For you
I am walking on rocks
holding unburnt match sticks,
you want me to throw them
behind me.

To step down in lake
for washing sins
from the snuffed out
skylights.
Between green and blue I climb on leaves.

Remained pygmies
till end,
in frail human relationships.
All that we saw, was only for ourselves
in questions and replies.

Wasting shine of titles,
followed by empty looks.
Nothing remained to be said.
Food was left on the plate
untouched.

Bare-foot I go near
tomorrow. So much more than love,
poem in a poem trembles.

Like, aspen the goddess
tree, sharing the same root quivers.
There was no storm.

Setting aside the triviality
of daily life, I drag open the funeral
mask to see the mercury planet.

You loosen the grip
and let go the bank.
After throwing itself on the
burning pyre, the phoenix
has failed. It will―
not rise from the ashes.
An agonizing script
unfolds. In a visceral moment,
I was scared. Life, till natural death.
What do I do now? Words
do not help. Stop doing anything?
A void becomes a voice.
You become whole.
Living precariously, thinking
becomes a tree. The roots
will feed the heart.
A songbird reminds me.
Time to salute the dawn.

A sudden shock,
when a snakeskin starts moving.
Behind the shut doors
a conspiracy was hatched.
Son of the moon―
wriggles on palms. Sneaks
a glance at the diving sun.
Cut and glued, a mourning looks
in the eyes of a Titan.
The anarchy raises its head.
The make-up cannot be
taken off. It will expose
the artless faces.
When eyelids flutter
of a fallen angel, you think
it was an imperial command.
A pause in pain.
You float on ice.

Contextual. I don't
get that much-I ask. How difficult
it was to remain like gulmohar

A collision course will meet you
tomorrow.You were a step forward.
I was held back to know the truth.

You were always orange
and red. I want to remain a human being.
I tell explicitly. You were Agni.

Delonix regia

Amnesia.
I want to drink tonight,
purple hellebore.

Like to protest―
the display of private things.
The humming.

The alphabet of
betrayal. Who wants
the award?

Amnesia.
I dream of dying,
feeding the doves.

Was it too early
to start getting dressed up
without a show?

Amnesia.
The hyphens don't
connect now the broken strings.

He had only one vision now,
as he chained himself not to be set free.
He was afraid of living.

No, he did not want anything from world,
or god.
He was not him always. Somebody in him
was watching.

Any gratitude he did not want to expect.
Not obliged anybody.
Wanted to go, but stayed.

Sons and daughters, he loved them –
for not getting cash mentions from them.
Some debts he would never pay back.

It is time for a deep breath of relief.
Empty house, empty soul,
and mind full of hurts.
He wanted to say goodbye.

Unbelievability.
I am nudged to shift
the centre of gravity.

The flames are touching
both of us. A civilized frisking
to unmask the secret.

I look at the dark
sky to plant the stars.
Unreached and unreachable
were you― in the carnival.

A creepy night nods.
I must wait for your zodiac
to blink and release the
incense of dew drops.

There was no destination.
I am a surfer, will not skirt
a thunderbolt.

Blood stains will appear later.

Playing a foghorn
for self-esteem,
is an ego trip.

The white tiger
mauls a cow,
beyond the audio.

You are shrinking―
now at the hands of
unqualified arms.

No need of any
funeral finale. The bones
are as white as the moon.

Catching a glimpse
of moon―
in velvety October.

*

You collect a beetle
fossil. Then
man was learning to walk.

*

Same faces
in newspaper daily,
wearing me out.

*

Self-adoration
rocks the earth.
Journey to sleep begins.

When silence stays alone
in the hollow of the eyes,
would you come?
In the audacity of
beauty and pain, when
the moon does not rise.
Like beggars the clouds
roam, parting the
sky for a glimpse of a vision.
We will speak like
strangers not looking into the eyes.
Not quite sure―
you blinked. Time to return
back the gifts of ocean
profound and deep.
Pearls, tears and half-angel.

To connect with a reclusive mind,
was an uphill task.
You become―
vunerable again.

Everyday the curtains
come down after the entry of
assassin bugs.

Long-legged, bloodsucking
predators would roam
and abduct the phrases.

The young turks break
the nest, petals strewn, a
rose dies in my hands.

My night journey begins
I let out a poem
to become my lantern.

After a long journey
he wants to sit
under the moon.

*

Not calling home,
he wanted to cross
the religion.

*

There was no clearing―
of subterranean fears.
I have accepted the mats.

*

In boiling water
why did you jump
to save the fish?

To skim the sky
like swifts,
when you move away
from yourself.

Holding a four-leaf clover,
night drapes the moon,
taking a lion's share of light
on its wings.

Your full lips defeat
the kisses of incense. I
will come again to
learn Ars poetica.

The fake blooms. I will
never see the death
of a rose petal, skipping
the barbs.

Let me go first in the cave
to see the hollow-eyed, bird-face,
my ancestor, relic of reclusive
committment, eaten by hierarchical
grass, inch by inch.

Calories burn to free the bones
from the green pond, beached, skinned
and fished alive for a weird ritual
offering rice, flowers, tamarind and wheat.
Bald, hungry eyes were looking at approvingly.

I was searching unself papyrus,
to print the tale of agonising
travel of a small colossus, from
night to night to track a dragging sun
in mud and water.

O, groaning seed, you are the paradox.
Neither tree, nor root, only a promise
to destroy the fear. I will wait till the next
sun-eclipse, when you turn
outside into inside!

Wearing the red bandanna,
you tried to manipulate the bedrock.
Life had been never the same for me.

The ferry sinks the riding
deity in midstream. In polytheism,
I never had my own god.

O the chemistry of love has
changed. Meatless, my skiny arms,
lift the sage of fallen moon in darkness.

I am not ready to conclude
as yet, my epic of fragmented truth.
We were fighting the wars of lame lies.

Who would spare me to become
immortal in stones? Let us not start the
annihilation of sane shadows in the poem.

Starting a crush,
on the baby face moon.
Only half-sinned
by staying quiet.

Think straight.
If you don't spell out,
you will snap―
like the fallen blue angel.

Falling in arms. Space
was small. Ars poetica―
faulted. You feel―
luggage was heavy.

For a griever, it was
a long walk. In trance a
city lifts your pyre.
You refuse to burn alive.

Calling names in sleep.

Mate, I don't know,
how to deceive you in bush.
I was born in sun.

*

Ardor moves in
orbs, which have no silver.
Only tangents will meet.

*

Do not define
any kinship between- two
wounded birds in sky.

Your gifts, I do not want to keep.
Shapeless doves on the grass,
were ready to take a nascent flight.
My small hands prepare a daisy meal.

Dahlias will bloom when the sun climbs.
I pass the door, that moves like a
stranger, between the people,
looking out for black roses.

One by one the tribes are changing
the colors of flags.
Conversion into sleepless towers
watching the whistles blowing.

Do not throw dust on the graves
in the valley of golden stairs.
The voices are growing louder
after trampeling on the bones.

Crude handling. The matter,
The substance. Pain is same. Things
are slipping out of hands.

You are walking away.
To defer your sympathy, love boils.
Right spellings have wrong words.

You put the tears back
in your eyes. Drifting aimlessly. Your
existence was for carnivores.

On the canvas,
I was drawing only the feet―
in run.
No heads, no torsi.

Was it a dark vision,
when you found the inert bodies,
crowding the summit?

Primates had already devised
the sponge, to gather up
the answers.

Geraniums become blind―
after their involvement,
in sorcery.

Making an inventory of
fugitives, no body was left at
home, when fire broke out.

Exploring yourself―
with an ornate dagger,
to find the missing link.

My integrity was at
stake. From where did―
you start?

Bring the steel from
the sea, and loneliness
from the storm.

The beige sunset
would dare to go ahead
of the red moon.

Will you threaten a
small reply? The lips were
in the state of siege.

I will meet you
one day at distant dangers.
How far you will go with me?

And my love, when do we talk
of wilderness
and daisy blooms?

The snakeskin―
twirls, and I watch the
wriggling night moving away.

I swallow the
empty words. They are not
heavy and no concoction.

The body and desires.
I have let then slip away,
my dreams, my knocks.

Against the dying of
blueberries in your eyes,
I will not wash the stains.

The curve of umbilicus
still remembers the dazzling
fall.

A pinch of pain, and
you hurl a poem
towards me.

The dilemma of undoing
a kiss of pen,
or lobbing a dagger
in the chest of moon persists.

I will never get the answer.

I would rather go
for a bath in the burning
river of your eyes.

Words do not convey
the real truth. What was behind
the gray dotage on your
withering face?

The voiceless silence would
let you dance on the flames?

O god I am waiting
on the heap of frail bones.

Watching the charred remains
of the toys
you want me to search for another house.
Eventually I decide
to go for a voiceless door.

Who was calling whom?
Eternity hurts me.
I want to come to a stop,
pause for the evening
and climb up the hearse.

A howl is waiting for me
to engulf me in myself.
The blind statement will sit as a judge
and decide the fate of the key.
I cannot open the lock!

You talk of black light,
I am not sure of which sun
you refuse to touch.

In moonlight your
behaviour changes. The space
enlarges for wings.

The flight stalks the love.
Shy of becoming a fossil the blood
footprints will speak.

You forget to give me the warning.

After the kiss of
smoky clouds, I was
waiting for the moonrise.

And the rain would
drench me as you did it to me.

I will give more and get less
telling nothing.

It was only a thought,
once now a phrase, that
you are afraid to accept.

In summer, somewhere nightingale
waits for the call.

In a slice of moment, I stumble
then crash.
You become the song of the day.

You to whom, I
am lost, the remaining pain
will fetch the grace―
poise and dignity of
ending.

The future lies in―
the halo of the hill, where
the blood was spilled last night.

A black spot on the sun was
enlarging. I spell your name
in a bird song, that croons
tirelessly in timeless dawn.

The moon drenched lake
wails for the boat not to come.

The sword hangs. You
will not scream. There was stigma.
No style. I think. Let it go.

What magic. There
was huge money in asylum. Golden
eagle. Comorbidity. Black fungus.

Is it possible to find
human, who lives beyond himself?
Where is the truth? The poem says in me.

A circle,
will not become complete,
without a center.

The peripheries
cannot be defined.

Why should we
become prisoners
of small gods?

The hope―
is a gift of unknown.

Take it.

The talking eyes will -
take revenge. You were a gifted
sufferer of creeping pains.

Your neo-thinking
will come across the first human.
I was unknown to me.

The reprieve comes
to meet the believer. A glimpse
of dying earth makes me blue.

I will not mime
for the sake of belonging.

Moon albino, gives
a piercing cry. Why did you
look like solar eclipse?

When you intend to borrow
love, in parenthesis, I will
go mad.

Light filters from
the chips of your armor.
Essence was nearly invisible.

An insane encounter,
took place once. A red tailed parrot
landed on the pretty pomes.

A face lost in crowd,
floats again in my poems.

Don't you open the blank
pages, where your name
was watermarked.

I am going to stop
thinking about myself. Core of knowledge
fails. I am losing the dialogues.

How long do you have to
drink hemlock daily? The death comes
and goes back. Is it a magic?

Fever rises. Why you
are standing between the lotuses? What
was the secret of creating beauty in mud?

It was difficult to
rewrite one's own death―
on parchment paper. The cloudburst,
had washed away your writ.

The cadaver turns around
and talks. Faith and fire going together.
A flickering light from the brown
eyes, would tell about Advaita. The
nonduality of pain and body.

You can become painless―
if you leave the physical and
watch yourself intently.

Captivity crumbles. You want
to make sure, the bread does not
come between desire and grief.

Cannot finish a
poem without you in the moon.
Bystander named you.

I want you to take
back your words. The replica
of grief will not last.

In dark the fish comes
out of water to kiss stones
of the temple for bliss.

Catch the waning
moon. It may not come
back tomorrow.

The traveller stops
under the sun, not to ask
for shade. The anger
was rising.

Like candle light
brightening your face
in autumn halo.

Would you like
to read a love sonnet
to retrieve the lost
Taj Mahel?

Squeezing the cool
bright moon in a glass of
drink, I want to see you
mutable moods.

Celebrating the summer.
Planting a wet kiss on―
the hiding moon.
Dousing the flames,
you come in crosshairs
of a mob.
You will light
your own candle now, in―
pitch-dark inside.
Impoverished. Always
poor to buy your happiness.
Like Paleolithic stab, you stay
unmoved, exposed to shadows and sun.
The water affair was kept
alive with ****** curves. No
one believes in old bones.
I will not ask you.
I will not need.

What is that of this,
I will ask from the question
which sleeps on the twisted lip.

The probity suffers,
when you burn your white paper.
Why did not you write your name?

The cortex invades
medulla. Your kidneys falter.
The sense and price become one.

A **** opend the pride.
The curves, the slants will
ask you to become the flic,

but you become a god,
accept the knife's version
and bleed to death.

Swirling
like flurries, my
thoughts.
I wanted to know,
who were you?

One by one perumbulating,
the scarlet, the yellow subtractive
packs, of perusals, fall like martyrs,
with burst of crackers.

Snow carpets with
streaks of crimson.
Do you know the script
of unknown?

The shrouds!
Who was dispensing them?

It was me.
Real not surrogate,
behind the words.

A way of lips, without
you, with few things to disengage
upon, what the agony demands.

On skin, a lump
was rising― straight
from the animal instinct,
discussing the religion of predators.

A manhood was
in peril, unregarded by
otherness. You want to collect the scars now.

Because you belong to me
like a moon to earth.
We both were moving in different
orbits, trying to touch each
other, undying, for sun.

It breaks the heart, when
it is moonless night.

Sorcery comes handy
when you start
beheading the sunflowers.

The mountain goes bald,
qualifies for the
******. I set a bronze―

lover on the pedestal to
arrest the muffled
voices, coming from silent cries.

The grace was missing
from the artifacts, you pluck
from the freezing lips.

Stones are falling.

Millions of words.

No meaning.

Watching from pin hole
lamps of baked clay.
Every thorn was in my flesh.

I was losing my voice
in crowd of maniacs.
Dragonflies climbing on worn leather.

Through cracked sunroof –
skull splinters into million heirlooms.
Fever climbs the feudals.

Why were you impatient with me?
I was narrating a shocking tale.
Frogs had acquired the land.

Plot was thickening every day.
Take me if you can, in the heavy shower
of meteorites in dark moonlight.

My eyes are shut,
your lips are sealed. Our nemesis is
same. You are formless. I try to touch you.

Being monotheist I
want to disappear to become footprints
of unbroken faith. Universal eyes?

There were few minds
to follow me. There was a question
creating turmoil. Why life ends?

Scouring, the unmarked
silences―
for the invisible executions.

My name was
on top, for exclusion
from the list.

Now you can read the
applicant's account
under the sun's fault.

A thrill of terror
runs through the buds.
A celebration will stop the words.

There was no other
way, to know the pink of
a dying rose.

First lilacs and now
morning glory, remind me of
your opening eyes.

*

Where blue birds have
gone, wrecking glorious nest
in search of lightning?

*

Mirage was beautiful.
You were taking a bath by
moonlight in the lake.

An unborn poem wants
a name to make a poet of me
to discover the black truths.

To lacerate, the moon was
running shirtless. Why was there
devastation of culture. religion and morality?

What was the merit of
karma? You were digging the farm land
to bring out all the grave sins.

Trying to solve the puzzles
of life. Is it not you morphed cloud of
lips in fusion of love and stings?

The heart of a fig tree says
it with flowers. Why did you look back?
Would you like to sleep under the stones?

Invent a truth like a lie.
Critique will give the jdgement. Why
the moon will confess a ******.

A candle burns in the
eyes. It is my quivering poem. A broken
sun. Will give you a gift of the moon.

Covered with flames. You
will become a comet. Ice, rocks, dust and
the water. You will weep without tears.

Are you everything? Blue
berries are blooming. I converse with
flowers of wilting roses.

I don't want any applause.
Think. think on
what I have to say.

The morgue is full. Still
the bodies were arriving, of
all the dead innocents.

The son, daughter, mother and
father and grands.
What rituals you want to do―

to honour the departed, or
praise the killers?
The rigged notes on paper speak of mendacity.

Between the primates, man
was becoming the beast.
The stone, sculptor and ghost are one.

Playing the double life,
coming apart at-
the seems.

I was thinking aloud the death of a
supernova, and here
an araucaria burns out.

Hands unknown,
someone mixes the cards
of your fortuity, and you
become very rich.

You couldn't carry
your happiness and crashed
on stairs, like embedded
in quicksand.

I regard this a
slaughter in broad daylight.
Sun was pierced by a
blistering eye.