I stood tending my cactus garden, in the evening light
                       along came the doe eyed gypsy girl, our eyes met,
                       ***** of thorn is now no pain, tantalizing heart ache permeates..

                                                    ­       *she picked my heart, like a poppy bloom...... and left.

Once a professed good kid
Suskind in his native
German he was named,
wrote a macabre tale
on making a special"Perfume"
most irresistible ,enigmatic,
by murdering virgins
in a chilling succession,
and mixing those scents
absorbed in each shroud!
Parents, beware when
you name your children
see, what this good kid
(according to his surname)
to his excited readers did;
pure  Gothic dished out
from beginning to it's explosive end!

looking from below,
                               my eyes fix,
on your pleasure contorted face,
in the acute urgency,
of a lush, leafy tree,
                             undulating sinuously,
in the hands of
                           the winds of sensuality,
**at the very moment of
                                    efflorescence.

Self,
in exploration,
     transcended the limits,
                          became one with cosmos.

he finds her hang out
alone, with a phone indoors.
seduced by smart phone.

A feather,
immaculately white,
with a hint of black at the edge,
incongruently shaped like a sword,
was lying orphaned on the third step,
as I descend.No one noticed it.
Or, what is there so special,
they would have thought.

I stopped to pick it up,
on an instinct, softness prompted,
or perhaps a wish waiting there,
far off in the dark corridor of mind,
a need badly felt,
while rubbing against,
rough edged time;
is it hope of a possible chance
of a caress. With a smile I turn,
serendipity starts its game then,
at that moment one least expected it.

No, I am wrong in saying that,
that moment was indeed ripe,
then only the meaning of the word
gets justified.
                         She was looking at me,
standing on a step, arresting her ascent,
transfixed, looking at the feather too, now and then,
as if it is a quill immersed in liquid magic,
I hold to write, something she would,
spell out, in a moment.
                                    "Tell me" I turn playful,
sensing her mood in that glowing moment,
so rare,we share, that has a hidden significance,
I was certain.

"That's the feather I dreamt last night" she stutters.
We feel the spell of serendipity,
binding our hearts at that moment.
                               0O0

Two serpents
in a frenzied
mating ritual,
we coil,
one around
the other
within and
outside
winding and
unwinding
heeding to a
command,
mysteriously
received,
ears open to a
music,that play
in a plane
beyond the
realm of mortals.
We are there
on the verge
of liberation.

They would sneak out quietly in dark nights,
walk to the desolate beach slowly hand in hand,
and lie supine on damp white sand soaked in star light,
shedding from light years afar,counting stars as if it's their job,
wasn't that an esoteric ritual, prelude to a cosmic trance?

Love gifted a stole to keep them warm,
to her it was him and to him it was only her all along,
and on the sand bed in such nights they got to know secrets,
from the  galaxies,together they broke taboos of every imaginable kind.

They would wait for the seventh wave from the ocean's mind,
that was the moment they knew each other intimately than ever.
the seventh wave was a gift of pearls from the depth of unknown,
and the sharks were on the shores roaming alive like in fairy tales.

They kept awake for the seventh wind, that did blow promises,
on a space above, they hovered standing naked chest against breast,
the seventh wind told them many things, in to it's essence they delved,
wind, water, fire within, space in between,earth mother holds together,
an awareness , they roamed around the galaxies,wasn't it wonder itself?

She made it vanish
every trace of it,
with her inimitable
feminine magic.
Fully erasing my
post ****** hatred
led me from the front
to an exploration of
ardent, ****** acrobatics
that took us through the
***** dynamics of
****** healing, non peril!
Wasn’t she an all terrain ace?
Aviator making me fly
without wings above the
fluffy  soft caressing clouds
The toughest driver on roads
of all kind,keeping pleasure
at the acme through out her drive.
What a swimmer was she,making
me swoon in sensual waters.

Don't walk,
protected
by shadows
wearing masks,  
                         when streaming light,
                         gleaming sword drawn,
                         comes to annihilate,
                                                     ­     evil shadows
                                                         ­ with vengeance;
                                                      ­                               *where would you hide?

Meeting up with the dragon
was a page
out of an intergalactic adventure;
shaking hands with
doppelganger, it was.
He insisted that he is
still a mythical animal
just don't exist in real,
he was so apologetic
to the point of being mawkish,
"Don't want to mislead any one
to somewhere, let's be scientific
to think, you took such pains
to make this meeting happen,
which is not the case in real,
                                    do you see me well?
He was  in panic, it seemed,
took him in confidence and
made him stay put.
"What's real is a long debate
don't think I am real,
material world could
easily proved an illusion
matter in to energy and reverse
is the story we see here
quantum mechanics will
end all your qualms
everything is in a state of flux
even the scientists are,
sometimes they see black holes
and suddenly they think otherwise,
so the universe is not even
a handful of dust, it's energy
playing fancy dress..."
The dragon looked crust fallen,
"you should have met a dinosaur instead
at least they EXISTED,and  Phew, what a variety
much more than a myth, which I am"
"Don't be apologetic, grand father's gift
grandma must have used her fun of imagination
to beget you and raise to such level of popularity
dragon or meerkat, all are fun,  like human,
when none exists, but happily present
in mind and on these  vast spaces our eyes see,
waiting to transform in to quanta of energy
when time summons, and God play dice.

Shall I compare thee to a mysterious land
that recur in the explorer's dreams, and tempt!
When my eyes were set on you, those doe eyes flashed
a  message, captured by  my genes that made me set out
with a passion never once felt, before or after,
to  the  fecund land awaiting me  with fruits exquisite,
never once touched, none ever tasted.
Those lips in the first flush of youth, told a secret, sought for long,
in bushes birds were hiding in nests, woods were gentle and fragrant,
the little spring,  your  lovely secret, in spate at a distant hint of rain was somnolent,
the hidden sunny meadow invited one to dance,
here the explorer's quest found its mark.
*Though his spirit quenched and at rest, never again will he leave,
this dream, will remain the admirer of this landscape for ever.

Like a hit of sudden thunder,

                                           I climaxed,
                  saw an alluring flush
                spread across her face
                    turning it to a lotus--
an adornment of ******* bliss.
An ancient moment dawned
before my  drooping, placid eyes---
a caveman's loud moans and cries
as he reached the pleasure's peak with his consort,
         echo on the cave walls, again and again**.

Along the palm fringed backwaters,
my  lonely canoe, in frenzy moves,
I roam with a pain deep down in heart,
not knowing which flower I seek,
lo! and behold, there she is,
throwing me a water-lily smile,
the dark dainty one, diving for clams,
who has never spoken to me a word.
Gleaming with the sun beads, adorning her,
when she glides up through water, from the mud bed,
I sit here , my oar gone still, mind a calm pool,
drinking her smile with both my eyes.
I will go back to my dark nights
where wild dances are my only refuge,
**this smile you spilled, a panacea for my ills
never would I give up, take my word.

An acrobat of love is she,
who contorts,  sensing
which way he loves to move,
constantly making spirited coos.

Sorrow, the black bird on her shoulder,
she cleverly  hid, when they first met.*
It was flying around her stiff corpse,
they found in a train coach unclaimed.

Poetry is the dress she always adorns herself,
the see-through floral patterns reveal her more-
than conceal, my eyes imbibe its aesthetics in the fraction-
of a moment and to tell the truth, they are thankful.
Poetic is her walk, her rhythmically swaying buttocks-
subtly speak by allusion of genetic possibilities vast;
in her movement's poetry  my lineage would be safe.
Her lips part, the warmth, ruddy pout and perfect shape suggest
her sensual love making  wound be both tender and swirling
like the  poetic feeling, an image unleashes to overpower me to surrender.
Poetry makes its essence look like a fine silvery glint
in those deep eyes, that have a sensual droop in the eyelids.
Arrows straightly directed to my tender heart, from the bow of her chest
contrary to the normal, creates a cadence, poetic utmost !
She is,  nothing but poetry in motion, rooted in beauty's repository,
that never will fully drain,  even if the most she makes her own  often.

She is a perfectly ripe orange, juicy inside,
he peels the skin her mind, thickly wraps around,
with the alchemy of his words, see! how well
she reveals, her true essence for him to consume,
one segment after another, he wants to experience
her leisurely; it's her turn now,for her he is a peach
she impatiently waited thus far, to put her hands on,
he is patient, at her disposal, till they fully merge

a blazing eyed girl,
fueled by her love's ardor,
cool it by a smile!

My heart beats fast, in a cryptic time scale,
Shiva's hand drum that  accompanies her speech,
she is a poet of handcrafted words, rough cut diamonds,
she alludes, suggests, gives vague hints, eludes from traps
oh! how so so exquisite, her veiled references!

She makes my soft center melt, it's now a chocolate fudge-
the color of blood, would she take it? I yearn so deep,
the art of concealment, attains a new life with her,
I am baffled, yet mighty pleased, the kids delighted,
She behaves the way nature does, in an intuitive flash-

I reach out to grab the key to the core of this union;
she is nature;  quickly her cloudy sky clears,
with the peep of sunshine, she is pleased, then
in the afternoon, I see a sprinkling rain, magical!
with eyes filled with curious light, I watch her,

Now I understand her, learn to love her deep,
her gentle changing moods that walk with the moon,
not for nothing, I liken my only love to a dreamer,
not a poet, but rhapsody in her nature, pure rapture.

She lifted me, a feather glided down
from somewhere,lying on the sand,orphaned,
for eons that coiled like a serpent,to escape cold.
She made me feel as the warm part of her wing,
beating in unison,jubilantly on an onward  journey,
to luminous eternity...your abode,in timeless bliss,
that appears in my every single dream...so near!

Well,well,well, I wonder
How quickly one gets
attracted to these shells
lie strewn around, colorfully
without any scheme or theme
but in no way  less attractive
yet making naked soft soles
of itinerant feet bleed
if gets closer than needed.

On a desolate beach
like this one here, we stand
there isn't much else
other than laden sand
one can expect to set eyes on
for a long, long time
unless one is counting
the waves,incessantly rolling out,
waves that won't let you do that job,
the way perfect,you want to accomplish.
What would a wave bring you other than
what you have expected always!

Then comes the time to let
eyes wander on to the naked shells,
spread as if each conceals a cryptic message!
You'd never want to know  what
strange happenings they predict.

Oh! Yes! so many waiting in disorder
with that onetime impatience,
inevitable death's thirst display,
now quenched forever and aye!
Now licked clean by sun and waves,
and time's invisible scaly tongue.
that adamantly kept mum,
when one was all ears to listen.

Shell white in an angry profusion
dominates the sea shore
making sand whiteness mean less,
Staring eyeless *****,just as shells
comes in to dreams as pirates
Shrimps, kills and prawns transform
in to ghostly shells cackling in salty winds.
Shells whispering the stories of pain from the past,
Did i hear someone in a frenzy yell
from a mid sea night darkness.
"**** that shell,with the evil memories
of a death,that drained all semblance
of life,that drained all spirit of life.
"Shells go back to your sleep!
From the dream of return,
Prepare for a life allover again".