Pain of the day comes
again to light the lamp.The moths
are ready to become fumes.

What a hidden beauty
of love! No one wants to see the silo
burn.Who kills the god?

One day seeds will explode.
They had given a promise to build a
huge tree of bo for Buddha.

The godman also had
an underbelly.
He lost his vision,
came full circle.

Now paper lamps
float in rows
on tear effect.

An underdog―
becomes a horseman,
follows the royal buggy
with a naked king.

The verdict was
very simple.
It was a nightmare.

Eons ago, it snapped.
You don't fit into the mold.
Like onion peels, I am trying
to open myself
holding the secrets.

Flawless,
you alway had to invoke
the inner god and―
forgive yourself.

With the same
left foot, always leading you
to truth. That was not now.
Your belief was going up in flames.

Who was sleeping
in your bed, ****, like the
moonbeam, when I was not there
to undemand, the eternal sleep?

It does not exist now,
the conceited gait
of my fantasy.

It was not a cakewalk.
You may be coming-
for a daily ritual, but a
genuine thought suffers.

Tipping over, I will
say to me, accept the day
and become a recluse.

The violence
of the lips don't give a respite.
The glazed teeth under
the mask become red, spitting
the blood.

For whom you had
saved the moment of surrender?
The moon will move around
the planet, not to crash.

Poisoned to live
like a corpse flower, on the
singed, black earth.

*

The gratitude was
scarce. Can't see your image in
undulating water.

*

With grey ashes spewn,
you invoke the blind hunter
to heal the blue toes.

Not reached anywhere.
In finding the meaning of life
a shadow falls in mirror.

Wanted to pick
your mind. Quantum leaps
in blood-stained feet.

Walking under foliage,
I don't understand why you
wouldn't taste the fruit.

What was the
brilliant thought to solve the
daily tragedy of life?

You want to become
forgetful in the crowd littered
with golden swords.

You were not choosing
the right words, being reticent
for a seasoned yes.

The hurts of intimate
symphonies― don't bleed.
Only scars were left in triangles.

The chilled morality
of summer stream, was eating
away the banks of amnesties.

It was a sublime touch
of unseen fingers moving into
the trees and sky of dark spaces.

Days were slipping
away. I cannot put my
memories on flame.

There were explosions
on the crossroads.

Dark in dark
I climb your spiral stairs
for the roving eyes,
reading my poems.

Will you pull down
the basil a bit? I want the
restless aroma to spread out
on my pages.

You keep a bloodhound
to track my nomadic thoughts. I wear
your smile in moonlight.

Pry open the hatch of a treasure.
My complete oeuvre was
left for unknown you.

Waves had washed up
a bright moon-
on the golden beach. I was not ready
to turn your face.

An evil inside,
in your lives. Never done
personal language. Don't fight with god.

Why did you rip-off
the promise and push the statue
in the river of innocent pain?

Not a thing. It was
immeasurable faith of man for a
man through the image. The muse suffers.

I cannot say adieu to you.
Like an implant―
you will go with my bones.

Truth was always underlined―
with lies. Now lead was
floating in my blood.

No one will read the
hidden map. Pink claustrophobia,
with clenched teeth.

I will bring the blue
death in September, when
there would be no shade.

The human fires burn,
ablaze in verses. No tears
no masks. You move in circle
with no center.

Like a ****** birth,
a poem floats
without any pain.

Superimposes, as if
on a face, like Mona Lisa,
with her mysterious smile,
longing a release from
the cycle of rebirth.

Are you going to reperform
for me, your silent
surrender, bewildering
a lost pilgrim?

Will you become a
sitter like a moon-faced, veiled
by crying clouds? I had been
trying to touch your lips, eyes.

This vicious assault
was for me. Stony eyes, and
the striking hood―
impel kleptomania.

I stand in a row to
reach nowhere. What was the certainty.
Then why was the mausoleum made?

Up near the burning sky
the sun was closing shop. The stings
were still buried in flesh of crucified man.

Poems were becoming heavy.
Difficult to understand the muse of
fallen titan. Do you believe in resurrection?

In grim moments,
quivering with fear,
separating the tears
from buried eyes.

How will you break up
your life from the
stanzaic epic?

The painting remains
incomplete. You don't want
to touch the colors.

Like snowflakes
I am creating a design
of your thoughts.

Sirius will not
rise today over the hill.
It was a rainy night.

There were dark
clouds, even at doors.

Either pain or smile!
No, you won't give any. But each
night every moon matters.

I was always speechless,
when you were steaming out.
The stone-deafs seldom listen.

Like barn owl, I dig
a hole in your heart. You
were melting like snow.

I don't think about
myself, and try to rip off the meaning
of suffering in the interest of love.

I won't listen to the
voice of painful howling of two hounds
near the cemetry. Do they predict the holocaust?

After insane bargaining
you sell the truth in the death of the future.
Life takes revenge for killing the past.

We have the same
price. Do not go into the sea. There was
no point to look back again.

The unwritten words
can talk by combatting. The prophecy
speaks in proxy and becomes history.

What was the myth
of collecting all the poisons to **** the
earth? Tools are making a wasteland.

Opening night's silk,
remembering you, under moon―
walking on wet grass.

You were not fake in
a crowd of naked fakirs,
taking bath in sun.

The truth must come out
to face the mother tongue,
when god was killed.

Where it hurts, the shoe's
nail. Prodigal son was blind.
Did not read the road.

Strang, nobody speaks
lie. A poem to Venus, in the land
of flames. Like you wanted to think.

It wasfever. Can
you twist the moon? I was waiting
for something unheard. I die daily.

Akhmatova, don't cry.
I still read you daily. Did we
know each other from other life?

Answering a question
of life and truth, we come near the
absurdity. A third eye opens

Wearing the dark skin
in esoteric clairvoyance the moon
becomes a king of metaphors.

Love steals away the
poem. There was no complete story.
by accident. The pain lays bare the moonlight.

The vision of the past was
blurred. The future doesn't
promise the utopia.

I stop digging
and wait for you,
to restore the trust.

Back to back the
ideologies would suffer. You rustle
the hair of unknown pain.

Nightmares hiss.
I will bite your hand.
Didn't call the stranger.
The reaper will play your game.

Cinders and clouds.
Nobody wins. I unwrap
my book and read your
face again.

Can you see me in dark?
I am burning.

In transition, of
a starry namesake, holding hand―
in priceless moment,
of anthropic lineage.

Give me the heritage
shock, contents of unknown.
In ghostly silence, I will
talk to an empty chair.

Remember Van Gogh. Why
did he cut off his own ear?
Not to hear a big No?
Million fragments speak the truth.

I will write on my skin
my dark name in blues.
Do I make me understand?
Soon the moon will rise
to take a side.

A face drowns in my arms.

The rapture has an
event. It will happen when the moon
sleeps, and only an ally guards the sun.

The regal game begins. Legs
want security to run to meet the
river of illusions. That brings happiness.

The man will continue with
his nature, to reach the highest
morals. I live alone in the eyes of a dying angel.

Moon was climbing
down the stairs for the
soul searching.

Red, yellow, blue.
Someone has to die
for the rainbow.

You pretend to be
innocent, sitting outside
your home. Time was up.

The feeling persists.
Something has left behind
to knit the two torn threads.

The future karma
still claims the oldest
hymns of dark.

I am not going anywhere.

You teach me to
cry for the lost future after
yestergain offered

In a sacrifice
ritual. Blue lines are
appearing on my hands.

The child was walking
towards moon at apogee
but light was very dim.

Incomplete love
was like half-moon. You cover
yourself with wordless solitude.

Unbelievable, non- violence
is very violent. You sleep on snakes.
Everything the moon says is false.

Pass on a pain of heart-
break, where hope betrays to sacred
truth. Life changes color everyday.

I was collecting
the stars to welcome you but
there were left unspoken words.

There was no grit
present in the rocks. No reason
to paint love blue.

Trees were talking.
Can we seal the borders of pain?
Who were the vectors of death?

I was collecting
the stars to welcome you but
there were left unspoken words.

There was no grit
present in the rocks. No reason
comes to paint love blue.

Trees were talking.
Can we seal the borders of pain?
Who were the vectors of death?

Shrinking like the
face of moon, dark truth slips
from elite height.

The fear of unborn
poem, tears the blank paper
hiding the words.

Will rebirthing work
in ****** psychotherapy
of conversation?

Tonight I will not sleep
I will call you in my eyes.

My hands were trembling
when I opened the book.
Words you uttered long back
tumbled out ashen-faced.
I started burning inside.

Where did we take a wrong turn?
The oven had baked a burnt-out
face. They are altering genes.
Suddenly it is going to start
a riot among the gods,
a pure ****.

Frightened I move in circles around
the little black hole in the center.
Martians would throw the boys
to appease the hungry angels.

An open truth beguiles
the instinct, the bare facts.
Something precious will remain
under wraps.

I was not ready to give voice
to the delicate subject. There was
no dwelling, no niche for a
****** lie.

The soul was an essence of body,
psyche or inner self of
ageless- sexless being.

Give me your palm. I will
read your lines. You will strangle
the illicit terms. The tiger
always battles to win.

Predation was not in
blood, then who was the
prime suspect?

Ask, your deities, who created us equal.

Place the midnight-
lamp near my bed. I want
to read my biography.

From opus of pain,
you climb the sands.
Sun, heat and glare.
Then blasts.

You were not reaching
anywhere. The mountain does not
come to you.

The lamb in your
chest raises the head and
strikes the trembling moon
in water.

Silenced. You scalded
the words. A dismal, distraught
mood. The night enters
your flesh. Eyes burn
to give light, going beyond thoughts.

To break free from
existential spin, I will
start a new journey.

Can you walk a poem,
towards unknown, to kiss the
destiny of dying world?

It is adult postmortem
of brain-dead diction,
Why the god failed?

To break free from
existential spin, I will
start a new journey.

Can you walk a poem,
towards unknown, to kiss the
destiny of dying world?

It is adult postmortem
of brain-dead diction,
Why the god failed?

Growing moon seeds
on palms? Where was moon?
A single thought shakes us both.

Who was under
surveillance? You generate your
own rains to wash the stains.

Who you love in dark
when stars sleep and night
birds come out for singing.

Listen to wind.
Silence was tied to
the stake, before burned
alive. I wanted to know
the truth.

Home lies, growing
louder in the din of impeachment.

Stand at the breach
of love and ask the blind irises.

For thousand of years
you have confessed for
the dark omens.

Did you find the pure
Agni?

Walk with me to
look at the moon.
It was in flames.

Shall we meet in the
last chapter of the book, where after the
struggle two bodies had become one?

The scenario changes.
We tear and stitch on the walls of our hearts
when you have forgotten to make your eyes wet.

In delirium, I had discovered
you in the waters. Oh my esteem, how long you
are going to break me in horrors?

My lips are black,
I am drunk
on the hemlock, proferred by you –
my life. I am still in love with pain.

What not, the trial
tried to break my resistance.
I will walk on my hands
paraplegic legs lifting my eyes.

Why did you want me to fake a death.
She was my lover, my shadow
always walking along with me.

So, you did not authored the article
on my demise in ravines
watching the son eclipse?

Extinct, headless, corpse of a
thin warrior, obliquely refers
to the pygmy moonrise.

Grey plaques in white mind
like snakeroots, glittering
in dark gulleys of time!

In sadness, a cuckoo
sings. Does not want to lay eggs in
others' nest. What is the secret of undying?

In my rival's eyes, my
name was written in blood. Give
something to hurt me. My poetica shines.

I want to feel like
a beautiful cherry weeping tree
with limp branches touching the earth.

Pariah. Are you ready to take
revenge? You send credible hits.

Doing Violence to roses. Don't
remove the thorns. The moon bleeds .

Bare-foot I walk towards the
god, without the temple. You bring bricks,

O my angel your wings look
*****. The stings will stop you eating dust.

You will not fly now. Sky was
turning red. Sun was shaking head.

Holed up
in my book
I find peace.

Riding moon, you don't
reach the other world.

Voiceless in
grief the words don't land
on paper.

The salamander
slips back in black hole
to taste old blood.

The holy place
ignites.

Moon down I will
give a putsch to forget
a fiercely contested
claim.

Silent defeats had
the deepest wounds.

Like miniature paintings
were framed in
dried tears.

Why the ethnic divide had
stolen the skin of the teeth?

In fragments, I was
collecting the gifts not
given to you.

O god, make an ordinary
will for me I don't
want to see you dead.

A trembling voice wakens the sun.

This saga follows
the stargazing of one
buried ethos.

Where the words stop
to transcreate the ruins of
hymnic heritage.

You cannot change
the world. World will change you
at the end of gaze.

This saga follows
the stargazing of one
buried ethos.

Where the words stop
to transcreate the ruins of
hymnic heritage.

You cannot change
the world. World will change you
at the end of gaze.

Living in
a house, sans
a roof and walls.
You can touch
the dark sky
with burning
fingers.

Nothing to give,
nothing
to take.

No transcending.
Your roots
were going very deep.

Blindfolded
you will lead
the vision.

A legless
search begins
to find the god.

In a massive attack
of pain you jumped to celebrate
the sins. The aura was magnified.

Why to be arraigned
the falling star in sea to start the
water burial of truth for ever.

I will not ignite
the heap of wood, till I talk with
the soul. Why do you want to go with the dead?

Prickly love, I have
come to bleed. A size of moon
was always shadowing the charisma.

When the crooked fingers
look like question marks, the criminality
of darkness would not speak.

Right on the track of
truth, I was always blinded by
the brightness of the lies of saints.

Not possible to become
you. My heart stops beating. It was not
possible to carry a thought to ******.

The plasticity of man
takes him to an ocean. But he will
not swim to become a sculpture.

Will you wear a frail
gown to cover your wounds, so that
one should not come for sympathy?

He felt very guilty
while defending himself. Being nothing
in the times, he became so dangerous
for himself that the buttons were lost for
patriarchal connectedness.
The faces had become the permanent masks.

Now what?
Flutes lie broken in bottom of the pond,
stones had committed suicide.
A window lets in darkness.
I love the pace of history walking on the back
of alligators. It does not die.

I am emptying the urn, again and again
to write poems on the flyleaves of life.
Pure pain. I am smile with tears. My
knees carrying the amputated leg. A big
throw on the trash. I am thirsty,
not hungry. My hands reach for a strip.

Hold me tight, my friend,
I am going to sail in damnation.
Between devil and saint
I have lost my home.

A wooden ship is on fire
at the turbulent sea
and I am going to welcome you
on the starboard.
I would keep the funeral in waiting.

Flowering of the ashes has begun
in urn. Sitting in semicircle, you watch
the spilling. Bones meet mother earth.
Death creates the challenge.

Go for a tree, watch your silence,
we are going for a contradiction.
The thoughts are same, but not similar.
I am walking on sharp edges.

A brick by brick for-
repeat of coming wall
in between us.

The ill-faith was
taller than the divide,
searching deceit.

It was not possible.
Something doesn't make
you human again.