Empirical formula
was a mad arithmetic. The art of
love fails the calculations.

Let me contribute to the academic
race beyond the mountains of knowledge.
Do you find any god?

The Egyptian fear comes
back to make mummies of dead
bodies of success in love.

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.

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.

There was nothing to hide.
No jewels, no gold. I
wanted, to get the replica of afterlife.

Meet me in some moonless night.
I will show you a slice
of my bruises, offering it as
my panacea.

You were hurting yourself
invoking the baby god
on the night of lights.

It was hallucinating,
stabbing yourself in a
virtual suicide.

As the last rites started,
you got up from the funeral pyre
and walked away.

The water drinks you
slowly in exile. Your land is thirsty.
I carry my pain behind my heart.

The memory remembers only
the burials. You cannot forget your
image. Time kills the lips.

I am always conscious. Questions
bite. Why you need self-deception? Ultimately
you get your answer in the dust.

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.

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.

Questioning yourself―
like a Spanish Inquisition.
Ruthlessly digging out,
the anatomy of arrogance.

No flavor. I speak
to myself of atypical
intolerance of a man in revolt.

The slavery of tongue will not go.

On the verge, the other
thought collapses. No longer
the heritage remains faithful.

Love suddenly becomes
stranger. You won't touch
yourself. The narcissism becomes suicidal.

The black song
empties the mind. You want to weave,
but air does not become green.

I stand alone. The cosmos
moves away.

Wages
of alienation
were increasing.
We were afraid
of reflections.

Shifting
of landscapes
will hurt the river.
I was blinded
by blues.

Relationship
becomes a speech
impediment,
bonds start
breaking.

I wanted
to call your name –
in solitude.
The echo
reaches the whole sky.

He made me move on the rough edges
to the abyss of ‘ I ’, persuasive, but strong
for a thrilled journey, on the snow-clad
relationship between disquietening
follicles of wants.

Completely alert, still drowning in fear
of abstract river, of fire, of nodal pain
of self-destruction. Suicide was below dignity.
This was annihilation of the present, past and future
in realm of faith versus asexual love of sin.

Only one moment was sufficient to disturb me,
between me and my flips, between captive
and captor. The quiet honing of silence
for breeding vowels and petals of narcissus.
Black moon, I always loved you.

Tethered to the Bo tree,
first I see you, then I don't. Silence was
my strength between you and me

Water in water gives you
a mirror of greying heart in heart. that
never stops the beat even after death.

Can you sing in pain?
The blood blocks the voice of god
birthing in the twilight of my faults.

The dust to dust phase
in between, you
did't want a self-destruction
to resurrect a dying myth.

Only God knows. Why
there was only the body language
to explain the miracle.

You wake up a frog
from hibernation. There was
no drought. Plenty of rains.
No nightmares. One has to change
the climate shift.

A muted denial stays
in throat. You wanted to say
the whole truth about life,
which never was uttered.

Scoliosis tilts the water
balance. You cannot carry the
vessels on head. Doubts
would play on the script.

Author had promised to live again.

I am not in something,
anything. Let the
sanitization begin.

Walking in a dark
tunnel, I had reached near you.
This was not my planet.

I become a stranger in my house.
Brown eyes and the copper-
bullets. Who wants to be placed
in crosshairs.

An unspoken threat
hurts the quorum, to prevent
the downside of earth.

Heartwrenching.
I don't tell. I don't ask.
Watch with eyes shut. How the
blue dreams are destroyed.

How long was the distance
between youand me?

It haunts.
You still want to see the―
beheading, piecemeal
in borderless pain.
The war had defrauded my life.

An unsoiled moon
was taking depressed steps tonight.
Faith healing had stopped.

Floaters swim again in view.

A forbidden place.
You do not want to visit the
Blood-soaked turf.

Darkness enters
the poem.

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.

Stoma
opens, ejects the scream.

Oh, my god.
The ink spilled
on the sheet, hiding the code.

The scared veins
of pure honey, wets the lips―
of gills. There is no salt.

The water explodes
bursting the dam. No spine was
worth of robbery.

Golden nuggets
are displayed now. Would you
bargain the uphill?

The nightmares begin again.

To erase your subtle pangs.
You become ingrained in verses.

I will not speak―
a single word to come to terms
with the unknown.

But life extracts a price.
You must become a buddha―
and leave your princess.

You will not see―
the Apocalyse giving rise
to an opus. And my child
you cannot read my book.

The voiceless dumb
bell goes on ringing to send a
call for the faithful to come
and jump into the cauldron of moon.

I boil in the guilty sun.

Escaped soul
was pronounced dead, after
becoming rich. You start
peeling of the skin of neo-poverty.

Hunger equates you with god.
It hurts your tarnished honesty. The
image of half-man, half-tiger.
The veneer coming off very soon.

The pepper spray was well
planned for steady hands to
make you spring-blind. Your pockets are
full of fireflies.

The poetry effect was negligible,
when you start praying for snowstorm.

There was no ending
of questions.
I *****, I miss.

Memory plays
tricks. I have come
afar in shrinking heights.

A face jumps
in mirror.
Cannot recognize me.

Aging eyes.
Moon. Fallen leaves,
wrinkled yellow, harsh winter.

Your freckles should not
go like innocence. Sun
was overlapping the galaxies.

I become whole for a while,
when you cry for the blueberry
moon in vain.

Why the night dips into your blue eyes?

No irony. I will wait
for you on the burning deck.

The schism was widening.
An animal living inside me
wants to raise his head.

The loser gets the inky jet
to cover his body. How about
getting a glimpse of lightning
walking down the road?

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.

Is raining. Since night.
You have no claim on
dry lips. Wry stance. The
city walks slowly. Wasted
faces. You want to ****
the words, the profanities.
Want to unwrap the knife.

I don't need any flowers.
Always making faces. Too
Many boats in the sea of eyes.
Rowing, arowing. I am
Afraid. The fast currents. And
then my shirt becomes stained.
***** words.

You reach the bottom. The
terrible depth. Digging up
my body. Even my hands
become shovels. Slowly
I erase my name on the sand.
The sea has divided us.

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.

To be honest, there
was no poem today.
A refusal to celebrate
the loss of truth in me.

The weather is climbing.
They have assembled to-
disgorge the peace efforts.
War was in our blood.

The great divide of
guillotines and blessed swords,
to behead or not to behead
the god.

There was very little good
in the evil designs.We have
logic and logistic problems.
You do not want a friend, only enemies.

The rebellion, the treason,
the betrayals, all were meant
to upgrade your divinity.
let us revert back to animal status.

The bread, land and water are one.

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.

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.

When the various attempts fail.
You become a sage.

Always I will question
the unveiled moon, why anger was
surging in the disturbed night?

Let me complete
my story. Will you wait
for my final confession?

When my pain
morphs into a poem, I
will discover myself-
in your absence.

And when you put on purposely,
the pink- lipglow, I go lonely.

The gift of parting
was the death wish for a fluttering moth,
to fly towards the glittering flame.

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.

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.

Fear of staying in sidelines,
as a waning voice,
and falling in a drain.

You stand at the door of light,
and see the truth― boundaries
crumpling.

Afraid of transmission of lies,
interfacing long threads
of darkness.

It was extraneous, A
lot of heat generated by the
conversions. The doorkeeper remains the same.

The wisdom goes with
a begging bowl. Spirit was to
become an incomplete text.

What you heard was
not true. I am writing my will
after you lost charisma.

I am dying daily, after
reading the smoke signals
coming out of your book.

Can you sing the
ghazal of Ghalib. How will you
agree when you don't agree?

The words are splitting
in your lukewarm eyes.
I turn purple,
and ask you not to-
wait for me.

If you walk tenderly
on the edges of white lilies,
try not to look back into
religion of stingrays, which
never forget to strike.

Was it a poetry game
of musical chairs, when you
stood alone, thinking not-
to sit on a barbed seat
for testing unalloyed integrity?

The direction is lost.
I see through the masks
of masqueraders, pretending
to be angel's, they
were not.

Listen to wind in
dark. I was hurting myself
not to kiss black rose.

*

There was blood under
the eyes for writing unknown
truths about a fall.

*

Time was not for myths.
The traveler resumes journey
to meet failed god!

In the dark night, you
look afar- the stars, to know
the Buddha's full truth.

Walking on tiptoes,
sun opens the door gently
to ****** your tresses.

Can you stop your heart-
beats to listen the footsteps
of a beautiful poem?

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.

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.

This was a circle
which broke.

Like a ****** death,
like an eternal sleep,
like living on the dark floor of the lake.

There was no ovulation.
Earth has stopped brooding.

Submerged in quicksand
you cannot breathe,
after hurting yourself.

Do not go in the mirrors.
The fog was your friend.

Pick up the leaves, the
leaves fallen from the lone tree.
You become the seed.

I want to shake them off,
the weird thoughts,
like a swarm of bees,
buzzing, whining, aimed at nothing.
Want to write me off?

Loneliness.I
observe the hands of a watch,
looks like they are not moving.
Time stands still.
Waits for me to move.

An atavistic ache.Again I view the world.
Everybody is making a sound without bending.
With dreams dead, I step into emptiness,
barefoot, to feel the earth.

Not going to quit,
free to **** my ghost,
I move into sunlight.

Mounting surveillance
on myself after snapping
hyphenated bond.

I will set you free
from the white paper, carrying―
your beautiful face.

The slanting eyes
will haunt me in dark, I will
turn around and cry.

When did rift emerge―
while playing the moons? The lake
was ready to drown me.

Spurned,
staring into a void-
for a door,
burning a sage.

Wearing a veil to ward off
the curse.

You start the baby steps
getting there, near the noose,
weighing the planks.

Now you are breathing fast,
getting a hit, counting
the hymns.

The corrupt booms
rise and fall.
An overt withdrawal
from the bet, to sacrifice the bliss.

White lilies washed,
in tears, let down the shawls.
You can see the holy vice.

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.

Today I will shed my body
and meet you halfway at watery address.
My eyes were not blinking to hold the clouds.

To live or not to live was a great pain.
Two small hands and two bubbling eyes
glued to a broken wall was my hope.
And glitter of the road,
fallen trees,
dead panther,
had sacrificed my sun.

I think I live to die daily,
and die daily to live again
over the enormous property of shame.

Melting in my own blood
I was becoming dark.
The night was dancing on my sadness.
Now it was me, shaking in remoteness
of a distant voice!

There was nothing to
do, except moon gazing, by
us, shades apart.

*

The words drink tears
and dreams had a satanic touch.
Curse within a curse.

*

The sands of time slip.
Past inspires the present,
of unholy future.

The summer moon with
poetry and musk.
I waited full evening
to become a coherent whole.

I wanted to quit, like
a Buddha, not to come back
in the baked mud house
where the sun would not break.

The earthen lamp with
a flickering flame, under the
holy basil, wants to die
before the moonrise.

Paralysed lower limbs
will make you sit like a god
on the altar, deaf and dumb.

You don't want to learn
about the red lips of the goddess.
Moon was bleeding heavily.

Sit in a lotus position.
Sky is going to fall.

Wisdom reinvents.
You were burning yourself.
Just don't go my way.

It is the power game
you never played. You may
be sold out in a fish market.

Life demands a pound
of flesh. You walk on cinders
to reach the desert to find gold.

Red horizon―
had bite-marks
of setting sun.

On the table,
I will place all my oblique wares
for a change.

You embrace the strange
things, horns and all. The
dissection was accurate.

A multiplex opens the
gates for all the
lipless gods.

The maddening silence
of the priest was
deafening.

I will not come near the skulls.

You do not want to reach-
where the journey ends.

Can you keep this secret
how do I harm myself in ecstasy?
Your shadow walks-
on the lake solemnly.

I want to talk of-
the broken musicality of black
veils. Do we need to touch
the tulips under the moon?

Big toes digging in wet
grass. Grieved, not getting there
where the sink hole appeared
let the hands tremble.

You freeze in the space
between the eyes. The groove
widens to **** the guilt
which never was.

A little finger points towards the sky.

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.

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.

Adopt mannequins,
like aliens in frozen state-
for whispered crime.

*

Howling encircles
a saint in meditation. Where
did you hide your muse?

*

I will ask Rilke to
come back and to write new note
messaging to god.