We will talk about
life and death, standing on
the track in dark.

*

Do not reach anywhere
untouching spots on hands
where sparks kindle.

*

Do you want to wash
out your sins, kissing the
black rocks of moon?

I dreamed of you.
Otherworldly. Blue and tender.
Not my pain anymore.

Did you pray for me
and asked to write a last
poem for sake of veil?

A bird takes, sand
bath, before jumps on a pyre
to prove fidelity.

I dreamed of you.
Otherworldly. Blue and tender.
Not my pain anymore.

Did you pray for me
and asked to write a last
poem for sake of veil?

A bird takes, sand
bath, before jumps on a pyre
to prove fidelity.

In process of―
searching you. O invisible truth
I was hurt.
One death leads to another.
You must have changed your cloak
not your voice. I will
find you one day.

Your angles were
right, except the distance.
At your lying down place
a marigold was born
defying the sun. Make sure
night was not your enemy.

It was not yield―
my pride. You must shift
your zodiacal light to match
me on the waves. You will
need me, and I will need you.

No ceremony. I
will walk out from the star-
gazing one day.

The spirit moves
away of body to wear the moon
of a dying sun.

I don't like small birds,
that make loud noises
in hollow trees.

The thirst of newness
makes you move away from the crowd of
grievers. I ask the moon, why does he cry?

What was the ritual, when
you seek redemption from
the bonfires of forgotten love?

In fact, sorrow was
a beautiful heritage of truth processors.
You make a temple, and god breaks it.

In a hollow tree
like hiding your past
in a talisman,
with bleeding heart,
when sun eats you
ant by ant.

To my clouds,
with a premonition, they
followed me every day
when I was walking on my
toes, moving away
from my bones.

Like walking fern
you hop from one hole
to another, to plant the roots
for future of echoes and
footprints. Towards the
dark I will sail to find
the slaughtered moon.

Waging a war
for peace. Rage of
silence abates.

The heart of a flame
has an earthiness. It will
bear a smokeless slight.

There was a terror
link. You could not handle
the trick.

Come to the fore now
and place the honesty,
on the back burner.

I will not speak
between life and death
going from light to dark.

I was the shadow,
and I was the moon.

In a cruel joke,
the torturer becomes
the tortured.

The colossus in its
aloneness, meets the goddess
of death for once and
messenger turns
into message.

The mixer of violence
and mantras, becomes god of
non-believers.

Let me disappear from
the words, a smoke
rising from the book.

Unpraised I was in between the names.

Sometimes the unholy fears
come obliquely―
from the scorpions.

Tongue tastes the salt of spilled
hate. You execute the hooded anxieties,
creating a cadaver pyramid.

Stich-open-stitch. Cobra
in the bush. Awesome colors of eyes
Brown-blue-green.

I am not going to kiss
the chillies. Burning hot lips.
The contours were enticing.
I shut my eyes for a weird encounter.

The floors pulverized. I still
stand in mud, on my own.

Sitting alone, in the pain
I am eating a fallen fruit, like an old
memory. The tree helps the blindness.

Agony becomes the words in
war of attrition. Dopamine does not change
the religion, morphs into a lone star.

A dream throws you from
the immigrant moon. No land was
accepting him to stay in foreign place.

Twitching will not stop
after you hit the bull's-eye.
Somewhere a nightbird,
had a hallucination, moon was
scared to come out.

The game we play all
the time. Tracing blue nudes
on the beds. A gang ****
went unnoticed by the
diehards.

A sphinx was rising in
east. What you have done
to stall the riddle of winged monster
sailing like hawk moth,
drinking your honey?

Wanting to die young
hairy and unbaked,
not telling the truth.
It was a savage vendetta.
The crowd was not on your side.
In manic intensity,
they shouted― death to the veils
in holiest dip.
I repudiate the presumptiveness.
A super religion gives birth
to a devil― another godman.
In chains, I will carry
a cloud. Very disquieting.
There was no water.
The seeds crawl―
underground in the wake of earthquake.
Collecting the tears to grow.
It is a blank summer.
The fat spiders open the eyes.

Leave me by me.
I was an onlooker in
wilderness of knees.

Primal truth is dead
I search peacemakers
of nowheres in vain.

Watch my loneliness.
A bronze elephant stands
still in dream traffic.

Leave me by me.
I was an onlooker in
wilderness of knees.

Primal truth is dead
I search peacemakers
of nowheres in vain.

Watch my loneliness.
A bronze elephant stands
still in dream traffic.

Cruelest thing would be-
you are being watched all life
as from the sky in dark.

Trembling, you open
the knots of entangled life,
to watch the baby sun.

When you try to find
yourself in the lies of society
where will truth will go?

A kiss, which
came from the firefly,
when I was in pitch-dark.

Floundering about- in
search of you, to move
away from wars, noises and explosions.

There was no love
lost, when you wanted to
come to misty gorge, to slide down
the steep silvery falls.

Not being open to talk to
sleeping eyes of sun, to read
the book of pain in bright light.

Outlasting all the miseries
of losing sovereignty
of tearless solitudes.

You have to ****
at me to bring out the
infinity of the frills.

It was not a jubilee,
but I had come to pay my debt.

Stepping gingerly in your
father's study, you open the almirah.

No I am not afraid.
I have come to visit my father.

The hurt has not destroyed me completely.
Days were numbed like by vespa stings― with
burning, swelling and soreness.

I slide the clothes. In
deeper layer a plastic pack appears. on the
bed of dried rose petals,
sits a singed, brown vertebra―
collected after his funeral.

My talisman. I touch it.
Turn around―
don't look back
and walk away.

I asked you to be gentle,
not negating the love. The mythological
legend will start wiping the tears.

You stand without a sword.
The white goddess made for me, though
with pink bones, silvery eyes.

A long tweezer was
interbred with gods. Invaders come
for a savage rivalry on the planet.

Love hours.
When you cover your
face with hands,
light dims.

I enter your interocular
space, to understand the
truth ofdissent.

I am learning
from you about the black
theory. You wanted to-
take titanic steps
in small feet.

Human facts.
I cannot breathe.
You possess the power of
manipulation.

A bird doesn't know.

Love hours.
When you cover your
face with hands,
light dims.

I enter your interocular
space, to understand the
truth ofdissent.

I am learning
from you about the black
theory. You wanted to-
take titanic steps
in small feet.

Human facts.
I cannot breathe.
You possess the power of
manipulation.

A bird doesn't know.

It hurts me, my poems
when you don't come in dreams.
Moonlight waits.

How devastated
was your faceless voice in dark!
The nightingale cries.

Like "la grippe"
the noiseless words leave the
night wounds in eyes.

The collective
scream of peacocks,
brings the night horror.

The horses run―
in morning blue.
The call has come.

Cotton wool on―
retina. I cannot read
your command.

To immerse
my god in your lake,
the wait must be long.

Only two words you
need to die or live. Do not love you
O god. When Ganges will meet you?

Ethics, science and
religion are searching for peace. I had
asked for the distance not absence.

I understand, I am
killing myself for the sake of the
moon falling on the burning lake.

Autumn sets
deeper, after equinox. The
homesick moon comes close.

*

Was there any hope
beyond the darkness?
My hands are very *****.

*
What was the maniac
pain of the sea?
No boat wants to sink.

*

Soundless was your
enemy in bush.
Why were you lamenting?

Watching in shifting
stance of futurism, I will
be choosing frozen-
pains of the past.

Endlessly I begin
again, the pursuit to meet
the end at moonrise.

I look up at the moon,
and you look back at the road.
And I will ask, what
was the black truth?

You always think of
the windows, when the doors
were shut. To escape from
the colossal mistakes?

Truth, one day
will melt in your eyes.
I will pick up the pen.

I don't count the
Countless, black hurts. Hear
the unhearable.

Pink over pink. A
golden drive after the
moon's marriage.

In deep calm, I
dig out the bare gospel
of the unknown god.

In inner conflict,
wearing snakeskin, to make
a very sacred ****.

*

What a sinful dream,
in moonless night, when rain stops.
I will find you then.

*

Don't follow the stars.
They will mesmerize you to
love the beautiful lies.

Your alignment
with sea was not perfect. You
were wading in sand.

Give me a slip
of eyes. A scion was
ready to catch winds.

Behind the teeth
lies a ****** tongue. Will spell
your ancient name.

My killing instincts
were intact.
On this ****** moon day―
I must talk to myself.

Just lips would move,
not the mind.

A mode of non-being
comes in fore. You watch the pansies dancing―
nonchalantly.

The air passes. White phosphorus
ignites on its own.

Memory alternates with pain.
It is not over.
We are still searching ourselves
in a mound of earth.

Death in meadow
on leaves, under the sky.
History was walking over the bodies
of those who were in service
to move the wheels of sorrow.

The horror sinks slowly.
They were killed without war.
Unpaid debts of life, conflicts
at home. Amidst the laughter
somebody hangs in a noose.

Cry, cry, the possessed one,
your script had failed you.
Your chosen god was fake one
your unknown fear was real -
under the veil of sky-blue peace.

The faith has a price now,
put up for sale on the combed street,
from the opening of a number.
No wages are fixed for lying deep
round the pain of centuries.

Something was always
missing. I wouldn't
recognize me.

In my quietism,
I dig out the words, that
would give me otherness.

The ocean accepts
the martyrs of woody frames.
Fuel was not sufficient
to burn them.

Moon sizzles in
black fumes. Pure cotton
was needed to make wicks.
There will be a night vigil.

Where the crowd assembles.
I will present the thoughts
of a wandering soul
of unknown prophet.

It was all white.
You wanted to see the interruption
by black rocks.

In frost you don't
leave footprints, do not
reach anywhere.

A ****** deviation
separates the primates from
enlightened beasts.

Stones won't roll
today. Bystanders would not
pickup the fallen.

The unarmed question―
marks fall flat. There was
no ready answer.

Somedays with
human touch, I will talk
to white roses with
blood spots.

This was inner beauty.
The ferns start walking to
cover the wounds of earth.

A sea horse stands
***** in sea to salute
the warship.

Where we are going?

When you don't leave
your thumb print, the song
of nightingale is lost.

How do you want
to die in the hands of
deaf and dumb god?

Like flint, I knew,
it won't work from beginning.
I wait for red moon.

A tragedy was to-
happen. So it happened.
Suddenly one day!

Could you halt it,
the engulfing inferno-
blazing the home?

See, what you have
done to me.
Chasing my
poems engaging
the soul.

Will you like to meet
the heart of a rose?

Continuing without
pause, you will discover the path
of unknown.

Half fathers were steering
the lives of unknown, long-limbed sons.
Don't stand in queue-
to throw your flesh, peace by peace
to predators.

My god hurts me one day.
Divides the roses in half. Bodiless you come
in to kiss and leave the chapped lips.

Mercy for whom? The
wounds of love makes me search to trap
the honeybees like the stolen gem.

You give me your limbs
to walk on the paper and find a saviour
who always follows you in dark.

Far beyond the light years,
I will seek the darkness―
where the hope was born,
and night had the faith.

The trust not betyrayed, become
meniscus, when the crowds
start coming. Dog bitten you scowl.
A half-written poem was ripped away.

An inside truth comes too close
to flames. Something limbless―
moves in empty mind. In the
falling snow a dove flutters like a myth.

Half-truths are touted now as,
a new brand of secular religion.
Something was amiss. Man was
afraid of himself, becoming semi-god.

Coming of age
in dark waters of thoughts-
to swipe the moon.

Half-bread was
not sufficient for the earth.
We need some sky.

Words don't come
easy, from the scythe, to draw
a line on face.

Coming of age
in dark waters of thoughts-
to swipe the moon.

Half-bread was
not sufficient for the earth.
We need some sky.

Words don't come
easy, from the scythe, to draw
a line on face.

Home coming
was not true. A character
remained unread.

What image was
holy? You walk barefoot
after worship to listen
the voices of earth.

The volcano weeps
for centuries, waking
the flames one day. What
were the questions
which had no answers.

A pink bandana
becomes the heartache
of moon. No star was
worthy of you.

The book wipes out the
new sermons.

I was extremely
hurt. Your taped lips won't kiss.
I will die hundred moons.

Can you give me
freedom from the pink rocks
of salt and snow.

I think, I should not
drop your name at the edge
of my trembling poems.

I walk in sleep
to listen to your surrender
before the bald eagle.

You were always in
hurry to shut the book
of life without reading it.

I hear your voice from far away.
I was still searching you in jungle of pain.
The legend crumbles downplaying.

My poems ask, what were
you up to digging the ruins of love.
Who admires past to know the truth?

In my saga the end never comes.
Death comes free. I remained a fakir. At the
tangent of suffering someone cries.

Stay till end of
my poem, for
dying sun.

Howling winds searched
my body, my soul
when I stood alone.

The blue scorpion knows
its religion. That was predation.
Landfall for hungry.

If the blood leaks,
the victim sings for moksha.
Milking starts.

The golden leaves
are peeled off from the moon.
No night was safe.

Stay till end of
my poem, for
dying sun.

Howling winds searched
my body, my soul
when I stood alone.

The blue scorpion knows
its religion. That was predation.
Landfall for hungry.

If the blood leaks,
the victim sings for moksha.
Milking starts.

The golden leaves
are peeled off from the moon.
No night was safe.

With minimum solar
effect on black spots of war and
peace. I was trying little water for sanity.

I always weave dreams
to invite my moon, so that I can
see your beautiful eyes.

Don't go my angel back
to your abode in deep sea.
Earth was burning. I am on fire.

Drop the pen and write
with your blood. Put on hold the heiress
of the moon. Glare shows some artifice.

The winter pain brings
false wounds hurled by velvety words
to engage the fake happiness.

Why do you need a mirror
to make the world beautiful by reflection
of a lake and alligators?

With minimum solar
effect on black spots of war and
peace I needed little water for sanity.

I always weave dreams
to invite my moon, so that I can
see your beautiful eyes.

Don't go my angel back
to your abode in the deep sea.
Earth was burning. I am on fire.

Shame of centuries,
you wanted to erase.
******* were empty

Strafing nonstop,
you throw
the rocks on martyr.

The naked saint
accepts defeat.
Covers himself today

Ode to severed
head. He was
still smiling.

What matters if I am
entering water. It does not bite.Your
attitude will preserve my pain.

What should be eliminated
to keep us in peace. Words don't die.
They float in air. Moon hides- -

The blood leaking from
black sun.. I watch the grief of purple
beauty sitting on flames in burning sky.