Moon sleepwalks,
crashes head on the palms.
Hurls silver coins.


*

To respect you, I
will meet you here and there.
Will that do in dark?

*

Looking out at the
twilight, I would think of you,
in time, space and void.

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

The waves
had brought me to you.
Do not be gentle to time.

Lower the songs
into a mass grave,
as the violence spreads.

This time-travel
will take you to panic attacks.
Blackness moves very fast.

Hypoxia.
Photons will take you
to fading sun.

Glitterati,
now hurts. You cannot
haul the gift of reeds.

Escaped soul
was pronounced dead, after
becoming rich. You start
peeling of the skin of neo-poverty.

Hunger equates you with god.
It hurts your tarnished honesty. The
image of half-man, half-tiger.
The veneer coming off very soon.

The pepper spray was well
planned for steady hands to
make you spring-blind. Your pockets are
full of fireflies.

The poetry effect was negligible,
when you start praying for snowstorm.

There was a strange carnality
in flowing robes,
a waiver penetrates
in incorporeal ellipse.
I must speak of him in his absence
combating for the actuality.

Knowing lust manifolds,
yields a prayer,
primrose opens the eyes.
The knowledge liberating -
you cross the inlets.

Anxiety peels off your mind.
An obnoxious presence of unbeings,
the weeds, the vocal generation
of priests, are anything but art.

The body blooms, in suicidal note.
Birds shriek, before the moon climbs
on the dark trees. I let go the orange,
only the white spreads.

In my domain I am the child again
lost in labyrinth of stairways
unable to find my home.

A swarm of bees descends
gives anaphylactic shock
I am dead in my arms.

You carry a dead gorilla
on the makeshift scaffold,
somewhere a female was beating her chest.

Blood on the face of moon
my sobs will not stop
flowing in muddy streaks in pits of tattoos.

Eggs of blue bird were waiting
for the mother to come,
kids were on doormats.

It was always the salt lake.
No body was going to drown
wolves, sharks and men!

I knit the dreams in
your eyes. You draw a line on water.
Art opens the door for love.

What we lose if we catch the
flames between the unspoken words.
Before we part, poems will cry.

What is religion? A
commitment to carry the legacy
of blanks and halves?

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.

The dimension of ******-
phrenia gives birth to a heir. You
cross all phenomenal barriers.

Let me grieve again. You
were not what you appear to be, wearing
stone mask. Juvenile era ends.

The haze thickens. I
cannot see my hand to point out the
sparkling fire in your eyes.

It was a civil war between
eyes and hands. Illusion of angels
opened the ground of burning pyres.

I have to find the pause
amid the illusion and delusion,
when the factual nouns alter the truths.

Why does fear enter the
door of judgement? The spirit?
You were forgetting the void.

Spitting the blood, he said,
every winter for few days –
he would feel outcast and there was
pain in the idea of pain, but he wanted to live
without a painkiller.

Sometimes he will singe his hands on a flame
to protect his dignity. The history of his
unrest remaining untold. Then he will go
out in rains of knowledge and soak himself
in mixed joy.

A lump in the throat hurts, when he
tries to decipher a dream to measure
the life. A liar knows the complete death
of a truth to assert his independent existence
in myth.

A deadly poison of the choosing,
your own microclimate, aggrandizement
of royal tradition, makes you popular in masses.
They surge to touch your gown, ripping
the explosion.

Going within to feel
the war moves.The pagan
gods have come out
on parole.

Was it an esoteric event
to propitiate a violative
divinity? From crude to soft
affirmative nod, I am going to-
see the game of chairs.

Between sin and virtue,
wrong and right, nonage
always jumps into.Too proud to accept
the defeat.First the annihilation
and then the fathering.

This genesis had no design
no vision.A miraculous journey
downhill.The dawn is still
faraway.Nightlong agony
will continue.

Unclenched I hold the pen
to say nothing.

Like half-brother
moon was following me.
Tonight the dethroning commences
on the murderous hills
of faith.

You grab a snowcloud
to refuse what you would be.
The animal that lives
in you has become silvery haired.
There was a terror of being isolated.

Earth was dying in me.
A bloodied machete―
travels across the lands,
riding on the tears, screams
and disembodied peans.

Lifting a sacred book
the hand trembles involuntarily.
Is it the homicide of bright sun?
Et tu, O man?

Not a single line
was written today
on your lips.

End is drawing near.
I am trying to remember
where we had begun.

I want you, to know
yourself and start weaning
away from the moons.

No prosthesis will
work, I will run, run after
the fading sun for the
last kiss.

The raw wounds
don't need any bandages.

Like sandpaper
your hurting throat will
give a long call.

Honey,
You had licked off-
all the salt of my being,
and knowing less of you
was becoming a bliss.

The absence
reconstructs the fragrance,
coming from nowhere-
transforming the feel of
unknown grace.

Sitting near a sickle
moon, watching
the full ascent of
quenchless desire.

It was a dark mound
of upheaval from which
the unslept angel would fall.

You may pick up
the glory of dawn.

The dust to dust phase
in between, you
did't want a self-destruction
to resurrect a dying myth.

Only God knows. Why
there was only the body language
to explain the miracle.

You wake up a frog
from hibernation. There was
no drought. Plenty of rains.
No nightmares. One has to change
the climate shift.

A muted denial stays
in throat. You wanted to say
the whole truth about life,
which never was uttered.

Scoliosis tilts the water
balance. You cannot carry the
vessels on head. Doubts
would play on the script.

Author had promised to live again.

You climb to catch the sun.
A blue bird―
breaks from a sleeping
bough, to find
its food.

The bounty of
surrender, after the first
snow of season.
A golden dawn.

Footmarks of
a hungry deer
near my door.

Why the pink words
float in black eyes?
I swear, I will not look
at the moon again.

The city burns in snow.
A jump of small
legs, takes you far
from the roar of falls.

The blackbird was my
mascot, sitting on the white
birch, dreaming blue.

A white sheet covers the
shrieking nails. You
cannot walk barefoot
on smouldering candles.

Why again you are climbing
the volcanos?

You become absent in
repose..I try to rein in the
subterfuge in stranger's eyes.
There was nothingness. A chestnut
tree was refusing to let go
the nuts.

The phantom fight begins between the
daffodils. The sun had given
the borders, step by step, to
different colors. Still the bloom
weeps for its blindness. I will
not unmake me. The faith―

this winter was bad. The
deathmarks were evident. We
wait for something to happen,
ready to unroll the schizophrenia.

You are trying to
seel the half-truths
in terror.


In the fear of-
annihilation, you
want to remain unborn.


The pity of unnaming
the pain, your body wrapped
in tinfoil- ready to be roasted.


The barren spirituality-
and nudeness-
of ecstasy.Do you think you were floating

like a cadaver?
Who will drink
the arsenic now?

The miracle.
I am legless and I move
swiftly to catch the words.

Open the news paper
and find out that war has a set sequence
of going daily,
and has a negativity.

The physical shock, when
the earth trembles. Your body
becomes stone, hairs stand.
Light breaks through the twisted limbs.

I don't love the ritualism.
Time will not stay for you. My life
becomes your life. Sod
will receive the ashes of rage.

And you will delete the
presence, the touch, the dust
of departed fragrance. Once upon
a time, death used to be a song.

In a pair, they were flying:
two monarch butterflies.
Hither, thither―
Fluttering in synchronized wings.

There was a Stark effect
in silhouette. The fever rises
in the bush. Someone streaks
in the street after moon
Let us stop the mouths―
to remain open. A missile flies
above your head aimed
for the burial ground.

A nascent star screams.
There was yellow blood
on your hands. You had
squeezed the young fruits.

For the memory of palms,
the pretence lives on―
the blade of a saber.

You run on the sands
barefoot― to catch the waves
returning back to sea.

You had stopped
talking to me― wearing the
mystery― I loved.

On skin you print the
anthem. Somebody kills the lamb.
The pathos went quiet.

Becoming cold turkey,
absolutely white. The pilgrimage
over, you break the coconut.

Moon crazed fonts
starting a genocide of words
in narcolepsy.

Don't ask me about the amphetamines!

The letters have gone crazy.
No discipline,
no shoes.
They run wildly barefoot,
make you feel a victim of curved lips.

There were no afterthoughts―
about the massacre of essence,
of message, gist and substance.

You stand alone in jungle
of books, unprinted, unspoken
of, finding the
sequence of life.

An original love is
like a gold nugget, shines. This discovery
you want the sun's shelter for purity.

Tell me, is it the truth?
Neglecting a fallen man as a
holed tongue creates a story.

I want to see justice.
Science is becoming a god.
Live comfortably, but risk was there.

Sometimes, I want to write
a folk poem, without name.

Anonymously, you want to
postpone the commitment
to accept the ******
of yourself,
the griever.

The towering belief―
that there were skeletons
on the grains, as the words
become verses.

A snowy ******
will take a knife, to bring
down the stars
when you sing centuries
of love.

Peace at stake,
it worked.
Withdrawal of rubber dolls
playing with fire.

Empty bowls in lunar month.
Concords were flying very high
noiselessly crossing the peaks
of great grudges.

Pure golden hair –
of grief.
It really was miracle.
Bald eagle was waiting.
Enough time to steer a ******.

The irresistable desire
to rub with a paranoid.
Extracting a genius from mediocre genera.
Life had become too genteel.

There was the hunger
and suicide.
In favor of my brutal truth
or virtue of my failure,
I do not want any comments on my trauma.
Morality has a dubious equation
with power, provoking my anger.

The days were full of abandoned kilns.
No more shaping of containers
in which one can put the moon,
and honey and roses.
Everything was turning brown
with infinite, sulphur smelling teeth
ready to bite into golden flesh.

Convicts behind the walls were playing
with mirrors to throw the light on slick
towers. Death was laughing, waiting on the trees,
eating black berries.
And I was forced to taste the blood of sky
with sodium –
in sanctum sanctorum.

Like it was pain of sea.
The waves are not rising.

You remember the depth
of eyes, of heart,
when you cannot read the
face of shadows.

So much soundless crying.
The birds have gone
to distant shores
for water.

Manytimes I had given
a call. Immaculate exit.
I will not carry any stigmas.
Want to travel light―

to meet my tormentor.

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 refuse to underrate
the fog, its arithmetic,
bleaching the dark
words in twilight.

Indelible memory.
You don't behave yourself
writing furiously the names
of god in air.

Song was tongueless.
You could hear the nuances
of cords in rhythm.
Without listening you go
into bliss.

The blue rocks. Black birds
come in groups to commit
shared suicide on the
burning earth.

Hurting yourself,
You won't say anything about
falling notches. It bruises, it
bleeds.

You will condole,
and like sundew, trap my poems
in backfoot.

Explicitly I will ask,
never stop crying.
Your neighbourly pain will descend.

Its lips become *****,
when ****** expression of moon
alters.

I want to change
my religion, drumming up
the nuances of refusal.

It wrongs you,
when an acceptance,
means never.

This kitsch
makes you hollow,
kleptomaniac.
You become blind in green
ready to make a dumb leap
from tall cliff.

Contempt for climactic throats.
The man walks on water
to meet death in icebox.

Pink torch like royal command signals,
black white moon enters a sober cloud
beyond the vibrations.

Now was the chance to ****
the light, fixing the graves.
One day the laughter was alive.

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.

In final journey, there
was a collective guilt.
To find an opus, I reach out
for a carbon pit.

It was not your grief
not my miracle. Collecting the
cadavers to sleep with―
for warmth.

Ashes, you poke at the
art. Except self-elevation
and grandiosity, what to discover
in the heap of refuse?

You start nibbling at your
clothes. The scream melts at
the stitchs. Style wavers,
you become naked.

Becoming tainted without
a stain, seeing
you in dark, untouching.

Why do you draw
a circle around you- keeping
out the center?

Voicelessly,
a howling call- per
mistake, disturbs the slumber.
Moon had yet to leave.

The grace of crying
wordlessly. Buddha sleeps
again on side, through
the vacant mind. Partial amnesia?

The gift of the angles
against the dots. I was
left with hyphens only.

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?

I am sending you
a sea of zinnias,
asking the guardian angel
to protect you.

I am also picking sunflowers
for you. Living in the shadow, you
were always running
after small suns.

And round leaved nasturtiums
will drop bright orange
flowers, one by one
like tiny dreams.

And jasmines will spread
the fragrant flowers in your path
to make you reach in my arms.

And lily of the valley in bare
naked heart, will present the bell-shaped
white flowers, to knit your braid.

Nothing else.

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.

Bleeding the planet
between life and death.
O invisible, in time and pain
I want you.

Telomere― the capping
has failed. My genes are shrinking..
The acid burnt face still
smiles behind the fingernails.

The spurious drugs will
not allow you to pass away. Lip service
was too fallacious. You never
knew how difficult it was to die.

The night dissents. Day has
many upheavals. You stand alone
in tall grass to count the flames
engulfing the sunset.

I am not in something,
anything. Let the
sanitization begin.

Walking in a dark
tunnel, I had reached near you.
This was not my planet.

I become a stranger in my house.
Brown eyes and the copper-
bullets. Who wants to be placed
in crosshairs.

An unspoken threat
hurts the quorum, to prevent
the downside of earth.

Heartwrenching.
I don't tell. I don't ask.
Watch with eyes shut. How the
blue dreams are destroyed.

How long was the distance
between youand me?

I should not have been
there, where I am now.
The destiny was unscrupulously quiet.

Time goes in suspension
when I don't see you in me.

Flaunting the assets
of dwarf generation, you
**** the galaxy of stars brazenly.

Paraplegia. You break
the eggs in air to touch the placentae.

Twirled. I ask
the question, when your lips
will drown in ****** Buddha?

Out of reach, the honeybees
fly towards the ****** trees.

Will you taste Strawberry
moon? It will be benediction
unasked for years.

Remember, life had
treated us nicely. But the horizon was
calling you to color the sun.

Where is the god?
A hummingbird tries to find out
by following a caravan.

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.

The inscribed stone
winks at moon to compare
smudges on face.

*

I ask myself to know
thyself. Life will smell the blood,
of what hurt your dream.

*

Will not erase your
name from jessamine.
Winter always waits.

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.

Pupil was on parole.
You abandon the inexhaustible
patience with increasing distance.
Everything was fading
when you look back.

The things, always return.
Like you did not carry a bundle
of postcards written
by your father, while emptying
the house.
His carved signature is still
printed in my brain.

Now my grand daughter saves
the e mails sent by me. The woes
of a pilgrim. A neutral passage
with no feel. Some day a glitch
will wipe out the treasure.

We have changed the costumes.
The inside has raw palisades.

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.

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.

Sometimes I do not
want to be talked about.
Like the setting sun.

The earthworm was busy
in turning the soil,
printing the seed's path.

I had removed, from
the house, all the clocks.
I wanted the time, to stand still.

My moment has not come.
In aloneness I will
find you in my shut eyes.

The dark night swims
once again, on the sea
to reach the boat.

You lay down your head on
the oars and go to long sleep.