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.

It was true.
Something had happened to me.
Killing my innocence-
I was dying daily.

Unflinchingly you
dragged me into the arena of tigers.

Like the obelisk, an
unfinished missile, you accept
the tender vows for
the undoing of an angel.

There was no poem today.
Only hollow words- floating
in a snaky ring.

Do you hear the call
of Mars? Its red hot flames had
singed our screens.
You cannot see afar now.

When I suffer unabated in wood
smoke, don't move away from me.

I will say no more
ritualisation. Digging out moon to
win back the honor from sky.

Was it apocalyptic?
Or a trend of self-immolation syndrome?
I am going to sit for atonement.

Do not wait. Lop off
the sun of the destroyer. I will
live in the dark to realize the truth.

This poem is written
by me to humanize the animals,
capturing the heart of god.

This should be taken
as passive love. The thunder
will make a new home for you.

Fascinating. My pain
throws a light. You live your own
life near the tombs. You will never die.

For whom the bruised
fingers tap the door of
invincible death?

When the water will
touch the feet of dying earth,
to pay homage?

Man stands in mudhole
watching sunflowers to wilt
with waning sunlight.

Blazing in my blood,
you were coming down, yellow moon.
No, not you were my enemy.

With you gone, I was
living in marrow-bone to shut my
door of love, to hurt myself.

My encounters with words
were failing. I see your unkissed
lips losing their pink colors.

It was defenceless,
the death of dreams. Why god
has lifted the sorrow of pain in eyes.

Open your inkpot, the
tears pay the price to purchase
the inner mercy after tasting venom.

Do you think I
possess everything. I want
to become Sisiphus with empty hands.

On my tongue and
skin, your salt burns.

My anxiety brings
the moon to become a witness
on eleventh day of fasting.

Renunciation had failed.
Clay soldiers continue to fight
the dream ghosts.

The body goes back to―
untouched soul.
No language will describe
the kiss of death.

Unbroken thorns
will not give up. Catching your sleeves
they will beg you to come back.

An untainted candle
refuses to burn in the bed
of roses. You never knew, when
did you become water.

Munitions in place
you were ready
to strike.

What you wanted to
find out, I had
found in my poems.

It was the dark night―
that becomes ink.
I am writing in black letters.

What was the
obsessive cult of
fingertips, holding the pen?

Sometimes you look
at you, when
you were not you.

Set free the water―
do not harm the spring.
A short poem will write your
theme in air, without asking.

The unbaked bread
will feed the oven.
And the silent prayers
will seal the lips.

The bride of desert―
weeps. No palms, no ariels.
You run over the ruins
to find the tools.

Now breathing stops. A
hammer strikes.

It was the tragedy
of a brainless tumor.
Aneurysm brings the stroke.

Something was sinister
in beautiful night.
The sharks come stealthily
in your eyes.

The apparition has
no vision. It springs
surprises. The angels put
on the masks.

You look like a
mannequin rolling the
eyes. Small battles start
between the aspirants.

I feel very lonely,
Words would suggest, but
not explain. I was
afraid of losing the truth.

Beyond the moon
spirit, I will wait for the
holocaust to disappear.

Spruced up stones were
becoming idols for pagans
of muse.

The singer is gone. Only
the fluted men will wear black,
till the moon arises.

Sitting near the feet
of saints, the fronds unroll the
untidy sins, as a homage to sun.

The vigilance increases.
Nobody will write one's name
on the growing trees of palms.

There would be no
preface, when the violence
starts without lips.

Strangly enough―
it was the most silent night…
I hear the footfalls
of your absence.

There was no affair
between you and me. Only the flames
of frost I was born with. Blue
roses still keep a ritual
of counting the deaths.

I didn't touch you. The
placenta still dragging the neon
light of the womb, the
sins lay bare.

The land mines exploding
one by one. Maimed truths speak
of the communion
with unseen gods, who will not come out
in the courtyard.

It will come back to you
again and again― the thought
nudging through the magnolias.

Without telling you―
the creamy pink― waxy smell of
the death of the guiding light.

I am lost anew
at the center of conflicts
between earth and moon.

The unspoken pain
of the aroma undrafts
from the fragrant words.

Life folds the hands
at the chest before cracking open
the yawning chasm.

I touch you without any meaning.
No eyes. No ears― miming
secretly the footfalls of shadows.

It will come back to you
again and again- the thought
nudging through the magnolias.

Without telling you-
the creamy pink- waxy smell of
the death of the guiding light.

I am lost anew
at the center of conflicts
between earth and moon.

The unspoken pain
of the aroma undrafts
from the fragrant words.

Life folds the hands
at the chest before cracking open
the yawning chasm.

I touch you without any meaning.
No eyes. No ears- miming
secretly the footfalls of shadows.

I would let it go
anything now. Will not accept
any grace.

I am moving unfazed―
buttons apart. Let the night
descend.

A hired applause was not needed.

As the gorgeous earth plays its last tune.
I will wait in the lobby, to fail again.
There was no repeat
of the deciduous teeth,
coming back to chew your fingers.

The small steps you won't
take to bridge the unknown.

Scoping the language, watching
itself dying.

What could you do
when the donor fatigue
is on display? And stops the succor?
You are no more hungry.

A Buddha sleeps nonchalantly.

Small, blue grapes leave
their mark on the plate.
It will take decades to unknow
the ****** orientation.

Breathing in the incense,
the cannabis rules.
You were inhaling the history.

A unisex quality
in the seedless pomes.

Between us was
left a prelude. I open
the ruined book.

Why there was other
pain in eyes. Differentia?
Of unknown feel?

A creeper climbs,
your small window of psyche.
Jets ethereal spray.

Kiss me hard―
defending your poverty.
It was a flawless depression.

Do not need any sand-storm
to cover the jutting bones.
Time was full of tragedies.

Did you ever hear of―
the fences in a divided house?
The prayers without words?

Drunk in a moonless―
night, of the unheard voices,
you stumble on Ars Poetics.

More wreaths for the
forgotten lover of letters.
Life moves on.

With a hushed tone
the shadow of the full moon
falls in the blue lake.

Stampede brings into sight―
another murky tale of fast
disappearing earth.

You must not hear of―
me again, at the pile of
gifts from the red Mars.

Knowing you in end―
to unknow my destiny of
walking on hot coals.

In candid silence,
we come closer, and
healing begins.

Where the moon
bends, I take revenge
on night, fumbling
with the garter stitches.

And what a poem
will do, without
touching your eyes in tears?

Star weavers want
to knit purple moon on your
veil before you walk
away as a bride.

Don't keep your
mind empty. Somebody will
put a newly born
to fill in thought.

A glimpse of you,
looking at me. I was giving away
my blood to my poems.

It was coming and going of your
body song. Standing before the
mirror doing hair. I am numb.

Colonization. I am
breaking. An interstice tells me full
story. An arch in sky becomes arrow.

Something was left behind.

I was collecting all the
dried roses for the prison of
eyes. I ask myself- what was that.

Something was left behind.

A black rose? Near the
smoked candles of poems? A
tiger lily, still had the blood spots?
Why do I forget the precious things?

Something was left behind.

I wait for the butterfly,
to wake, which had breathed
last between the tender
moments. Why do I want?

Something was to be left behind!

I was once again―
angry with me, for
cheating the smile and
wading into violence of tears.

It was ******* me.
You will not find any remains
of my departure.

Like a cuckoo
breaking its flights in mid air
and falling from the sky.

It was not that simple―
to embrace the solitude. I
was your dream and I was
your pain.

A pithy moon―
in all-out night, smothering
the wet lips. I want
no more affairs.

A ripened age wants only
a handshake to finalize an exit.

Speak less. The setting sun
behind you casts a shadow.
Can you plant a kiss-

On dry lips of moon.
A songbird was playing with
fire to jump in flames.

My hands are singed.
I was trying to collect the
melting wax of eyes.

Was there a purpose
to wear mascara
and nestle in giant
clouds?

You scare me
holding the candle
burning at both ends.

What was the
confusion before jumping
from the bridge?

O moon, I always
loved the honey color
of your skin, before
collecting ashes.

Who had created this maze,
I will never know.

Was there a purpose
to wear mascara
and nestle in giant
clouds?

You scare me
holding the candle
burning at both ends.

What was the
confusion before jumping
from the bridge?

O moon, I always
loved the honey color
of your skin, before
collecting ashes.

Who had created this maze,
I will never know.

A lone tree
waits.

The song of
flames.Dib. dub.
Dub, dib.

The ocean was
rising. Make a wall
of tears.

Nobody would
listen to the-
rage of earth.
Brown men still
drink tea.

A lone tree
waits.

I whisper your name,
when breakers crash at shores.
The paper boat sinks.

The hunger was not
a new thing when sun sits,
backyard watching you.

Your smile plays trick.
White pearls sing in moon's ears
to tie golden knot.

You were at it again.
Ignoring the truth
of lies!

Embodiment suffers
when you break
the sacred threads of perception.

Dried up tears blemishes,
on the voluptuous cheeks of time―
speak another tale,
catching the fire.

In your smashed tree
of verbosity lived
my small poem like a spirit.

Animistic!
You will not write my name
on the sinless rocks before throwing them
in the sea.

And I will watch your face on each
fallen bract of colored bougainvillea.

World wanted
to know, how I am.
I say, ask my poems.

Let's run through the skin
of new heists I was
fighting my own demons.
Racial silhouette
against the backdrop of moonscape
was becoming visible.

You stand in queue
to get the food for thought and home for homeless,
trying to use my poems as activism.

Inviting new-fascists to come
and walk death houses.

Stuck in a cleft stick today,
you search yourself intensely.

Where was my nightingale
in this jungle of raw wounds?

Would you become
my plaque one day?
Unknowingly, unspoken?

Blue poppies will come
without footfalls and kiss
the dust of memory lane.

We will cry together,
unopening the lesions,
between the flesh and bones.

The essence drips in-
the flask, drop by drop.
Reading the urns of pain,
to be buried alive.

The search of other
moons will not start till
the spell of unknown
deity breaks.

The migration ends.
Blackbirds were coming home.

I do not want to become
plaintiff or defendant.
Untethered, I will punish myself
for metaphysical nuances.

Sometimes a silence talks to grieving sky
about a fake truth.
The tears will never stop now.

Give me my freedom to cry,
to exhume the body of justice
and bury my future in memories

I do not sell the dreams.
Eyes tell it all.
History repeats itself
when message dies on legs!

Infidelity knows
how to make fire. Shared
truth carries a tiny coffin.

Under the god's
tree I pray for you. Life will
not see the face of black moon.

The ****** of sun
hurts. The distance cannot
be reduced in blue pain.

Between why and
how lies the primordial
question. Where the truth lives?

Roll me over on
burning coals. The stones
were not able to break mirror.

In age of consent,
you want to **** yourself. But
the surveilance will watch.

Pain comes in reverse,
saying goodbye. Was it an animalism?
Your love is in heartbeats.

Whose idea was this?
Tragedy is born daily to whiten the eyes.
Milk turns black to succeed.

Was it a religious death
by obtusing the karma? I don't want
to seek the oldest human.

What goes out of the body
by burning the love ? I am being
churned in humanity in broad daylight.

What takes you to the end?
One thing matters. We are forgetting
the language of man. I want to give you flashes.

Let us talk. Pen
for pen, eye for eye, enchanting
the words. A Buddhist angle will help.

The disengagement
gives peace. Like Pine nuts. We
would not think of separation.

We play in and out
singing for glowing in night.
assuring from the broken magic.

Love makes the jasmines
weightless. Your confession tells about
poverty. I walk in dreams.

Night makes you rich.
The door opens for the spirits. Now spare some
life to listen to the voices of the unknown.

It was almost done to
create a god of nobody. Where the
carnivores live to devour the loved ones.

First unlock my pain.
Healing must start after killing
yourself. It was drizzling love.

Your face had the lips-
mark of death. The wrinkles want to
say something. Not high morale.

Not much courage to slit
the dark to let in the sun. Want to
listen to the voice of earth again.

You were poised to leave
your love, and deliberately ****
your dreams. Autopsy done. Time elapsed.

I am given a hemlock.
I will not give up a word to become a god.
The mystery of man will never be solved.

What is the pain of
living to become a robot? You
were the master not the servant of lies.

Autumn pains.
How life treats you
when snow comes?

The mountain path.
Will you climb with me
to meet the unknown?

The wheels.
I decide to abandon―
the home.

*

The pain of darkness
returns. Wax
drips from a taper.

*

A sickle moon―
stirs,
my religion.

*

Deep anguish,
after the taste of
your own blood.

You drape me, with wet kisses
O moon.
I will not forget you
in freezing rain.

At dangerous arch,
blue-veined―
milk in milk has made me red.

The ecstasy digs out
the hidden lyric,
I would never sing.

Will you find any
questions, to defeat the―
intimacy of a ****?

A hurt here, a bruise
there, my faded shirt
covers the poems.

Going within to feel
the war moves.The pagan
gods have come out
on parole.

Was it an esoteric event
to propitiate a violative
divinity? From crude to soft
affirmative nod, I am going to-
see the game of chairs.

Between sin and virtue,
wrong and right, nonage
always jumps into.Too proud to accept
the defeat.First the annihilation
and then the fathering.

This genesis had no design
no vision.A miraculous journey
downhill.The dawn is still
faraway.Nightlong agony
will continue.

Unclenched I hold the pen
to say nothing.

Not a single word
counts, when disintegration starts.
The catastrophe of cadavers will stop.

I want to move away now.
The tattoo on the arms is not
able to get the mercy of a Satan.

You can ****** the moon
Bee hives, shut the doors and
Helianthus will open the big eyes.

I don't like.
The smoke on the occult love at
silver moon, in god's favour.

Choking on some words,
you continue to survive in brutal ways
I remained silent in a tower.

Here the currency speaks
to make the way for peace in a world
of howling screams.

You don't have to walk
in self-discipline
and abstention.

To transcend
the prying eyes and
rub off the naked shoulder
of moon.

2.
Would you come back
in dark to light the lamps
in my eyes?

I need no pain
to write the epitaph of
an undying poet
in jungle of wild screams.

3.

There was no beginning
no end. So from where
you will start reciting
the beautiful saga?

I don't think of your
luxury to pick up my craft
and hack me to hundred stanzas.

Clapping with one hand,
when a suicide note was found
in the fist of a dead man.

I set the fire in my chest,
remaining again
unanswerable to you.

Inadequate was the
street sense, where the walls
go empty and meaning
was lost.

Take away my name,
my face, my legacy.I will
come back when nightingale sings.

Where was the law,
when you spoke truth
and lightning struck the temple?

My unique offer:
I want to embrace your
downtrodden faith.

A continuous buzz makes
me nostalgic of my
rendezvous with a walking
fern in early dawn of
enigma on limestone.

Would you mind to stand still
in blue light to-
read the unwritten command
of astragalus?

Where you want to
go to find yourself in
the black autumn of ashen faces?

The ice. A brittle
transparent truth of water.
Can you walk on the frozen lake
of eyes?

Walls are suddenly
lit. Sun was getting ready
to set on spires.

Watching a pome
to fall from wisdom tree
to color your smile.

Goddess surrenders.
Eve commits suicide.
Adam quits home.