Heaps of wood wait.
Adultery happens in bones, ashes.
You will find black truth again.

I am dying daily.
O god, finger by finger. I have spent
my life remembering you.

No hunger. I will always
move like a monk. Who generated
the body same, mind different?

There was no ending
of questions.
I *****, I miss.

Memory plays
tricks. I have come
afar in shrinking heights.

A face jumps
in mirror.
Cannot recognize me.

Aging eyes.
Moon. Fallen leaves,
wrinkled yellow, harsh winter.

Predicted to fall.
Man battling against his
demonic spirits.

A killer silence
becomes a knife. Slicing your thumb.

You want to invoke
the missing gods, sleeping
under the dams.

No one should bring
me to tears. I disapprove
the color of blood.

My bones are becoming
stronger, without flesh. I walk
without legs on the hills of fog.

Do not throw the
acid on moon. Hands
will do.

You cannot pass through
a ring of fire. Bonding fails.

In grey zone of life
I find you under bodhi tree
searching footprints of Buddha.

In war we take off
our shirts chasing the pain of
poverty. Do you doubt yourself?

In grief I was learning
from you. How to paralyze yourself
in voices of fake slogans.

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.

Intercepting the random
poems, pick not
the holy water, in your palm.
I cannot lift the words.

Dark bellies, in moon's
autumn, will play with flutes.
You will swoon on the
sight of blood at the hands.

It was not the first time, a
lamb in the midair―
falls on the golden spear of
new theme, to bluff the naiveness.

Somebody takes a turn, to
find the bell, which will not send
any sound, on the death of
the poppies.

Intercepting the random
poems, pick not
the holy water, in your palm.
I cannot lift the words.

Dark bellies, in moon's
autumn, will play with flutes.
You will swoon on the
sight of blood at the hands.

It was not the first time, a
lamb in the midair―
falls on the golden spear of
new theme, to bluff the naiveness.

Somebody takes a turn, to
find the bell, which will not send
any sound, on the death of
the poppies.

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.

You are landing
in all my poems. Mirror
speaks death from death
life from life.

Born in clay oven.
I praise god. You leave
your handprints.
Loaves were mine.

Was it not insulting
fire? A catastrophe? I
worshiped the goddess Agni
for its immaculateness.

An eagle makes
a preemptive dive
at interphase of lips and
tearful eyes.

Moon injured―
after reaching ******.
At the death of a poem
nobody was ready to climb the pyre.

A collapsed river was
sleeping in your eyes. I will
come and wake up the sun.
Now I am melting.

Some troubling signs were there.
You were becoming vulnerable,
if the rock cried. And you
wanted to die in my arms.

O brute, cold-blooded
murderer, the shadow of the comet
was lengthening. I don't
want any roses for funeral.

A self-image had the last laugh.

The swamp was in
boil. It was raining
again on the open wounds.

The scissors will
play a ***** game. You
divide the river
in right and left.

Enough was the greed
when you follow the bun.
After the surgery, no blood
was left.

I will go.
You would sing in praise
of coolness of water.
It refuses to move.

Escaped the blast, the
sparks. You can sail
in bottomless boat.

In last breath,
when the door remained
open, you walked out.

Accepting the truth
was my fault.
Everything was not true.

After a death
there was no other dying.
Thoughts were deathless.

A self-portrait
would be not simple,
you were watching.

Your voice has dimmed.
I cannot catch your
beautiful profile.

Wanted to see you,
where you were not present.

O god! who was running
this weird world?

Prepare for a
heat stroke in moonlight.

Naked as a blank paper.
Can you print
the end of unending?

Do not want to call
seers. I will search myself
to know the meaning of
dying gracefully.

Were you ready to become
a silhouette?

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.

When a gravedigger
mourns―
the impasse ends.
A robot turns on the rains.

With horror, you release
the doves to reach for
olive branches for peace.

Paraplegic, the horse
will not run― on hawthorns.
King was decapitated.

You talk to your seers
sleeping six feet down in earth
to explain the genocide―

of unborn fathers, when
they were praying
headdown for downpour.

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.

This was the surrealistic
nightmare.

Omitting the guilt
I will paint a ****.

It was not kind of
pink. Cosy with words―
you will polish the legend,
misspell the ******.

Transfixed I enter
the still life. You come
out with bound hands
to say goodbye.

Sometimes I feel, it is
not over. The sap of black
pine becomes red.
Needles ***** me, not to move.

You fold the holy book
and put it in bag.

Eyeing the pale moon
I will grace the path
of neutrality.

Piercing red
a current pulses through
the vacant eyes.

You always
curl the lips to remain unsaid
about the embrace of fire.

Conversing with
the waterfall, you forget
that you were standing on edge.

Invisible undercurrents
have a ritual. They appear like
glazed cleavers when there
is no crowd of thoughts.

Like indigo child you
extend the purple hands
to heal the bruised ego.

Like a walking fern, you were.
I was talking to you. Why
would you nose down to touch
my landscape and fall into my arms?

To protect you, I was
making a massive wall― encouraging
the revivalism. Predator
drones were intending to follow you.

The dirt― it will not
stain your innocence. Don't
stand on the ledge. Faceless
winds can topple you at night.

We are beasts, with no space
in between. Like sardines you
are packed without names. The
sea has dried up. How far

was the sun?

Ah, my soiled words
may hurt you. I placed them on
the altar of faith.

A psalm delivered by
a crimson red rose. I will write
another sacred poem.

The torches are dead
and I cannot read the script of
unwritten dharma of god.

Starting a crush,
on the baby face moon.
Only half-sinned
by staying quiet.

Think straight.
If you don't spell out,
you will snap―
like the fallen blue angel.

Falling in arms. Space
was small. Ars poetica―
faulted. You feel―
luggage was heavy.

For a griever, it was
a long walk. In trance a
city lifts your pyre.
You refuse to burn alive.

Calling names in sleep.

Multiple hurts― and
you still want to live
in this dystopia.

The queue was
lengthening to catch up
with moon.

The gate man will talk
of an apocalypse.
The repeat flame, which
does not die in the presence
of sun.

The thoughts. Will they
ever stop in dark? The
moonlight gathering the ashes.

The erotica fails to
cast the net. You want to
collect the venom of desire
capping the end blues.

Banded I walk
on the dirt road,
when discreetly, your shadow falls behind me.

Melting the distance
a voice loses the sharp birthmark,
becomes perfectly an onlooker.
Where I was going?

Greed was splitting the fat.
An owl creaks.
I pick up some daisies to walk into a crypt.
New mind was some steps away.

Coming out of skin
nakedness, brings out the tears.
We have stopped speaking. Only whispers
are parting the blackness.

Highly vitiated was
your kitchen. I assume
I was dead on your table.

The halo was fading.
Stage was set for a showdown
between the believer and the iced river.

The red carpet had been
folded. Chief guest― the black
death of sun was not coming.

There would be no
ceremony to alleviate the
aches of separation.

I may resume my
journey to deep ocean, now
since you are flying wingless broom..

The ants have found the carcass.

The snakeskin smiles.
Shoes hurt, when
somebody gives away mercy.

Fidelity has come
for sale. You want to listen
Beethoven only.

The questions were mine. You
had no answers.

I never want to talk
about truth, as if everyone knows
it. I write poetry.

Did you jump into a
dry pool to know
the depth of sky.

Do you think
that was a right thing
to become a saint.

Dying daily
without touching you.
A panther plays-
with a fawn and then eats him.

The mode of living
is changing. I rise with
sun and fall with moon.

Read me in your
palms and recite the
prayer to belongingness.

Ah, all the miseries
were coming on surface.
Who failed the religion,
the fidelity?

You don't want to
come near end. Will aesthetics
save you?

Don't pick smoked
words. Drink milk of moon
for rapture of deep.

Will not define
the war. Impairs vision
and you flounder.

Who was victor
at the end? We go crazy, and
give you a name.

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.

Almost touched
the birthmark of lips
on my poems.

Will not want
for it to happen, when
the sun breaks into stars
in your amaranthus eyes.

Syllable by
syllable, you weave
the inferno to burn
the sins of voodoo.

No one was
traitor when grass
dries up under the feet of
glaring moon.

Ah! this was
a Vedic punishment. I
want to learn the
early form of revenge.

Your intent was to
peel off the frozen poem from
my lips to taste it.

Planting a seed daily
on my palm to start a blaze
for burning the book.

Look how I brace you
to move the steps one by one
to reach on my Sun day.

Standing alone in
dying light, to find darkness of
sun crying in bushes.

You were not me in
shipwreck. The sea wos rising,
Will call doorkeeper.

Truth was not the need.
Will collect messages of
sad, ravaged moon.

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.

It was not enough.
Your charity to feed raptors
with two supple hands.

Birds of prey will want
your flesh, bones and eyes.
Don't nod your head.

Can you walk over
the burning coals to prove
virtuous chastity?

A butterfly
in a bell jar.
All I know, we understand
each other.

There was no sun
at midnight.
Only a blue black
dilemma of―

the sky, to burn
like human combustion.
I am ready to start
a journey with sunbeams.

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?

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?

It triggers a violence-
reciting your name. O unknown
when will you be liberated?

From where the solace
will come? Cannot love painlessly from
the smell of the scented poems?

Suffering is same. You
may come from any path. The queer
reception is for an immortal song.

I lost my soul.
You should not have left like
a thread from needle.

What could not be done
was to take liberty with alphabet
of life. Why pain comes without words?

Something turns my
past, after anointing young
poems of abdication.

The emptiness of
ageing cells seeks a tiger
to maul the house.

Of sizzled dreams.
Why one has to become
ethereal in-

Quest for elixir?
I peel off tangerine's
strange red skin.

I lost my soul.
You shouldn't have left like
a thread from a needle.

What could not be done,
was to take liberty with the alphabets of
life. Why pain comes without words?

Something turns my
past after anointing my young
poems of abdication.

You catch the words
in air. Life takes revenge.
Era ends with alter ego.

In the metroplex a dark
animal roams in lanes. I want
to write my history of salvation.

The sea will not
freeze, if you don't move to bank.
Moon takes his own life.

The big toe
like some ego, breaks the syntax.
You cannot climb the poem.

Time knows,
whom to possess, when the thought
moves out of the mind.

Words were missing
from your teeth. You won't
bite the moon.

Black lips print
a kiss on white forefront, intersecting
past and future.

You learn to
become still in witch hunt
of a lost thread of sacred ****.

Indeed you discover
Yourself, reading the myth of modern
Sisyphus and floating rock.

It was just my time.

To become responsible for
me and I had become recluse,
to lose my memory,
to pay back my debt.

I am returning
the gifts,
of night, birth and
sacrifices.

The wheels―
had pulled me to slavery.
I am now floating,
wingless,
weightless,
for I cannot see―

the parental fall.

You tie a
sacred thread to
the hollow tree.

That walks around
in search of
a morose Buddha.

The world
has gone beyond
the suffering.

A square, a
circle, a dot?
Who are you?

Like Venus you were
hot. Intrusive, no beginning, no
end. I got very silent
to forget what made me very sad.

Me and my strange
discoveries always exciting me.
I didn't remain
a verdict of god, but a recreated
clay model. Baked
strong and sturdy.

Drink my cool.
Waiting for the rogue
asteroid to hit my world
and break me.

In freeze, we remain losing
our fingers.
Will not write down
the ascending paralysis.

Why dying stars were leaving
black holes?

A textual study
of pain and bliss.
I was coming for a reprisal
from a temporal crisis
of intimacy.

Always gnawing at me,
the roll down from
love to hate. Which was
impersonating what, like
a talking parrot?

Soft ******. You will
half-die, poker-faced in
grey night under the full moon,
holding a poem
written for a black sun.

I shall never get
over my dilemma.

Were you contributors
in my crucifixion? Glow worm was
not throwing light. Only a pyre was in flames.

The grass was smoking
without fire. I trembled for the
sake of wood. Nobody was collecting ash.

Who left the scars on your
body, when you were taking bath
in the milk of the bright moon?

Unhinged
in final descent.

A distrust starts
the speechless howling.

The veiled threat
to lock the door
and see the other world.

II

Unmarried― the pears
will not ripen.

Sense of persecution
haunts.

The doves fly away
you wrote your name on the wings.

Death would not stop
coming on the dirt road
of undanced goddess.

God of sins waits.
Light refuses to enter
the eyes looking at sky.

The beehive spills
to make you human of
vanishing tribe.

There was nothing to hide
in house of fire.

In a singed ocean
a dew drop wants to live in peace.
I welcome the pouring bliss
from the gale.

In the raw, tormented
questions a paperboat sinks.
You float the earthen lamps
on glacier.

Why do you respect the
dazzle of mirrors? They don't
accept the gratitude. Give
you back your fakes.

Can your think sane and
beautiful? It has stirred a hornet's nest
which was not ugly?

Everyone wants to wear
a full face mask.