Begins to reel,
the dusk,
down the street.

The grey moon waits,
solemnly, for the
music of earth to start.

There is enigma―
in dark. You see
the inside of a shut house.

Like the stone
eyes reading the heliograph
of shrunken gods.

Plunged into a gorge
your eyes, to find
the secret of a fall.

Can you tell me, where
the tunnel ends. The curve has
flattened. There was no light.

In pillars of wasteland,
why did we reach there?
Death-kissing starts now.

The power of questions
will not mitigate your arrival.
Where will we drown?

Between the swaying palms,
moon was moving
in armada.

Why did you come
late, to whisper, of the
explosive explicit?

But for a lone
cry, I would not
take you.

The jewels were mine.
You had stolen
from my waistband.

It substracts the
stings from my
hobbling gait.

In everyday life
you pick up a war with a―
moment in truth.

Unleashing a malign―
half gender― to speak
for the sake of a maker.

You were standing on
a fault-line, waiting for the
unhappened to happen.

I have come from a
faraway land to dig up the
legacy of the ruined convulsions of man.

The faith, a religion the
god were all forgotten when
you sit homeless, hungry under the sky.

Lost on the way
to find the wetland
where lily of the valley grows.

Have you seen a
lily-trotter?
The floating leaves tremble.

Talking of karma,
Would you like to become
a monkshood?

The woodpecker was
marking its territory till
late night.

Lakeviewing was a
silent affair between two.
One of us will drown.

*

How will you care for
me, if you were allowed-
to die in rapture?

*

The boatman failed
to sight the land. A fireball
descends to knife sea.

Where the ocean ends,
mirage begins. I was drinking the
sun. Who will bring water?

Hypocrisy wears grass.
Clouds come and go and there was
no rain of hope and love.

Tulips zoom. I don't want
the beauty to distract me from
the river of blood to dry.

Where sand becomes
silver, you cower
under a palm.

A birch tree
beacons you to write
the fall of man.

All day you wait
for a miracle.
It never happens.

This autum, I will
worship a naked tree.
A toast for dying moon.

Today you are a king
in sunlight, stalking the moon
in rainy dark night.

*

Staying innocent-
in pursuit of happiness,
living with wolves, beasts.

*

Celebrating
dawn, before sun rises to
melt down your dreams.

Revealing id,
without ego, and hunger.

I may not touch
you ever, placing my palm
down face on the burning candle.

Step by step I come
near you and move away
collecting my pins.

The medallion still hangs
in the cleavage.

You will throw your head
backward and laugh in misty chimes.

The skiagram shows the increased
vascularity. Would you come
if I don't call you?

We will smell together
the parting lips, trying to say
love, but unannounced.

Watching in shifting
stance of futurism, I will
be choosing frozen-
pains of the past.

Endlessly I begin
again, the pursuit to meet
the end at moonrise.

I look up at the moon,
and you look back at the road.
And I will ask, what
was the black truth?

You always think of
the windows, when the doors
were shut. To escape from
the colossal mistakes?

Truth, one day
will melt in your eyes.
I will pick up the pen.

How do I find out
in dreams, when you hide-
behind your eyes?

*

Venerating age
was brutal. Everyday I
count my lost coins.

*

Your hands tremor
after the cruel retraction of
knife from the poems.

Sharing my sweetbread
with you in densely days when
want spans religion.

You burn my roses.
Exiting the day I go for―
wash of cannabis.

Cannot forget you
once in my emptiness of
harvesting the moon.

Rains. The August night―
invites an apparition.
You walk through the door.

The Moon was disappearing
like a runaway. How much you
will take in from my last words?

I was not wrong, seeking
emancipation from your chains. No
grievance. I will not look from your eyes.

O god, the weather is uneasy.
I wanted the sun to come out of the water.
The night was chasing me.

No comments. The eagle
is ready to pounce on
your future, when you were
preparing to consume your past.

Flesh eaters. They are going
far than far. I wanted
to do something strange
and new, for example―

like destroying myself. *****
thoughts. Always coming with
new legends. It is a deep
hole. Cavernous.

A dark blankness. You
are not arriving. And then you
let it go― sensually, facing
the unknown. An explosion,

waits for a new birth. A poem!

In the stand-off
between stolen history
and presiding deity
priest was hanged, while a blue cloud
was shedding the yellow moon.

Who was selling god on the road?
A tall coconut tree was my home;
all but your mouth was shut.

Face to face I am ready to leak
the secret of panic attack in open space,
it rips open the unhealed wounds.

The shot holes on the walls
were still bleeding.
I am getting visions of birds, trees and hills.

A pacific coast was punished
for not joining the conflict.
Corpse is being sent on shores.

When Rilke stops
whispering, I search
the cut flowers of gladioluses.

You don't speak
at all, blinking your eyes
anxiously. There was no
spate of quivering lips.

The exodus of long
breaths had the lethality.
Words come and go like,
a bunch of bees.

My problem was,
how to meet my beautiful
end.

The culture, the
wisdom would wait for
the angels.

For feeding a false tree
of life, beheading
a god was becoming a passion.

Snubbing the checks
and bruises, you
love to be alone in a mad crowd.

As if to be ready
for disintegration, you walk
in pain. Astounded
earth starts shaking.

In unwholeness, the
lamps become dark. The bones
were visible without light.

You want to run
with a comet, away from sun
in coldness of frozen smiles.

Don't drag my shadow.
I am fixed like a legacy.

Horror, how big it was?
Watching the dead bodies floating on
the river. A voice screams. Dearth said mercy.

Looking at the truth of
pain, the end smiles. Then who killed
oneself? Right to **** was not religion.

What can be the last wish
of a stone buried in the grave of a
resuscitated angel after the death?

Answering your own question,
wrapping the ****―
as manifestation of
God's will.

The old earth
still bears the fruits and
comes face to face with the
ungrateful human being.

Not touching your breast, I will
hear your heart beat
once-over.

Before the rains come,
the rage will sleep with the stones
and reconstruct a―
prehistoric fault.

Apollo wants to leave
Delphi and become a monk.

Hips and the rose hips.
You bite your tongue. Desire
has many connotations.

You always feared
of a free fall. I rise. The
war will continue.

I permit myself
to talk to the waning moon.
The clocks stop taday.


A train whistles by.
The river trembles violently
under the bridge.

Predicted to fall.
Man battling against his
demonic spirits.

A killer silence
becomes a knife. Slicing your thumb.

You want to invoke
the missing gods, sleeping
under the dams.

No one should bring
me to tears. I disapprove
the color of blood.

My bones are becoming
stronger, without flesh. I walk
without legs on the hills of fog.

Do not throw the
acid on moon. Hands
will do.

You cannot pass through
a ring of fire. Bonding fails.

The Zen wants to confront
my invisible presence, breaking my
self-restraint. I meet my death daily.

Let not existential fear
tear your confidence. After all the
god sleeps in every house.

What do I want to see?
Muffled cry seeks the body of pain
with immense inner rapture.

The lake was calling.
I will go untelling every one
conch shell on the beach.

Morning star moves
away from the stranger, who
brought the silent pain.

A stigma, an ache and
tears, embrace moon sitting,
on weeping Ashoka.

Two wicks in
my earthen lamp. Love was
sprayed on my wings.

The gender quote
was inappropriate. You of
you and me of me were one.

The door shuts for
any god. The flowers
speak of religion.

The evening song
was a prayer. Name
was on the lips.

Sea salt was
piling up. You muffle
my hair to awaken me.

No acknowledgments were needed.

This was eerie
in blue seizures. Half-mother
was ready to defend.

The sun, spins the hot
ash overnight. The waste land
will never answer.

You wake and lose
the rare event of alchemy.
Gold turns to base metal.

After a little wee,
I will put the record straight
by removing your name
from the hit list.

No more, the river
bleeds, chasing the mannerism,
of falling stones on
the glass houses.

A massive selfie campaign,
overtakes the school bus,
full of wayward, tipsy
wandering kids.

The negativity
targets the blooms. Roses are
roses, they will not stop
sending their compliments.

A lake walk,
in the forest of limbs.

Like the blind man said,
I can hear the truth.

It was more of a ritual
to sit in intense moonlight
when seagulls were stealing the sky…

And you will belong―
to the darkness, of unknowing―
self.

Knowing the inevitable end,
that will come, uninvited.

A lot more has to
be done, when moon
hangs out at the window.

Observing what
was, unknown as if
becoming feral
looking through the black hole.

Dreams were bizarre stones, on
your poor fingers
making palm rich.

Prudery and anguish
will not go together,
when predatory wants a mercy ****.

Leave some afterwords
before the Apocalypse.
Nobody was walking back home.

You can invite the
asteroid to hit the earth.

Pardon my Alter Ego.
My poems fall like snow from the
eyes like jewels of thoughts and tears.

The words deem meaning
of about turn. Each truth cries. I will
go away with light in lonely sky.

A nameless pain takes
revenge. Why do we start the beginning
of living burial in the dark lake?

O god, the time in your
moment dies to watch the nemesis.
I pick the snakes between man and cheetah.

Your pride if wronged
bleeds in my poems. We all are destroyed
by changing the name of Supernova.

Sometimes the god turns
into a fakir to share the agony of human spirits.
After all it was your creation.

A place of glass eyes.
Fire in fire, flames on flames. The
question arises. An ocean will help?

Sometimes you come braless.
O moon you take a bath in the eyes
of innovated love.

The vespa, it stings badly.
Will you say something. O my beautiful
eyes, why only one eye weeps?

The beauty of being
nothing, like the nystagmus.
Do you see me through,
when I break inside?

Won't you release your
white doves to smell
the melting moon
of summer's blues?

Nameless a poem swims
in your pale eyes. I
watch the cobra rear up
like a purple monkshood!

One day I will pay
back your debt, for the
myth of phoenix. I will
live for centuries in the
desert to rise from ashes.

Nobody becomes a conqueror!

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 are repeating
hymns to douse the flames
of a burning god.

Walk to the potter's
field, where books are
buried in wraps.

In the wasteland,
you can search the frozen
tears of Zen.

Being you,
not the bee queen.
Volatile as it appears, would say
one day, I don't know you yet.

The estranged mogul
returns home, empty-
handed.

Don't tell me in
stark and straight words, one
needs clemency.

The flame had touched me.
A strange panorama, created
by the geometry of violence,
now hurts.

Speed and direction
liberates the path breaker.
Resonance of your voice rises,
reading the same poem
again and again.

Segmented icons would not sleep
on the same bed.

Trying to meet the
best of you, after seeking
nothing. Two halves never sleep.

Silently creeping,
glaciers were ready for
meltdown. Earth breaks.

Into tears. I don't
want to think, to speak. Staring
at you finding fault in sun.

The poetry seeks
some answers for unknown
questions, sitting in wilderness.

The moon aborted
twice to land on earth,
to search for the namesakes.

The grief was intense
in individualization. I walked on
the singed coals due to rain brutality.

Someone comes from
your back after touching Buddha
in sleep. I did it again. Killed my poem.

A speculation. I am
alone. Who lives for others? A toeless
ghost laughs, but walks very fast.

What would you give
when I ask for nothing?

A mysterious lineage
of the soul. It has no sequence,
no flesh, no body.
I was heading towards the edge.

Did you know the perfect
no home? It has no crumbling walls,
no hurting windows. The gray roof of sky?

The earth, the damaging
winds. An hour of awareness
in wait. You start
exploring jinxed mind,

hearing voices, but no words.

Knowing the beginning
and the end,
you stand in water.
Transparency should
come first, waiting
for your time.
A blind pursuit for a brilliant moment,
to break the black rock.
The bloodstained eyes
tell the opacity of eternal lies.
Can you melt the darkness?
The holy edge was inviting.
You want to settle
for a suicide, after the hymns.
O golden peaks
I don't want to climb the illusion.
Sun was sitting in my room.
A bluebird was
staring at me. When do I
start laughing?

We have the same
price. Do not go into the sea. There was
no point to look back again.

The unwritten words
can talk by combatting. The prophecy
speaks in proxy and becomes history.

What was the myth
of collecting all the poisons to **** the
earth? Tools are making a wasteland.

Why do you want to live
in my skin ? Why was this a poison?
What was the weakness of your ascent?

What would be my tale?
Am I competent to **** the Drosera?
A plant eats the insect as a food?

Your own power melts,
when you start learning love. Why
you want to become the black moon?

I feel the deja vu.
The mysterious cascades
give the amnesty to thorns

Were you ready to ambush the
bete-noire? We don’t know how to
celebrate the colossus Himalaya .

The god doesn't want
to inhale the ether and **** the
bushmaster. Venom turns milk.

To begin again,
the travesty of understanding
life.

A mole, a warton
the face of fractured psyche,
I will never know you.

Generations bleed,
to feed the corpse flower-
of fraternity. I go
insane.

Going beyond the
touch of your life, I begin
to shred my forbidden
sin.

You know what
was classic love, to burn
like a moth on flame.

I didn't know
how to do it, when I lost you.
Irretrievable.
Pain becomes personal.
Polarization abducts the protocol
and I turn into a boy,
adrift in the jungle
of biology.

Strange journey. You
come back to the post―
from where you had started.
Any suffering? No,
I want to repeat myself
to become wiser.

Cannot hit you, break
you. The mirror of pain must
remain intact. The bright
sun will shine, irrespective
of my dark clouds.

Under the sea, the fall moon
rests on the coral bed.
A piercing cry comes from nowhere.

When white mushrooms
come in procession
after the rains,
you bring back my ache―
O pink rose
words fall like birds.

Caparisoned, the
moon was rising from
the sand dunes, like a
camel after the festival of kiss
of love. The singed bank
of the lake was submerged in tears.

Fold your wings, O peacock,
clouds are going back home.

Tonight I will not sleep
I will call you in my eyes.

My hands were trembling
when I opened the book.
Words you uttered long back
tumbled out ashen-faced.
I started burning inside.

Where did we take a wrong turn?
The oven had baked a burnt-out
face. They are altering genes.
Suddenly it is going to start
a riot among the gods,
a pure ****.

Frightened I move in circles around
the little black hole in the center.
Martians would throw the boys
to appease the hungry angels.

What I feel, was
incredible to shake off.
And the moon cries.

Why do I tie the
knot with nature? Your
eyes and cascading voice?

My wait will never
be over after the brief
encounter with the rising
mounds.

There it goes, my self-
made tryst with burning ghats,
to search a lost face.

The twilight pain
climbs again in my verses.
I cannot weave
a beautiful sunset.

For whom the
echoes travel very long
in dark woods?

The witch-hunt starts
for an unexploded bomb.

A racist slur becomes mute
for posterity.

The words start migrating―
coming out of their skin and colors.

A dead man walks into
a coal pit for exoneration.

Breathless, I become privy
to mass suicides of the flying moths.

You become a child, hiding
behind a tree, watching
a tiger maul a striped ariel.

My mouth burns.
I speak, because I don't want to
speak. It was the red rose, responsible.

I must start conversation
with death. It was enough to visit me
again and again. A kiss will silence the voice.

Untold, the domain enlarges.
You would fight sexism. It was rising
like crimson flames. Do you know the real?