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.

When moon tries to
cover the sin, who was fallible
in the ring of fire?

The centuries ask, whence
we failed ourselves, when
god was watching.

Who created the
memory of stone,
infallible from the mount of truth.

It was not the worth
of a cloud,
your garden, sitting
on the lake.

Refresh drops, in the
dry eyes of the rope, which was
wounding around your neck
like a snake.

You want to become
a blue god now, on
opioids. A living ruin, attracting
the tourists.

The terrible change,
we are dragging our dead body
under the shadow of
the toes.

Death, be merciful.
A part of me was broken
and became a star.

An angel had touched me.
He has gone back to his home.
Why am I trying to resuscitate his cloak?

O my light, you lived
in me. I had kissed you in my darkness.
In troubled times, you
just disappeared to leave,
your voice, purity of face
in my heart for eternity.

But the wait will continue
for you. The fall-
crisp falling of thoughts. Longing
to feel you.
Longing to feel you, on my bruises
like the dew on grass.
A-complaining?
No, nothing. It is the unopened
eye of a wound.

Sometime, somewhere I will break
into many moons -
an oblique answer to a terrestrial question
of a pale river.

The heat is on, because of the
fatal mistakes. Violence has pregnancy.
Walls stand alone without a roof
hauling the suicidal balloons.

Blue berries are becoming scarce.
Vision short, we cannot see in the night.
Crystals in candlelight become green,
images creeping tall under the trees.

Of total failure, the chemistry of love
patches up with arithmetic of aristocracy.
Spoils the show of neutrality
in sky, hurting the gods.

I am stuck with autistic heroes
in poor desert of a waking sun.
Death on grass will never show
the second birth of the pain.

This was profanity.
A dead club moss resurrects,
when you sprinkle the water over
dried wrinkled leaves.

From darkness to light
you break the bowl of an angel
and the invisible spills out.

Brother in terror -
of mixed turbans.You smell
the burning flesh all around.

Speed of light from superflares
was not colossal, than the blast of man.
Look, it is still dark here..

Now climb the holy
hills, rising like the *******
of weeping earth, to collect
the daisies for final call.

I will find another
indigo in you, when you
were linked to exercising talons.

Stealing my moons,
for a rapturous choke,
I was being observed.

A face off begins
on the stage of life, between
wrecked ego and collective guilt.

Thumbs severed off. Ghosts
of war are mushrooming.
A winter crop was becoming rich.

Only god knows, why
singingbirds were silent.
October was not very cool, and
big tears were not flowing.

The unparalleled blood
was becoming thinner.

In the service of flesh
new vision was perfecting a cult;
silence was going home.

It was not there
freedom of defense for bread, but
I must pay the price of hunger.

The oblique afterthought
compelled by nocturnal infidelity
picks up the black threads,
minute by minute.
Death was very genial.

Comes silently behind the cacti -
across the intelligent green.
One has to pay for touching greatness.

The thoughts will never go
from the unwinking eyes.
I was listening to the footsteps.

The night shift starts.
A moonbeam comes and lies
beside me.

I was not hungry.
Cuckoo gives a call
I will not raise the flag.

The flesh, starts eating you.
Sometimes, for this
unnamed, you run cross-country.

Memories flare up.
A primitive wolf sends a howl.
You start reciting a prayer.

The age, will not pardon you.
Limbs spring to catch a butterfly.
Noiselessly a door shuts.

Wanted to pay
debts of gratitude.
There was a call from evergreens,
he was not ready to go.

Standing in pit of snakes
he was preparing himself for a random fang,
throat like a blue-bird
waiting for a song.

The solid waste of numerals
across the thinking,
developed plaques, while philosophy
was accepting innovation.

The authority had started
reading the couplets.
Glory came earlier
sea cracked into shells.

After the death of the dark,
in the way you wore
your smile, I asked you to
see me at dawn, before the
sun rises.

A star is born,
you take on the moon.
I embrace my poem.

You own the candle.
I was the flame.
The light pays homage.

A timeless pain
still follows you in woods
to stitch the womb.

You have to run
away from the wolves
to save the doves.

There were no more allusions.

After the death of the dark,
in the way you wore
your smile, I asked you to
see me at dawn, before the
sun rises.

A star is born,
you take on the moon.
I embrace my poem.

You own the candle.
I was the flame.
The light pays homage.

A timeless pain
still follows you in woods
to stitch the womb.

You have to run
away from the wolves
to save the doves.

There were no more allusions.

Learning the art
of dying, cheating the ghosts,
talking to moon children.

Will you believe in
so much of death? An
octopus darting on sands?

In self-awareness
you look at the vast water.
The lake will accept you.

Aimlessly you want
to drift. A sick feeling takes
revenge and turns you into stone.

Somebody smiles.
Flickers like a candle,
before shutting down the beats.

Trying to meet the
best of you, after seeking
nothing. Two halves never sleep.

Silently creeping,
glaciers were ready for
meltdown. Earth breaks.

Into tears. I don't
want to think, to speak. Staring
at you finding fault in sun.

The poetry seeks
some answers for unknown
questions, sitting in wilderness.

The moon aborted
twice to land on earth,
to search for the namesakes.

To talk about the
bequeaths, on the failures of oracles,
you were praying about the vain awards.

Do you know about the
witchcraft of a fallen ficus tree. There was
a black magic for healing a broken moon.

A temple was demolished
to change the god. Someone laughs from the
woods at night. A bronze body becomes a new god daily.

Answering your own question,
wrapping the ****―
as manifestation of
God's will.

The old earth
still bears the fruits and
comes face to face with the
ungrateful human being.

Not touching your breast, I will
hear your heart beat
once-over.

Before the rains come,
the rage will sleep with the stones
and reconstruct a―
prehistoric fault.

Apollo wants to leave
Delphi and become a monk.

Your jasmines smile, when
you handover a bunch to me.
It makes you win my lips.

I do not know how
you turn roses pink, when
I hold your hand under the moon.

In an esoteric way, love
will make the words disappear.
The cage was always empty.

Still I am looking
at the path, from where you
disappeared.

In void between
living and dead, leaving no
memory to drape.

The dust will recall
the weight of footfalls in
air to bleed stones.

Drop your haves and
have-nots. When you lose things
you are at peace.

From time immemorial.
I was hunting the moon
and you slept.

You never woke, my
god limbless you didn't
move, when earth was dying.

You know how
to live. Take me, a
lesser pain comes.

Meaning of life
was difficult to interpret,
sitting in sun.

You can conceive
meaningless numbers. I am
still counting ciphers.

Failed to achieve
something. Anything comes
in my wild poems.

Like hyacinth bell
shaped spikes I spread out
in moon to ripen in pain.

The dark borders
were shifting, rejecting
the inner voices.

The echoes bring apocalypse
with costs. I hear
the silent prayers.

de jure? I want
to letter the unknown fears
of the epilogue.

The whistling pain of the
words, brings
the blood flowers.

Aghast, at the cupidity,
of man, where shall
I start the charity?

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.

In my smallness
I think tall. Nymphs want to
become ageless.

Black earth moves
the moon- Spirits were
saddened. Mayflies.

Would die in one
day. The wholeness has a
purpose to ****.

After the long wait
I forgot how to kiss the flames.
All the moons failed.

The world would
freeze, when I burned and
the phoenix did not dive.

Listen, I love you
within me. O god to feel your pulse
when I decided to **** me.

To you, I
send my silence,
before the fire starts, to engulf
the open barn.

This mourning must stop.
I will wash your feet, of mud
and wet grass. You have
come after crossing the jungle of black roses.

Tomorrow I will call swallows.
A peacock will replace the
ruined, plundered, silk poppies.
The bleeding sky turns blue.

On the road, echoes
of greedy words will eat the smiles.

Returning to past
you tend to remain all mum,
murmuring nothing.

Measuring speed
of light coming from my eyes
without spilling dark.

What burns up, ejects
the sparks on your shroud
of three parting words.

Becoming intimate with
pain. Laughing with
death. My pastime.

Then unfold me
to lick the flames. You
and me burn simultaneously.

Why life demands
toll for crossing the river
of ashes and bones?

Like night bird
you hop and stop in neighborhood.
Looking for lithe snake.

September tears.
It was ending after the
red moon bleeds.

Was there any name left for the void?

Today bare love of
moon is with tears to miss a lover
behind the colors of rainbow,

I have killed my ego
before you. This evening a biggest glacier
will fall in the sea of intimacy.

Give me pleasure daily.
I will bargain for the nightful sparks
for your rotating pink eyes.

Becoming intimate with
pain. Laughing with
death. My pastime.

Then unfold me
to lick the flames. You
and me burn simultaneously.

Why life demands
toll for crossing the river
of ashes and bones?

Like night bird
you hop and stop in neighborhood.
Looking for lithe snake.

September tears.
It was ending after the
red moon bleeds.

Was there any name left for the void?

Sitting before the white
screen, thinking―
what to write today.
Suddenly you will appear to
take a sweet revenge.

Proding the sensitivity,
you will not utter a single word.
I will start burning my―
paper boats on the banks of brows.
River dried, no water was
flowing from the dams of eyes.

Only the moon was watching me.
Tomorrow you will find a―
washed out body in dew of a
poem, half buried in red sands.

It still becomes relevant.
You pick up the remains of a saga
make a shrine of the god anonymous.

Sitting before the white
screen, thinking-
what to write today.
Suddenly you will appear to
take a sweet revenge.

Proding the sensitivity,
you will not utter a single word.
I will start burning my-
paper boats on the banks of brows.
River dried, no water was
flowing from the dams of eyes.

Only the moon was watching me.
Tomorrow you will find a-
washed out body in dew of a
poem, half buried in red sands.

It still becomes relevant.
You pick up the remains of a saga
make a shrine of the god anonymous.

A tryst with handler
of birth and death. To go
near him you need to start
describing yourself.

Let's go for love's
coursing without any
delay. You can have an
advanced encounter with destiny.

Sometimes an undisclosed
secret, hangs low on
your lips, but doesn't spill.

You remain hypnotized
by a mantra, like a stilled
cobra looking straight in
your eyes.

A Tango. You want to
dance with pink butterfly
carrying the rhythm
to fall in love with unseen angel.

Here comes a big NO.

It was scary to
listen to the sounds of
your glossy tresses.

To taste flavours
of your lips in return
for bleeds of poems.

The panther. He goes
a **** a day. Will change
legitimately?

It was scary to
listen to the sounds of
your glossy tresses.

To taste flavours
of your lips in return
for bleeds of poems.

The panther. He goes
a **** a day. Will change
legitimately?

It was scary to
listen to the sounds of
your glossy tresses.

To taste flavours
of your lips in return
for bleeds of poems.

The panther. He goes
a **** a day. Will change
legitimately?

I was not afraid of the clock, ticking,
dividing your attention. A guarded
withdrawl of the statement, had
brought a comic relief to the distraught
vicitims.

Caving on guns, the
mustard cloud could wipe out
the entire generation.

The tender bodies
wrapped up in white cloaks,
ready to be sent back
to mother's womb: earth.

Why a sun wanted to
pass out gingerly?

To slice a hope in stark terror
he thought to bid holy goodbye
to destiny, and let himself go
in the shadow of weeping deads.

The orange moon looked mutilated.
Quietly stood a suicide bomber,
ready to get killed for a home in white heaven
and destroying the leaping stars.

Who had the blood on the hands?
Hiding in the white gown,
crossing the shelter, to dropp the guilt
on the road, never to look back.


Century of oppression, like baked blood
shines on the coffins of martyrs.
At dawn the pariahs promise to lead
the band towards democracy.

Asking moon to
be mine at the time of
hyphens and the dots.

Of agony. Burn all
the pages of book. No
marigolds to toss.

The worn body wears
the cloak of yesteryears,
walking bare hands.

To own you,
was my fault. I wanted you flawlessly,
to choose, who lives
and who walks away.

Trying to discover
pure truth, the whole truth―
nothing but complete.

You start groping
for eternal globes, like Mars,
burning hot, but far away.

An aesthetic oneself, searching a duplicate.

The suffering of useless
phrases hurts. Your eyes squint,
wanting to tell, but don't betray.

Who will succeed
awakening the sovereignty of a wayward bard?
Who will pull down the moon
from the black sky?

You were comfortable,
when you abused in native speech.
After the conviction,
there was smoke and ash.

Bring down the white plumes
from the volcano's crater,
and begin the swan song
for the sake of vanishing grace.

It is my turn now to
walk in penumbra, wrapping
off the dark core of human mind
and give a prelude to matephors.

Below the wings, the
trapped wind lifts the fallacy
of a fall when you were
already buried in a shadowless flesh.

This September. It is
going to be very quiet.

I am trying to caress
the mimosa, which
always said,
touch-me-not.

The spontaneous probe
will start the construct in love
of philosophy to mimic
the animal plus
the femineity.

A clock was moving
without hands. Time was up
but legs were amputated.
How will you walk
towards your truth?

Did not make anything
out of himself. He was afraid
from depth to depth.

Muzzled lock had hidden the keys.
Shadow of door loomed large
on silence, now touching
nothingness.

Lips move without sound.
Eyes become dumb. Hands were misguided,
cannot hold the pen.

Mobs with fire bombs
waiting to ambush at night
ignite the cart. Nowhere to go now.


Golden leaves tout the era.
I am emptied of peace,
my vessel devoid of feverfew.

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.

Drowning her children
back in her womb,
a big tear rolls down the cheek of earth.
She was sitting on broken bones
to watch the terror,
ear for ear to listen,
eye for eye to see.
Hope was becoming ephemeral.

Nostalgia for breathing in,
the scented grains of death’s fruit,
no analogue, no relics of blood
and a ceremony of water, soil and wood.

All gone. It is a battered rubble
back to back, autoclaved, clean.
We walk back, heads bowed, shaven,
absolutely fouled with no immediate answer.

Was there a dialogue on non-death?

Inviting yourself
for a kiss of wasp?

This was a hidden mood.

Being yourself,
you were insulting someone,
my poems, my theology.

Touching trees,
one by one, searching your
name on every leaf.

O God of half eaten
breads, why do you lie
on the petals only?

The tears fall
was becoming louder.
Frozen eyes are starting a
meltdown.

Where would you live
in autumn?

You want to make the
pain happy? Like Gestapo you had
picked me. My half-poem becomes the antimatter.

Where has the sensuality gone
in the rose garden? Who was the changer?
What now honeybees are coming?

Between right and wrong
lives our god. Did you ever adored him
to change your gender?

The kiss of the wasp
still burns on
my lips. I will ask
the love, what was your age?

The words ****
the essence of unspoken
grief, when life turns
around to say goodbye.

When would you breach
the dam and submerge the
desert of beautiful cacti?
They hold the sap of last journey.

Myriad stars compete
with me to know my
worth in dark. A rolling
death of swans has dried up the lake.

Here goes the killer
of songs. Do not start
bidding to live.

Why silently burns―
the red moon, in
moaning night?

Why in my
absence, you started
picking the rose buds?

Who had placed
the red strings in your
dampened eyes?

A missed heart
beat, always sounded
as if your name.

Let's try a
human logic for
a monkey heart.

The knowledge was
becoming a
dangerous thing.

I know and
you know that we
were sworn enemies.

Not like a
flamethrower
come as a bee.

On the canvas,
I was drawing only the feet―
in run.
No heads, no torsi.

Was it a dark vision,
when you found the inert bodies,
crowding the summit?

Primates had already devised
the sponge, to gather up
the answers.

Geraniums become blind―
after their involvement,
in sorcery.

Making an inventory of
fugitives, no body was left at
home, when fire broke out.