Perched on a tree high
wave,
a moon was talking long
to me.

A live-in partenership
was in vogue. We always
loved each other ******* apart.

The weather was changing.
A plane load of tears would
disappear without a trace.

From somewhere a benign
lump explodes, making night,
a brilliant dream of
sleeping sky.

The hare jumps on the moon,
to ****** away the ambulatory
age, browsing around the death.

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.

The triangle―
right-angled. Pythagorean
I would never find the center.

An absence gnaws
at me. Standing in dark
I start a talkathon with walls.

Stoically, I reverse
the numbers. Fires start.
I am still reading the page,
started before I met you.

The poise, the serenity
are gone. Masks are coming off
there and now I embrace the burning well.

Bliss of looking back
at unreached peaks of pain.
It is very cold.
Now ice will not melt.
You know who bled my poems.

Like a wound-bleed,
the glacier falls in lonely
sea. A river ages inside you,
collapsing in despairing loss.

It was not true, that
you live an impossible life.
On water you may not
leave the footprints.

Beyond human tragedy,
a knife falls on the gospels.
Stunned at the edge
of tears, I tremble.

Adieu to Arcadia.
Dust demands the price for
red clover. A dark cloud envelops
the kind hills holding
the sun.

It casts a spell.
A rock licks the moon.

Washed-up your
****** nuance, like jellyfish
at abandoned shore.

I was collecting shells
today, to write a poem for
your brown irises.

Pink chrysanthemums
will not say anything, but were dying
when you were away..

In rains you take a
figure, like a blue black bird
ready to fly away.

I will ask
the moonflower to give me
a beautiful death,
under the Nightshade.

A nocturne clue;
will you play the piano for me
for a last time? Are you going to meet me in
the grid, crossing the sharp angles?

The signs start shimmering
in dark, like cobra's
tongue.I don't call the names.Overbiting, I
hold the words.

Loss of faith, I
don't believe in me.Did I
betray your creation O god?
The virtuals are overtaking me.
Your flagship becomes a hoax.

I change my name for ever.

It was devastating.
Out of boredom, drops in
the moon, in the month October.
Hanging over a palm,
to shake hand with a
lone survivor,
a firefly.

A silvery silence
explodes in you face, before
you write a simple word
on the golden leaf.

And I must undo
the locks of complex, winged
life, which will not set―
me free from the funeral
pain. I am going to
meet myself, beyond you.

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.

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.

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.

Want to entertain
like a zany in the space when
it is bright moonlight.

The craze was to win
your smile in the drifting snow of
earth for dying flames.

And you cry for small
things which make the weary life
simple and beautiful.

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.

You make history,
for not being ego-driven-
but taking in, poison
of blue necks.

I will ask you now,
to come home. This was
an instant hybrid effect.

When you appear in disguises
to conceal your love, I will
know what was your religion.

The flesh and bones revolt. You
tremble and crash like violent
waves on the beach.

The particulars waver.
You want to turn a new leaf,
lighting the earthen lamp at the door.

There was no ending
of night in moving sun eclipse.
I was behind the moon.

Another―
frozen relationship
between man and beast,
you want to thaw.

The god,
had become uglier
after throwing you―
in pit. Disbelief debates―

why to find the logic?
I wanted to become a period―
after commas and parentheses.
Who was great?

Nobody comes forward―
when you are beheaded amidst
the crowd, which goes into the
applause of life time.

The ache of taking a
call, when my
book was burning.

I scramble to warn
the bees, not to
come near the sundew.

Words hide the
sticky floor. Walk prudently
to swap the hunger strike

for bread and wine,
as the fingerprints untangle
the mystery of desires.

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.

When you take a false
lead, life will undo the seeds
and the cataracts freeze.

This is the story of
a butterfly, in disturbing amber
buried in snowfall.

Can your body take the imprints of flogging?
When you start sketching the polar ice
in the story of death, compounding
the mystry of
unleashing sea
of the fawn eyes, whose message
was sent in water?

Trying to quantify the vices
in you, I am becoming
brute.

Going my own way.
I join the migration
of invisibles.

A plucked tiger lily
roars. Amphibians were ready
to invade the mountain.

The curled fingers
had become question marks.
Blindness had become a bliss.

Inlaid in the redwood
lies my blood. I lived under
the branches, naked, carefree.

My poem done. The
blood night comes gingerly
I will stay awake-

to die every inch
in your purple dreams. O love
why it was scary?

Not my doing. This
utopia in fake play
chasing my verses.

When you stand still
in unbearable agony, the unquiet
dark starts settling
around me.

Why this crisscrossing of
ill-bred beliefs and credences?
Hacking of the circinate thoughts?
After the rolled up,
tip of pain lies in the center.

The dead leaves,
noises of the past-are gathering up
with ugly exhibits.

As origami, you fold it
and put it back
in ice box.There was no need
to decorate the death's crown.

Eyes half-shut
will not see the moon rise.

The bio sheet remains
incomplete.
I am leaving the papers blank.

Singed, as the white coal:
the ash, smudged on eye brows.
I have come to rekindle
the dying flames.

The anger was mine,
scolding the scarf in winter storm,
what was the need to spread the
white sheet?

Like you will not write, an―
apology for kissing a cobra tongue.
It was ok to become a fool?

Where a tear sits on
the edge to fall in silence
for not undoing the hawthorn?

The prediction goes awry.
I wipe away an exotic
smudge on the paper.

I was trying to fight
venom of adverbs and
adjectives.

I want to retrieve my
poem, as it was― before
the digital onslaught of beheadings.

Give me my garden room,
baby moon and spotless
needles. My blood was blind.

I would come again in
my burial mode, when
your trenches are ready.

I know, what I want.
Like peeling off the left thumb-
not to leave any whorls
and lines on your heart.

Gloved hands, seek
the vocal cards, to discern
the scream. A tea cup spills
on your spotless table cloth.

Can you read the tea leaves?
I never opted to know
my future; when there was
no present. Why to brood for the golden eggs?

Toric lens. Two curves.
I see two faces. Far and near-
My eyes blur. I cannot read the doric
of your lips- the rustic dialect.

Lets exchange the contours
of yours and mine.

One small step, in dark.
A silver of fear
slaps you.

You move around
to confront the past.
It was the partition of night.
Cobra white, when
eyes would not listen.

You drugged the stone
on stone,
hiss on hiss,
hair on hair.

I did not touch you
like burning coal.

My waterfalls
on red salt, bring the
largest tears of moon glittering
eerie wet.

I would be riding
your stumps― to
byzantine castle
of ardor.

It was not
my thesis― to make
me blithsome.
You were your own enemy.

In a crushed phenomenon
I was sketching you
in coal, without scratching
the face on moon-paper.

The room
crumbles. Space shrinks.
I cannot touch you
in moments, in time.

What I bequeathed
remains unclaimed.

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.

He used to dream
of date palms, covering
the defended wounds.

The scoli crab after
the fall will stay. It will
not change the referendum.

The neuter will not
form the trinity. I will
not hear the signals.

Night was not yet
dark to explore the moon.
My stars remain faded.

O country, the people
O planets, the goddess
of **** is dead.

And death shall
not walk in the street,
on the shoulders
of dead dreams.

It was not a
mythical slip, when visuals
had no mirrors, no ink.
When I go into rage
flames will rise from the sea.

You will not count
the burning rings. History
repeats the rule of blood.
Skin alters the frontiers.

The insane love
demands your toes, so
you would not walk away
from the periphery of blue hills.

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.

In stasis, time
was ready to abandon you,
I suffer intensely.

I didn't want to
hear my own voice. Cathartic,
I was beside myself.

Creating shock waves,
wanted to speak to water
to freeze in eyes.

You wanted to be covered
with dahlias, unmeasuring―
the depth of tears.


How do I go finding
an elegy―
in dim moonlight?

En route I will pluck
the stars, in September.

And when the river goes in spate
and you are submerged,
I will spread a blanket of poetry.

Who wants the eternity
of soul. My love was very frail.

Celebrating spring
punctuated with an
apostrophe.

How much you owned
your conscience,
in deathly silence?

Love was an execution
drug. It works
inside, not outside.

When the hummingbird
stops flying, would you
get the nectar of pain?

The myth of flying
backward was true
of destroying the ascension?

You give me hope
and insanity, making a
bonfire of incomplete truths!

The weight of the ideology
flattens your upheaved chest.
You speak, what you did not want to say.

A fake hunger and pseudo-demands,
put you on the pathless clouds.
How would you now fly towards the sun?

The polarization was deliberate,
to usurp the authority. Blue jays
have refused to join gangs.

A faded document tells about
your missteps. A bunch
of eunuchs have come to guard the palace.

Black versus black will
not brighten the screen. One third of
generation had the criminal record.

Life had tossed you in
flames.
Like hearthstone, I sit
deleting my colors.

Time on black feet
runs, on the sacred
river bank.

Molten lava will ask
when, and from where
the funeral procession will start.

A ******* wants
the evidence of ****. Two
leaves will not cover
the naked aggression.

The spooky game had
become, ultimately― the biopic. Once
angles used to roam
on the burning coals.

Ready to barter my
last wish with your tulips
glowing in eyes.

I didn't ask for
any help to decipher my
blue dream of edge.

Two little words may
be sufficient to
resuscitate charm.

When you were you,
me picked up the words-
you did't say.
You stir up a verse,

incendiary enough-
to start the chakras of sorrow.

Why to believe in
reincarnation, when carnations
in your eyes won't die.

A bloodbath for
believing in nothingness-
of innocence in the folds of time.

The seeds were in mode
of dispersal, of hate
and insults.The crowds were thinning.

A strange thing was going to happen.
Dark sky would descend
randomly to capture the speed.

Buried in a shiny grave,
a redefined religion
becomes the first god
of scams.

Attaining Moksha,
breaking the law of rebirthing,
in barking dogs.

This was a stunning
betrayal of―
human race.

A lone gunner
pulls out the gun and
starts shooting everyone
resembling him.

I become worried
about the mental health
of unfolding mortals.

Grief was not my asset.
The planet was falling apart.

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.

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.

You want me to like the
silver stairs. To climb down in a deep
well to disperse the ashes of poems.

Far away loud voices
are giving me a call. Time was
very cruel. Will not stop the sun.

The wholeness is broken.
I collect the shards. Watch your
steps. Not barefoot I will bleed.

In suddenness, I will
write a poem for you.

You had stopped at the
outset, like a black moon
opening up perfervidly.

Remote from the oneness
of life, a flame leapt up
to ignite the process of birth―
without perceiving.

Come let's meet at the
navel of the destiny.
I had the penchant of
burning myself.

You, who would never be
visible, I will dust all the mirrors
to find out.

Waiting for the festival to begin.

There was nothing to hide.
No jewels, no gold. I
wanted, to get the replica of afterlife.

Meet me in some moonless night.
I will show you a slice
of my bruises, offering it as
my panacea.

You were hurting yourself
invoking the baby god
on the night of lights.

It was hallucinating,
stabbing yourself in a
virtual suicide.

As the last rites started,
you got up from the funeral pyre
and walked away.

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.

Flawless surrender,
when the leaves were falling
of bougainvillea, while
the hot wind blew past.
Future enemies were
ready not to say farewell.
Overtures were charming.
When did I want you to go?
And the dust settled in eyes.
I implored you till the brink
of sunset and moon blink.
Infinitely alarming, it was
you wanted to rename― the bigotry.
The crib deaths had started.
An awkward moment came.
When you wanted to cry
and laughed.

Tethered to the Bo tree,
first I see you, then I don't. Silence was
my strength between you and me

Water in water gives you
a mirror of greying heart in heart. that
never stops the beat even after death.

Can you sing in pain?
The blood blocks the voice of god
birthing in the twilight of my faults.

After knowing you,
I want to unknow me.

Did you reach the
head of the mount to bring
a piece of god?

Nonetheless,
he went mad asking for
godliness in stones.

When I wake, make
me go to sleep again, among those,
who are slaughtered
by tongue.

Dig me deep. My bronze,
my blood, are going in a free
death, like the fall from
the mission.

The muted thoughts
go for you,
in loud echoes.

I do not speak.

Where will you go
when you are not right,
not wrong?

And train will not stop
at your station. You
have to wait till sunrise.

Half-mist, half-moon―
and the glass houses.
The rocks refuse to fly.

The consecrated dawn
on a silent street whispers.
The city was dead.

I sleep after the naked
assault. The black shirts
and the white shirts have no answer.

Farce,
you think―
you will not come back

like Argentine
dinosaur
130,000 pounds

That was
metaphysical

There is no space sacred,
left to die

No time, cause
or substance

You can speak to me, unspeaking
without wires

There is no carrot
for the god

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 ****.

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.