Cannot undo, the
headless leap of faith.
It was not the answer.

A thousand moon
I will wait for the calamity, when
you come back with empty hands.

Playing Mozart,
I discover myself in the
jungle of antlers.

The grief survives
eternally. I arrange all
the words to spell correctly,
a white death.

The black tree
stumbles on pale moon.
The angel will not
open the door.

A witch-hunting
starts, when you become
invisible from the centre
of trinity.

I ask the stranger,
what you hide from the
stars of galaxy?

When I am finally
alone. I will encounter your
ghost to know your intent.

For god sake do not go insane.
Word-by-word, I will read
your history of becoming
human.

Swimming like a
seahorse in water, your
pain stands ***** like
a totem to build
your own kind.

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.

No word walks with
me. I am tired like a smoke bird,
waiting for my lost love.

My future was a sin,
I will not speak of the past. When Borax
fails, I fall at the feet of my palm.

Eyes are cheap. But
response gives the empty bowl
filled by the moon last night.

Slowly the pain of
heart sinks in dark. You write on the
coal-light. Without rhyme love is lost.

Your noises eject some
questions. There were no answers,
when you stand in water to find mercy.

The lesser success-meets
the love, honey, sequence and incognito.
Don't Come when the owl calls.

Defining yourself,
I wanted to know, how long
you can remain honest-
to yourself.

The craft of harvesting
will not stand the acid test.
What do you see when
there is good sunset?

Still combustible
a cinder gives off flames
inside you and inner silence
becomes bold.

In between the sentences,
the pause betrays the balance.
You cannot decipher-
the code of sacrifice.

The road sleeps.
Coming to peace with not
reaching at horizon,
when sky was drinking the lake.

Like maiden hair
fern, I return back to my
tribe and ancestors.

You tear off
the preamble, before
entering the hollow
of tree to find the
nest of vespa.

Unparalled,
the forecast of the death
of nacent secret of
undying darkness. The
mankind digging the graves.

Why am I waiting
for the arrival of the
bride of moon? A thinker
broods to understand the
abstraction of human nature.

One day the man
and beast will become one.

In the moment of reckoning
or nemesis, I call you
from the clouds.

It was a poetic
whisper, no rectification. Only
different versions of truth.

The maverick will not
take it as a personal slight,
if you are preparing a premature
exit.

Can we undo the damage
and become friends?
Unuttered, but still vocal.

Who was talking
of eternity? Your love
was Being. Nothing else matters.

Metaphysically you become
abstract. I will draw
the unseen other for me.

Clouds had veiled
the waning sun.
A topaz.

A blast,
becomes quite blasé at first
then becomes green.

With envy, the moon
gives no light.
My faith tumbles.

Sometimes I ask myself.
Why did you cover
your sore spots?

As a perfect pretext
of buying peace
why did you go for the lies?

Between dead and live
god sleeps in the golden crib
to rename unborn.

In a recurring
triangle of deities, will you
ask burning questions?

Why do you ascend in
violence of words, when I gave
you gift to come back?

Was there any
time space to recuperate
in self-esteem?

How can you define
hunger, when there was
no food for thoughts?

Who will name
the icon to regerminate
the lost dreams.

You tried to catch
the flames without burning
your hands.

Self-immolation
was animation of a prodigal
sun giving away light.

The ailing justice
cannot deliver the mercy
to wounded humanity.

I do not write about something
or anything. You will
not knock at my door.

I will be pained, if
you sweep the floor, to
tout the unwritten song.

I sing wordlessly. Even
the echo will open
the waning wounds.

My body, I give to
hawks, to escape the
elegies in the death well.

Even the night
will bring the pillow
for the dying moon.

Your hands,
fingers speak your mind.
You will never compromise.

I ask myself
the impossible. The skulls
will not stop laughing.
Face to face the moons burn.

Will you keep
my most precious secret?
how I loved a snakecharmer.

That never was.
White lie on the black
tongue to recite a
blank page.

Why don't you leave
the shade of Acacia?
The thorns will always
entice you?

Lime green you
were navigating in
the light of moon.

Who had fallen in
mid of journey, giving up
the bronzed body?

A giant tree
walks with us, sending some
signs of the surrender.

Unmasked from
face to consciousness. Transition always
hurts. Pans out in blood.

You cannot sing in the
throes of selfism. The sacred water
reignites the love. You put ashes aside.

The words are nomadic.
Kissing or burning the cracked lips.
I may be hot or cold.

Coming of age becomes
temporal, when
I start to speak.

It was my ancient wound―
which had come into being,
to bleed.

No mannerism,
idiosyncrasy or culture
was needed to stay dumb.

Time runs in a
narrow tunnel, to cross the enemy lines.
I will unmourn my death.

Like collecting the bluebells.
After the burial of candor,
there was no other ceremony.

I sit in your prayer.
Marygolds clap.
You come and go in dark.

Buddha lies down and
thinks. Why sandalwood gives
beautiful smell without burns.

A room collects
cadavers. You search your
father in ashes.

In the domes your
voice comes back after meeting
God in distress.

Where truth lives? Have
you ever heard of him or
crossed him on the road.

Like a birthmark
you will remain
on my forehead.

Round cups and
blue drinks, the dark
side was capitulating.

You become my
partner, I will unleash
many moons.

I intended to
talk in walk about the
woes of life.

It was not,
just a kiss of a zodiac sign.
You had become a stranger
between fight and flight.

The trick was capricious.
Albeit, a calligraphy
on a bare tree, engrafting
your name which keeps
on growing with broadening trunk.

You watch the sky
at night and start a monologue.
The stars were expanding,
filled with grief. The
despair of going back home
in dark.

I don't seek the
renunciation. It were
you to turn divine.

What you would not
tell my tale of abdication
in pain of the birth?

You are shrinking
at blanks between tears.
Only the steps bleed.

I don't seek the
renunciation. It were
you to turn divine.

What you would not
tell my tale of abdication
in pain of the birth?

You are shrinking
at blanks between tears.
Only the steps bleed.

No apology for what
I would not say. You were
not my listener.

The heat ***** the
sweetness of moon in sky
before quietness.

Let's meet again
in dusk of life to correct
meaning of love.

You used to say, I
was your accident, but you smiled
in unspoken words of pain.

Did you ever make
friends with scorpions? They
don't change their habits.

It was not matched
with tears. Now you will sleep in
my poems and I sleep on your lips.

You used to say, I
was your accident, but you smiled
in unspoken words of pain.

Did you ever make
friendship with scorpions? They
don't change their habits.

It was not matched
with tears. Now you will sleep
in my poems, and I sleep on your lips.

A marble conceives
the geraniums to revive beauty
of rise from garbage.

It happens with mud-
slide. Not very sensuous but
your humor goes down.

Even beasts behave
when they are level hungry.
They know what to eat.

Transcending the wall,
living in the shell of a moment.
I want to retrieve you.

The bush fires may leave
us separately. The wayfarer
has still the grit to walk.

You walk around
the mount, seven times to
prove the fidelity of legs.

I did not earn you.
Like a comet you crashed
in my lap burning a hole.

What was the desire
of a wailing night, never
reaching the ocean.

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.

In solemn consciousness,
I wanted to know, why
the shroud was white―
after the abandonment?

Peace or was it a surrender?
Is it the passive victory?
Are we betraying ourselves
in the reign of violence?

Reviving the cult of
collective suicides, I will
take more sins, wearing
the feather-crown.

Going for a black
hole from abattoir, still
dazed, I am leaving all
the question marks on your chest.

Do you know how
to tell the doomed fall?

Let it be,
you don't engage in dispute
with me, to make us complete
and whole.

Sharp stings leave
my skin singed. Barehanded
I will fight with a
hollowed tiger.

A dark fear still hangs
on the milked mind. The tunnel
was unlit. You wanted
to become a white god.

The dead wine spills
from the ceramics. With feet
of clay you run very fast
to catch your shadow.

One day you will
walk in, to take revenge
on kismet and blend with me.

A poem writes my name.
I am trembling
on paper like salt.

Flowing like moon
on the black wound.
The lamb and the skull.

I know the saint
invented by masses.
You need a fresh awakening.

A vastness from nothing to nothing.
Later the pebbles will dance
on the bay of death.

Sometimes the scales were jinxed,
sometimes the weight was light.
I was sitting under a chaste tree.

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.

When the time faults, it
becomes metaphysical for me―
to write a poem in flesh and blood.

A night's terror, descends.
Buzz of an insect hovers,
until I give in.

A thoughtess invasion―
makes you unstable, when
you reach the heights, where
snow wails, time and space
start collapsing.

A vacuum bubble expands
into a dome. You draw frescoes
in dream. The colors penetrate.
Blind landings begin.

Looks as if you were sitting with dead,
till eternity.

It takes billions of years
for ancient light to reach us and
rescue the trapped darkness.

You can hunt among rocks
in the palisades, behind
the ramparts.

There was an apocalypse.

Stem cells were ready
to repair the myelin―
searching ancestry.

It was a tense stand-off
between the headstone and a living dead.

Cannot repay the debt of blue
Sky, sending us
the warnings of catastrophy.

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.

Deeply troubled inside,
I become silent
like a quiet, serene sea.

Impatience. It
has erupted again in my
hardened mood.

Playing a gamble
without a dice. An unmasked
body trembles.

I will ask my
river goddess one day―
where was my moon?

Exploding in its
face, the enigma had never
any physical.

Making things easier for you.
I stand in the moment of truth
on flames.

A poet's eye
sails from room to room.
Do you know which wall
opened to devour my love?

I had wished to see
the femineity of moon risen.
It had burned my
lips like cinders.

In very dark time
big China roses were waiting
to honour the anonymous
author of gravity.

I don't hear your
voice in cloudburst.
Fragile poems will cry-
if you don't open the fist.

Searching human
teeth. Real fossils.
Let go my hand.

Chasing the
flames. No moon to
brighten path.

Sweating in woods.
I am holding roses.
Not thorns.

Struck by
lightning, truth burns.
Rains will not help.

History repeats.
Animals roam in garden
of colored lilies.

It was diplomacy.
The patriarch dies, leaving
the legacy of harms.

Revealing id,
without ego, and hunger.

I may not touch
you ever, placing my palm
down face on the burning candle.

Step by step I come
near you and move away
collecting my pins.

The medallion still hangs
in the cleavage.

You will throw your head
backward and laugh in misty chimes.

The skiagram shows the increased
vascularity. Would you come
if I don't call you?

We will smell together
the parting lips, trying to say
love, but unannounced.

I dream a nightmare
of anti-moon, when
the smile leaves your face
and you become a phosphorescent
butterfly in dark.

A flight of bluebirds
makes a last circle, and
lands on the mound of bones
as a shrine of paranoid of
waist down paresis.

No one was perfect.
No savior will appear.
Anniversaries come and go,
The **** sapiens look back to identify
their progenitors.

Have the mercy. O
god, it was too late to
strike at the womb.

Not a single word
wept, when sky was overcast.
Who wins ultimately?
The cell in the death,
or death in the cell?
I tried,
I tried not to do any wrong.
The centuries suffered.
The pollen in the wind
will not land. Each grain
was a harbinger of a relic.
The purple tears―
for bread and water. Who was
not hungry?
A peacock dance
goes waste―
without rains.

Why are you packing up for final journey?
I am not getting the signals from the stars
through the amnesia. The moon will rise
on the desolate landscape of broken dreams
A shudder gives away. You always pursued incompleteness.

So the striving continues, for wholeness,
without sitting in meditation, remaining restless,
churning, agitating, creating comets on the lips,
touching the tulips, red roses, scented air,
traveling all alone through the black memories.

Talking to yourself in emptiness, wading in the
green eternity to find pure, unblemished truth,
the secret of eternal youth. Which fear had
perverted my vision? Why should I be afraid
of meeting you in me? Cannot I maintain my.

Integrity? The wheels are moving and your
gifts are lying unclaimed. Where do we meet?
No temple is safe. A foreign land where the
clouds bleed and sun unloosens the threat,
I will seek to close the circle.

I saw you dying for
basics. Your legs were heavy
and then you start walking.

There was no Plato.
Hemlock begins to climb. You
smile and get ready for Odyssey.

Who will decide the fate
of earth. Aristotle becomes sick,
looking at the new tapestry.

You must see your
own fall. The panther wants to
**** himself. Elephants change the path.

I don't want to believe
in anything. God believes in me.
The roses do not want to go to the mausoleum.

What I will do, sitting
in the dark, carrying tears in my
pocket. I want to stop birthing.

Time
was moving without wheels.

Not a match. I
don't exist. Anonymous.
You were also not same
as I lost you.

Black walls.
You will kiss them
for a promise.

Your lips, wrapping
the wounds, like bandages.

The bruises smell
like poppies.

Not thirsty. Still
I revert to the theme of
dry lake.

Are you going to
shut the eyes of moon?

The pink stigma gets
baked. Turns my brain into stone.
You were trapped by black widow,

The red color was king.
It breaks my heart to see the ****
by a bald eagle, but the dive was beautiful.

The death was my friend. Will
keep me waiting to complete the cycle of rebirth
then ask me to see the blue goddess.

You had failed
the truth, staring at
the hot sun.

To prove the criminality
of demigods, you
use a ploy to listen to
the inner voice.

The body revolts.
Fluids break the
boundaries against the
mixed thoughts.

You pick up the
grace of a fallen star.
Night weeps for all night.
Mystery of truth was
never solved.

You can transcend
the deep pain now.

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.

You fault me for
a silent poem.
In infinity of this moment.
I catch the miracle
of unspoken words.

Let me not forget
the way you look at
me via tears.

Why buttercups were
poisonous, untasting you?
Even a simile touch
brings a shudder in leaves.

Give me a kiss of parting,
only you can give. For
ages I will remember the sting.

Gifting myself a new
hurt, though ephemeral, do
you feel my nearness
when I don't speak?

It doesn't work, your
patience with a deadpan face.
How would you talk to
butterflies, hollyhocks and
blackbirds?

You had tried to overrun
your own self by giving away
your eyes.Mind it, your
vision will still follow you
at burning pyre.

Weep, weep my poems
weep.The seduction was not
your gold, nor your enemies.
Then whom you are going to make
your god?

The handcuffs have no answer.

He wants to revert
back to mutism.
No thyme―
no secrecy.

The half-baked pursuit
of non-violence,
accepting the violence,
on other way round.

The otherness.
You want to identify yourself
with a new religion.
Terror of anonymity?

A night blooming cereus
wanted to avoid the sun.
And love, must you
play desert?