I want to make you feel my
presence, by my unease, with not mincing my
words to show my synchronicity.

The pain will not pay
heed. I continue to wash my wounds.
with blood. Can it be retrieved?

The vultures are descending.
I am collecting the cadavers. There
were no scars. Who washed them?

Collecting the chips,
Reading. The Republic, I fear my.
fear in daylight. You wear my cloaks.

Perhaps you may not meet
the end. The travelogue has unlimited
halts. I will surrender to the moon.

Life demands too much.
You want to undress the tree of Ficus
Religiosa. New Buddha will not come back.

I am developing awareness
of your parted lips. Something was
left to say, your ankles had stopped ringing,

I am not a holder of
candles. Want to stay in the dark to
look at the falling moon on the burning pyre.

Barefoot I walk on the
hot ashes, after the collective suicide
of the utopia, without a war.

The sword hangs. You
will not scream. There was stigma.
No style. I think. Let it go.

What magic. There
was huge money in asylum. Golden
eagle. Comorbidity. Black fungus.

Is it possible to find
human, who lives beyond himself?
Where is the truth? The poem says in me.

Unfazed I send my
poem to you. This is my work
of blood to convey the agony of departure.

Between love and resistance
there was a happy pain. I was a rebel
always to lead my art of dying.

It was my destiny to
refuse to surrender. This was
my dream, my night, my fireworks.

After the debris is cleared,
the animals will raise an argument
about physical vs spiritual.

A beast invites you for
a vision in a vision. Take me to
burning pyres to collect the ashes..

The muse suffers. Where
to go? Will you bring a rebellion against
the dream sellers in broad daylight.

It was a cosmic massacre.
But the business of god goes on.
Let the clampdown begin on the roses.

It is a war of eyes.
Relentless. Did you come from the moon?
Only stone structures are left in the lake.

Why did you stand against
the fire?. The blood dries up in the veins.
and the memory ****** the ocean.

Why did you look back
after saying goodbye. The syncope
plays its hand. Nobody wants to win.

Why did you **** the
trees? They cry. The invisible blood
drips at night. Don't do it with clouds.

Only the candle sends you
light, by burning the wax of eyes.
O god is there any solace by giving soul?

In my helplessness
in fear of the unknown. I will not listen,
who was the prey of choice.

Now I will take a dip
in pain, trying to see both sides of
the moon on the volatile night.

At distance, do you
smell the smoke of a burning body
of a fallen comet without a tail?

Brutal stance, the art
of blood is done. A snake was eating
its tail. I am a poem,you are the ink.

The assault on the moon
was not worthy of a sacred cow. Suddenly
something was coming towards me.

Does it influence you,
a raised hand coming out of the earth?
The newness knows the politics also.

When the space between
threat and love disappears, I will find
my blood poem in your red eyes.

You nick yourself sometimes
in the light of the blue moon and the journey
of platelets starts for the unknown.

You said I am killing
myself. Around you the fire zooms.
I am standing on the deck, you scream.

Trying to solve the puzzles
of life. Is it not you morphed cloud of
lips in fusion of love and stings?

The heart of a fig tree says
it with flowers. Why did you look back?
Would you like to sleep under the stones?

Invent a truth like a lie.
Critique will give the jdgement. Why
the moon will confess a ******.

Why did you become
your own ghost? A smoke rises from
the roof. I don't want to hurt yourself.

I wear your name.
you are a godless temple. You hear the
voices but cannot see me.

You must have left me
near the burning ghat. The river
flows carrying the tears of Himalaya.

How would you fill my
void? No one should come between
us. The lancet brings human nature.

The conscience creates
a meme. What was doable, the carnage
or a bouquet of roses for the invisible?

After the fall of the moon
in the night, something hides behind
your eyes. Who had made the god?

Looking at picture
writing on the face, I will
search myself in you.

I want you take
baby steps after the encounter
with the lost horizon.

The flora, the fauna
of your psyche, illustrates
a sculpture in action.

The blue eyes the
wait for the snake charmer
to bring the vipers kiss.

The pain of dying
at the door of unopened
fort will arrest the vibes.

What you give becomes
silver to come around. The gold nuggets stick
to me. Why you were crazy about the whole moon?

The critique says why
the hunger opens the mouth. The mask
will protect all the unused words.

The sacred pain was mine.
I am indebted to you that before I bled,
you came running to make me rich.

Street-the evil incarnate
runs after the people. I stay in smoke
to hide the pain of candle in wind.

I feel uneasy. Listen
to earth. Who was crying? I accost the moon.
I have to say something in the fog.

Bilberries leave the marks.
Your eyes are brown. Gold fishes swim.
I peel off my skin to see your face.

Fidelity was at risk.
The planting moon looks with intense
gaze. I hold on the paradox.

You won't return to be
as you were once. Life mystifies the love.
I don't seek any mercy.

How would you be like a big
charming red rose? Even if broken from
the srem the beautiful smell will never go.

You want to go
extinct, dying of love
hormone. I will

Be strong to honor
the dignity of the human
patience in flames.

It hots up. The wild
conflict, between give and
take of god's kiss.

You take life too much.
I ask, what is its worth, it's meaning,
and it's hidden philosophy?

You are not certain. To
whom you are dedicated? The cause of
annihilation? Where the hawk will land?

If I walk on the straight
path will you ever see me again? Then
why the world is commiting suicide?

One day you will meet
yourself, when a tree walks with you
to remember the cuttlefish.

Sepia had jettisoned
the ink in your eyes. Why you will
swallow the pain to act impossible?

Nothing works to collect
the feathers at shores, when waves
stop coming at night.

My poems do not reach
you. Night still burns my heart,
and undresses my wounds.

Half-human in the
pages of epics. I find faces of leopards
digging the tombs with gloved hands.

Do I frighten you my
love? My clairvoyance shows my hands
tearing away all the pages of history.

Brutal poem. But you
want to touch it. It severes off your thumb.
You climb the rainbow to see a ****.

Will it go beyond the
kisses of a cobra? Walk slowly in peace.
The panthers wait for the fall.

This is April Fugitive
trees have started unloading. The
forest goes in flames. I am counting rocks.

Looks like an unreal love.
Why someone hangs from an Indian lilac
tree. Leaves were very bitter to chew.

You want to pull me down.
I will not eat mangoes. TS Eliot was
ignited to write 'The Waste Land'.

Like a vampire wants to
know, who were half-kissed faces,
ready to be punished by charisma.

A place of glass eyes.
Fire in fire, flames on flames. The
question arises. An ocean will help?

Sometimes you come braless.
O moon you take a bath in the eyes
of innovated love.

The vespa, it stings badly.
Will you say something. O my beautiful
eyes, why only one eye weeps?

What a folly. You want
to live in the womb again. There was
one soul and two bodies.

Words tend to die in the large
grind. Only dried tears were left on the
rocks. A name was erased slowly.

O god out of the ash comes
out the sacred necklace. All night
I was remembering a name of fabric.

You think the sun is dying.
I am going deep in the ocean.
Eventually the moon ambushes Venus.

It was a grim situation.
The crooked fingers of an old man start
writing an epic. God will not take rebirth.

Where the love will go?
It was enough. In the crowd, I am not going
to raise my hand, to die first.

My god hurts me one day.
Divides the roses in half. Bodiless you come
in to kiss and leave the chapped lips.

Mercy for whom? The
wounds of love makes me search to trap
the honeybees like the stolen gem.

You give me your limbs
to walk on the paper and find a saviour
who always follows you in dark.

Were you contributors
in my crucifixion? Glow worm was
not throwing light. Only a pyre was in flames.

The grass was smoking
without fire. I trembled for the
sake of wood. Nobody was collecting ash.

Who left the scars on your
body, when you were taking bath
in the milk of the bright moon?

An aubade, I will not be
able to sing. Have you got a
Midas touch? I ask my love.

Trying to become whole.
Will you keep me in your heart?
When identity fails you become human.

Searching for common traits
in us, when the country suffers,
Why did we find deep pains?

You try to get back at me
by placing the ultimate truth in the
crucible to sit on the flame.

I want to become confessional,
accepting my fall to behave like
half-human breaking the oath.

You want to prove that
everything is black. All the tragedies
are meant for me. I decode god - as rejected...

Not an idiom. It was
a conversation with self. You cannot
turn your eyes away from black moon.

Truth remains impersonal
Can you fight with your alienation?
Were you ready to discover love's pain?

The death of a bo tree
reminds you Buddha? Why not a genius
is born now? Will you destroy yourself?

A ***** drags you
to smell the identity of Neanderthal.
How will you define the small human?

Now as I am hurt
I collect my poems from nostalgia.
The olive has the magic. This is not true.

I have to win at any
cost. Will you die for a lie? There
was no afterword after the ****.

What did I ask you,
O celibate? I am already divided
equal to half- self, at par with the half-humanoid.

You live in my eyes to navigate
for me, without any destination. From tongue to
tongue, we exchanged our saliva.

The vitreous lips were full
of blood, left the bold imprints on the
every page of the turbulent life.

Half -minded. It was raining
red. The vampire was getting ready.
My home was burning.

Disinvesting my love. The
road in my heart goes to the river. The
slender moon is sad. Negotiation drops

I am dragging a broken
pillar. Your body becomes bone china.
I clan write the ****** dates.

Telling not, was safe
like the trans, was polarizing the
eyes. The ingenuity betrays.

I start trembling in
the unchanged heart. I want the proximity
of the flame. Let some light burn.

Who impacts the moon?
I prepare myself for a violent break.
And again start moving away from myself.

Winter will not go.
Yes it was my vengeance. Will wear the
ochre color. Look- where I have come.

Will you ever dance in
a triangle? The wisdom kills. How far
was the center? Lots of smoke.

Peel of the tangerine.
I want to see how much the moon bleeds.
Small words scream. Winter will not go.

Between the hawk and dove
flesh was the main truth from the
severed neck. Do you believe in violence?

Everything is becoming
unreal. Where the sense lives? I have
nothing to say with bizarre looks.

You were always a mystery.
I climb daily like Sisyphus to slip
back. Would I stop one day?

It takes one to **** the
lovebird. The herd community applauds.
History will not repeat.

You were elusive and
mystic. Bone to bone walking. Blood meets
within. Inside the chaos screams.

The spark should not go.
A bohemian vows to distill the truth
from the eyes of super-ego.

Phenomenal.
Not spiritual. The birth of a new god.
But fetishism starts.

Do not meet me behind
the moon. Look somebody follows me in
dark.The baby screams.

Where the truth has
gone? Words would not tell. The barren
mind wants to know, why to bleed?

Something was rotten.
What do you want to prove? One day
you will see my sorrow in the sky.

A child lives in me of old
age. Speaks of unborn earth. One by one,
everyone winters. Only bones laugh

Where is the point of no
return? Can you reverse the aftermath
of holocaust? I even cannot cry.

It was the first elegy,
when the earth was dying slowly.
I thought I should be living.

The rocks want to bleed.
My mind becomes still in my loneliness.
You wanted a happy marriage with the death.

At this moment give me
a kiss of viper. I choose my absolute
to watch without seeing.

It was the first elegy,
when the earth was dying slowly.
I thought I should be living.

The rocks want to bleed.
My mind becomes still in my loneliness.
You wanted a happy marriage with the death.

At this moment give me
a kiss of viper. I choose my absolute
to watch without seeing.

After being cheated, I
am learning again. Can we meet beyond
the earth? Certain things are disappearing.

On the forsaken, dark
street. Moon was walking gingerly
to talk to sleeping lovers.

Hold the ground, liberating
the honeybees. Murderous hornets
are coming to decapitate the religious faith.

Tender thorns, but
turbulent sea inside. Why are you
holding the ancient water in your eyes?

You are trapped below
my beats but I am escaping into space.
Yet you dare to kiss me on rock.

This was divine. You
always lived in my breast. The ripped silence
becomes vocal. Where does this road go?

I had no answers
after torching the gothic memoriam.
Why did you lose without a gain?

O passion love, would
you repeat the Wuthering heights?
Post the tragedy will you pick my poems?

You want to swallow the moon,
against the sun. A strange explosion
rips the dream of marrying death.

In your blood are you
comfortable? I will give you myself
whole. Can you call me Buddha?

Want to take away my
blackness without any confession. Your
tongue had become blue, hinged.

Why disquieting under
the water. It is not the shipwreck. We
are swimming to find the depth of love.

The otherness of uncertainty is
excruciating. Why you want to be certain,
what laughing hyenas eat?

The legacy keeps a watch
on wounds. Anonymously I want to say
a miracle, the night will dance.

Yes it is true. In an
aquarium the golden fish eats the
dying fish, like man eats the man.

First unlock my pain.
Healing must start after killing
yourself. It was drizzling love.

Your face had the lips-
mark of death. The wrinkles want to
say something. Not high morale.

Not much courage to slit
the dark to let in the sun. Want to
listen to the voice of earth again.

What I don't see, I
see. I will go where I don't reach.
The human failing shines.

Where are you, my
partner in jail ? The rattler of moons.
Why do fever rise in the dead body?

The stars don't sleep
laying the dews on your eyes. You
know the pain looks back at the torturer.