilemma, of course,
none among these two did he choose,
but a nun, to explore the path of renunciation**.

white and black eagles,
each one chasing the other;
till end of the world!

Like **** on sewer,
Dark news floats on the page;
Sick, nauseating!

Dams, brimming, full.
A pretty sight, but frightens all;
Raging rains, more pain!

Dancing dark eyes---
darting ***** bees
that come flying
seeking nectar from my lips,
in a quest that goes beyond the limits.
                         You are the scented wind
                         with salacious intent
                          from billowing *"*****" fields
                          wildly grown in Western ghat mountain ranges,
                          that are  in full bloom.
You twist and swirl,
lift me up
and take to the golden cloud
that has a mystic spell
where my mind rejoices,
beyond the binding of time
in Shiva's dance,
while his consort Shakti resonates
with every beat of the divine drum
that echoes my heart.

Every single girl, he thought
he was deeply in love with,
one after the other
were opinionated mirrors,
only capable of unfaithful reflection,
interpreting him the way each pleased,
no two reflections, ever did coincide!

Where is the real him,
he always wondered
how fickle it all looked,
the place he stood by mere chance,
did make a difference, it turned out,
the dance, the dance, like one is made to walk
over the burning red  coal bed continues.

A river of sparkling light, but a night's darkness hidden in the depth,
compulsive laughter and mirth, to camouflage lurking angst,
dreams sleeping with curtains pulled down on the bitterness in their eyes,
I toild hard to explore what life is, and found  resonance in your essence.

I am open, would accept you as what you are, help you to clearly see, I promise
if we try, we could shed our dark hues and embrace light without much ado,
if you could look at things in the light of the vision that springs, from your inner core,
like you, my love, life too will step with me, dance enraptured,as we wish, I am sure

Night’s magical hour.
The moon kisses silver cloud;
Darkness goosebumps!

Dark night, filling earth and sky, in silence; minty, silky soft,
like the music flowing from the lyre of a jilted lover, vengeful,
let me drink your sweet poison, that would curtain me off for now,
from the torture of light, the love in which I once lost myself, cherished
now I want to forget those days fully,and fly out of this house of pain

darkness
           has
           a
           sudden
          remembrance-
                                      light,
                                            lightening
                                                       crisscross.

Her libidinous eyes like dark beetles
circled his face in ***** adoration,
numbing pain chocking his voice
he told her the crushing truth,
he was  a werewolf, without redemption,

she didn't stir, was jubilant in spreading darkness
a blush, still visible made her look more eager
"I was hoping against hope, though too suave looking,
you would be one, just take me, I am your vampire"

spooky dark night,
whooshing rowdy wind shakes trees;
exorcism’s progress!

Darter bird, lithe charmer, hidden neck deep in water,
you took charge of my heart, in a quick connubial move,
your silver streaked wings, waterproof, are ready to dive deeper,
am I to swim, fly or dive to be with you always?

without a word
we told each other:
"let's not explain anything
and stop the rainbow from vaporizing"
the moment stood still,
like a big red blimp
hovering above
                        overlooking
the breath taking vista of hills
                          where the dawn
displayed its magic, yet again
but in front of our eyes, like never before,
the moment suspended motion,
for a long long while,
till we lost all sense of time;
wasn't it heaven brought down for us?
will it happen again, our hearts beating in unison,
repeatedly was asking.

Purple hue spilled by
Frenetically painting dawn,
Made the world reborn!

lovely,clear pond.
daydreams  lily profusion.
ripples resonate.

Lit up cleverly with a
romantic light
each morning
presents itself,so well,
as if it's a begining
with a winning streak.

Innocence, the mood
that prevails here, makes
it look anything is possible.
A witness, he  loses in his
stream of thought
looking at the children
playing with the speckled
pool of light seeping
through the leaves
of careless tall trees.

Comes noon spitting fire,
with his waves of heat
the legacy of an angry
scorching  sun, stuns
all the children by now
are hiding somewhere.

At the sedated hours
of sluggish after noon
the narration in yellow,
takes a different pace.
It's the designated
time zone for
the siesta to happen,
the evil hours of libertines too
to go gently knocking on the
doors of their concubines,
safely away from the snooping
eyes of wives who have
kept awake keeping
the brood together fighting
against the vagaries of
winds that make or
flatten sand dunes.

Few ones, among them
amidst contemplation after
furtive,  furious *******,
take counts over and over again
from all ends and see
karma's boomerang awaiting,
across the bend of time.
Repentance and the such
are the next,as sun goes down.

Evening has a tendency to let go,
tendency to say good bye, easily
against a hurriedly assembled
stage properties of evening sky.
It's a caricature of what the day did

In her black, hooded cloak
night advances,crying aloud:
"Don't delay any more, it's time
surrender to the army of occupation"

Everyone blind
has a sun each.
In loving sun,
eyes have limits.
Sun is merciless,
blinds any one
who  tries to overreach,
that's not a lot of fun!
After a day's
relentless march,
a spectacular dusk,
announces the finis.
Night comes on tip toes
a disguised thief,
to rob everything left
none would resist.
The world is in masquerades,
if you are lucky enough
get the beams,
of moon's cool grace-
on your searing wounds,
and sleep without dreams.
And then again
breaks the dawn,
with an innocent smile,
as if it is the first time ever;
the game continues.

Her sudden wink--
he quickly picks
tries to ink her like;
it somehow links him
to a past moment
retrieved from
a hidden dark place.
a journey through
verdant country paths,
in the beginning
then, a string of events,
that stirred his heart
till it hurt too bad,
leading to a dead end.
In his somber smile
her wink gets stuck
freezes in an instance,
slowly dissolves.

a steep flight of steps downwards,
the ferry down is desolate,
a boat lies idle on water's edge,
the boatman with deadpan face
is still amidst onlookers,
the traveler,
ready to cross the water
for ever  
            never to come back,
            look up and see
a figure in flowing white robe,
a flame of white light
waiting to hold his hand.

Getting up from the crumpled bed,
resurrected from the dead, once more,
he looks the world in the face, panicked,
he is back in to being from the land of  nothingness,
he was hardly aware of the non existence,
in the land of sleep, mysterious camouflage,
for war time secrets to be kept safe.

He doesn't have to pretend, to be a child again,
morning sows hopes, in vivid colours, he grows up
evening dissolves in loss, bleak darkness, finis.

What he gets in between becomes meaningless,
unless at least a smile gives wings
to the sad heart, to rejoice defying angst,
that swings between, life after life, day after day.

A baby girl gently smiles in sleep
a young woman clad in military fatigue,
in a war zone, somewhere, for now quiet,
startled, not knowing why, wakes up,
the baby dreams a yellow butterfly
alighting on a bright red flower,
when mama was carrying her around
in a bid to put her to sleep, slapping
gently on her bottom; sleepy eyes close.
The 'woman soldier' (an oxymoron
for all those who could think)  a mother to boot,
is thinking about the plummentting population
of monarch butterflies, in the woods she once roamed,
the town she grew up, she now misses, in her thoughts flap wings.
She is worried about the change of climate,
though all she thinks is about the plight of the butterflies.

Now, she hears a gun shot at distance,
shudders thinking about the children
sleeping under the blankets, expecting no harm.
She imagines a baby smiling, gently in it's sleep
and on the shades of that memory, she feels calm,
gripping at the handle of the machine gun,
kept ready at hand to fire first at an enemy, any time.

One talks about peace, as fear gnaws deep at the heart,
the flame of love is  protected by cupped female hands
children securely sleep,in the  protective heat of mother's breast,
rise and fall of the *******, the smell of milk,enveloping my body,
til the day in my mother I  was enshrined in,
                                                                      I still can trace in my brain.

The woman soldier, may fall dead,hit  by a bullet
intentional or not.A war is a war, even a butterfly killed,
is considered enemy, at that time and place.It's grammar is hate.
The baby may have to live, for ever not seeing her mother,
who in the scene above was absent, may not return, ever.
The monarch butterflies would die in thousands and fall from skies.

We still try to cry, but there isn't any tear,climatic change burns eyes.
It's night, a pale moon mourns for the orange sun of the evening.
when the climatic change strikes, it's not in one place or time.
it erupts all over the globe, hearts bleed, love dies little by little.

In this layered darkness,
deaths are mere numbers
carelessly scribbled on
a blackened wall, unnoticed.

Grief is left out in the open
like orphaned children,
no one bothered to count
as it has no significance.

Isn't it  meaningless
as darkness festers still.

Every war claimed won,
leaves behind heaps of
mutilated corpses, that
in nightmares of living,
get up and walk speaking in tongues
with blood letting bodies falling apart.

So many concealed graves are
camouflaged, hidden from the eyes
of the people,whose time is precious
to waste  for such things as war crimes.


But these blackened graves break
the hearts of countless families,
where laughter dies for ever,darkness stalks.
Faceless loved ones of the killed,
widows and children uncontrollably cry,
cursing their lives  for this walk through the dark.

Every love life is an invisible bound book,
of many stories of pain, recounted in tearful details,
not easily erased, but much more lives are forgotten,
like cattle killed during long season of celebration,
when people eat, drink, and make merry till they faint,
sleep long hours to sedate their consciousness heavy
with guilt for what they do repeatedly, remorseless.

Night was ruled
by deceit, every moment,
deepening shadows moved
with poisionous intentions,
knives of sharp lights
they hid behind their back.

An  authoritarian owl,
angrily kept threatening its opponents,
by repeatedly stabbing
the silence of the night,
with his shocking  hoots.

When the cadaverous moon
slyly came out of cloud thickets,
trotting foxes hiding
behind gravestones,
made intermittent eerie howls,
lacerating the dark muteness.

A mighty night bird,
off and on, drew its shadow,
across the moon's surface,
but never felt satisfied

The barking dogs
all at once stopped,
and created panic.
Like death knell,
wind made noises,
on the foliage of trees.

A dejected lover,
wrote a melancholy note,
spilling out sad thoughts,
in the faint light
of a dying oil lamp.

An adulterous woman,
impatiently waited
near her half opened window,
looking out for
her midnight paramour,
who never keeps time as promised.

The night stood still,
spreading its serpent hood,
listening to million secret sounds
watching everything,
without batting an eyelid.

Dew drenched rose petels,
Winter’s perfect deception,
Season’s seduction!

Trickster drizzle peters,
Expectant trees are mawkish;
Rain’s failed sweet promise!

The green crab's countenance,
has an allure so rare,
but those pincers up close,
are *a picture of uncivilized eclat.

Most sublime, the art of love is,
the inner worlds, it keeps churning.
At her I take a hard look; at once
I fully realize this,her lips tremble
like the fecund earth, awaiting seeds!

Eyes acquire a misty morn quality
that to her tell aloud "Look at him!
he is the one you had seen in a dream
and swooned, pained not knowing
where to find him,out side the dream"

That meta text's context quickly get
transferred, to my database of smells
warmth and endearing sounds,pout
of lips conveying multiple meanings;
my search runs exactly three seconds,
decides to cue her on the result,still not
open, an enigma it remains,but she gets it.

A twitch starts at that exact moment,
somewhere deep, that's all I can tell,
in us both it resonates, deep,  till we shake
uncontrollably like two leaves in a blizzard!

Her feet wear, two shoes made of wind,
and mine try to match their frenzied speed,
in course, rush , collide in a mid air embrace.
Two pairs of hungry lips, now need no words,
to see what just spontaneously, did happen
at nature's own, sweet, free, will, ethereal!

The panther's blazing eyes
stares at him first , scrutinizing,
her rough tongue likes him clean
when amorous longings subdue.

An elephant
its trunk raised,
listens to
a nightingale's song.

The panther's blazing eyes scrutinize,
stare at him with an ambiguous interest,
her rough tongue licks him clean
when amorous longings finally ebb.

Lamps lit in her eyes ,
Reflect million times within;
Love defies optics!

For a million light years, a bloom in space,
a star collapsed,died and scattered,
a petal fell in to inter galactic swirl,
it floated or continued to fall, who can tell?
Light years, like waves after waves caressed it,

eternity took it in to it's cradle and swung,
and it's now the earth,that rides
the waves of gravity, magnetic pulls and the rest,
I am it's part, wandering permanence,
without the remembrance of it's past avatars,
the essence of what is nothingness,
changing forms,I reappear, go back
trapped in a bubble,which after the mission
goes back to the eternal as consciousness.

                                        so, why grieve,
get agitated, or feel elated at times?
Keep the equilibrium and exude love, star-like,
this is what the cosmic hum signifies,
in tunes familiar or seems altogether new.

Drawing behind, her gathered black cloak ,
the night reluctantly withdraws
behind the numerous skyscrapers in the making
springing up, impatiently at various stages of scramble,
going one step above each passing day
as if there is no intention to stop,
till the day a fortress is built up around Bangalore.

Not the garden city of yore, any more
an  unfamiliar painted doll, robbed of innocence,
full of malls, glass, chrome and marble pomp.

The fluorescent eyes of the city, bids
farewell to the retreating night
with which it played varied games till morn,
and wearily view the approaching daylight.

The world is changing its color, now, so fast with vigor
yet, it is just the same as ever, in essence.

A blue train wearing a white turban,
measures the bottom length of the new skyline.
As I watch, an observer of a bubble, a phenomenon
I look through the eyes of one similar,
a few million years later and see light, only light dominate.

Then, like I do, two eyes would observe and
think of eternity, the imaginary construct called time
and the interplay of black and white and the time in which both dissolve

Behind me you stand quiet, taking in my scent, dense with pheromone,
a witness on the verge of arousal, you gently caress my neck
your sharp teeth bite at my earlobes, sowing goosebumps
all through my body's landscape
Your long fingers, love to travel all  my back and shoulders,
I dissolve within the present, travel down with your fingers,
your love transforms in to gentle all engulfing caresses,
that alone is real all through the ages.

I view through the eyes of the stranger,
who would see what I see in another time, in a form different
then we would have to accept, we are one and the same!