I would ask one day,
how close you were to me
to know my faults?

One day I will not
come home to repeal the dharma
of cosmic order and wars.

The midnight syndrome
looms large. Can you afford
to lose me in existential conflict?

I was not able to
stop the clock or make it
move slowly, when moments
count like words.

Are you listening to
fake people, stubborn lies?
Emotions stirred, you
fly like a blackbird.

So many questions,
promises and escapes.

Blood has one color.
No face. Was always ******.
Has no other name.

*

I cannot find any
nativity of violence in
breaking novice heart.

*

You in disarray,
will not find the path of
death's spin. Truth will pay.

Your breath
a prayer in water, when
vision fails.

Life will treat you
in beauty, when you were
ready to meet future.

Like touching god's
feet, to smear the lunar's
dust on fore heat.

The journey never
ends. Bright stars beckon to
you, but you will not
find Miranda.

The fever was mystical.
In delirium you will recite
a poem.

Your breath
a prayer in water, when
vision fails.

Life will treat you
in beauty, when you were
ready to meet future.

Like touching god's
feet, to smear the lunar's
dust on fore heat.

The journey never
ends. Bright stars beckon to
you, but you will not
find Miranda.

The fever was mystical.
In delirium you will recite
a poem.

Being my other soul
would you go for-
a saddest kiss with a gold fish?

Nothing else matters.
Weaving blue flesh on
starched bones.

What else you need,
when the moon cries outside
the broken window?

And the sands and
palms and cacti had the
guts to take in trifecta.

And the blood
to remember the affinity
with the unknown.

The scaffolding falls.
The end and means
become one. There was―
no other second moon.

The prosthetic hand
feels your face. Blind eyes
hear your lips and a severed
leg walks me near you.

Under the tongue you
hide a word. I will never know
what. The armless sun
steals away my golden key.

Will never find you again
in my poems. My book torn,
my pen broken. I am picking
up the old lost coins.

He was asking for, at least,
a passive euthanasia.

Rage or hostility
was giving pain to phantom limbs.
Race puts forth,
a trembling version
of ethnic choice.
A piped dream
which never took off.

On middle of the road
a dragon rumbles,
hissing flames.
Something not on the left
not on the right.
Cannot keep the sky open.
Nothing moves now,
not even leaves of a lone tree.

There was a random cry
unheard in the aloneness of fire.

Leave your seminal
expression with minimal
damage.I am excluding the
human race.
Your chin protrudes
when you think aloud.
Were you becoming-
a unique animal in haste?

The man has the
erectile ego as that of
gastropod mollusk.You will
never cross the Atlantic chasm.

You always wear
a slippery shell externally,
when your thoughts are born.
God save this earth.

Nothing to think for,
at this moment. Faceless fears―
like pine needles,
***** the toes in walk.

You cannot―
collect the white roses
in blue rains.

You remember precisely, a toothless―
poised tiger. The prey
tied to a pole gives a
long whimper, before being mauled.

The game continues. You
cannot do anything. Violence was
real, the pen becomes the
weapon.

You start drawing vultures.

You collapsed―
on the stairs in frenzy
falling into a debt trap.
The moon was asking back his pain.

This was a naked aggression.
Kitchen was not ready for roots
and flowers and footprints
of staggering price of being alive.

Riding in a Humvee, the
rhetoric fails. The lies become
spiteful. Your arms holding
a wavering testament.

Religion of sending
a young legate of death, to veiled
untouchables, to spread
the glitter of bones and red meat.

A gift of asking to become
blind, nothing less.

Humanly
a violet river flows
under the earth.

I will convey this
sacred feel by gestures.

I lost you between
the words. The ancient ritual
was to recite the pious hymns
hundred one times.

A goddess mocks
the mortal to go dreamer- for
the moon which never stops smiling.

What was the dream
of huddled thoughts, when
light comes through a small window.

How far the Viola has
fallen? The landing pad
will not receive-
the fugitive guest.

It was yesterday's
sin. The poem like a lovely
face starts a monologue.

In infinite dark
you come like a prayer,
I shiver like a temple.

Nobody wants me
to depart, under the stars
like a genetic gain.

The moon was on.
Light was dim, I was still
grieving not to touch you.

My apology for
saying goodbye. Breath to
breath I gave you my life.

Your time
was not my time.
An arrow had pierced the space.

There was no past,
no present.
Only I had given you the future.

And now
a volcano will not sleep.

When the death
arrives from sky, how
will you welcome it
with broken heart?

When somebody is
burnt-out, would you collect
the ashes of poems?

The proceeds should go
to barren fields of human mind.
May be, a ****** marigold
bursts out.

A moment's pause
before the death dive,
I look back at stars.

You came as it was
to happen in a dark night,
to embed a pain.

A nowhere slips,
carrying a monolith
of your lineage.

From ethics come silent
screams to reveal the innocent
suffering at the hands of cynic pains.

You take off the morality
of human faults, and prepare yourself
for martyrdom of no cause.

The trains move slowly
going nowhere carrying the bodies
of unknown disasters.

A young loved one picks
the lineage, and little words
collect the big big thoughts. Life sizzles.

Who was about to
expire? My thumb leaves an imprint.
It must be cruel, which should not be.

My faith deceives, like
a bird falls on the flames. Was it a
suicide? The wall breaks to exit the home.

Your limbs tremble―
when you stand *****
to end the silence.

Nobody wants the clamor put to sleep.

It was a direct insult
of surgical ****.

When it was light, you start
covering yourself, caught in a vise.

Every dialogue was worth living.
You can only pray for the wrongs,
come to right.

A secret of tongue was
out. Ladders and snakes,
snakes and ladders, were not meant
for you.

The ambulances has always written the
letters― in reverse.

Your limbs tremble―
when you stand *****
to end the silence.

Nobody wants the clamor put to sleep.

It was a direct insult
of surgical ****.

When it was light, you start
covering yourself, caught in a vise.

Every dialogue was worth living.
You can only pray for the wrongs,
come to right.

A secret of tongue was
out. Ladders and snakes,
snakes and ladders, were not meant
for you.

The ambulances has always written the
letters― in reverse.

How you make the money in a
house of mirrors? Negativity becomes truth.
I am scraping my name from board.

Your self-portrait is
spilling the colors. Subject was
changing the title to **** story.

My mate your bed of thorns
was ready for crucifixion. The soul will
not come out of body to take revenge.

The first shot was
visceral to synchronize the zenith
and a plunge. The proxy invites disaster.

In my rare agony, I
have poured my lava of pain. I want
to scream to collect all the moments.

You imitate a sword to cut
from both the sides Will angels
live in heaven?

Your frontier was
spurious, but you wanted to become
a god, by collecting the stars.

I stood inside the
circle of a zero and started shooting
the parasites near the honeydew.

Who writes the history
of man's fall beyond imagination?
I want to see another Joan of Arc.

You were not sin.
Pain interrupted to trigger
an ancient love.

Marigolds were in
bloom. Copper- brown. Your body
does not belong to you.

Paper dreams fly
to catch the moon in dark.
Time to burn wings.

What is it? The philosophy
of breakup? The chair starts moving.
Hanging gardens say nothing.

Moon hides the face. Who
does not want to live. Surreal poems
Talk to myself. Cut the hand.

Bleeding won't stop. Eyes
blink. There was history in my pain.
Love and Rosie still engage.

I don't have to
say anything.
We are set to
demolish each other.

Crumpled,
you were the face of
future, I wanted to read.
I fly like a feather.

Quit the path and think
quickly. Pain comes in
full circle. You had started
battling your demons.

Who seeks the attention,
when you were invisible?
The truth kidnapped
cries in cage.

No elegy was needed
for an immoral grief.
I am sick of repeated
sermons.

Fragile calm almost
breaks the silent voice
of dead glow warm
felled by full moon.
There was nothing left
to write about darkness.

Sometimes I don't
understand you in vacant
looks. Weightless you
fly away.

Golden dew drops fall briefly
on hot iron, steamed and
misunderstood.

You are the lust listener
living in wax house. I will not light
the candles for fear of
burning the nest.

The deaf cuckoo
goes on singing with out hearing
his voice.

Was revisiting
to quiet the moon in pink rage
crying in faithful arms.

Through the soul, I will
arrive in poems to shine
the bunch of roses.

Hauling oneself to
face the mirror in twilight,
with salt of the sea.

Call the god
of blood and bones
to see the earth rise.

You stand in
mid-air to make history,
and the flames were
rising on the tongue.

Ardently one tries
to find the secret of mermaid
in the delta of crossgender.

No one wants to calm down
after peeling off the color
from the face. The memes
were real vampires.

You want to sit
down and brood, where
we are going on the burning road.

Right words were not uttered.
You want to keep eyes shut!

Sometimes you want
to drink monkshood, dust to dust-
ashes to ashes.

*

Creditability in half-moon
fails. There was fierce battle
for new algorithm.

*

I wanted to know,
who you are in the jungle
of beautiful newts.

Night falls in rings.
The poetry becomes
a summer dilemma.

A dancing frog
starts foot-flagging.
Mating was the ultimate.

Politics becomes
a ritual. I will not come back
to face the lynch mob.

Not superficial,
real inside,
something was ruined.
Tonight I will walk out in dark
beyond me.

Creased,
under tyranny of love,
wanted to unwrite the script
in the stampede of sins.

Impeachment
throws up the shock syndrome.
No wish to swim back.
Drowning, clutching my truth.

A mystic paradox?
Million faces of yes or no.
Wrinkles are getting larger.

Not superficial,
real inside,
something was ruined.
Tonight I will walk out in dark
beyond me.

Creased,
under tyranny of love,
wanted to unwrite the script
in the stampede of sins.

Impeachment
throws up the shock syndrome.
No wish to swim back.
Drowning, clutching my truth.

A mystic paradox?
Million faces of yes or no.
Wrinkles are getting larger.

Why the naked cells of
heart- were fearing exposure
of blood pain?

The poem at midnight speaks itself
without throwing signs unto
the moon.

The night slaughter,
of beautiful dreams begins
in the hands of the
dead light.

There was no myth
of mercy. You cannot exonerate
yourself for not jumping
over the vipers.

The venom spreads
slowly, reaching the distant
thoughts which were buried
in wet eyes.

A red scarf
covers the blue lips.

Sometimes I would
look at the lame moon. For
whom you were faltering?

Perhaps, I was a
mirror. You trip, fall
and become a raw wound.

One day I will
touch you with my ragged
hands, to heal my knife.

The ambrosial ending
of the day. I was not sure
of myself. How would the
thumb mould the pen
in internal search
of cavities?

You are not going to live
hundred years. Falling from
the terrace, with a thud,
lying in the pool of blood, till you
find the celibate truth?

Between the dust and dawn
lies the dark. The oesophageal
reflux makes a hole
in each eye. Can you
read in the thick fog
of absent faces?

You will change one
day, in rattling bones, trying
to make yourself whole.

Living in heart only
for transient love. Was it possible
to become immortal in poems?

One day I will meet
you outside the moon. Where
our embraces have gone?

A street car stumbles
on rocks of broken windows.
Now I cannot see your face.

What was left in
our hands. I read daily your
lines. They cry every night.

What was the infinity
of pain in everyday life? At night
I scramble to catch moon!

You were always invisible
I collect dust under your feet.
Wanted to become like you O Buddha.

Sometimes you cry
silently in sun under sky. The
shade of Bo tree burns.

Was it kosher to wake
up a sleeping poem, when
someone has burned the book?
A rite of passage
between the poppies?

The soaked swans
were not ready to accept
the challenge of the defining moment.

A smart moon walks
behind me, snooping around the pines,
to drink the brazen lips.

Why small girl walks on the snow
to get the blessing
of the bells?

Your window
was very small.
Why did not you throw the dice?
Walk away
without a want?

I had no courage
to tell the lies,
to hold the secrets
of brave tears,
which failed to live in red-bricked house.

And a naked womb
protecting the fetus
from scars and curtains,
will find a anointed bed to sleep for eternity,
for delivering, a new star.

An anode will discharge
on a galactic light,
a message of the hungry
birds of prey.
Death wants its share of flesh.

Night was descending
on the tonsured heads,
terracotta robes,
clasping the palms, hiding the seeds
of earth.

Against a ban on lips
for belonging truly.
Blissful. The squids settle in the weeds
of overbrimming sea of arms.

Blood was red, brown and pale.
oozing from the slit eyes,
soaking the green voices, herbs and sad kisses.
In the death, your name will be engraved on your shoes.

The steps were small
but shadows were very long on the ice.
The stings unflawed, did their job.
Suddenly you go
in anaphylactic shock.

A giant tear rolls
on the face of moon
and intend to ask, why did you crave for
the thing which you
don't get.

And then you would
smile to match the burning
lakes in the eyes of the distant star.

A void was coming up in
strange rituals. How will you
make a temple of panacea?

The hysteria erupts
in a mud dance, to plant the
lotus seeds, kissing water of god.

Smokeless flames
rise from the nameless
fire of the savage embrace.

Forthrightly a poem was ready to be boon.

You wanted to vend
the dignity of pain, crazed
by moon. Stars won't tell truth.


*

What was your religion.
I ask the ocean of grief. You
will talk of man's fall.

*

Faith flickers like candle
in wind. One day I collect
some footprints of light.

A dimpled moon
crosses your path. The surred
loop empowers me.

I catch the fire
of loves echo in valley
of tears.

Don't break this
mad world for the sake of
your enemy's dream,

A tiny dot grows
into a big wound of your
lips to write a poem.

The blood-colored
pain overwhelms the eye
of hiding Sun.

Art of dying
comes, after
you listen to the siren song.

The intention
was to **** yourself,
non-violently, when
moon was hiding.

Man was changing the skyline. You can
redraw the landscape without hurting the grass.

Don't offer to sacrifice
the goat on the rock,
where the shipwrecks took place.

You burn that, what you
would not eat. The
assassination charges were true.

Weeping asokas were talking.
Only THE Plato will tell
the truth about republic.

I was shaken like
dew drops on grass in whirlwind.
No end of unending.

Moon goes on rampage.
When will you meet me in charisma
of midnight September?

Mankind will not
change. The stones roll down
to remain afloat in river.

Take off your hand
from my shoulder. You have
to go for a long journey
without me.

Weeping asokas were talking.
Only THE Plato will tell
the truth about republic.

I was shaken like
dew drops on grass in whirlwind.
No end of unending.

Moon goes on rampage.
When will you meet me in charisma
of midnight September?

Mankind will not
change. The stones roll down
to remain afloat in river.

Take off your hand
from my shoulder. You have
to go for a long journey
without me.

I shut myself,
you becoming a fugitive,
of the neo-genre.

Birthing a truth―
of this world.
No one was a prophet.

In my inconspicuousness,
I touch you with my poems,
to cross the gloomy door.

And the cup remains
half. You kneel in a prayer
to seek what was not possible.

Who would become blameless
if there was no crime?

The gifts of love―
lie scattered. I cannot
solve the jigsaw puzzle.

A heart bleeds without crying.

Brutal, was it not?
Love and pain? Because god
was man made? Who makes the deity?

The creation. Was it
an accident? I walk slowly on
the thorns of red roses.

Would you exist without
invisible? The being was sorrowful.
Who will wipe off the moon's stigma.

Climbing up the sun,
you had no expectancy.
Pressed between the lips
there was pure blankness.

Something dies in me
daily. It was time to commit,
your shirt to a magician
asking the miracles not to happen.

Beneath moonlight
dark tears of stones flow.
Someday the mountains will cry
and the snow burns.

The world does not end
here. It thrives on hate, ******
and abuse. Will you stand up
between love and blues?

The calling deepens at
night, when it is pitch-dark
and I go in abyss.

Unknowable my angst,
keeps me restless to blunt my
hyperaesthesia, which wants to
drink moonlight.

Clumsy with my pen,
I write and rewrite a message
which will not reach you.

You have the same faith,
as that of the sleeping bo tree for the
god of void and blankness.

Tell me, what is a classical
fall of animated suspension.
You leapfrog for the bird catchers.

I plead guilty.

Grammarly it hurts.
The pale eyes ****. I clap and ****
the smile. Someone knocks at the door.

Stage was empty. Not
finding any movement. The seminudes
don't want to display cuts and bruises.

Vertigo. My gloves hang.
Wearing a mask, takes away the vibes.
Words sleep on lips. I become dumb.