Yes it is descriptive only,
the unbearable pain of denudation,
like blue heartache.

Touching the extremes, you
become desperate to―
reach the first letter.

The word will form later.
The virtue of knowing―
the unknown was a punishment,
you cannot untie the knots.

You must know the trick of―
the trade. How to come back
alive after touching the skin
of a viper?

No celebration to mark―
the anniversary of the assassin.
Life itself takes the award.

There was obsession, to wash your
hands again and again.
They swing wildly.

The moods.
Betel leaves, and bad grammar.
Charity untainted.

Divided walls.
A street breaks the steps.
Nails scratching the rosary.

The stranded words,
will not sit on the wide screen.
The damp soil becomes dark.


No gift was needed―
unmaking the wasp's nest.
I bend down to light the lamp.

A single line,
undefined, hangs
to make your life vulnerable.

The drifting starts.
You fumble for the right―
text,

to convey the urgency
of a moratorium. The
dew on the grass,

was not ready to
accept the rainbow of
false promises.

Flat refusal comes
from the deprived homes.
The poverty has become a sin.

The elegant procession
of the king was throwing
dust in our eyes.

In being and unbeing
I come to you today―
in unconscious state.
Excessively leaning on
cause, it is not heart―
not brain. Just a beat.
Evening is settling
down. Time flew past. Birds
going home. A lone moon
will rise.
Underground thoughts start―
stunning the secrets.
You open the lost book.
In war go the alphabet.
Questions arise. After all―
who was me.
The awakening begins.

The tremors. One day
I would know. The trees are walking.
No miracle. We are―
becoming rootless.

The fear, was palpable.
Nowhere to go. All the roads
were blocked. The king
is being anointed after the bloodbath.

No logical lie was needed
for targeted killing.
Why did you start the
bonfire near the oil wells?

Everything was in place,
and I started to find―
the kingpin, door by door.

Wanted to know more about the death,
when you were struck in silence―
of blackness.

Displaying the art of ****. It has
an ancient throw of fangs.
I am ready to catch the blues.

All day the hibiscus has
been bleeding. I will never
disappoint the skin of the pilgrim.

Oh pink eyes. Sometimes
I wonder, why this shade rests
after wedding a celibate.

Though inaudible, I will
hear you― clear and distinct,
offering to be understood.
Destigmatizing the ghost of truth
and be accepted.

The noises still persist
of the parables. Who was the
king without a crown?

Accepting nihilism, I will
ask my inner voice, will
you meet the god?

In anguish I search the answers
to deepest mysteries.

Do not wash the words.
Your hands will pick up
the fallen moon in dirt.

The slanted eyes.
You want to drown in the
crevices of pain.

Everything was in place,
and I started to find―
the kingpin, door by door.

Wanted to know more about the death,
when you were struck in silence―
of blackness.

Displaying the art of ****. It has
an ancient throw of fangs.
I am ready to catch the blues.

All day the hibiscus has
been bleeding. I will never
disappoint the skin of the pilgrim.

Oh pink eyes. Sometimes
I wonder, why this shade rests
after wedding a celibate.

Eclectically, do not say anything;
put a bullet in your head
and go to sleep.

I know what was coming
after the ballot. A heap of
abuses, for not maintaining the war.

The presence you can feel,
I am the native of this land― when
hurricane comes, you untie the shoes.

May be, wearing a dark suit,
the bartender comes and pours the
honey in your broken glasses.

The music must not stop. The
black spiders, with paired legs have
synchronized with myriapods.

Aquilla. Would you
carry the burden
of ungiving?

Transmuted, I
will find you in portrait
of sublime?

And I will see in your eyes
a cosmos, floating in void.

But a primal question
remained unanswered, who were you.

Through the blue sky
and legends of dark, the
constellations squirm.

And I start believing
in God dust.

You were different from
others, away from home and hypocrisy,
unlistening to the fiat
of karma.

There should not be
any put-on face. Hibiscus will tell the truth.

Sanguine. I will again
invoke the bride of moon.
Time to go for a simile.

Eros tips. I educate
the limbs, not to go
for the anima. The bearded face.

You had ruffled the tranquil
poem. I cannot gather
the tender moments.

The ostrich problem
of catalepsy.
You go into a cocooned
opacity.

I will wait, till you
come out, ready to take a flight
for an oath ceremony.

The land suffers,
the sky weeps.

The shotguns would now decide
the boundaries of speech.

I will walk into the
sea of heads, to find the sunken ship,
to retrieve the faded road map.

I have to face a new testament,
how to remove this poverty
of right words.

You will remember―
what I would not― the
inner darkness of noon.

A bright sun goes
blind for a caged bird. To
dream or not to dream in
the path of unknown.

Any celestial movement―
will bring the halcyon days?
One day the man will change?

This culture, your
ethos were making the
sense datum extinct― a fossil.

Far from the meanings
the body language flies
in wings of wax.

Again an era ends,
the very blood of stones.

Night blinks.
Light sits under the door.
I am ready to confront the moon.

Too much brilliance
was there. Would you redesign
the blue sky and paint the new stars?

Poverty was my great strength.
Nothing to lose, when
you were dancing with the shadows.

Trembling…
the burning coal has gone to sleep,
before igniting the dry grass.

Eye to eye colliding
turning you into ophelian mess.
Light had gone back to black matter.

It was a frisk season―
in sick society. The hidden plaques
have come out in the blood stream.

You are now backtracking
on the uphill, ready to fall
from the green heights to connect with ground.

For keepsake I will
again unwrite the book
not mentioning the stillbirth of freedom.

Be what you are.
As night falls,
I start moon spotting
standing starkly against the pain.

Reaching for you
from you, in―
moonless night.

The relationship of
dream blood, was never
seen but heard.

The pursuit of location
where the eclipse descends like a dot
on truth.

I am going to touch
the surreal constellation
again in your wet eyes.

The weight of the ideology
flattens your upheaved chest.
You speak, what you did not want to say.

A fake hunger and pseudo-demands,
put you on the pathless clouds.
How would you now fly towards the sun?

The polarization was deliberate,
to usurp the authority. Blue jays
have refused to join gangs.

A faded document tells about
your missteps. A bunch
of eunuchs have come to guard the palace.

Black versus black will
not brighten the screen. One third of
generation had the criminal record.

My bronzed speech is available,
accepting the defeat of daffodils.
I will not write an elegy.

The postpartum blues are over,
I am coming out of the crib,
like a new born poem.

Floating the paper lanterns, at
night, on flowing river, to send the
message to moon. No more the beach will cry.

The triangular nuts will
speak of the hurricanes, protecting
the hairy seeds.

No resistance was needed
to stop the invading army of black
ants, ready to tear the dummies.

When silence stays alone
in the hollow of the eyes,
would you come?
In the audacity of
beauty and pain, when
the moon does not rise.
Like beggars the clouds
roam, parting the
sky for a glimpse of a vision.
We will speak like
strangers not looking into the eyes.
Not quite sure―
you blinked. Time to return
back the gifts of ocean
profound and deep.
Pearls, tears and half-angel.

Arithmetic becomes poetry,
when you start counting the stars in Milky Way.

Light will cross
your path. Your own sun
becomes a logic.

You step into a holy bath
to collect all the scripts
of the dark circles.

Where the infinity starts,
you become the center?
of all the conflicts.

A simple way to burn
without throwing light.
How would you raise your finger?

Salt-of-the lips.
You never know, how it hurts
the bigotry.

It was not the might
of divinity, when you sentence
the child for blasphemy.

I would not kiss the―
stone, where the blood stained
the sun. Grey halo was collapsing.

It was the helplessness
of the river, accepting the guilt
of sunken boat.

Again I recite your name
in sleep. The sting was as cruel
as the tongue.

You to whom, I
am lost, the remaining pain
will fetch the grace―
poise and dignity of
ending.

The future lies in―
the halo of the hill, where
the blood was spilled last night.

A black spot on the sun was
enlarging. I spell your name
in a bird song, that croons
tirelessly in timeless dawn.

The moon drenched lake
wails for the boat not to come.

The heartwood had the ingrained
dream map, to reach the
divine shape of a solemn god, who
was guiding the sap.

One day you would go deep
in dark, to find your roots
where tomorrow was conceived.

And in the ruins, you will
find the warmth of
your peers, still walking on the god-particles.

A religion now takes over
the mob, ready to plunge into yellow
sands of dry river.

The hopes and promises,
give you a horizon, far away.
Your want to touch this furnace,
that brings the burning day of solitude.

Wearing the red bandanna,
you tried to manipulate the bedrock.
Life had been never the same for me.

The ferry sinks the riding
deity in midstream. In polytheism,
I never had my own god.

O the chemistry of love has
changed. Meatless, my skiny arms,
lift the sage of fallen moon in darkness.

I am not ready to conclude
as yet, my epic of fragmented truth.
We were fighting the wars of lame lies.

Who would spare me to become
immortal in stones? Let us not start the
annihilation of sane shadows in the poem.

Your interpretation
was a miracle of
unbelieving. I was not
a flesh eater.

Between paradise
and a hut, lies the sky
of colored dreams. You
lean forward to―
pluck the moon.

So ******, was the
sinister design, that
you walked straight
into the arms of stings.

It has become a
strange saga, when a
moth burns, without
a candle.

A sun nosedives with
a water motif on the lips.

The living dead are going to
ask for the right to be
forgotten in gender dysphoria.

In grimed apparel,
the deities were deported back
to the barn, for housing the antiques.

The future turns blue,
moon-eyed, hooking up the
hopes of running heels.


Is that true that there
will be mass suicide after
the fall of the fort?

The fat lanterns now
don't throw the light. Incense
of burning flesh floats.

It was punctuated night.
You sleep into wakefulness.

The space between the shut-eyes
trembles, when you start sweating.

The infant-death of the dream,
incites the borderland. The―

flames rise in a partisan way,
to erase the memories of guilt.

You are in deep grief for the
coiled sperms, from end to end,

they were longer than the body.
Would you like to wake up a jinn?

A digital forgetfulness, you seek
to solve the enigma of life.

This spectrum.
No it will not work.
I am not there in the
shade, smoke filled barn, or―
in secular morgue.
Stubble burning was
like legend of war.
How do I shut the
door of diamond moon―
in the kingdom of
weeping night?
An animal in you
will not sleep, claiming the
innocence of baby steps.
A virginal vanity.
Nobody stops you to
display the grains of salt.
Would you listen to the land,
flight of words―
passage of time?

The moment of truth has―
arrived. The earth
has moved the man. It was
accidental verdict. You know,
which cell you will be incarceated now?

My flame-singed eyes, search
the inception of integrity above board.
I am afraid of myself to
admit that societal violence
has come to stay!

Celebrating the birthday of
a self-propelled god, I go
into irreversible retreat. God
bless the wax house, fire was
raging on hills.

The blood cherries, blood on
your shirt, blood rings on your
fingers, and blood in my eyes.

In searing heat, on
the fern path―
a thoughtless journey begins.

You cancel the prayer
for midnight blues.
Ice was going to unload.

The skin deep spread
of levator floor acts.
You jump from a springboard
to catch a lucid dream.

Would you now walk like
an eight legged spider?
I will remain sociable.

The hands are not for sale.
I am arranging the combs
on the white sheet―
for the queens.

You loosen the grip
and let go the bank.
After throwing itself on the
burning pyre, the phoenix
has failed. It will―
not rise from the ashes.
An agonizing script
unfolds. In a visceral moment,
I was scared. Life, till natural death.
What do I do now? Words
do not help. Stop doing anything?
A void becomes a voice.
You become whole.
Living precariously, thinking
becomes a tree. The roots
will feed the heart.
A songbird reminds me.
Time to salute the dawn.

It was a marathon race of
timeline. The days are bound and shot.
How do I come to you to express
my grief of the country
in tumult!

In shouting and screaming,
there was no magic wand to invoke
peace. Your mouth opens
and shuts like the shell valves. The
scollops― words, swim in
sea of burials.

The seriality was unconscionable.
It falls short of a stroke.
The blood splits. A riot erupts
to wet the lips of curved razor.
The sun retreats, to let
the stars find their sky.

My little ***** moon,
why were you hiding―
when the vulture-poems had
an uncanny similarity with
raging road show?

The volatility would not exit.
It rises in flames to make
a ******* hole in the sky.
Sometimes I hate you,
sometimes I, love you,
my elusive, beautiful karma.

At night when I disappear
what poem you will read?
In fast-running stream, your
croaking will not be heard.
Try to begin a dance of democracy.

Wanting to die young
hairy and unbaked,
not telling the truth.
It was a savage vendetta.
The crowd was not on your side.
In manic intensity,
they shouted― death to the veils
in holiest dip.
I repudiate the presumptiveness.
A super religion gives birth
to a devil― another godman.
In chains, I will carry
a cloud. Very disquieting.
There was no water.
The seeds crawl―
underground in the wake of earthquake.
Collecting the tears to grow.
It is a blank summer.
The fat spiders open the eyes.

Night falls in rings.
The poetry becomes
a summer dilemma.

A dancing frog
starts foot-flagging.
Mating was the ultimate.

Politics becomes
a ritual. I will not come back
to face the lynch mob.

The traveler sleeps in a sepulcher,
endlessly, timelessly,
where no ray of light enters.
Like the death has stopped
moving, for a moment
to celebrate the close of the journey.

Indeed? Is it the edge of yearning?
I no longer belong to any one,
to any universe. Come a long way
walking barefoot on hot sands
of life where no footprints exist.

Do not go for my vision. Find
your own path. In yellowish― brown
eroded silica, ripened in sun,
I have left my eyes. The moon
will tell the tale of my Olympian
failures.

A sudden shock,
when a snakeskin starts moving.
Behind the shut doors
a conspiracy was hatched.
Son of the moon―
wriggles on palms. Sneaks
a glance at the diving sun.
Cut and glued, a mourning looks
in the eyes of a Titan.
The anarchy raises its head.
The make-up cannot be
taken off. It will expose
the artless faces.
When eyelids flutter
of a fallen angel, you think
it was an imperial command.
A pause in pain.
You float on ice.

To connect with a reclusive mind,
was an uphill task.
You become―
vunerable again.

Everyday the curtains
come down after the entry of
assassin bugs.

Long-legged, bloodsucking
predators would roam
and abduct the phrases.

The young turks break
the nest, petals strewn, a
rose dies in my hands.

My night journey begins
I let out a poem
to become my lantern.

The great lines, you quote, don't
stir me... you know my vexation,
with the twinkling lights, that don't move.
The colors, don't mix... I move
from death to death, to understand
life, and fail miserably. The body
does not open. Seducers
ready to jump for a bite, to tear
off my columns, my domes.

Yes, I give, give away my precious
heart, time, my infallible attention
to heal you.I don't demand any
dough, remaining in penury, do not
ask for the factors. My arithmetic
has failed. Cannot solve the puzzles
lost in maze of juggleries.

It was your world. I am living
at a binary planet, scarcely habitable.
Yet I am happy in myself
looking at the grains of sand on my
hands. You know, you cannot
write like me... like me.

This was the first
evidence of altered genes.
Keeping you in abeyance, the
barbs fly from lips to lips.
It is pitch dark.
Reaching the tortuous path of climb,
unabashedly you want to say
it is over.
At the edge of hurts.
What was your pride? Very
private, very distant, thinking
to and fro, when someone wants to pull you back.
Do some questions arise?
Are you ready to talk?
The sermons, the prayers won't
help you become a subject―
to unseen god.
The delusion of being chased
begins. Truth becomes silent.
Will nihilism overtake?

It was a mixed affair
of love and hate.
You are in deep water
to engage in a dialogue.

Almost farce was the
black ice. Animalism was the―
same. It was ******
in one form or the other.

The landscape would be
remembered for illicit violence.
The ****** sea hides the remains
of midair collision.

The purple men talk of
casualities in war times. The
relocation of peace march was
a big mistake. The vultures―

refuse to move from the trees.

As I accept the verdict,
the dead-soul beast―
jumps up, draws out the sword
and starts cutting the drift. You shout,
wake up from a nightmare.

The words had betrayed. Vowel
harmony was gone. Voice hoarse, you
stammer, accusing the city, the country
the century.

It was consensual. The suicide pact.
Cloth and body, print and color.
Paper and pen, bed and grave. The
moon had kicked out the feline.

The insomnia, now rules. You
start counting the sins. No stress,
no indecency, sleeping with
dead poems. A big explosion changes the fonts.

You go into long sleep.

Once you are labeled,
The human input is out and
you start falling apart.

My home, and I am trying
to set the walls free after―
the explosion.

A sinkhole eats you alive.
I am walking in air
contending with the old god
who would not listen.

Suddenly it is time to
back drive. The wrong road
taken has given in glimpse
of people starting the war.

The land becomes black
and paper lanterns adorn the doors.

It was a breech birth,
scuttling the forecast,
under water search.
Sad night.

The sand fills your
pockets. You start
licking the salt
jettisoned by violent waves.

Don't focus your mind.
D-Day is drawing near.
No deference to sun.
Unfurl all the sails and ride the breakers.

When I make a heap
of all my killer pains,
rains come.
A half-moon casts
a spell. Hope used to
have many colors.
A black magic
ruffles the feathers, casually.
Peacock forgets to dance.
Rocks. Like rare earths.
Difficult to separate you
from me. The call of the mountain
rattles me again. Will
that continue, unending
path, towards non-existence?
In the dark greens, it
was a ******, I cannot find
the blue moon.

Far beyond the light years,
I will seek the darkness―
where the hope was born,
and night had the faith.

The trust not betyrayed, become
meniscus, when the crowds
start coming. Dog bitten you scowl.
A half-written poem was ripped away.

An inside truth comes too close
to flames. Something limbless―
moves in empty mind. In the
falling snow a dove flutters like a myth.

Half-truths are touted now as,
a new brand of secular religion.
Something was amiss. Man was
afraid of himself, becoming semi-god.

Without trying to become
an avenger,
you were trying to find the―
joy of primitive faith.

The dignity of terror has
to be modified.
You were now afraid of―
yourself in the crowd.

This thing had a dark tone, when
you cross the street.
Underneath, the seed vessels of
past pain, were ready to split open.

The bandits wait on the line
of control. The shock
comes out in open. Society is
generous, accepts your blood.

You have to spell it out.
Where the sun sets
in shifting sands?
Picking up the heart rocks―
I was learning to
walk away from undying.
Who would confuse the
infinite falls. There was no conclusion.
Again you come howling,
waiting for the snowmelt from
the face.
The lips become the stones.
You will not count the peaks.
Overnight, it has
turned grey, my red moon.
I will take hold of the night.
There was no referral
of lying truth.

This country divides us.
Only cameos were
displayed.

The ache of the holy river
was your body which
becomes a canoe.

The snow-clad peaks
would smash
the hikers.

Opinions differ,
when the tornado strikes.
You wanted to build a new house.

The black night.
A green silence would
rebel against the stars.

Where was the empirical
evidence, that you don't exist?
The vibes were becoming
stronger.

The comb has fallen, and
honeybee feels lése-majeste'.
Where the dots end, a
new line starts.

Adrift. The resistance is gone.
Reflecting on the added
infidelity. You cannot pay homage
to ungraceful exit.

Will you be able to draw
the wages of your life? For the
bread and liberation?
Who was responsible for your falls?