Get to take call,
I will follow myself- and
open the old wound.

Of conscience.
The veins of leaves will knit
the face of a brute.

Ready to violate
November. The dilemma in
waves of lake rises.

How to pick cotton
flowers to celebrate snowfall.
We have reached moon.

Is that you, I
ask my poem, can you maintain
the purity of dawn?

To recall a memory
at sundown will be painful.
Moon doesn't agree.

*

I assemble the words,
to tell the truth of blood-
on your trembling hands.

*

What was invisible,
would be known to unknown.
You remain silent.

Standing in the wet
stones in rain, cursing winds,
that had stolen sun.

Why do I wait for
you, when you had sealed the-
secrets of golden fall?

Nostalgic walk in
woods to catch the fairies
sitting on toad stools.

The disaster had come
to the fore. In harm's way
stargazing was coming-
to an end.

A monster like a hurricane
starts pounding my
poems. The dry ice will
not quench my thrist.

A mid-gender approach
will not differentiate between
noun and pronoun.

The myth of waiting
and reincarnation had
patisan attitude. I am
tired of the make-up beliefs.

You cannot reverse
the clock. Time moves on,
devastating the palaces.
Only the broken pillars
stand in deserts of life.

Perpetual war
with smoking candles and blue
darkness in eyes.

*

Paper boats floating
on tears to show the white flag
to foes for surrender.

*

Ash on the palm leaves,
and blood stains on cooing doves,
tell the house still burns.

Seething with agony.
Unsinned―
the creatures were asking for
human rights.

Tracing the spiritual odyssey.
You have landed in a
volcano pit, looking for
the first autumn.

Smudgeless you walk in a
coal mine. It plunks. There
were spots in the sun. Bragging
was coming to the fore.

I am closing the book, not
to read again the drooling
script. Ages were harvesting
the tunnels.

Take me in moonlight
when it is dark, outreaching
every ache.

I will not ask you anything
when you are on prowl in cobra night.

The womb crumbles.
Salamanders will not endure the flames.
Elemental soul wants to
stay in water.

Living in a wax palace
with honeybees inviting sparks.

My religion wants to change its name.
Cold touch, I will wear
a shawl of slaughtered scapegoat.
Don't call me on the name of a
messenger.

You know there was no
dearth of lies.

We shall meet when our hands start trembling.

Don't drink in the eye
of the storm. Go and sit on
the seat of judgment.

Stars are beginning
to walk in sunlight. Tulips want
to be born again without moons.

So sad that I cannot
recall your face and I give
up my name for you.

Don't drink in eye
of storm. Go and sit on
the seat of judgment.

Stars are beginning
to walk again. Tulips want to be
born again without moons.

So sad that I cannot
recall your face and I give
up my name for you.

What you heard was
not true. I am writing my will
after you lost charisma.

I am dying daily, after
reading the smoke signals
coming out of your book.

Can you sing the
ghazal of Ghalib. How will you
agree when you don't agree?

What you heard was
not true. I am writing my will
after you lost charisma.

I am dying daily after
reading the smoke signs
coming out of your books.

Can you sing the
Ghazal of Ghalib? How will you
agree when you don't want to agree?

What you heard was
not true. I am writing my will
after you lost charisma.

I am dying daily after
reading the smoke signs
coming out of your books.

Can you sing the
Ghazal of Ghalib? How will you
agree when you don't want to agree?

Why do I think
different, gripping senses
to catch the god.

Rugged hands have
soft lines to reach truth
by pursuing blood.

The honesty suffers
when you go the other
side of moon to lie.

Less likely to be a truth,
let's celebrate the healing touch
of a hidden god.

It was an absolute
invasion, but I did't believe
in any war.

Timeless quest for the-
elixir of life and enigmatic
divinity.Answers were
always fragile.

I want none of your books.
In humbling pride I will
find my own solution.
Life was a question.

No birthdays.
Rolling thoughts- need
no sermons.

Living without you,
locking horns with unhappenings.

May not harm you,
my imaginary pride
in your shape.

Remember,
when you dreamed of crossing the
crescent gate of moon?

Your audacious leap
into dark to wade into the
mortgage of future?

I was frozen,
standing in the crowd of incandescent
fireflies- heart felt.

My letters will not
reach you, after the dynasty grows
pale, pure as the setting sun.

The lake will not die.
It will keep the secret.

It was religion.
The yellow viper will strike.
No weight of sin.

The spirit will not
wear a body if I fail to
die in your hands.

The bridal oath
drops some words to become
winged and fly away.

Blackened silence was holding the reflectivity,
reality was on the run.
Exile was complete.
Dark secrets, standing on head
remained buried in your chest
absorbing all colors of sun.

A night remembers the friends
who went over the hills one by one
to find the pugmarks of panther
that was killing your infant biographies.
The world stood bodyguard
not allowing any immortality.

Your speech was clear, but unheard
in terror of burnt-out principles.
New sleeping cells are coming up for a
metaphysical revolt. A heron was
stabbed by soaring kites
in the golden valley.

Take me home now,
I am tired.

It was not physical.
Too perfect for connecting
with stars.

Can be most revealing.
Time to make an exit to become
paranormal?

Dust falls
from the moon's feet.
What will be future now?

Thou shall not
fail. There was no clear
path to truth to reach me.

Unless you live
in glory, you will
not remain an angel.

Loving yourself in extreme
beyond recognition!

He had only one vision now,
as he chained himself not to be set free.
He was afraid of living.

No, he did not want anything from world,
or god.
He was not him always. Somebody in him
was watching.

Any gratitude he did not want to expect.
Not obliged anybody.
Wanted to go, but stayed.

Sons and daughters, he loved them –
for not getting cash mentions from them.
Some debts he would never pay back.

It is time for a deep breath of relief.
Empty house, empty soul,
and mind full of hurts.
He wanted to say goodbye.

Sometime I want
to say to myself, why don't
you walk the ramp-

of burning Amazon.
The naveus was becoming
darker on moon.

You partition
the souls and then begin
climbing the rising sun.

No time was left
to call you to bring in
black rose to ward off
the ill omen.
Garden was burning.

Between the dense
smoke and golden flames,
blood moon was disappearing
like brisk pain.
Nothing matters now.

I had kissed your
hand only once, before
the door was shut. The
lips would count the poems
we didn't share.

Clouds come, clouds
go. The story ends
of rags to riches. The riches
of knives become blunt.
The Beekeeper was dead.

To patch up with a
confidante, the partaker
goes away.

It was same moment
for anxious sleuths.
You don't know, where
you want to go.

Togetherness was
bliss, yet it does't work. Let's
not go in opposite directions.

The elected path
haunts us. Where the moon
sinks in dark sky baby
sun rises. Morality goes on sale.

You hold my small
finger to read the message
of unknown.

You said I am
not going anywhere
will I look back.

Body was culture
at blue heights. Frozen
till my candle lights.

I fumble in dark
to remain human. No one
would be godfather.

Give back my pain.
Unwrap my bones. The blood
should be drying up.

Now my needs are few.
I think in my mother tongue, that I will
give my broken body a torn note.

In my loneliness I call truth.
Where lies the shrine of an immortal?
After all, death was taking revenge.

On white paper I want
to write the history of demolition of the truth,
so that the sun behaves like a slave.

Why did I go
for you at the end of road?
Copper weeps.

Like air hugging
you, smelling your wet
scented hairs.

Poverty was a gift
of god. You were very
rich. Strange!

What you will
wear at the death of moon?
sun was red.

Signing on the
skin of dying butterfly,
what you wanted to say?

Put off the lamp.

A lake walk,
in the forest of limbs.

Like the blind man said,
I can hear the truth.

It was more of a ritual
to sit in intense moonlight
when seagulls were stealing the sky…

And you will belong―
to the darkness, of unknowing―
self.

Knowing the inevitable end,
that will come, uninvited.

We are going back.
Let it be.
I will never know―
when will you arrive.

In the aloneness,
going blind to the playing
light, you prepare to drink
the darkness of noon.

Becoming dishonest will
not be possible for me.
The times are revengeful,
come back in black to fix the smiles.

Like water hyacinth, the
disquieting worries will grab
you and hound you to the white bones
and turn away.

Where the blood and
nerves went down? It was
no sin to rise and
stand against the sun.

ShareShare Grafting The Lichens

Erotica will ******
the walking fern. Between stamens
and stigma style sways.

The pollens have something
to say to the moon. Why is moonlight
opening the eyes of blue china rose?

This was very incredible.
Love has many faces. But the
obsession always bites cobra.

O moon, you bleed
therefore you are immortal. Trying to become
real being to write the agony of darkness.

Was it a collective
crime. I look at the sky and
see the distancing stars.

Tweet at me. The sun is waning.
Why is the world alive? Few glittering
stones are ready to die.

Celebrating the death.
Neither physical, nor nostalgic-
I adore the finish,
in place of wages.

Not cerebral.It was
my pledge to remain a husk
after the carnage.

In manthanal I will preserve
the memories of hairless moon-
my nomadic friend.

Like a woodpecker to mark my
territory, I want to stay
alone in my grief.

March and dahlias.Sometimes
I stand before them and,
talk about ephemerality of the beauty.

When would you come
to say goodbye?

Let the dialogue begin
between the apostate and
the threatened god.

Heretic demands
an apology from the religion
of assassin.

The bleeding ancestors
release the mathematics
of grey crimes.

So your temple was
destroyed because of the lion
sitting at gate.

A moon falls on the
raw hides of innocents and
the planet stops breathing.

The stones will speak for
river bed― a perfect home
for drowned principles.

Like shrew you enter
the belly of jewels to talk
to a bronze Buddha.

He stands in vigil,
your godhead, after the thieves
plundered the frames.

The small hands pointing
the pistols at the heads of
ancient fathers.

Stepping out from half-
Love. You take and give a kiss. The
pain was in bones. You were happy.

What we have given to
history, when the moon was loud and was
moving towards the black hole of life?

How to convert everybody
to defeat the hate, embracing
ride of legless journey to love.

Season's intimacy
starts schooling you. The voice
halts the bloodshed.

From bone to bone.
Love is halved, flesh here
and there. No bargains.

Let me touch your
sprinkling glass, before you move
a step to sip hemlock.

Where blue meets the
red, I will bring moon to cross
you river of tears.

Thousand suns away
the pygmy god sleeps in thatched
hut, to feel the pain.

When you swim in my
eyes, I become an ocean
to drown the deity.

When I need something.
I will ask you.
But I was never going― to need anything.

From where this―
armoury comes, trying to
influence the vowels, from
the clenched teeth?

When I hold your hand,
you start trembling.
There was mist and
there were walls.

Are we drifting apart―
in search of moons?
Flesh for flesh, bone for bone? You
swim fast, I track on the land.

Your chair is unoccupied.
I am waiting for you to come.
You will not.

Why it happens? When
I touch you. You are not there.
A silent poem writes your name.

Untouchable was your
pain. An eagle hovers in blue sky
to pick up the child of death.

In a starry night
an adolescent thought starts
a rivalry. A baby moon squirms.
No hour was safe from terror in dark.
I climb the stairs breathlessly.

The great divide deepens in hearts.
Incisors bite the tongue,
grey cells bleed inside.
Thick ash has not stopped the cinders
smouldering under the veils of flushed peace.
Cupped tears wash the feet of death,
a caravan of words moves desolated,
cutting on the edges, before you say
goodbye to green vision.

Today I am pulling out the nails
from the walls. No hangings of departed centuries.
No portraits of exiled flames.
Only the face of truth, burning
at the interface of unthruths.

Gifting yourself the speed―
you betray me, when
I was trying to heal―
the injured wings of time.

Archipelago. The islands
were very lonely in frozen lake.
No boat was in sight.

Having no coastline,
the landlocked language,
suffers the ignominy of the tribe.

The neighbourhood crawls
after the nose-dive of
the plane without agenda.

Shelterless, you want more
sunshine to fight with
the cold beach.

You have your own
words, hired from my
lips. Ad libbed I will
go dumb.

There was instant
empathy with fireflies.
They don't sing while burning.

It was a highlitened
pain, when I moved my
dark fingers on your
white skin to write a poem.

Who was picking
marbles after breaking
the glass windows?

Love was not
a job to be completed.
It makes you immortal
in your grave.

Is this was my
punishment? I will not
see your hands?

Turning a prayer wheel
to fire an arrow
towards your heart.

Let the veil slip from
your face- coming near the sun
ridding of the clouds.

Trees also can sing,
if you sit under them.
Was it a human way to
become a stone?

Talking to a candle
in windy night, I will ask-
if ever fever rises, will you
blow off?

Under the lips
some silver was spread.
It shows up only, when
eyes rain.

Could not decipher,
who am I.
You stab the words.
They bleed.

Gypsy thoughts,
don't tell the fortune.
I will write my own will
in coal.

In blue waters
black moons float, before
seeking the volcano to
bury the hatchet.

You come hiding
the chopped toe, you
offered to deity to punish
the pen.

Could not decipher,
who am I.
You stab the words.
They bleed.

Gypsy thoughts,
don't tell the fortune.
I will write my own will
in coal.

In blue waters
black moons float, before
seeking the volcano to
bury the hatchet.

You come hiding
the chopped toe, you
offered to deity to punish
the pen.

You come like undersea
quake, hitting
the sleeping moon.

No headlines,
no bleeding hearts,
just masochism.

Drinking angst
and spirit, from― a
Venus in exile.

After holy scripts
drifting out
with battle scars.

Quotes fail to wake on―
neat thinking. Truth
was going to a trial.

I will speak less
for ultimate, what we are
heading for. I was―
my own god.

At the start of the poem
you will find a *******.
With curved arms, I was rowing a boat
under the moon.

A nose dive of a
shooting star still haunts me.
Where were you, when the
sky was burning?

A sacred prayer binds us both
waiting for an angel
to tie us apart. We will
watch, but go blind.

The hunger keeps the fire going.

He used to dream
of date palms, covering
the defended wounds.

The scoli crab after
the fall will stay. It will
not change the referendum.

The neuter will not
form the trinity. I will
not hear the signals.

Night was not yet
dark to explore the moon.
My stars remain faded.

O country, the people
O planets, the goddess
of **** is dead.

This was a body blow
when you said, I had a right to go
insane. The gold-diggers were coming.

Life has become a torn,
***** one rupee bank note.Useless.
You cannot buy water. Memory slips.

Small things were heavy.
You are half-buried in the wall. The
religion breaks. The dead moon looks black.

Don't bury my pain
in your sad blinking eyes.
It won't fill the void.

Who was evolved
from a cruel beast into
a human being?

Some pieces of
divinity survive in the
bright passion flowers.

Don't bury my pain
in your sad blinking eyes.
It won't fill the void.

Who was evolved
from a cruel beast into
a human being?

Some pieces of
divinity survive in the
bright passion flowers.

With silver spoon, I
cannot eat your words―
selling my poverty.

Another pain comes,
when you walk barefoot
in hot sun, to feel the old burns.

Black moon, and red
eyes, in white nights.
These were my poems.

Your body comes in
between my blues
and trembling morrows.