Sometimes I will interplay
the secrets:
faded rose in a book,
a distant star spelling out
your name.

When I go, will you come
to my home?
Hold my eyes wide open
and become my iris?
I wanted to see the innocence of a sin.

Black stone on a white belly
petrifies the womb.
Maniacs were dancing on the petals
of marigolds.
A mauve revenge

Petit mal holds the sanity
of defeat.
Pheromones will decide the gender
of a flat chested angel.
Each thorn was crying.

And I will hear you
without noise,
in the yawn of night
when I will open
my wound!

Burning in the
intensity of time's blood
I will not touch
you in my dreams.

A fakir wants to leave his skin on the
rocks in sun to become
parchment, so that you can
write your name on it.

And my vacant eyes
in summer night, will search
the legend of undying
grace, in the wasteland
of life.

Spitting the blood, he said,
every winter for few days –
he would feel outcast and there was
pain in the idea of pain, but he wanted to live
without a painkiller.

Sometimes he will singe his hands on a flame
to protect his dignity. The history of his
unrest remaining untold. Then he will go
out in rains of knowledge and soak himself
in mixed joy.

A lump in the throat hurts, when he
tries to decipher a dream to measure
the life. A liar knows the complete death
of a truth to assert his independent existence
in myth.

A deadly poison of the choosing,
your own microclimate, aggrandizement
of royal tradition, makes you popular in masses.
They surge to touch your gown, ripping
the explosion.

Like it was pain of sea.
The waves are not rising.

You remember the depth
of eyes, of heart,
when you cannot read the
face of shadows.

So much soundless crying.
The birds have gone
to distant shores
for water.

Manytimes I had given
a call. Immaculate exit.
I will not carry any stigmas.
Want to travel light―

to meet my tormentor.

The art of losing the
core-hurts, standing in deepest
mood.
You want to see, what your
prefrontal cortex thinks.

The suffering: the debris
fall on the eyes.
Vast Greenland melts.
The terror strikes. You
inherit the barren land.

I start talking with the
spirits. In the shoe box, lies the
past. The water was rising
in eyes. The scent of moon
sometimes misses the earth.

The butterflies, sometimes
come, declare the deadline
for garden prayers.

The giant pain was nameless.
Held captive in
tearless screaming.

I have come back in
my deserted home.

The sitting peace was unstable.

Never I will say,
I do, going outside the
accepted boundaries.

No honour killing.

Misfit for the slot, you were
making your own sky, where
you seek liberation
from twilight zones.

The inscribed stone
winks at moon to compare
smudges on face.

*

I ask myself to know
thyself. Life will smell the blood,
of what hurt your dream.

*

Will not erase your
name from jessamine.
Winter always waits.

Becoming,
antinormal was not a―
big task, like discovering a new mineral.

It was upside down
a binary star.
Mother and son of morning.

From your absence,
I pick up a poem
and milk the words.

Unlike the purple poesy,
you write,
when the pith becomes the spirit.

The houses set apart
have no boundary layers.
We were immersed in our
strange thoughts.

Sundown, the masks
come out and a game of
perfidy begins.

Words disappear. A
long pause. You will **** two
birds with one stone.
You and ultimate.

No threats. Only the
heat and flames of summer.
In a dark cave, the icicles
form a white deity.

The religion of the body
and flesh, has no god,
no prayer.

The candle burns―
without a wick, melts
into a blue lake.

The wheels.
I decide to abandon―
the home.

*

The pain of darkness
returns. Wax
drips from a taper.

*

A sickle moon―
stirs,
my religion.

*

Deep anguish,
after the taste of
your own blood.

I could not mediate.
God died in my home. Osho
was talking brazenly?

What you are, I
ask myself. The sleeping
moon knows my falls.

Who unmade the
beautiful dream of a
stricken angel's rise?

Pupil was on parole.
You abandon the inexhaustible
patience with increasing distance.
Everything was fading
when you look back.

The things, always return.
Like you did not carry a bundle
of postcards written
by your father, while emptying
the house.
His carved signature is still
printed in my brain.

Now my grand daughter saves
the e mails sent by me. The woes
of a pilgrim. A neutral passage
with no feel. Some day a glitch
will wipe out the treasure.

We have changed the costumes.
The inside has raw palisades.

Smearing an uncut―
and whole moon on the forehead
of night―

the crazy wind starts
turning back the clowns.
Tonight the kitchen would be shut down.

Somebody had climbed
the heaven for a joke, and
became a monster.

Beyond the bread and
milk, lies the cow dead. My
soul cries, who will―
jump on the moon?

The end opens a distant―
black water lake.

In search of lost
memory, there was no regret
of losing any achievement.
A Buddha was ready
to walk away.

Zebra stripes become
evident at sunset.
Was there an eye in the eye,
the smell in the smell,
of an infant sea?

There will be no
ache retrieval. I am dancing
around the fire, reversing
a sin. The ugly and weird
life has become hypocrtical.

A smoke shapes your preference.

Did not make anything
out of himself. He was afraid
from depth to depth.

Muzzled lock had hidden the keys.
Shadow of door loomed large
on silence, now touching
nothingness.

Lips move without sound.
Eyes become dumb. Hands were misguided,
cannot hold the pen.

Mobs with fire bombs
waiting to ambush at night
ignite the cart. Nowhere to go now.


Golden leaves tout the era.
I am emptied of peace,
my vessel devoid of feverfew.

Becoming tainted without
a stain, seeing
you in dark, untouching.

Why do you draw
a circle around you- keeping
out the center?

Voicelessly,
a howling call- per
mistake, disturbs the slumber.
Moon had yet to leave.

The grace of crying
wordlessly. Buddha sleeps
again on side, through
the vacant mind. Partial amnesia?

The gift of the angles
against the dots. I was
left with hyphens only.

You wanted tranquility
clean and sane,
scudding at persona
impact.

Some thinking disorder?
You start cutting yourself.

Collecting the body parts.

Yellow jasmine. I will know that
I do not know the fields of hate.

When your world falls apart,
what I would do.

Every day
I dig up a sin
with a knife.

The cat had the feral
look. The home was
burning. Drag of
day to day dying
unceremoniously.

Nowadays the god lives outside
the temple. You don't have patience.
Some zealotry?
A siren song?

I was not in any trinity
of god, man and beast.
On the remote trail you will
find my blood-soaked footprints.

Instead of emptiness
I have filled myself with grief.

The night shift starts.
A moonbeam comes and lies
beside me.

I was not hungry.
Cuckoo gives a call
I will not raise the flag.

The flesh, starts eating you.
Sometimes, for this
unnamed, you run cross-country.

Memories flare up.
A primitive wolf sends a howl.
You start reciting a prayer.

The age, will not pardon you.
Limbs spring to catch a butterfly.
Noiselessly a door shuts.

What you did not know
was the resilience
of tulips.

The riots start
in colors, earnestly. A violent
outburst of the theme of surrender
before dawn.

You kiss the irises,
blue, violet and crimson
for nominalism.

The vision emboldens―
the wounds, the slit throats―
to come again for guillotine.

A sliding blade
with promise to ****,
will not move.

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?

The orifice was absent
from the face.
The hatred will unite the enemies.

You won't speak
in the debate, how to
****** the humanity.

Old affections are made
anew.You can score the
highest tears


Armless, you move
the clock in-
opposite direction.

The stigma still remains
after the flight.
I am going back home.

You can legitimate
the loot. There will be no
spineless resistance.

The skull cap only covers
the baldness hiding
the keratinized skin.

The lust shines
like pearls on your upper lip.
Beehive.

Poking the rabbit
before it jumps, you will
remember the ducks have no ears.

Ah, the learned
professor, he has started
teaching the full lips.

When you stand still
in unbearable agony, the unquiet
dark starts settling
around me.

Why this crisscrossing of
ill-bred beliefs and credences?
Hacking of the circinate thoughts?
After the rolled up,
tip of pain lies in the center.

The dead leaves,
noises of the past-are gathering up
with ugly exhibits.

As origami, you fold it
and put it back
in ice box.There was no need
to decorate the death's crown.

Eyes half-shut
will not see the moon rise.

It was unbashed invasion,
and then you were paraded naked.

The marrow was depressed.
I will not be able to collect you.

Lost in thoughts, I
am losing you in every book.

There was no striving,
to be called by any name, any monument.

Hyperplasia. The rot has set in
Would you come to greet the death one day?

There was a speaking ache.
Word was me, I was the tongue.

The turgid lips still remember.
Once the sting was here to take a kiss.

Night was pregnant
with the moon.
The execution will follow.

An arrow finds
a path, which leads you
in fog of baby steps.

Adoration lived in
the narrow eyes of firefly.
The dark bush sways in
flightless arms.

Embrace of an
angel goes amorously
tense. Negation leaves a
deep wound.

There would be no exit-
of the trembling pain,
live on the flames.

Will not donate
my bloodstained shirt.
It divides the cuffs.

The alphabet turns
around to watch the fall
of syntax.

Everynight I wait
for the moon to rise
from the crescent of golden eyes―

for another encounter
with a god, who
would not listen to soliloquy

of a rich begger―
sitting in the ruins of a temple,
he built of dreams.

When I ask for
the innovation, you
lob the moon.

Glass and sand
in your eyes, melt into
kisses. There was no
other way.

You cannibalize my
poems, make a statuette
and wear the pendant.

You stone a wall
of paper. Why did it
carry the names of
failed gods?

You watch the stream
of tears feeding the red
poppies about to be
slaughtered.

The waves
had brought me to you.
Do not be gentle to time.

Lower the songs
into a mass grave,
as the violence spreads.

This time-travel
will take you to panic attacks.
Blackness moves very fast.

Hypoxia.
Photons will take you
to fading sun.

Glitterati,
now hurts. You cannot
haul the gift of reeds.

Bleeding the planet
between life and death.
O invisible, in time and pain
I want you.

Telomere― the capping
has failed. My genes are shrinking..
The acid burnt face still
smiles behind the fingernails.

The spurious drugs will
not allow you to pass away. Lip service
was too fallacious. You never
knew how difficult it was to die.

The night dissents. Day has
many upheavals. You stand alone
in tall grass to count the flames
engulfing the sunset.

This kitsch
makes you hollow,
kleptomaniac.
You become blind in green
ready to make a dumb leap
from tall cliff.

Contempt for climactic throats.
The man walks on water
to meet death in icebox.

Pink torch like royal command signals,
black white moon enters a sober cloud
beyond the vibrations.

Now was the chance to ****
the light, fixing the graves.
One day the laughter was alive.

Courting the dark words
picking up from beautiful life,
I weave the tapestry-
in circle of silence.

The liberty of blood
had become obsolete.
You wanted one ****, one voice,
one faith.

The acid test shoots down
the black roses.What
about the mass graves as a
signature of victory?

You cannot stop
the bloodbath.As if a swarm
of big bees was ready
to hound you.

Closing the last window
I suffer.I would
never become you.

A fallout from your
waning smile, parades
a naked wound.

A slice from a wake―
remembers me.
I was sitting in lotus position
ready to go for abdication.

Your message was elegantly
subtle. Not to lose conscience,
remaining the first lover of death.

Exiled from guillotine,
you don't see holiness in
the talons of eagle coming down.

The tree and a river
were old friends. The scarves
tied to the old branches, will
tell the collaborated suicides.

No sane hands will break
the knees of moon.

Awakened
at the partition.
Left bleeding, the spider silk
had started weaving
the web.

I am trying to understand,
the sign language,
your tears.

You have to become
transparent.I have not
crossed the river yet.

Words not weapons
were needed to heal after
the cannibalism.

This world will
spare us in night.
Trajectory of moon
was changed.

I break myself
today, angry with me,
for small things.

Not able to finish
the track, I will sell now―
my dreams.

How do I turnaround,
to seek my aching legs,
for the fear of climb?

The call of the peaks,
in deep ocean,
for an asylum?

Why did it happen to
unhappen, when you were
fighting like a lynx with fate?

It was a damp kiss
of an image.
Dispassionately you drop
an old coin into my hands.

Faithless in your poem.
I adored the Venus in twilight.
Carnation. A rose pink color,
appears in your eyes.

Rising from the marshy
slush, greater flamingos
keep watch underneath, at the
army of urns.

The sameness now dithers.
You want to weave the moon
in your breast, unpreparing
to open the heart.

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.

Honey,
You had licked off-
all the salt of my being,
and knowing less of you
was becoming a bliss.

The absence
reconstructs the fragrance,
coming from nowhere-
transforming the feel of
unknown grace.

Sitting near a sickle
moon, watching
the full ascent of
quenchless desire.

It was a dark mound
of upheaval from which
the unslept angel would fall.

You may pick up
the glory of dawn.

Autumn moon―
in full grace. I have
come out to say hello.

*

Everything was in
order. A stunned silence.
The cuckoo gives a long call.

*

Long ago, such
was the night. I
wrote my first poem.

*

My innocence,
intact― I still feel
my stupidity.

In search of―
lotus flower,
you go in water.

*

The frog croaks,
sitting on
bowl-leaf.

*

A lily with
dark pink flowers
for Buddha.

*

For a lotus―
eater, nothing else
was important.

This life has become a shrine.
I will knit the words for requiem,
to paint the unblemished body
for vultures.

Empty punctuations.
Born without mating, like aphids.
You swim like a shark.
Predators wait for hidden lovers.

Live show
of a war
without army. I wanted to know
how much truth was there
in your lies.

Where you sit today,
there was a temple erected
on the- bones of ancestors.

Like stonehenges
in circle. Do you know, how
much I love you?

Picky and neat,
why did I raise you
above my head?

Less of charity
was needed, when you sleep
till dawn.

The spirit of the tree
comes down to
wake up the sage.

It spills the light
for a troubled window
cracked by hail.

A drenched house
of words
becomes pale, page by page.

I do not know
how to tell the story
of two bats which flew without wings.

You become absent in
repose..I try to rein in the
subterfuge in stranger's eyes.
There was nothingness. A chestnut
tree was refusing to let go
the nuts.

The phantom fight begins between the
daffodils. The sun had given
the borders, step by step, to
different colors. Still the bloom
weeps for its blindness. I will
not unmake me. The faith―

this winter was bad. The
deathmarks were evident. We
wait for something to happen,
ready to unroll the schizophrenia.

The city breaks me,
when you try to bury memory
in the feral woods.

*

Pains shall not buy
the tears as an evidence
of endless slaying.

*

There was no time
to halt between life and death.
Someone pulls the string.

Leave me by me.
I was an onlooker in
wilderness of knees.

Primal truth is dead
I search peacemakers
of nowheres in vain.

Watch my loneliness.
A bronze elephant stands
still in dream traffic.

Why are you in snow-clad
to see the talking of flowers. The present
time has become revengeful.

Let the darkness come in.
You will search the light in the eyes
of flying, blind golden eagles.

I am not in a hurry to
meet the end. I have to clear a lot
of debts out of the blue. Let the judgment start.

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.

The dark borders
were shifting, rejecting
the inner voices.

The echoes bring apocalypse
with costs. I hear
the silent prayers.

de jure? I want
to letter the unknown fears
of the epilogue.

The whistling pain of the
words, brings
the blood flowers.

Aghast, at the cupidity,
of man, where shall
I start the charity?

You are trying to
seel the half-truths
in terror.


In the fear of-
annihilation, you
want to remain unborn.


The pity of unnaming
the pain, your body wrapped
in tinfoil- ready to be roasted.


The barren spirituality-
and nudeness-
of ecstasy.Do you think you were floating

like a cadaver?
Who will drink
the arsenic now?

The miracle.
I am legless and I move
swiftly to catch the words.

I refuse to underrate
the fog, its arithmetic,
bleaching the dark
words in twilight.

Indelible memory.
You don't behave yourself
writing furiously the names
of god in air.

Song was tongueless.
You could hear the nuances
of cords in rhythm.
Without listening you go
into bliss.

The blue rocks. Black birds
come in groups to commit
shared suicide on the
burning earth.