No final goodbye. No poetic
apology. No introduction
to a frightening joke of
a blue Buddha.

The neonates were blind.
There was no alternative, except
to wish them luck. I wanted
to leave my pangs with razor points.

Morality and hunted crimes.
It was a shadow boxing
in cryptobiosis. A bleak day
invites no more clouds.

You talk to the solitary moon.
The silence enters the reeds.
A whistling wakes up the night.
Death goes for a walk.

Night melts into tears
day sums up the pain.
A fear stalks the flute,
and darkness falls on the drapes.
I was a lake
and I was the sun.

I held you on to my breast.
Give me your fangs
and give me your venom.
I was blue and I am the death.

Centuries of wounds
and million of scars.
Silence of sky
and lull in the clouds.
I am the fire
and I am the gale.

A bohemian moon
was following me,
playing in the hands
of dark night.

Man's marrow, the
essence of truth,
drips from the wordless
poem.

Hanged from the
gate, a wreath of capsicums
and citruses to ward off
the evil eyes.

You avoid the debate.
I wanted the perfect answers.
Wearing a hawthorn crown
does not make a Christ.

Every religion has its own pain.

In moonscape, a flower
remedy, enters the white
smoke of your eyes. An open―
house shuts.

The coal writes its name on
blue skin. We were slaves of our
own deeds. I want to go back to
my ancestors, to learn the clock.

Unheard the suicide of
a viper, eating its own venom.
The fat people will come in line―
to pay homage.

White caps and black caps in
thick silence, drink the empty glasses,
cutting the meat of the books―
and reading again the sky.

A moth love was evolving,
without a flame.
You are going to bang the wall.

It was too early
to sing aubade. Night was
still rolling on the leaves.

A tall tree failed,
to send the message of moon drop.
How will I read my palm now?

At funeral, a crowd
waits for the bride. The groom
jumped off the dam.

No music was left
between the lips. Angst
was palpable in stumps.

When you *****, I
write a poem. I talk to you
even in your absentia.

When I held your hand,
you were not there and you went
on talking about your love for me.

Life has many faces.
Dashes and dots. You run after the moon
and light the candles in line.

The seamstress
fails to stitch the moon,
when it was raining poverty.

Would you come near me,
looking in the eyes of sun?
You should make a move.

There was no god's will
when the truth was being
laid to rest, after it was shot dead.

This grief is not only mine.
You will have to open
the wounds to dignity.

Glamour,
sparkle and show.
It was disgusting.

There was a mass burning.
Blackened and singed
bodies, don't speak.

Transcribing my emptiness,
like emulating an ape―
to study the anatomy―
of a scar.

There was a brutal assult.
Uninterpretable was the ink,
like the blood spilled
after the vein collapsed.

An egg within an egg
would change the gender
of a name. A different money
was needed to appease the god.

The skin-sperms, and the
cut flowers. Times have changed.
I cannot fly like you.
I would write an ode to the nightimglae.

By not listening
to the voiceless,
I was hurting myself.

Taking off the
golden ring-
to become a monk.

Crunching the leaves
of ginkgo-
to remember my eternal pains.

Time to pack your
nothings. Intrigue has
endorsed the white lies.

When I become unknown to
you, will you erase the
scars of the sunset?

Rusted maple leaves
fallen on ice, from the
disgraced trees.
Spread like tiny palms of
sweet children-
ready for school.

I have come to teach
myself, the lessons
of nonviolence in moonlight-
washed promises.

Where lies the peanut
wisdom of man, crashed on
the cruel earth?

The refugee cult
grows out of the torn psyche.
So you believe in-
incarnation?

Occasionally small
things betray. Lurking in your eyes
a parallel pain becomes extinct.

Saliva turns into lava.
Your lips were dried like a river bed
searching for words to say goodbye.

Do you think separation was
real? Did we try to unmake the thread
of unbreakable handshake?

It was a breech birth,
scuttling the forecast,
under water search.
Sad night.

The sand fills your
pockets. You start
licking the salt
jettisoned by violent waves.

Don't focus your mind.
D-Day is drawing near.
No deference to sun.
Unfurl all the sails and ride the breakers.

Living a death daily,
becomes a normal chore. It was an intense
realization about the ephimerality
of words, the message appearing,
import dying.

The sparks in your eyes
ignite the earth,
without defiling the blue sky.
It was most elemental.

Walking, chatting
green flames― convey a denial
of condensed thoughts. No
milky way. Farewell to tears.

Until you come, the stars,
the moon will not brighten my
kingdom. A peeled off enigma
still prevails.

There was no daymare.

The becoming,
before your sudden
surge of emotions
to finish the half written
message.

That was,
when the words were
getting wings.

Artificial vision?
I cannot look beyond
the exodermis.

A sizzling search
for the Venus
in wraps.

Who is going to
announce the fall of the system?

A hangman
does not need the
weeping tree to finish the job.

Nothing to say. A
wilting rose was calling you. Hold
my arm in red. Do not hurt my fingers.

The struggle of love
demands action. You have to read
once, the Rosetta Stone.

Everything has an alphabet.
In our breast the wars have a history
of wild love. God does not watch.

Now my needs are few.
I think in my mother tongue, that I will
give my broken body a torn note.

In my loneliness I call truth.
Where lies the shrine of an immortal?
After all, death was taking revenge.

On white paper I want
to write the history of demolition of the truth,
so that the sun behaves like a slave.

The ostrich problem
of catalepsy.
You go into a cocooned
opacity.

I will wait, till you
come out, ready to take a flight
for an oath ceremony.

The land suffers,
the sky weeps.

The shotguns would now decide
the boundaries of speech.

I will walk into the
sea of heads, to find the sunken ship,
to retrieve the faded road map.

I have to face a new testament,
how to remove this poverty
of right words.

Sometimes you want to
walk to the gallows,
for my sins.

It was a big fight
over the ***** stop, but
I had a different version.

Living in mirror had
become a charm. At least
you were visiting me daily.

Like ****** fire.
It was a volley of bad names
for a nameless, nearer home.

In quest of fear to
understand the unknown, I
have sacrificed my birds of night.

It was past endurance.
Flattened rage went into shaking palsy.
He moved into sculptured dark
like false reason,
to defend the ankle-bone,
for sequential pain.

Every one seemed a fallible saint
wet eyed, sitting on extinct volcano,
between tickling bombs of flesh.
He imagined –
that he was evaporating,
from the eyebaths, steadily
for a spiral journey.

By way of fear,
he wanted to break monotony –
sitting upright in a lotus position
to reverse the clock, of hunger, of extreme failures -
choking on words, mixing
continents of hate.

Watching a full moon,
trying to mend myself, meeting
the hermit of me.

A sacred promise
was made under the eyes of moon
I don't know why.

The quirk of fate?
Can you decipher the script
of unwritten oath?

My human conscience
will not allow me to go for eye for an
eye. Not proper to make a shrine.

Have you learnt to
live? Life is always struggleful. Go
greek. I will not give my pain to you.

You become possessive,
when you are empty handed and you
want now to hang from a mango tree.

You shut to it―
the window, on watching
a row of walking stones
without feet.

Pouting,
scowling―
in a mile of tears.

(A pink lotus spills
the colors on water)

Let me talk
to my wilderness. The
script was incomplete
in shadows of greyhounds.

You crawl on the grass to find a four-leaf clover.

Life, *** and pain were
of mundane existence.
From where to where, we
have arrived.

*

From a bridge to bridge
you cross the river
without touching the water.

*

When a nameless projectile
downs your flight
you fall like rags
from the sky.

*

A spider runs
on tiptoes
you wilt like mimosa.

*

The ink spills
an the sheet
hiding the code.

Memories on edge
one after the other―
salted, dried and smoked.

On green sea―
in a sail boat.
You do not know, where to go.

Hot and humid night.
Half moon, sitting
on a royal palm.

2.

A violent sun
was rising. Knocking down
the unending music of night.

The purple flight
of fish, clams and *****,
overrides. Tomorrow they would be
on table and white sand in your eyes.

The waves, come one by one.
To die on the receding shore.
Your hands tremble, holding the sea.

3.

China rose. Evergreen.
You will find its glory
petal by petal
at every step.

On a tropical beach―
at sensual dawn.
You come out
to pick up the poems.

Love is the arrival of carnations.
Do you mind the nameless pain,
When you walk Matilda?

4.

Earth breaks here
into palms, like spread hands
and hibiscus blooms.

I find the red lips
on burning globes.
of honeysuckle shades―

the sand, sky and moon.
They will meet tonight
at beach for parting kisses.


5.

Something climbs your bones
like an invisible wave
of primeval lust.

A blood feel―
from the ****** of Duranta,
the secret of land's native instinct.

6.

It falls like a quivering leaf:
the sultry night.
A salty wind slaps and tickles.

Walking under the royal
palms, escorted by
lined cycads.

Full moon hangs
overhead, watching the sensual
dance of light and shadows.

7.

The absolute stillness,
hisses. A vicious assault.
Your hands fly to ward off the evil.

A savage storm
of whirling thoughts―
uprooting the dream of wholeness.

8.

I spread rose petals
on your frame.
You smell―
like a garden.

Around the moons
I will draw the Caribbean sea
with a roving eye.

The lush green, your body
of domes and hairless seeds.
Skin starts burning like a peach.

9.

The flames
now leap. Sabotaging the surging blood.
A subtle and delicate presence begins.

The ism has a silent
fall. You can hear the turbulence
before the poem is born.

10.

The age
unwraps you.
Listening to the sounds of sea.
You are ready to face the ageless.

Time takes its
pound of flesh.
You bleed in grass.

Wind smears the pages with dust.
You were writing―
in praise of absence.

And when the full moon
gives a call, you
become speechless.

I have lost my home
again.

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

I am dying daily after
reading the smoke signs
coming out of your books.

Can you sing the
Ghazal of Ghalib? How will you
agree when you don't want to agree?

Whoso stills the
thunder, it was difficult
for you to lift yourself.

A failed past was―
asking for a date
with destiny.

What your gut bacteria
would say, when
it is raining hot kisses?

I extricate myself
from the shelled house
of pride against the risk.

Should I prepare myself
for the worst? Midnight
syndrome will attract the moths?

Wanted to pay
debts of gratitude.
There was a call from evergreens,
he was not ready to go.

Standing in pit of snakes
he was preparing himself for a random fang,
throat like a blue-bird
waiting for a song.

The solid waste of numerals
across the thinking,
developed plaques, while philosophy
was accepting innovation.

The authority had started
reading the couplets.
Glory came earlier
sea cracked into shells.

What could you do
when the donor fatigue
is on display? And stops the succor?
You are no more hungry.

A Buddha sleeps nonchalantly.

Small, blue grapes leave
their mark on the plate.
It will take decades to unknow
the ****** orientation.

Breathing in the incense,
the cannabis rules.
You were inhaling the history.

A unisex quality
in the seedless pomes.

The veiled threat of
black sun and green moon in woods
to start their affair.

How different you
would be walking on dirt road
to meet your shadow.

A starlight colors
your eyes in variant moods.
You laugh and then cry.

I sleep, I wake
for a vigil.
What was time?

The godhood
fails, when you
become a beast.

The thick cloud
of sulphur,
after the blast―

rains limbs. To
meet god, this
was so easy?

One strange movement
stops. You won't conform
an angel's thought dream.
And I will not give in to an epithet
for paradigm shift.

Unblinkingly you stare through
me weighing my
dewy eyes. They had spilled the ink
of heart. Subatomically, a mass
becomes a howl of unheard scream.

I want you for all the
pores of my consciousness. On a
blank paper you will write a betrayal
of cuckoo. The small songbird
cries in joy.

An earthern lamp burns
tirelessly. I cover the flame with
my palm to give you a handprint
of my waist.

Age was selling the
home. O god unravel my pains.
A limited hand drops the curtsey.

Carrying the bier of
past, keep the fear at bay. Lifelong
the love will ask the death to wait.

Why do you go for sale?
The richness of truth was not sufficient?
The uncertainty will teach you one day.

Hold me tight, my friend,
I am going to sail in damnation.
Between devil and saint
I have lost my home.

A wooden ship is on fire
at the turbulent sea
and I am going to welcome you
on the starboard.
I would keep the funeral in waiting.

Flowering of the ashes has begun
in urn. Sitting in semicircle, you watch
the spilling. Bones meet mother earth.
Death creates the challenge.

Go for a tree, watch your silence,
we are going for a contradiction.
The thoughts are same, but not similar.
I am walking on sharp edges.

Trembling…
the burning coal has gone to sleep,
before igniting the dry grass.

Eye to eye colliding
turning you into ophelian mess.
Light had gone back to black matter.

It was a frisk season―
in sick society. The hidden plaques
have come out in the blood stream.

You are now backtracking
on the uphill, ready to fall
from the green heights to connect with ground.

For keepsake I will
again unwrite the book
not mentioning the stillbirth of freedom.

Tonight moon was
gliding like a swan,
white and graceful.
But you slept on my hand
like a skylark.

Your eyes lit up
when I squeezed a verse.

Do I need to tell you
that fireflies had gone mad
after striking you?

And the weird thing was,
Aurora blushed after running into dark.

To catch your shadow,
time stood still, until
the sun passed away.

A poem
borrowed from the roses
sits today on my lips.

Crowded with ******
at night, words move
around the flickering flames.

Thoughts.
They fly like sparrows
encircling the mind.

The sky falls. Import
of faceless assaults thickens. Red
poppies bloom in wheat fields.

White mushrooms,
come up in summer to complain
against the muted surrender of clouds.

You never forget
the fat preemie.
A perfect revenge of the curse―
at ungiving.


Streaking in
snow, when it
was frighteningly dark.

The moon-bathed
body of the thumb king
running without feet.

How would you―
climb, the black hills
of desire in tragic land
of skulls?

The living god was to
become a marbled statue.

Leaning against the shadow
of self, starting the
monologue. With the fall
I don't want to think of the other.

The beasts.
I give a call, to someone
over there,
who will listen.

A systematic peel, opens
the doorless cage and
sets free the malignancy―

to spread. Now multiple argan
failure, stares at you,
celebrating the anniversary
of the ****.

We are made up of
charcoal, writing on the walls
with dark fingers―
name of the victim.

A patch on my shirt
was growing.
I could not, because I did not
want to remove it.
I took everything, without choosing,
a flag of my territory fluttered
without wind.

Like a marooned kiss on fainted lips
cryless eyes.
The body fails, climacteric defeat evident.
A satellite crashes in midsky.
A star in waste was rising.

Multiple setbacks start,
like the botched transplant.
Thieves were active in dark alleys.

Kicked at slump bodies, like
sleeping on road.
I was always afraid of unknown.

Do not count.
Do not return my poems―
written for you,
in memory of hot pink
flamingoes, that had not returned
to their abodes.

Flashbacks. Fear of colors
arises. You shut your eyes.
Idolatry soaring. Night
will ask the stars. Why am I
carrying the burden of a rock
on my shoulders?
Moon laughs.

You stay quiet,
will not commit any ****.
A train whistles by. Evening
plays a thief, stealing your demeanor.
Inside you burn. No smoke was
coming out. No reference―
to smiles and tears.

Unbashed you
come and go in dreams,
like chrysanthemum.

*

In captivity
of clouds, the moon paints
your eyes with tears.

*

Dethronement of
roses was the art of
bare all artist.

You had tasted the
salt of a viviparous.
There was no asterisk
no bluff to cross.

Why did you turned yourself in,
when the rock was
melting? Was't it an act
of surrender, of sort?

At the end of the road―
moon was waiting for
you. Could you climb the
night for a rendezvous?

Coming of age,
you will not exit the stadium
till the **** victim is shot dead.

Very grim. You
promote the copperheads.
Lakes go dry.

I cannot stop
thinking, watching incessant,
the rains.

Waters send- the
crimson clouds to hide the sun.
Now that ice melts.

Become genderless.
You are walking on a
sleeping volcano.

Where the three
rivers meet, I stand on the bank
to watch bipolarity.

We are not yet dead.
Some wherea flutey whistle calls.
Follow the flames.

Celebrating the death.
Neither physical, nor nostalgic-
I adore the finish,
in place of wages.

Not cerebral.It was
my pledge to remain a husk
after the carnage.

In manthanal I will preserve
the memories of hairless moon-
my nomadic friend.

Like a woodpecker to mark my
territory, I want to stay
alone in my grief.

March and dahlias.Sometimes
I stand before them and,
talk about ephemerality of the beauty.

When would you come
to say goodbye?

Cupping the water in hand,
you feel the nativity―
near the mute swans.

The silence of a bird, explodes
before it flies.
The hands flutter in excitement.

You take a cipher to
measure the infinity. Figures
become drones. One of the
suspect throws a bomb.

The quietness of sea, when
you start drinking the mist.
I will discover the beauty of death.

The words will reach,
when you would not listen.

I was preparing myself
for a Socratic dialogue, when
you come unannounced.

If lie was the answer,
then where was the truth.

Meet me night before
night with naked names,
smashing the space and time.

The invisible particles at last are in view.
Can you count after the
trillionth number, eighteenth
digits and beyond.

Nothing gives me peace.
I want to say, I am the God
to end the discussion.

That ignites an explosion
and we begin our journey again.

The caterpillar on the lawn―
in the name of god,
eating away the copper,
the blue veins of thighs.

Barefoot I come to wish
you farewell. You must stand―
in the decaying woods,
to pronounce me dead.

The auburn fawn climbs on
the podium, to mimic a birdsong.
It was sloth time. Moon was
away and it was dark.

The eagle swoops on tiny
*******, popping up from the
nest of muse. There were no
feathers and no beak left.

Distances are increasing
to strip quietly. I will act when
the time comes for the demotion.

My song comes from
a deep pit of burning coals, after
the death of truth. All the cicadas scream.

Can you write like me,
when the pen dips in blood to
forget the speech of god?

A tree waits to hug me
after shedding the
leaves. The man

becomes a child, entwining
the snaking trunk
for a brush with infinity.

The supreme dedication
become humane, enough
to **** the non-man.

A lethal mix of
parodies brings a comic
relief to sparring partners.

After all you discover
the white fog, god-made
to unlisten the lyrics.

The forbidden candle
burns alone in the swarm of
clouds. I read your eyes again.

I take off the sparks
to write a poem in black sky.
Why does the world revolve around love?

There was no trending.
It was auto-hurt to prove the fidelity
of the moon amidst the galaxy of sins.