A social metaphysicist
wants to know, how
do you speak, standing
under the palm moon?

There would be a redemption,
if you pronounce slowly, one
by one word, without chewing it.
There will be no commentator.

The vertical ascent should
stop, to stay easy, begging the
question. There was
no one path to truth. You have
to find it in brown eyes.

So much to
bite, not being hungry.
Who sells the shells? Somebody
picks up the axe to finish
the job.

Where lies the fault in utopia?

In the stand-off
between stolen history
and presiding deity
priest was hanged, while a blue cloud
was shedding the yellow moon.

Who was selling god on the road?
A tall coconut tree was my home;
all but your mouth was shut.

Face to face I am ready to leak
the secret of panic attack in open space,
it rips open the unhealed wounds.

The shot holes on the walls
were still bleeding.
I am getting visions of birds, trees and hills.

A pacific coast was punished
for not joining the conflict.
Corpse is being sent on shores.

Some things left unsaid.
I will know you by tremors.
But will stand very still.

You need a space to
feel my lips in silent dark.
Birch had debt to pay.

There was no choice to
break from the past of Rafflesia,
you call corpse flower.

You want to rehearse
for the pain, which
does't stop after burning
the midnight lamp.

When I am not
myself, I think of you.

Sometimes it was difficult
for me to look at me
from your doused eyes.

You are like
honeysuckle, opening
up in dark to seek the
protection from unknown.

Evil and good
were in league,
two poles apart, hot and cold
going together, hand in hand.

Now you want
to go beyond the stars
to test my prophecy.

Everlasting-
revelation. As if
a vampire was made up
of stars.

The spooking
tilts. I remake
myself as one of the
last voices.

This street goes
nowhere.You must
search yourself
to find your cessation.

Clock over
clock. Time does not
move without a
****** daily.

The democracy
lives. Somebody
laughs behind
the bars.

You ought to have stopped
me, in my knocked out desires, promising
the light soon to open the hibiscus.

Small cotton seeds have
started flying. The night of love
weaves black gown to cover the wounds.

I touch, I feel you to
catch your shadow. The cardinal
always takes a round to knock you.

When saline drowns the lips,
my words tremble.

Almost I stumble upon
the fish house spilling the vertebrates.

I had given them, the name
to the swirling limbless thoughts.

One by one they come on the edge
and blow the ashes, towards me.

You always dream of a procession
of dead bodies under the window.

In the little study, you are
afraid of leaning walls.

And you say you were responsible
and to be held accountable.

Mounting surveillance
on myself after snapping
hyphenated bond.

I will set you free
from the white paper, carrying―
your beautiful face.

The slanting eyes
will haunt me in dark, I will
turn around and cry.

When did rift emerge―
while playing the moons? The lake
was ready to drown me.

This paper lantern in lake
was in love with you.
The water oscillating,
not the taper.

*

The panelled remains of―
walls still hold,
your signs. You would not
come back?

*

Apparitions gather―
to bid goodbye to the moon.
A flame of the forest
was due any moment.

Tree nuts and squirrels,
play a game, as the day climbs up.
The food chain moves swiftly.

Walking on dead leaves
I was trying to find the truth.

How do I take you,
when there were no steps
to ascend the future. There was
no history of time to come.

And we are always trying
to weigh each other.

A ceramic goddess was hit,
by pellets of frozen rain.
Decapitated I pick up the head
and place on the stump.
She smiles.

You float the words.
I catch them, and write a poem.

The king
made a fun of our poverty.
Marble faced girls always thought,
wearing black scarves –
sweeping the floor of white mausoleum.

You made a death
a loving eternity.
We die daily
in the face of old shine.

Who shoots a peacock
on the tree?
I mourn for the blue peace,
let the clouds come.

Who remains unhurt
unpained, when the night calls?
I seize a moon
to enter the crack of dawn.

I am not you. You
are not me. When the different stars
meet? Another black hole is born.

Sitting for silent vigil.
Do not know who had died first
in the memory of first love.

There was no equation.
My tears split. I would not find you.
O god to love you forever.

A blighted ****
demands a ransom for life.
Unhinged, you rub with―
the command and
set free a poem.

Some very visceral fears
hold your hand and
ask to write an epitaph
of yourself.

Unboiling the egg in
irreverent manner, you
proceed to make death,
out of eternal entangled questions.

The sheer stress unmakes
you into a creator
and you begin to spawn
a new religion of violence.

The ****** moon
and young lover―
talking in hushed tones.

The speed was the
limit of suspended
economy of wood pecking.

Sap suckers abound
on the pretext of exploring
the depth of resistance.

My bones were your
enemy, your flesh was
my temple.

I will bring daffodils
when sun sits
and night falls.

When your name
drops in the wish lake
like a golden ring as numen,
I accept my defeat.

Like nanoprints, permeating
in my every poem.

Here I catch a swaying
scent to locate your
home in the jungle of denials.

Till my script is
completed, I will explore
all my options not to forget
you even for once.

Will you make it
easy for me to stop the tortuous
self-flagellation?

Who was better of
us with a magic wand
to turn either into a statue?

When your name
drops in the wish lake
like a golden ring as numen,
I accept my defeat.

Like nanoprints, permeating
in my every poem.

Here I catch a swaying
scent to locate your
home in the jungle of denials.

Till my script is
completed, I will explore
all my options not to forget
you even for once.

Will you make it
easy for me to stop the tortuous
self-flagellation?

Who was better of
us with a magic wand
to turn either into a statue?

Neglecting the presence of choiceless
pain, I became singular and I said
I would not allow the life
slip through my fingers.

Looking inside, beneath the rags
of awakening, makes you to rebel
against the decadent forgiveness.
Belief in dying was a reversed nightmare.

Till the arteries explode in the limbs.
A robot kindles the hope to walk
without a brain and I grieve for the
death of a nightingale in the woods.

I will knead the invisible universe,
roll it to the stone wall of conscience.
Age will undo the million dreams
behind the creative shame.

You had lost yourself.
It will need some courage to ****
the future, first moon.

*

The theater seals the fate
of brave and fragile to sail
to the home for exiled.

*

It takes your whole
life to clear the cobwebs of hate
from the closed eyes.

He faked a letter to god
and slept whole night.
(Fallen in a creek from a moving train.)
Indeed, he saddled himself with luxury
of oblivion.
The success around him was most obstinate.

Pretending to condone the arthritis
of social limbs, he walked straight
to become what he would be,
a fakir among riches without fanfare. The
absolute renunciation, slapping the door –
shut, for blackness.

It was visible, the nakedness of brazen lies
falling like cottonwool around him. He touched
coral eyes of truth and wept, never to speak
again. Cosmos would split
for his journey to home.

This was meant for you, he said to himself.
Your own choosing without any regrets.
His fingers traced the figure of a mother
of the thin moon, who was assaulting
the crib of sun.

I will not do any bargain.
You will have to fight by yourself
in the pit of agitated snakes.

It was a cruel test to walk
on the thorns of roses and carry the
singed flowers in the hands.

What was the philosophy
of making holes in the heart before
severing the relationship?

No death stop for colored
marbles. I am not dying to bring
the childhood for once.

Pretending comes to the
fore. Midriff of the moon was taboo.
This was a slaughter-a-day.

Are you a Mimosa pudica?
Not to be touched in sunlight.
It starts moving vigorously.

Impaired listening.
Maybe you don't want to hear
the distant drums.


*

You try to quit the
rank of decapitated,
for sake of scapegoat.

*

You would never talk,
witnessing silent wave of
suicidal era.

You are repeating
hymns to douse the flames
of a burning god.

Walk to the potter's
field, where books are
buried in wraps.

In the wasteland,
you can search the frozen
tears of Zen.

You are repeating
hymns to douse the flames
of a burning god.

Walk to the potter's
field, where books are
buried in wraps.

In the wasteland,
you can search the frozen
tears of Zen.

Beyond the gaze there is a time zone
of rumored agitation,
when you cannot sleep.
You open your eyes quietly to complain.

The caretaker has prepared the shroud.
Smoke is rising on the hills.
Nobody walks with you.It is a
lone journey, where centuries throw the dust
on your hallowed gifts.

The pyramid of signs, symbols, signatures,
disappear in penultimate flare.
Time to leave the waiting room.

The resurrection will take place now;
of fear, of despair, of foot steps in dark.
I will hear them, holding my breath.

Landscape will change into valley of tears.

To undo, what I had
not done.
When you will not give-
me your scars.

No answer was needed,
falling in stutter. It
catches my eyes, the
moon spots.

Prayers you will not
offer, against the organized
crime. But I remember you,
whenever I fall.

Precisely I am hurt.
In the serene lake of your
eyes, a boat sinks. The
gray moon turns red.

The woods are burning. A
spectre of losing you in smoke
looms large. I translate
the agony into a chilled poem.

At crisis of
inquiry, you search
the questions.

Life throws up a savage violence.
Bruising our psychies
we try to know each other.

At the end of the road,
we try to start a conversation.
There was a huge presence―
of some unseen force.

Much ado, looking
through each other. Would
you call me again?

Let there be a brutal
confession. I take back
my words and rewrite a poem.

You had big
violence in your bones.
I suffered. Dream merchants
were ready to violate.

Benevolence descended
to know the depth of anger
in the eyes of the primate.
Why skin had gone thick?

The trapped scream
of the buds waits in lul
before the storm. Roses were
going to explode on the altar.

Bride comes slowly.
She had a date with
the thinking god. There would be
no consumption.

You had big
violence in your bones.
I suffered. Dream merchants
were ready to violate.

Benevolence descended
to know the depth of anger
in the eyes of the primate.
Why skin had gone thick?

The trapped scream
of the buds waits in lul
before the storm. Roses were
going to explode on the altar.

Bride comes slowly.
She had a date with
the thinking god. There would be
no consumption.

Amphibious. My pain
wants to go into exile. My home
was becoming a museum.

A devil lives in every
one, brandishing a knife. The
rose flowers are hurled on the dead

Unassuming you dig
in heels; Why does the moon stare
at you, when you shut your eyes.

Can you understand
the agony of a titan, which
cannot afford to show its fall?

Missing the defeat―
no one was victorious.
Battle cry was a phantom.

The questions, that were
fluttering in a storm―
had become the sufi fakirs.

It was a ***** stricture.
The colors had stopped flowing.
Even the death has lost its terror.

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.

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.

Way off at point-of-no-return,
my geometry,
collided with you for the last spell.

Lines, angles and curves had
started chopping off the hills of grace.

I had lost my path
in the slant profiles of brown eyes.

You stood in shade, like a
bronze sculpture of Michelangelo.

And suddenly you realized,
it was not enough.The moon
becomes pale.A palm tree
swings in its scars.
At distance the horizon crashes.

Time tricks you.Bones crackle.
The poem was born again,
bluish grey gem.

You are beautiful,
still untouched by moon.
I am creating myth.

In small hours, I
release the pain at dusk
to touch you unsaid.

I think, not to think of
you, when nightingale comes
to collect your song.

Hugging a tempest
after forgiving the sun,
that went to burn moon.

*

I scramble on the bridge
to watch the flow of blue bones,
from one smile to other.

*

The panther returns
home to turn human again.
There was no blood name.

Why do we fight without
words? Delimitation was to drag
the truth. Religion breaks into pieces.

It was not possible.to
meet the eternal existent, or can
be seen. I am. You are not.

My philosophy is to
underline the pain of life. The
power of the unknown has no meaning.

Caught on the wrong foot,
you want to defend god. Myth
of destiny fails.

A breathless moon was
in hurry to meet an angel.
Earth was turning black.

There was the red
moon buried in blue lake.
Only god knows why.

I will retrieve your
consecrated shrine of
innocence.

You will kneel
eating grass. The great
shift towards Agni starts.

It burns the stigma,
the sins. Whitens your
***** teeth.

What you have done
to me O queen of hoods,
hood of queens?

The kernels were intact
ready to grow, after the wild
fires on hills.

I will not utter a word.
A new breed of mix of man
and god was coming up.

I am not a paragon.
Everyday I will repeat
some hymns to myself.

Sometimes the
truth becomes transgender.
From god to goddess.

Grace and courtesy.
The moon anchors a smile.
Tears roll silently.

Watching from pin hole
lamps of baked clay.
Every thorn was in my flesh.

I was losing my voice
in crowd of maniacs.
Dragonflies climbing on worn leather.

Through cracked sunroof –
skull splinters into million heirlooms.
Fever climbs the feudals.

Why were you impatient with me?
I was narrating a shocking tale.
Frogs had acquired the land.

Plot was thickening every day.
Take me if you can, in the heavy shower
of meteorites in dark moonlight.

Like today.
I walk myself, in my footprints
tasting grassiness
sending the runners,
on the anniversary, of the brain's death,
when no deliverer was in sight.

The empty chairs in black rain
wait for the parted windows
to let in the screaming light
for a reunion, with the children
of tongue, who were lost
in wilderness of vows.

Looking at the world
from a keyhole, at an unearthly hour
you viusalize a miracle,
to heal the blood apart, wounded
grains of golden dawn, a mother
thrashing for charred hunger.

Blindfolded you wanted
to catch the moon.
It was no my fault.

The sounds first crushed the
strings and then came loud rumblings.

My darkness
was taking the revenge.

You knew because you were blind.

Cadavers. No names, after
cleaning the blood. You paint on―
the forehead. Quake.

Pushed upwards in seconds―
the absence. You were saved
because you were telling lies.

It was not an imagination.
Find out, who was―
omnipresent― no where?

Those pomegranates.
What a weird thought, you want to
see it alive, dead being.


Like salt in extra-
cellular fluid floating in
veins of nemesis.

The relationship
between life and death demands
the absence of a kiss.

Winter will not go.
Yes it was my vengeance. Will wear the
ochre color. Look- where I have come.

Will you ever dance in
a triangle? The wisdom kills. How far
was the center? Lots of smoke.

Peel of the tangerine.
I want to see how much the moon bleeds.
Small words scream. Winter will not go.

You recite my old poems-
to understand the psyche
of human conflicts.
The long shadows won't leave
the fingerprints.

Between mind and soul
breathes a language
understood only by emotions.

I shiver when you
mime the real money. I go into
coma, to cross the
river of blues.

Future is pain.
Past was crime. In some god-
night I will write my swan song.

The life's many scripts
will remain unread
buried in the folds of sands.

Bliss of blue
and white, balancing
the dark.

This was my curse,
and this was my fate―
mixing the colors.

Do not go farther,
in sea, the fishes
have swallowed the sun.

The park-teachers
and path finders were
not aware of foot-faults.

The word stoppers
were abound. I have yet
to find an ear, drunk as water lily.

By the time you had
left the podium, you―
had turned gray like an
overcast sky.

Life was short like a
twitter. How do I―
call you from the jungle
of screams.

Do not go into the woods.
The nightingale sobs
quietly. Flight was good
but there was no depth.

Want to nix my day? Take
away my pen. I will write
a poem with soaring
flames of my heart.

To live again, I
will not come after dying for
you. Resurrection?

I ask the dust, when
did you slip from the moon
to kiss immortal?

Don't leave a cut
on the sandstone to mark
the anniversary.

Flesh by flesh
bone by bone.
I am tired of your religion.

The fake rituals―
to anoint the sins.
Meanwhile someone will execute
the pollen heads.

Blackbirds will come
and go in the corridors
of power to get the plums.

After a murderous day
slowly the moon
rises, to wash out the
dark stains of earth.