Poaching on the brooding landscape
you crashed while scaling the flame.
A togetherness became a half-truth.
How troubled
I had been for basics.

Then shifting loyalties for petty things
you were holding up my soul,
and I did not move with the changing times.
For the rivers
to walk with green trees.

If the words had the answers
to rebel against the eternal guilt,
to beat the death with pain.
Fighting
for the faded truths.

My experiments with lies will continue!

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.

The shadows sit,
under the words, to torture,
to bring,
perse memories.

A downfall,
precedes,
before the crash of
existence.

Ah, you know,
what makes your saints
blue? The sematic shooting
stars?

The anxiety was,
how to stop thinking
of becoming,
a vigilante.

The mid-night raid
was most unsuccessful attempt
to ****.

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.

Vast emptiness preceded him,
when he stood inside a glass on road.
Sun did not contradict him,
light had entered back in stars.
Failed fingers knocked out the magnet. There
was no reason.

Pain in neck neglected for long
now becomes time,
impatient to meet beginning of end.
Blood was spurting in vain.
A black pearl of pure love
uncenters the lazy death.

He knew the secret of pathophobia,
had known the morbidity of troubled mind.
There was no return now to new words of mourning.
Grave masks were hiding
the smiling faces of unnames.

A method cuts you out―
in hunger pangs,
to set you free from bonding
of four― leaf clover, or word.

Love has become a
one way pain, without libido―
in want of a fairy ring.
The maternal cost was high.

Drifting between the
black sea and dead sperms,
you want to raise a
new cult.

The religions betray.
Everything was marketed with
thumbed scripts.
Gods were threat to sane hymns.

I am trying to carve
a face, from the rocks, not
animal, not angel.

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.

The living dead are going to
ask for the right to be
forgotten in gender dysphoria.

In grimed apparel,
the deities were deported back
to the barn, for housing the antiques.

The future turns blue,
moon-eyed, hooking up the
hopes of running heels.


Is that true that there
will be mass suicide after
the fall of the fort?

The fat lanterns now
don't throw the light. Incense
of burning flesh floats.

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.

Oh, templed god, why did
you snare the palmer?

The importance of being
the autonomous? I am trying to
stay away from me to keep
a watch on you.

The itinerant sorcerer had
become a legate of gold trade.

The flesh is for sale, the
small mouth with big hunger.

A fledging of scar has become
a bleed. The synopsis was out.

I am going to ask some question
from the bo tree today.

How deep was
the lake at sunset-
where my life trailed
from beach to beach?

My animal inside
was dead.
Do you believe in
reincarnation?
I will embrace the non-violent
palm.

It was the carnage
of moment. The brutality of
its strength casts spell.

There was a quick
about-face. Dark night
will paint your face
with stars.

Becoming a drunk
survivor of your grace
I am blunting
my pain.

A deathless shadow
follows us O god. Your pain
was bigger than me.

Each day bears a
witness of my love for dying
truth in your hands.

A damper brings fog
in eyes. I cannot read
your citations.

It was a damp kiss
of an image.
Dispassionately you drop
an old coin into my hands.

Faithless in your poem.
I adored the Venus in twilight.
Carnation. A rose pink color,
appears in your eyes.

Rising from the marshy
slush, greater flamingos
keep watch underneath, at the
army of urns.

The sameness now dithers.
You want to weave the moon
in your breast, unpreparing
to open the heart.

Sperms and legacy.
You scream for the justice
for the space between words
and sentences.

I don't want to be separated
from my half-eaten moon.

Without a dance
your anklets have broken into songs.

Someone commands me―
to sacrifice my pen.

Hallucinatory- be seduced for the sake of fashion.

In anguish I watch
the terror was becoming a religion.

Do you hear the voices
coming from the crypts?

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?

A sparrow knits the-
dim moonlight to sleep in
my arms all night.

My devotion was
different. I would watch
the meltdown of moon.

You must move like
water. There was nothing to
say, nothing to catch.

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.

Charred―
blueberries.
I am returning your gifts
of cruel times,
when none was crying.

Chewed―
evidences.
I don't want to look at them―
to provide the measurement
of face.

A demoniac―
version,
of a sweet dialogue, stuck
in your throat.
You bend double.

Epitaphs
demand justice.
Nobody dies for his god, you
want to disappear to
take revenge.

A dumb copy of me.
You were done for.
Sometimes the design goes awry.

Ptosis. You are called for―
a fall. But you refuse
to die.

You survive the clouds, the
first moon, the brown eyes.
Me before the sun.

Let us take a risqué humor.
Forget each other
and become strangers.

One intentional error.
Honey, honey, honey.
Bees ready to fly away.

The shrine of a flier.
Where it was?
I was searching the sea.

Arranging for a ******
in ****** land-
to buy peace.

Human voices were
forbidden.

You look absolutely
cozy in fragrant mode,
sitting eyes wide open, under
the jasmine shrub.

Raising the conscience
money for no guilt.

Now sit beside me and
listen to the pinnacle crumbling.

Naked as a moon, I don't need
clouds to cover my scars.
A watertight, flawless promise
with destiny was made of-

Incontrovertible friendship.

What was the deal with
Zen? Words are disappearing from
mind. Behind you there was a long shadow.

It was easy to bury
morality at the bank of a river.
I am digging out the god.

I give you a blood flower
moon. Awash with woods, I am selling
life very cheap. Who Was rich?

You don't have to walk
in self-discipline
and abstention.

To transcend
the prying eyes and
rub off the naked shoulder
of moon.

2.
Would you come back
in dark to light the lamps
in my eyes?

I need no pain
to write the epitaph of
an undying poet
in jungle of wild screams.

3.

There was no beginning
no end. So from where
you will start reciting
the beautiful saga?

I don't think of your
luxury to pick up my craft
and hack me to hundred stanzas.

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.

I shut the door,
unwanting any exit
from the choked cries.

Like solar winds will
become predatory searing all
the tender buds.

No moon water
will wash the face of
root questions asking healing
replies.

I will not leave
you alone on the burning deck.
A dark night
follows the sparks to give
birth to a moon.

An exoplanet was
ready to go into smoke
if you don't melt.

You were a one-sided
coin, like grief
of the dour moon-
righting the wrong.

Maybe I was not able
to recall your beautiful face.
O, Miranda send your
smiles some time, as the
tempest was reading for a fall.

A salt mountain
will break to teach you fidelity.
You may run, may not run.
One day nemesis will come
to ask your name.

On trampled leaves of time
a huge pachyderm roams,
to find its master.

I will wait in my half-cave.

Let me go into long pause.
I want to dig my consciousness.

How many intimates
you need to share the hyphenated
half-bloods of air born myths?

Surrounded by lacerations
I go dim, and then I invoke
you to come and sit beside me
to look straight into my eyes.

Days are ripening and months blending.
We listen to the unheard calls.
Can you see through me
to find the depth of my blues?

Wind hides the replies. You
go unhinged, suspended in
sun, waiting for the sunflowers to
bloom after the dark.

I often forget myself and become you.

A bruise has appeared―
where you had kissed me,
last night. O Miranda―
I am not going for any other moon.

Like Uranus, I bleed
in my eyes; from every pore.
Astraphobia― I am going to
stay in dark.

This theology of aneurysms?
Who was hoodwinking
the ancient gods in the battle
of murderous themes? My hands
start shaking.

A blue rash spreads.
In honeyed voice you invoke
your angel and seek blessings―
before you go for a ****.

Life plays the tricks.
You become a meteor-
a streak of light, in the almond eyes
of a god.

I don; t like the grey areas.
Can you become fearless
and confess the guilt of drinking
the mercury? Blisters had
appeared on your face red and blue.

Was it a pure fault?
Mother earth smiles.When buried
alive thirty below the mound of lies
you remained alive.

Dehydrated, you speak
the truth and spill out the
false teeth.Your mind separates
from the heart and blood stains emerge.

Hitting from the
arch of eyebrows,
my pain were you.

One brief death
in illusion, settles on
all the descents.

Not taking any
road to reach the moon
on hill, when you were gone.

For all the half-
spoken words, this was
the moment of liberation.

Solemn signs without a
phrase don't turn the
key and door remains shut.

Between coming and
going, time remains still
like a frozen lake.

Don't throw the light
on rocks. It gives
more pain, explaining ethics.

What was passive
violence? You want to
**** your poems with out
hurting anyone.

The teacher lives
without giving a lesion but
you won't learn.

Want to read
Kafka again. Why does
nonviolence exit? The
silence tells the truth.

You can understand
yourself, when you don't
speak in the twilight of
moon and sun.

Upgrading clock
was not a wise decision.
Who will read the past?

You are coming near
me on water. Where will you
hide the leaky boat?

Time moves on stings.
Lamp flickers. A moth wants to
burn the golden wings.

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.

Don't print on the body
a pattern, grayesh red.
Damask rose?
The cilia will propel you
into the tunnel.

Clowns have assembled
on the street, to write
the history of fall.
Acts of kindness are being
translated into profanities.

You are hurt by the
petals, thrown at you.
Kingmaker, why you have become
a joker?

Red lilies?
Do you like the buttercups?
Eyes ago, there was a bouquet.
I am not sure, why you were walking
on nails.

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.

Children of stink, cannot smell the rose.
Lithium in their blood
fathers were happy.

Power over the fire of groins,
was a music to ears.
Everything else was secondary.

The wishes squealed
on the mattresses.
Grief was served in the bed.

Big tears flowing
on the cheeks of ice.
Antarctica was crying.

Sexed up vendetta
did not **** a fly.
Bee was hovering over the heads.

I will expand till infinity.
Life will take care
of ferocious clauses.

Not impassible.
Buried in snow, I
will bring back my moon.

There was no divination.
I still stand on my legs.

I will not talk about shadows
or any haloes. An urge to find
unknown. Touching the feet?
No I don't submit to body.

No rewards. No citation.
I will walk alone in the jungle
of prying eyes, in my
visible bones.

The flame-test. The truthless
blames, and a naked god.
I have come faraway from my childhood.

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.

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.

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.

I punish myself daily
to deny a god.
Do angels cry?
Pinning hope in a crisis to extract
the truth from a dying moon?
A ghost walks on the
wall to enter the alphabets
of living deads.
Ambrosia― was not
sufficient to resuscitate
a bleeding cross.
I am charting my life
for you to forget me.
Quasi-surrender. No never
I am just learning―
how to meet the death.
Another name of victory.

I plant my last kiss
on the wall of mausoleum,
and turn back to face the
inevitable transparency.

Like a birthmark―
you stick to me for an eternity.
Honeyed tongue swaps
a blue. I am not a path,
only a candle in the wind.

Moon-washed your face
swims in my black eyes.
I search my genes
in you, for an answer.

In poetic jargon, with
broken wings, I take a flight
to that horizon, where
my aura ends and your spell begins.

Blameless-you spin,
and break into hundred of shards.
They become stars. I remain
stranded at sunset.

Night was descending
on the tonsured heads,
terracotta robes,
clasping the palms, hiding the seeds
of earth.

Against a ban on lips
for belonging truly.
Blissful. The squids settle in the weeds
of overbrimming sea of arms.

Blood was red, brown and pale.
oozing from the slit eyes,
soaking the green voices, herbs and sad kisses.
In the death, your name will be engraved on your shoes.

The steps were small
but shadows were very long on the ice.
The stings unflawed, did their job.
Suddenly you go
in anaphylactic shock.

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?

Looking at the stars,
what you said? You wanted to take
me along with you to meet invisible?

Would I jump off the cliff?
Mangoes have ripened on trees.
Existing pain will **** the moon.

Would you give or take?
Willing to lose the bet for god sake?
Fingers crossed, we don't exist.

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.

Every night you become
an insect, crawl into
the bed and chew the lips of unknown,
listening to the music
of flowing blood.

Outside the slogans―
tear at you. It was a wound
night, the words, untouching the space,
go― straight into the echos,
without any halo.

So where did you sink in
defiant orange of the sea,
while turning back from your designed
path? Another terrorist's sexism
was on play?

There were no barnacles, no
frog mimicry. I silent walk into
the arena to find the length of
the caravan.

I had met the flower
after a longtime.
The rose.

And its fragrance
hauls me to childhood
after the big dying.

A tender, scented dream
will touch me,
to become a poet.

Lying on dewed grass
you think, a promiscuous
microbial libido begins.

The explosion will eject
free verses, waiting in silence―
to witness― the April fall.

Eggs went freezing in the sap.
Lips of moon were hot.

In the flare up, the
rebel had cast doubt
on cartridge.

Missiles were unique
but, hands trembled -
concept of sky was a lie.

Saturn and moon were coming closer.
Two way mirror of sun
was watching.

The fallen leaves on grass
refuse to be blown away.
They were waiting for the fruits.

Once in a blue lake
you had cheated the boat,
you may not be lucky this time.

Why did you want
to become mine,
when god was not there?

This sun, this moon,
these stars. My Miranda,
my nightingale.

An Atman floats
without a body. Can you
touch it with lips only?

Like potter's wheel
starting, you want to create
a body with words,
not hands.

Then why did you follow
me, watching me to take
the ash-bath, becoming
sinless?

Tears runs faster
than blood.