Like a birthmark
you will remain
on my forehead.

Round cups and
blue drinks, the dark
side was capitulating.

You become my
partner, I will unleash
many moons.

I intended to
talk in walk about the
woes of life.

Frightened of ending―
what, that did not start.
I try to touch― the timeless zero.
There were no numbers.

I give you what I did,
not have. The future of gilded doors
and agonized window's past.
You offer an eternal smile.

Will I carry the red clouds
beyond your tears and
my trampled wreaths?
We talk ceaselessly ear to ear.

Your silent invite always
baffles me. This world has
always used me as stairs. Why
were you still standing on the ground?

The twinkle works. I shut
my eyes to grab you.

A mystical dialogue
in swirls-
to drown you.

Blank pages draw you
for a suicide, without
moving your bones.

A thin worded threat
to conceive a sculpted
dream, deranging
your sea of
cadavers.

No dissecting table
you need to solve the death.
All the arguments are tilted.
You will rig the answers.

They will come
in bunches, to beat you.
You will not hear or see anything.

It was my grief.
And why did you start crying silently?
Do you know how honesty was killed?

Nothing was stable.
The protesters were holding back tears.
How many hangmen had come?

Grey people in black, will
come to condole the slaughter
of grass owners.

The fall
was imminent
on the moment of complete truth.
I was talking of annihilation
standing on scaffolding of fear.

Walking on burning coals
was a sacred commitment,
a spiritual solidarity,
with lake salt –
to lift the spirit
of sagging trees.

Of freedom of body
in camps of violence.
Without sound, I wanted to see
the creation in nothing.

Anything was happening
under the bald sky.

It was a glass house.
A burning boat capsizes
in milk body, creating
a schism.

Relentlessly, a classical theme
was furloughed. I
refuse to sell,
sell anything.

A deemed thought is
nurtured, hiring the
tall grasses, to hide
the ****. I am writing―

a poem of falling leaves
to eat the huge steps
of a giant, who started
the blood time.

Why would you need a
miracle to become human, after
shedding the skin?

In smoke screen you
become a lizard, creeping on lips,
hips, and chest of an ignorant person.

Verbs would roll down to
explain the gorgeous valley
of sylvian fissure. You had stopped
thinking after tequila.

The agave blooms once in a century
and dies. The man becomes
beast in one night and lives for ever.

Anguish calls. I don't hear my voice.
Become brain-dead, to meet my―
blue gods―

The euphemism goes―
beyond the soft
feather, becoming weightless.

You must put it in
the hysteria, after the
laughing gas was released.

The triumph and defeat
of the rising *******―
ultimately gave in against,
the coronation.

The brooms were in plenty
to sweep the rubble
after the sky fell―

between the old
and young.

The sexless hiccoughs
have started,
in the valley of death planet.

Sovereignty of pure
kiss, in garden of moons― will
feel threatened.

Cannot wipe out
the darkness. The hooded
fear splits the white heels of running sun.

I jump over the sharp blades
of swaying Passiflora, where
pouting lips spread the dark berries.

The paper boats will
not touch the bottom of lake.
You can collect the relies on red beach.

Not you, not me
will prove the virginity
of truth.

In a cruel joke,
the torturer becomes
the tortured.

The colossus in its
aloneness, meets the goddess
of death for once and
messenger turns
into message.

The mixer of violence
and mantras, becomes god of
non-believers.

Let me disappear from
the words, a smoke
rising from the book.

Unpraised I was in between the names.

Trying to follow truth
his journey was nightmarish.
Alchemic fusion with past and future failed –
his bowl was still empty.

In the inner space
a largesse, free of present,
becomes the pain of perfection!
Now what to do next?

More afraid of life than death
he tried to manage the fear,
the futility of becoming somebody,
the nihility of ripening in celebrations.

In the darkness, an eye looks
beyond the stars, at timeless silences
of hope, waking, slits of dreams
like lasers, creating new designs.

A secret moon
climbs.
There was a sudden
drop of height.

All along you were
there, inside me-
to hold my tremors.

I will try to recall
a lost call from horizon.

The triangle breaks.
The born, an unborn,
and the maker perish.

Only the designer
will survive.

I did not want
to know you. Then why-
asking the way
to your home.

The dilemma of the
musky scent. Do you think-
it was a traditional
way of carrying the love
of unknown.

This world does not
suit me. Shame to the doormen,
how did you reach there
unannounced under the night's sounds.

The tone you will miss.
The tree has walked away.
No sin was left.

I am changing, not
fractious. This was a mystic feel
of talking with muted god.

The stealing power snubs.
Why the protester needs an ally to
unravel the unwritten prayers.

Ah the snobbish light
perceives the darkness to understand
socratic sermons. Why I will suffer?

Once you were a
walking tree. Drifting. No one
stops planting the seeds.

The pangs. Moons clap.
A renegade makes a temple to die.
Therewas no other space left.

I will not call you.
Your book has been soiled.
I cannot read my own writing.

I take me,
in the whirlpool of bridges
for a nonprofit.

Gathering on rocks
begins. Moonlight reads
quickly, the faces.

I would not give you
my speech, my blindness.
Become mute like the call of
a mountain.

A broken cry will save
the poetry, the river,
the sea.

An old adage brings
the solace.
Somewhere a truth sings.

Sometimes,
you want to listen to silence―
for repose. Requiem
will come later on.

A dark feeling
is seeping in. I ask the ladybug
when will you wipe out
your black spots?

Temptation pours like lava.
Desires are godsend.
I say to myself-shed the gems,
pride and self, to walk away.

Liberated-to meet
my stars. The return bleeds.
Belongings gone― yet
the hand is steady to write a poem.

There was that last question?
When will you come out of your veil?

The moon at the window
tonight, was like a dreamcatcher.
I am going to sleep in your charm.

Image builders were
becoming scarce. In your tempest
I will find my dustbath.

Amidst the sailing
swans, becoming a semi-recluse,
you wanted to write poetry.

Why don't you go back
to your home, O fairy?
Did I clip your wings?

Not for sale.How
far it was? My liberation
from the shadow of the lips?

Ashened, a fakir wanted
to give away his precious jewel
to an unknown star.

Set free the water―
do not harm the spring.
A short poem will write your
theme in air, without asking.

The unbaked bread
will feed the oven.
And the silent prayers
will seal the lips.

The bride of desert―
weeps. No palms, no ariels.
You run over the ruins
to find the tools.

Now breathing stops. A
hammer strikes.

It was the tragedy
of a brainless tumor.
Aneurysm brings the stroke.

There was no rationale
of jinxed proxy. Let me sort
out the gifts of a no god.

You want to initialize me
in forgetting you. Was it so
simple standing under the rains?

Who were you in
my nest, divorced from the
silence of the aches?

The door will not open now for
the moon to walk in for a tender kiss.

This soil, the grief
the stairs I am going to throw
your malignant civilization.

Start respecting yourself now.
I will come to pick
up my virginity.

You do not know, what was
behind this inertia.

O narcissist, would you go
above the moon, if I want to sleep
in the flames of invisible stars?

Who gives light without
pregnancy to new gods and installs
aerial temples of broken hearts?

The killing has a moon
face. I will bring corn fever to
gnaw the legs of falling truths.

Debt laden
I turn the ashes
where you left the footmarks.

My native pain
will not go, for a distant truth.

Unscheduled
like a robot,
you **** your own, noiselessly, and then
think with your guts.

Achingly you admit
the alien for a lipless kiss,
struggling to hold back your tears.

A star breaks, in green dark,
without throwing light.
I beg the sky to give back my baby.

Forgive me,
O unforgettable, I never
understood myself.

Living on the fringes of
faith, you become epiphanous.
A halo chases you, its stomach
coming out, like a starfish
to engulf you.

Small winnings, I was
no prophet, as I knew
myself, still unsure, still faltering.
I become a gymnosophist,
managing my destiny.

A death ago, I was
young, walking down the lane
of unlearning. Coming of
pain has made all the difference.
An old man in the sea of emotions.

Hiding behind the faces,
you had pushed me to the edge.
Now Himalayas were weeping.

The self-mutilation
starts. Human body and mind
collide like tectonic plates.

There was no **** in
sacred marriage. Do you know the
anxiety and depression are not
only the human traits?

Psychosis. The obscenity
does not leave, and the language
starts dying. You block the
road. Nobody was going to leave
the doomed plains.

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?

A street sense awakens
the purple rage.
Ah. Bougainvilleas,
the winter has set in.

There was no encounter.
No bloodshed.
Only bloodstones were displayed
for sale.

A domestic brawl
between the religious signs.
Each sun-flower should
have a separate name.

The pomelos will not
come this season.
There was war between
the brothers.

Clubfoot.
A poet's dilemma.
You cannot think straight,
cannot walk straight―
unaided.

In grimaced face, one
eye patched, there stood a deliverer
with raised hands―
bringing down the empire of
a baby king.

You walk out of the painting
mutely. The king was
ready to be laid down for the
poisoning effect.

Was there anybody to
explain that why the dynasty
falls one day and the
poet wins the broken fort?

Have not we reached
maximus? The perception
lingers on... and on.

Noways. Almost,
caught in the pincers trap.

The handcuffed
blue moon hides his face
after the guilt was washed.

The courtyard was
cleaned off the
stains of the blood tears.

Nihilism was not
mine. You had forced
the sweet tongue in me.

No need to shut
the door. The keeper was
dead. The bell will
not toll for the end today.

To drink the sea,
spilled over
from your eyes was not an easy task.

It was getting
dark, outside.
Inside an eternal flame
of separation
was flickering.

About the consent
of owning
privacy of truth,
I withdraw
my comments.

Now no shroud was needed
to cover the naked body.

To slice a hope in stark terror
he thought to bid holy goodbye
to destiny, and let himself go
in the shadow of weeping deads.

The orange moon looked mutilated.
Quietly stood a suicide bomber,
ready to get killed for a home in white heaven
and destroying the leaping stars.

Who had the blood on the hands?
Hiding in the white gown,
crossing the shelter, to dropp the guilt
on the road, never to look back.


Century of oppression, like baked blood
shines on the coffins of martyrs.
At dawn the pariahs promise to lead
the band towards democracy.

When the sanctity-
will not alter, and sun
dips in the sky,
I will give you a call.

Sin versus sin were
going for a war in large
swathes of purity. If there
was no come back.
I will give you a call.

Small fathers now, will
not bring any revolution.
We will watch only that was invisible,
I will give you a call.

When dried lips will not
barrow the salt of sea, there
would be no anthem. You
start avoiding the altered nature,
I will give you a call.

Flaunting your new skin
like a salamander,
ready to endure fire,
O stranger,
read me,
read my tears,
the pathbreaker is going back.

I will not extort, never your integrity.
The trump has committed suicide.
A game was over. I am
gathering my ruins to go
into winter sleep.
Let the sun wait for eternity.

Somebody was climbing
on the breast rocks. There were
no landing planks. Words
mingle with four― leaf clovers.
You can inhale the smoke,
eat the walls of palace. I open
the latch of mud house and
disappear in future.

Turning a monologue
into a hymn
when you take a fall.

The random truth
in flesh and bones.
Not me, not you.

It was grace
to become a fakir
without your gods.

The dead bovine
gives its skin, so that
you can walk on mud.

A shadow changes into
a Buddha, when you
refuse to die.

Taken for ungranted I will
become an argument for half-clads.

I will not have any
alliance with your words
I am lost in wordless thoughts.

Ask the dead phrases―
you repeat often. Like evil hydra,
new heads come out daily.

This is my domain, my
battlefield. The letters do not
take any shape. Dots speak.

I love the statue
of laughing Buddha. Melting
the pods of transmission.

You know that, you do not want to say.

You went blank on the line
between sand and water,
between seizure and assault.
The tribes have unwrapped their torches,
they are coming in numbers.

Who was going on trial?
Fierce fidelity is demanding vendetta.
The drummer announces the fight.
Justice parts the lips for
peace against tragedy!

The golden voice caves in.
Time moves as a profane octopus -
suckers clasping on the vital stomata.
Green blood oozes from eyes.
The truce was transient.

Childless earth throws up the flames.

Nothing left to do
anything today.
Snow falling incessantly.

Did not believe ever
in shortcuts.
Still moving on legs.

Soundlessly I
meet my strange god
under a sickle moon.

Faraway my old
faith listens―
to the footsteps of dawn.

Something is left
out. I ask you
when you are not there.

It was too cold here.
Can I hold your warm hand?

I hear, what I was
not hearing. The voices
live underground, like land mines.

I sing to myself
to make me sleep!

Do not take my moment,
do not trace my lines.
A half-religion separates
the salt of tears.

There is no art in
saying No. Youwill wait
whole life to say Yes.

A red rose bleeds in my hand.

A wordless suffering
is in the grip of werewolf.You
wear the brain to place the agony.

The pain unfinds you.
A poignant feeling to share the
gift of understanding the poems.

I would miss the
spoken words of the sky,that there is
no ending of stars. Better to live on earth.

Words don't speak―
the inner voice.
Words can only ****
the truth.

Quivering like a
hollyhock in wind,
O god, who are you?

Ever wished to
deceive yourself and become
a victim of love, not fear?

Hiding the panic,
you mature into the epitome
of voluntary surrender.
And here lies the riddle.

You will not understand
the effect of distinguished no.
It will burn in my
poems for centuries.

The holy book starts bleeding.

Beyond horizon-
go across the time zone,
and meet the twirler.

You were always
incomplete in the borough
of a puzzled mind.

The artist will paint
you bare without ephemeral
colors of the fall.

The God refuses to accept
the infant universe.
After the elusive cues, there were
antique radiations to prove
that there was a diplomatic suicide.

A bit of grass,
some moon, little water
of eyes, the eternal embrace and
life starts earnestly in the
qualms of terror.

Washed out on the shores, comes
the body of liberty. The blood caked
limbs will tell you the tale
of tribal instinct, of mankind to
destroy the self, the
vessel and the sea.

Sovereignty of thoughts
in the well of eyes. Something tells
about love. Who dictates the blood?

Morosity develops, when
alien hand catches you.Stark naked
buds of roses tear the sun.

It was anonymous to
open the eyes of flames.The lightning
will clear drops of my tears.

Why do we fight without
words? Delimitation was to drag
the truth. Religion breaks into pieces.

It was not possible.to
meet the eternal existent, or can
be seen. I am. You are not.

My philosophy is to
underline the pain of life. The
power of the unknown has no meaning.

A crowd of gold
diggers. It was a risque. The lineage
leaks. Blue blood remains unhinged.

I refuse to learn.
Illusion hangs off me. Who said live
dangerously? You are walking on rose petals.

Where will my pain go?
Each word becomes an alpin to draw
the blood to write a poem.

Every kiss has a
price. I love you green.
O Magnolia, I have nine lives.

This was the magic of
drooping eyes under the
sparks of a swaying moon.

Who says god was
very cruel. The goddess was
making beautiful dolls.

Your hands,
fingers speak your mind.
You will never compromise.

I ask myself
the impossible. The skulls
will not stop laughing.
Face to face the moons burn.

Will you keep
my most precious secret?
how I loved a snakecharmer.

That never was.
White lie on the black
tongue to recite a
blank page.

Why don't you leave
the shade of Acacia?
The thorns will always
entice you?

It was a solar bite. Why
are you living behind the endgame?
You want to suffer without bruises?

Does your anger tear,
legs and hands? The satan outreaches
the religion. Open Handed I give love.

The deceits appear again.
I believe in the lake not crocodiles.
I will drown in your heart. Will you spill out?

Anointed truth
had no path. Path
was the truth.

Not a play of
emotions. I am talking
about the transparent
leaves pressed in the books
of fake religions.

When there were
fireflies, you deleted the rains
and sapwood saved
the lip's blues.

You rolled around
the burning pyre. Flames were
embracing the dark lies,
about the brailled poems.

Perfectly in harmony,
Bach was being played by
a blind artist. Did you know it?

ShareShare The Thick Skins

Sparking the old
pinch a fabulous star flips you
to turn in the chair.

The vanished time
comes to know when the end starts
of taking revenge with yourself.

Nothingness teaches
you. I live in my aches to find the
answer of all time wait.

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.