Bringing the pen down
I won't chew the words, and carve them
on my chest. I Love you.

Life translates the pain
into black ink. It was a sulphur
spring. Hot gates of love were shut down.

Blood waves come and
go. I leave my footprints on the sands.
Here I meet my goddess, who will swipe them.

I have emptied everything
to confront the truth. Humanity
suffers in identical pains.

Enough was not enough.
The smoke is rising without flames.The
picture is always the same.

Homecoming was becoming
hoax. The ashes are still covering
the small temple. Questions have no answer.

I ask the tiger woman,
what is the only truth of man?
Mitigated or unmitigated?

Will you tell mehow
to meet death without pain?
Because certainty becomes uncertainty.

Trivial happiness is
very costly. The enlightened
knowledge collapses like Greeks.

My thinking takes a
turn. An artist speaks inside me.
I am not creating a fancy poem.

My neighbour wants to
climb the wall, not of Sartra. Not
speaking lies to me

All my life, I remained
confused in understanding the
world. It was my spiritual superstition.

You are not complete.
I have to fix the steps to climb.
The moral intensity has no choice.

Wealth of truth is
buried in me daily. Above all my
existence flies away like a torn Rupee note.

Where is the clarity
of the motif? The question is how to
cross the god in darkness?

Am I sleeping without
shutting my eyes? To foresee the
untouchable sun hiding behind the wall.

Where is my straightaway
pen to describe the trusted entry
into your brain to discover love.

My journey revolves
around you to make it happen to
fall in the book of my poems.

You need a permanent
truth. I don't want to learn anything.
My world is not sober.

I am meeting Buddha
daily. How to take out the blood
from the dead god? The bones melt.

At random, one chooses
hemlockbetter than you putting your
hand in a vessel full of venomous snakes.