Dancing in the attic,
I hide from the Passerby,
Confronting their eyes—
Traumatic.
Listen to the words I try to imply.

These beings mean no harm,
To me, they seem strange.
As they embezzle in my charm,
All I see them as, deranged.

फूलों से प्यार है उसे,
सूरज की किरने चूमता है उसका चेहरा।
हँसती है तो खिल उठता है समा,
एक नज़र से उसकी, हम हो जाते फ़ना।

"हम देखते हैं उन्हें नज़रे चुराकर,
इतने हसीन हैं वो।
देखते हैं उन्हें शर्माते हुए, मुस्कुराते हुए,
क्या अदा है वो।
जब वो ज़ुल्फ़ सवाँरे, परियाँ सी लगती हैं,
इन्हीं अदाओं से कायल करती हैं वो।"

Gratifying sounds...
Delightful notes...
Each mirroring a sonnet of faith,
All conducting an aura of afroth !
For how could She, be such a gifted one ?!?

Sui generis" is the word,
Lyrical bliss per a chord,
Beauty as such an award...

A delicate Goddess within Her craft;
Why can't I spot any blunder in it ?!?
Soothing, soothing, soothing...
As pleasing as it can be;
She's of a divine femininity,
Yet, not precisely picturing Her glory,
Falling short in delineating Her charm.

Woman... O woman;
A certain euphoria, You conceive,
An eyeful masquerade, You evolve in,
An addictive healing, Your manoeuvre became to me.

~ A. Rose

dull and lustless,
i walk the streets -
looking at the trees -
the sweet shops
the library
the branded cabs
the grass fields  
the trickling pipes  
the street performers
the brown leaves
the eagle’s flight
the day
the ‘real’ men
the ‘real’ women
the idea of them
the average joes  
the instagram ******  
the mindless jocks
the humbler saints
the rich folks
the poor lepers
the clay pots
the rain
my life;  
all devoid of charm.

what’s left to do,
but seek love?

Heaven allures us,

a scent of higher honey --


draws us to full height.

Man's best friend is his worst fiend.
Tip the photographer, not the dealer
let alone the unlucky charm.

As a bucketbot
I have a spare part
sadly kidney lost
broken heart left
Kiba got his cut.

That hand's bet...
dead-certain-debt

One question left:
Did he eat or sell it?
Goofy plushky white fur  
by no means pure
paws all false pretense...

Italian goon!
Couldn't be more tense.
I am a goner!

A sorcerer doesn't

need a wand or other stuff --


Words are sufficient.

She said,
“My name is a flower, you see”

I said “Lily…it must be?”
She said, “no, no, no!…

...a Lily…is soooo,
not as beautiful
as me”

She replies
bashfully and wise
I’m just as much beauty to the eyes
as I am to the nose.”

“Oh!…you must be Rose”
She laughed
and cried more ‘no’s’

“It sounds a little crazy
I know and maybe…
but you must be a Daisy??”

she giggled all the more
“who knows?”
and winked
“.. if only baby”

Finally,
I put my thinking aside
I tell no lie,
while I, still in my head
wondering

she sighed

”My names not ‘white’ or ‘plain’
‘Self raising’ “, she said
”…is my name”.

(who blew the bulb ?) everywhere is bright    ever­ything is eyes   can't see you    in your mirror-mail-shard suit    i'm blinded  /  bladed  /  paraded to the roots / hear this chime ? /  this overwhelming chime / it's in all the things but    has predatory gut / it’s not vital  /  it’s hurt  /  spumming out allure    evident byproduct    you've stuffed it all down    clutted all the drains    of your fawning audience   burning hair   compounded the body    with capillary blain  / majesty,   your maj-jest-tea ;   it’s dishonesty ; you are what you are but you don't want to be-(you're not pleased) get you down from there sire ( if-you-please )  and grow an honest hovel / everything’s on discount    mo­ther-******* discount    it's a travesty    you are a misery (dismount) you were far from what you harm    now you keep it close    you snake just like a charmer / you slither you basket  you rascal  piping lewd at the tourist youths / such a hassle / bring on photography   the *******    it's embarrassing   it’s emm-bhar-rass-sing     (who blew the bulb ?)