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 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.

Bete- noire. Let's improve
the grammar. Words will never change.
Shoulder to shoulder the eternal pain jumps.

Can you invite a star
in the dark? The earthen lamps are
always trembling to throw bright light.

Can you swim in a poisoned
well, where are snakes and eels?
This was the spiritual bath after a black life.

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.

We should go and
meet the fire god to release us
free from the moment
of truth.

In space you want to
weave a daydream, making
me ready for the kiss of destiny.

This was the journey
of bliss unlocked from
the dark tunnel of sinless prayers.

Will you plant some
seeds on the palm of future?
The barefoot
refugees want to divide
the body of water.

We go thirsty when the
rains come. Why
of red color.
Were there predatory clouds?

Again, I remember you intensly
in dark night.

Fractious with myself
to fill in the void―
for not writing any end.

Trying to become human,
revenge for revenge―
life measures the exactness.

Like holding a firefly
in my palm, I was searching
the light.

Still trying to shake off
the dust, the ash, from the wings.
A long flight was ahead.

Being my other soul
would you go for-
a saddest kiss with a gold fish?

Nothing else matters.
Weaving blue flesh on
starched bones.

What else you need,
when the moon cries outside
the broken window?

And the sands and
palms and cacti had the
guts to take in trifecta.

And the blood
to remember the affinity
with the unknown.

Standing in the centre of a circle,
trying to reach the periphery.
Was it a mistake―
to exhume the entombed
injury?

The ****** withdrawl
takes you back to brown
earth from the red sea.
How would you receive,
that you don't receive?

Your eyeslids flutter.
Sun will ask you for
shutting the eyes. The
glass breaks in your
globes.

Fibrosis cracks. You are
moving faster now in black rain.

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.

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.

Was it a sorcery?
In broad daylight,
you ****** away the echoes.

Now I am shodowless.
Walking on toes.
I reach the pit.

Bluebells. From a
precipice, I bend down
to hear the divine music.

A dumper picks up
the foreign traveler, hot
iron. I become a refugee.

Talking of non-violence,
you become violent
against the poppies.

The drugged apostate
wants to live in
lesser space than a mouse.

Rainbow becomes
dark. Colors singe the eyes
ignite the psyche.

Tends to droop,
the narcissus, after
shedding the tears.

Per minute, you
were drawing
a self-portrait.

In water,
your image splinters
in thousand names.

Holding the―
earth on your neck
where would you go?

Meeting my twin soul-
for the first time,
in abeyance of any evidence.

Cutting myself-
to know the truth of undoing
of a voodoo in random
violence.

Why you had many different
lives to lead a client-
heritage, paying debt of
wronged dreams?

While lying to yourself,
you fell in trap and moved
away from yourself?

I will be seeing
my counterpart daily in my
thoughts to solve the global puzzle.

Why didn't I bite the Apple?

A near cult glows/ on faces―
for harvesting peace,
saluting each other, without flame.

I have come so far
though you did not want the winds to move.

A new theme was
developing. The first wicket has fallen.
The collective suicide
will follow.

Invoking the sun, you stay in shadows,
without qualms to hear
the swish of swords.

The phenomenalist,
strides confidingly to read your mind.
Heart cries―
Uncontrollably.

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.

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.

In my rainbow dementia
I would recognize you
on the white walls, in blue frames.

Going blank to
read your mind.

Who does not want the
beautiful end of the journey
without compromising
the thought's integrity.

A gray energy
pervades, in each cell
of the soul.

A neoclassical mystery begins
to cover the naked thigh
of Bonsai tree of life.

Night opens with
a hawkish demand to declare
the secret of purple wounds.

I had still not eaten
the bitter apple untested.

The thirst of newness
makes you move away from the crowd of
grievers. I ask the moon, why does he cry?

What was the ritual, when
you seek redemption from
the bonfires of forgotten love?

In fact, sorrow was
a beautiful heritage of truth processors.
You make a temple, and god breaks it.

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.

A veiled threat,
a muffled cry. It was not human.

No beast, no monster
yet unhuman.

The feel of wolf's
lair, was there in dark.
Anything would happen.

You wanted to become
a self-proclaimed divine Being.
Yet, you were not a god.

A black pit opens. Do not shout.
The clogged artery had bursted.

I give you back your city
you can scale the high wall
and jump into eternity.

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 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?

Say something
on this crucial moment,
standing near the funeral home.
My gods were dead.

Last night I had
left the bed on the call of―
mountains― where I had to
climb back to my final abode.

Any poem in September
was worthy of the rewrite
in rainy day of mourning.

One by one the―
fruits fall. You unwrap
the kernels to bring out
the shiny seeds. One day they will
become the tallest trees.

Friends and foes.
I rise and
become a pagoda.

The lazy eye,
staggers. Looks behind
the moon.

Retaining the uniqueness
that you were not.

The eagled-hoot.
Your spirit, muddles the air.
How much truth was there
under your skin?

I had always admired your stiff neck.

Only the veil was needed
to cover the green fears.

Would you ever know, how
I was killing myself in small poems?

The danger lurks.
Sparks, seagulls and blue lake.
The blaze never dims.

Eternity prowls around, cutting the ribbons.

Unnaming pro-lifers, I
was ready to imitate
the song of the ruins.

Rising like a phonex
from the spermaceti of flames,
a unisexual rage,
engulfs the smoke of burning homes.

I am painting you
black, O white god, your
devotees were coming in the ****.

Bend down angel; the eclectic
door was small and the beautiful
windows were closed.

No need to wait for
a lost moon. The godchild
had been laid to rest in scythe bed.

Come when you are
going to faint in the arms
of poems. I will stay for eternity.

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.

Blue moon of white night, wants―
to bring down the sky
in a spiritual bliss.

Talking of reincarnation,
I am skinned alive, like
a cadaver, talking ceaselessly.
You are burning sans fire.

In absence of god, you
become a god father
to a beautiful progeny.

Leave aside the lineage.
On the horizion, a flock
of swans was returning
home to spread the watercolors.

The recluse comes out from the oblivion
to greet the inevitable.

No time was left
to call you to bring in
black rose to ward off
the ill omen.
Garden was burning.

Between the dense
smoke and golden flames,
blood moon was disappearing
like brisk pain.
Nothing matters now.

I had kissed your
hand only once, before
the door was shut. The
lips would count the poems
we didn't share.

Clouds come, clouds
go. The story ends
of rags to riches. The riches
of knives become blunt.
The Beekeeper was dead.

To sell the half-truths―
of lies, you quit
the post to live with Stonehenges.

Assembling another
dream. I rearrange the thoughts
to save the trembling planet.

Sleepover very discreetly
with me. Find out, how
my flesh has turned into gold dust.

Some wee moments,
chase after you, to become immortal
with each poem.

O life, read me.
I want to go quietly,
climbing down in waters of blue lake.

That was not worth it.
To wait under the moon
for a Cleopatra, who would
not carry asp vipers.

Giving yourself,
a gift of trash, you were
waiting for the pain to return.

A shadow overtakes you
as if you were
walking on the dry lake bed.

An abandoned thought
becomes a philosopher.
How not to live again.

The birder meets a rainstorm,
on journey to unknown.
The poet and water become one.

Not easy to finish the
line. Something has remained
unsaid. The vultures descend.

Hiding the meaning
of life, you caused the
absurdity. Theater was not
ready for the audience.

An interim relief
comes for the aging. Blue
stars were moving away.
You will ****** the sharks.

Skulls start playing. I
yell against the salt that splits
the tongue. Thick-lipped gods
start making the paper-nests
for the wasps.

Winter becomes warm-blooded.
There was no snow on
the trees. Owl butterflies
come out at dusk to collect
their dues.

When the sun sets, moon
shaped boys unroll the centuries.

Unreturning
I will honor my commitment.
I will face the
volcano alone.

The burning pit―
inspires me. The eternal
flames. There was nothing
blended. Not alloyed.

I shall not forget―
the curves, the falls. The
flowing down of the
stream from godhood.

The half moon, where
does it will land?
Umbilicus kinks. You break
the anatomy.

Like radiation, I
am turning gray.On
extremes, there was no light
nothing dark.

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.

Like a snake
it moves.
My poem.

You are not, what you were
in the night, lightning
the grey moon.

I hear, what you
did not say or did―
not think.

Even dark
forebodings, move like red
ants, from the slit eyes.

I cover the faults
via songbird, which
was calling, desperately,
unwaitingly.

Take my canto,
me again. My breadth
staggers when I don't see you.

Hoisting my grief
I unbelieve the lamb, that
jumped into inferno.

To undo the moon-
heart will not accept the
verdict of summer- setting sun.

Your jaw drops
when shadows disappear
under the stars.

The distance multi-
plies, when I try to
come near you.

The ash blinks, words
shrink, yet there was a silent yes.
You roll me down in your tears.

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.

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.

When the time faults, it
becomes metaphysical for me―
to write a poem in flesh and blood.

A night's terror, descends.
Buzz of an insect hovers,
until I give in.

A thoughtess invasion―
makes you unstable, when
you reach the heights, where
snow wails, time and space
start collapsing.

A vacuum bubble expands
into a dome. You draw frescoes
in dream. The colors penetrate.
Blind landings begin.

Looks as if you were sitting with dead,
till eternity.

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.

Amphibious. My pain
wants to go into exile. My home
was becoming a museum.

A devil lives in every
one, brandishing a knife. The
rose flowers are hurled on the dead

Unassuming you dig
in heels; Why does the moon stare
at you, when you shut your eyes.

I left a piece of moon on my
table and started writing about
the broken mirror. There was a time
when we used to cry together.

Dusting off the old books, uncared
for months. A rare ritual
defines the motion. It was the
temblor giving me a dustbath.

Do you know who was the leader
of the pack? The greed, the authority?
There was a bright door, between
the umbels. Would you taste the hemlock?

Every thing is in disorder. You
remember how cranky I was when
I found you unframed. Today
I will embrace the empty wall.

Living on margin he was deceived again.
A grasshopper was perched on door
shedding green pigment.

Granary was empty and he was,
worried about the health of nation.
Glare and splendor always hurt his eyes.

In the name of prosperity, leftovers
set the ***** houses apart
from polished faces.

He was again afraid of interior –
bursting with statements of elegance,
releasing the bald answers to nettled questions.

The stench was glorified discreetly,
giving a pause to sorrow.
Who was destroying the sweetness?

Equality in suiciding.
Who wants to live in your world like
Dante. Enemies don't care to die.

The mob will not go to
god to seek justice. When the surgeon
dies, the patient stands up.

It pierces the heart.
What about the hand which does not
follow the mind. Blood will not touch the needle.

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.

A severed hand, after
the blast, working on a script
writes about the
musicality of blood.

Blood of moon and trees;
of poems and bees,
contributing to making
of republics of grass.

The roots know the secret
of god and grief of humanity.
The sound ot truth resonates
with the art of dying.

Between the sun-and moon―
under the sky sleeps a
shimmering axe.

King of ***,
the third gender
or hermaphrodite,
half male, half female,
existing on margin,
beheads the creator
to propitiate the deity of destruction,
starts a genocide
to create a new model,
new world, sexless, moonless
sunless.

How could you remain normal
when you were being robbed of every myth,
every truth?
And you were walking under the guilty sky
unmindful of the pouncing, long legged tarentulas
to bite off your elements?
All of your tongue?
And the heat will give up the slaughtered spring
dried up in eternal shade?
Within the memory will lie the pain
of million years?

Can you define this relationship?

In a tumultuous city
I was missing…
But in this absence I become whole.
A chemical clock becomes awry.

Night was my poem
I was writing for the moon
and throwing a handful of dust
to meet the dust.

Black flamingo will not
eat tonight. Wading through the
water, its will broken,
searching the pink eyes.

How do I catch you when
you have flown away?

Light a candle. It burns
white in a black stormless garden
******* the anger of water.

What do you do with
my poems? Where will the libido
go? Something has been left behind?

Ah, my friend, what is
relationship in a millennium ?Was it
a song to a lone nightingale?

The name. You were my
flesh, my bones. Forgive
me for this moment. I am
burning all my belongings.

Looking at small things,
weather beaten. I have
come back to pay my
indelible debt.

Darkness was always there.
Who am I to light the candles
in storm to glorify the thoughts―
the shrine of past sins?

Ichthyotic. I am peeling
off the skin, the dirt― the stains.
Want to stand naked, firm, rigid
and ***** in my aloneness.

It was time to climb blood totem.