A judge sits on
stone to dismantle the
sky made of hollow men.

Knower becomes unknower.
Lies will not win. Truth
was calling.

Your eagerness was
supreme. Cults are masters
of opportunities.

Contradictions will
stay. I will follow no one.
The message will reach.

Nobility was gang *****.
Road of the day was lost.
You float in thoughts.

When you predict
your end, I sell myself
to die on cross.

The trick to rise
from dust shows the strength
to make immortal-

Your name. why
do you like the game of power.
I will not play poker.

Many unanswered
questions still remain live
between lies and death of gods.

You will come back
to me one day for rebirthing
the old alchemy of love.

You were not normal.
Relentlessly you were trying
to kiss the flame.

Agni, goddess of fire
still invites. When nightingale
comes, you undo earthly pain.

To recover the lost
poem, black rose still haunts.
A jewel twirls in your brown eyes.

Erotica? No beyond
that. A desire sits on the lips of
bee-sting, the words wait.

Sylvia Plath, where
are you. I have still not
understood you. The Venus cries.

It was a weird
night. Recreating revenge by
throwing rocks on daisies.

You bring mummified
daffodils for the queen
to stop the resuscitation.

There was so much
noise between the full stops.
Words forgot to say prayer.

When you wear the face
of animals and insects,
death becomes a religion.

How many dreams
you had under the lids to
entice the wandering poet?

Life was behaving
strangely. You said I
have the right to die in
zero gravity. Blood moon-

flaunted a big smile.
The last kiss was on fire
I burnt my poems. There
was an eternal peace.

Why one should shut
the golden treasury. No
more ruptures. Was it not
a miracle? You were chasing still me.

You hire the tongue
of others to speak truth. Your
vernacular was changing. Why your
words were dipped in honey?

The template has
no commas. You have
taken away all my sleep.
I cannot breathe in your garden.

In remission who
wants another life? Blue
spots on my body invite
someone, to lick cobras bites.

It was sameness.
You were repeating yourself
forgetting that one day words
may lose the prowerss.

The art of dying
was very weird. You wanted
to defeat yourself. Eager
to know who were you.

A thousand moons
you walked to search me.
A sparrow waits at the
end of road to welcome a pilgrim.

You were wearing
the red linen to narrate
the story from birth to death.
How many rivers you had crossed?

The blue black sky
always glittered in moonless
night. Wine glass will
spill the elixir to meet gods.

Wake in my dream
O nightingale. It is god's
domain to find the answers
of perennial questions.