Black tree
feeds the blood root.
There will be no sonic
connectivity.

How could I love
you so, at moonrise?
Shall I say the watercolor
has been washed?

It was not the culture
and style of time. The
renaissance wants to extract
the rare price.

Crisp nouns would
take revenge on the
unuttered words. The sacred
ism was no more valid.

Let the clouds cover
the bleeding sky.

Black tree
feeds the blood root.
There will be no sonic
connectivity.

How could I love
you so, at moonrise?
Shall I say the watercolor
has been washed?

It was not the culture
and style of time. The
renaissance wants to extract
the rare price.

Crisp nouns would
take revenge on the
unuttered words. The sacred
ism was no more valid.

Let the clouds cover
the bleeding sky.

Like a planet you
are orbiting the black hole.
I become my enemy.

There was no life
left. Milky way wants the
journey to continue.

Disinherited. My
baby pains were chained.
I will not rescue the truths.

It was unasked
insult of artifacts. The hypocrisy
made the face ugly.

The world stops,
when you think of me to make
the replica of rebirth.

A rusted message was
to morph a ****** in black hands.
This was an ambush of embrace.

Love after the violence
has something to say. Pain on
pain enlightens you to meet your soul.

Now you are cut out
to become a wound of god. The
lamp of truth will decide your destiny.

Why were you so
hurt to stand the test of exploding?
Love in the body is cool?

The heart pain moon lands
in the arms of death flowers. The
comets start following the sun.

What was enlightened
religion to explain, what is life?
Let Plato speak what is death long truth.

Was it a lunar effect,
I ask the fading light?
And my future invaded the magenta moon.

The saddest lips will
not tell the violence of uncluttered
words, that had wounded the heart.

I wanted to forget, my
foes, my friends- who framed
the charges against the mind bending quality
of my poems.

And here you stand
unsteadly in my vision, to fall
or not to fall in my trembling arms.

There were no beds
in the sea of daffodils. Either
you sit on the beach, counting the waves
or go very deep at the bottom.

Tell the watchman to
open the door of whispers.

Facing first-ever realization.
It is not play-thing. Moons
come and go. I have become a rock

You were far away from
a happy valley of conscious blooms.
Nobody will climb the sun.

Do what you love to do.
There will be no afterwords,
once you receive an exit award.

Adoration short of
consonants, was a sin
of little gods.

My silent prayers
beseeched you again, like
humming raindrops.

Kiss my bodiless
sleep in sad poems, when
the scars of words start
moaning.

Not to wake pain,
I held your hand for
eternity to write my epic.

I fumble, I forget.
The days I don't fall
in love with thorns.

Adoration short of
consonants, was a sin
of little gods.

My silent prayers
beseeched you again, like
humming raindrops.

Kiss my bodiless
sleep in sad poems, when
the scars of words start
moaning.

Not to wake pain,
I held your hand for
eternity to write my epic.

I fumble, I forget.
The days I don't fall
in love with thorns.

What else you will
give me, after you shot down a
parrot, eating a pomegranate.

I am rewriting the
pain of the unheard birth of a
promise to die again.

It was a visual ******
of the signatures to build a
mausoleum of a disappeared deity.

After I gave my life
to you, will you join a school to-
know, how deep was water in sea?

Beyond the stars lies
the dark sky giving birth to new earth.
Do we find, the aliens would accept us?

You will not find dead
souls in jars. The swollen heads
cannot think, cannot laugh.

Blood on your hands,
do you belong here
to claim deity?

Baring my emptiness,
I have come to you
for some answers,

Sharing the same orbit, you
were shy to accept the debris rise.

Ah! Are we sliding
to mental downside? Snapped
under the stress of cultural climb?

You want to hurt yourself,
observing your own midriff?

No riposte was coming.
I am planning to quit
the stage.

Moment of hubris has come.

It was a solar bite. Why
are you living behind the endgame?
You want to suffer without bruises?

Does your anger tear,
legs and hands? The satan outreaches
the religion. Open Handed I give love.

The deceits appear again.
I believe in the lake not crocodiles.
I will drown in your heart. Will you spill out?

It was a solar bite. Why
are you living behind the endgame?
You want to suffer without bruises?

Does your anger tear,
legs and hands? The satan outreaches
the religion. Open Handed I give love.

The deceits appear again.
I believe in the lake not crocodiles.
I will drown in your heart. Will you spill out?

There was no collateral
damage to my flower vase.
My roses were intact.

I had asked you to wear
a yellow scarf like a ―
hijab of moon. Somebody was
going to meet plain brown end.

The famous leg cross of―
‘Basic Instinct' does not impress me.
I will drink from your oceanic eyes.

Like Sylvia Plath in
death gown, you amble gingerly
to embrace my poems.

The dew drops hang
from the asparagus leaf tips.
I wipe away my tears.

We talk about the ruins
without a war. What was that *****,
that there was no love in eyes.

Albeit your passion was
unique intriguing. I will sigh my
last poems, if my pain disappears.

Who will condone the green
fire? How long will it burn to
make the ashes sit on my forehead.

When my hand strokes
a flame, the white ash will kiss
me. Were you savior of darkness?

Why low morale? Moon
will never say he was supermacic.
Icons were climbing down the trees.

The other side of the
pain was an evening song. Go Greek.
Life's struggles have no ending.

Sometimes I do not
know what is happening.
I cannot say goodbye.

As you unfold, I watch
your proud surrender. I am not that.
In panic lovebirds fly away.

Once upon a time, life
had a meaning. I loved you.
Now river is changing course.

Writing of words names
on paper gown, you catch the fire like
Casabianca on burning deck.

Must I stay! You
give a last call to unseen book.
It was not an ordinary trial.

Your eyes light up
when flames touch you. You
take a long breath and jump into sea.

Everything was in place,
and I started to find―
the kingpin, door by door.

Wanted to know more about the death,
when you were struck in silence―
of blackness.

Displaying the art of ****. It has
an ancient throw of fangs.
I am ready to catch the blues.

All day the hibiscus has
been bleeding. I will never
disappoint the skin of the pilgrim.

Oh pink eyes. Sometimes
I wonder, why this shade rests
after wedding a celibate.

Everything was in place,
and I started to find―
the kingpin, door by door.

Wanted to know more about the death,
when you were struck in silence―
of blackness.

Displaying the art of ****. It has
an ancient throw of fangs.
I am ready to catch the blues.

All day the hibiscus has
been bleeding. I will never
disappoint the skin of the pilgrim.

Oh pink eyes. Sometimes
I wonder, why this shade rests
after wedding a celibate.

To sell the half-truths―
of lies, you quit
the post to live with Stonehenges.

Assembling another
dream. I rearrange the thoughts
to save the trembling planet.

Sleepover very discreetly
with me. Find out, how
my flesh has turned into gold dust.

Some wee moments,
chase after you, to become immortal
with each poem.

O life, read me.
I want to go quietly,
climbing down in waters of blue lake.

That was not worth it.
To wait under the moon
for a Cleopatra, who would
not carry asp vipers.

When huge trees
walk, the rocks
tremble.

This was a sacred
ritual, to get the
tang of stings.

Distressed,
the naked eye
roams in ruins.

Behind the veil,
the moon will heal the
acid burns.

How will you
celebrate the night,
for sylvan setting?

After euthanasia,
I was conversing with a ghost.

Foam-born, he
wanted to shrink in a ring.

To cause harm―
a knife, apologizes,
for playing with fire.

That is the life,
of a mortal― to keep his
god, as a prisoner
of books.

And yet, you are called
a great warrior of words.

In your prime flight,
when the sun is setting,
you want to drop dead
like a sparrow, on eternal greenness
of silence.

The horses run in full alacrity.

A thought ****** again
and again. I cannot hear your
footfalls. In twilight, moon-

Comes, hugs you and
jumps into burning lake.
My ancient pain stands before me.

I have come faraway
from your home. My hand tremble
when I write your name on water.

A thought ****** again
and again. I cannot hear your
footfalls. In twilight, moon―

Comes, hugs you and
jumps into burning lake.
My ancient pain stands before me.

I have come faraway
from your home. My hand tremble
when I write your name on water.

I will ask you
to **** the weird thoughts,
and become wordless,
like a verbatim, voiceless
prayer.

At night, the moon
will break your silence
for the sake of mockingbird-
and tremblers.

A deep pain may violate
the peace again. You cannot
forget the veiled stranger, who
explained the myths of
losing oneself.

Discreetly you want
to surrender to win the
god of blue waters.

A blank paper starts
printing your name.

My pick,
I will keep on giving you my best,
after the fear bath.

The cosmotic pain
caves in. Hirsute limbs climb
the steep cut of fog.
I will not punish me anymore.

A nagging doubt lingers on.
How long the dark night will last?

It causes a nip
in your voice. You speak very faintly
to understand me.

The earthly smell of your bare lips.
wafts in. Was it a surrender?

You become misty.
You tremble, like a poppy in
scented wind.

Like a walking fern. I may touch you.

This will be my gothic
poem after cogitation. My enigma
will wait till the grief brings the love.

The attachment was with a
Neptune, who had the silent funeral
after walking over the wall of pain.

Why do you make excuses
to continue your existence with a smoky face?
A sudden flare burnt the heart.

Laugh at me,
in sleep. Let the rogue
winds blow away my golden dreams.

Decoding my agony,
you will find the elixir of truth
by chewing the eternal pain.

Margin of danger
was big. On a short death-
trip you will not
encounter peace.

I am just me now. No frills.
All my desires shed, taking
off the appendages, becoming
bald like moon.

No more four-letter words.
Jawline widens by pressing the
teeth. The warriors had become rapists-

joining the gang of losers.
Planet was changing.

You open me up
like an envelope without
a knife. No blood spills.

Like arriving from Auschwitz,
you embrace all my skins,
my incompleteness.

I would know, you
are coming down from the
attic to meet the unknown stranger.

Goosefoots. You are
crawling, hugging the remorse―
a clear submission anonymously.

Wrapped up, I give
you my heart, still throbbing
without the rib cage. The
night brings the red moon.

Any need to stitch an acid,
bare designed, in endoplasm,
when moon was walking like a full-breasted bride?
The synthetic feat was neat and clinical,
yet I want to turn back and talk about
something which heals the spirit of winged sorrow.

Marrow implant blooms like pink dough.
Can you walk straight,
think clean?
Organs for sale; mannequins are real flesh, bones, heart.
Roasted incense of sick birds floats –
you become a possessed iris.

Can you do something?
My limbs are aching, terrific pain.
Want to run like a stricken buck,
go for fasting like a schizophrenic,
become a letter undelivered
and message written off!

What is the truth then?
I cannot afford to accept the defeat!

Whenever I write
a poem, blood oozes out.
Why was I catching the fire?

The desire is to speak
short sentences to convey the
answer to black questions.

Slowly the empathy
works. The beautiful color of red blood
has many meanings. I said you were my blood.

Drop for drop
moon bites. You were
ready to taste venom.

The honey prompts
to heal the wounds of
autopsy. Resuscitation
takes place.

Life ***** the peace-
dear god. Any other
place to busy the pains.

How to erase your
name from torn papers.
There is always a print.

It requires morning
breeze to stop the
scream.

Drop for drop
moon bites. You were
ready to taste venom.

The honey prompts
to heal the wounds of
autopsy. Resuscitation
takes place.

Life ***** the peace-
dear god. Any other
place to busy the pains.

How to erase your
name from torn papers.
There is always a print.

It requires morning
breeze to stop the
scream.

In search of happiness
I found you.

Who makes the slip?
God errs.
Puts the spirit between
mind and body.

Unbeknown, it
was ephemeral.

Think,
it was brutal
for a nerd.

Have a good moon.
I will say to my love.

I will stand
against the hot sun.

It was heart-wrenching
when you wanted to leave this earth,
by royal grave or by burning ghat.

Did you ever come
out from yourself, to find the
meaning of life versus death?

Mathematics of love
was a dark matter. The loneliness of
success had made you a purdue.

Why would you need a
miracle to become human, after
shedding the skin?

In smoke screen you
become a lizard, creeping on lips,
hips, and chest of an ignorant person.

Verbs would roll down to
explain the gorgeous valley
of sylvian fissure. You had stopped
thinking after tequila.

The agave blooms once in a century
and dies. The man becomes
beast in one night and lives for ever.

Anguish calls. I don't hear my voice.
Become brain-dead, to meet my―
blue gods―

Between lie and truth, let
me celebrate my mindset after killing my
consciousness, I am going to become a vagabond.

The artless love freaks out.
There was always a full stop after the
moon's death. Do you hear the weird thing?

History walks again on the sun path.
Between blood and bones of faith, war begins.
The myth will not explain the unexplained.

Kissing under the
mistletoe. Moon puckers
wearing a hijab.

The creed tumbles,
for vast and open space,
to remove zeros.

Treat me as I was.
The shadow falls on lake
when time freezes.

Kissing under the
mistletoe. Moon puckers
wearing a hijab.

The creed tumbles,
for vast and open space,
to remove zeros.

Treat me as I was.
The shadow falls on lake
when time freezes.

Unbashed you
come and go in dreams,
like chrysanthemum.

*

In captivity
of clouds, the moon paints
your eyes with tears.

*

Dethronement of
roses was the art of
bare all artist.

White doves
with clipped wings
were losing the visual acuity.

The pride was
damaged without consolation.

How much you can climb
on the heap of the dead?
Honeybees won't buzz now in sun.

Can I ask your real name
by birth? There would not be any religion?

Perhaps I was not pure
as your ****** paradise.

Your breadth does not reach me any more.

I am going high
to confront the unknown,
to **** the flesh.
There were no bones of truth.

Like godfather,
moon was giving a
benevolent smile.

Picking at bedclothes.
Cannot sleep―
moon was too bright.

Stony creek.
I collect the pebbles―
of all colors.

The peacocks―
cried in rising crescendo.
Night was silent.

You never forget
the fat preemie.
A perfect revenge of the curse―
at ungiving.


Streaking in
snow, when it
was frighteningly dark.

The moon-bathed
body of the thumb king
running without feet.

How would you―
climb, the black hills
of desire in tragic land
of skulls?

The living god was to
become a marbled statue.

The bull's-eye on
your chest, the black marker
on death apparel, was
turning red after the shots rang out.
Somewhere in a golden cage a parakeet starts―
shrieking.

And which means, each grain
of the last portrait you―
made would inherit the color
of the dying sun. We were
martyrs bulled by milk of the
religion of the state.


After sometime there will be
no news of you. We will
forget, forget the footsteps
of past, our golds would bloom
in the garden of hate. The mystique
of palace will bask in glory.

You will never know
how a poem wakes you.

When the moon goes to sleep,
like real, but cute, your
swallows hold the space
between the *******, feeding
on words in flight.

Be fed with divinity.
The beauty lies in mute love.

The birth of pain
brings you back home.
You create your own brick world.

Like red rain, you
collect the sparks, floating
in brisk air. Something was going
for self-immolation, like an unholy
thought inside me.

I will ask you
to pull down the sky.

He had tied the brown thread on the pole
relieving the spirits from trees for the start
of belly dance of death on sand dunes,
whispering, gyrating to the tune of an
invisible snake charmer. Salaam
ambrosia, you had pledged to unhole
the milk bath, black waves will crash on the
windows, that I dream was true, god will
have the nativity for mankind and planet
earth will redeem peace.

Let us first accept the defeat of eternity,
and wounds will leap on, pouring upwardly,
aimlessly to defy the diktat of gravity,
contents you will know one day, watching
the birds fly away to warm lakes, that needs
a precision, geometry and courage
to glide over the tallest peaks.

Completely broke,
an empty glass, wants
to drink from your eyes.

Validity was incredible
between the silence
of centuries.

Give back my nowness.
Future had migrated into past.
Moon will not rise
for me.

Where was the apotheosis
of my defeats? Any extra
kiss of fireflies was not sufficient.

I will write my own
end in your hands, when
sun brings down the flame.

To sin with the invisible,
had become a liberation.

With unease, I follow
the terror on terrace.
The moon was sauntering on the spiky grill.

Fugitive words. I wanted
to take them home. It was
a tipping pain.

That was a brazen assault
in my privacy. Leave me
alone with my roses―

I wanted to talk to them
for a while, before I climb
the rainbow to become artless.

The muse sometimes leaves
me behind. The body gives in,
fighting off the daydreams.