Her lips a curl of wildfire
Dodging darts of desire

She walks with wistful feet
To suppress the beast in her heat

Butterflies set off for paradise
In the moonlight of her eyes

A thousand stories ache to part
From the sorrows of her heart

Let us savor her patient dance
Beneath the dark sky of chance

Let us not be wed
By clergy's verbal fog
Or through the fiction of State's seal
Neither of which ensures
Love's appeal
Let us not get hitched at all
For Love despises chains
Let us just ride
On waves of faithfulness
Free of promise, paper and point
Let us run wild and glide
Over the fence of freedom
That custom installs
The clandestine halls
Awaiting our trespass
To celebrate the union
Of a witch and a sorcerer
Of two rebel souls.

Limpid waters reflect
The shadow of sunset
Chase has long been interred
In catacomb of dreams
And roar of thoughts muffled by age.
Stripped of but all verve
The shriveled fingers dip in
To ripple the reflection of night
Toward the fringe of life's purpose
Toward destiny's flowchart
To galactic conglomerations
Or a shaft of light
That carries with it
Aeons of dictatorial abundance.

There is an urge behind this beast
That sends it forth to tangible places
Where profundity drives outward
Drying out the wells of thought.
Like a passive dog barking inward
It sways the soul to some failing end
And remedies of it trap the crowd
Who become bound
To its changing faces.

The little bird alights
Near the windowsill
Saturated with
Communing eyes and gestures.
Though she would rather
Lay it all on the line
At best she gets away
With a modicum of her tidings
Knowing the moment's impulse
Shall sepulchre her understanding.
But the magic has been done
And esoteric wheels in gear
To rear the revelation ride.

Within boat of words and views,
Ink my sinker and paper my bait,
I go casting line after line
Upon the waters of Muse.
Fingers putter the pole of play
Anticipating hook's fetter
Eyes and ears survey the waves
That may bring rhythm's freight.
As lips of verse grip the sense
Hand rustles to reel out the take
Before tension becomes tatter
And free the lay in lady's lake.

Life is a puzzle
That won't be solved
By the argument of your mind.
It can neither be cracked
In ivory towers
Nor in the parlors of grapevine.
The mystery of life
Crowns the benighted
With a twist of a wand
Leaving the enlightened
To commune with the dark.
At best, it is a glass enclosure
Attuning your moves
Along the belt of blessing
Beneath the shelter of stars
And at its worst,
A dungeon floor
Delineating your lot
In unbending reality
Under the dome of despair.
Exposed to eternal pumping
Of raw information,
Student of life knows
But a speck of curricula
At any given time
The process of life's lessons
Extends well beyond the grave
Not even multiple lifetimes
May suffice to scratch the surface
Let alone discover the core
Yet the student of life
Knows no limit
Goes to village today
And metropolis tomorrow
Mounts a mustang to Shangri-la
Hops on a boat to outland.
Tantamount to the amount of stars
Are pictures of life
Full of synonyms and antonyms
Boding inflections and reflections
Of thought, taste and bearing
In the academy of day-and-night.

Science is son of poetry
Psychology, daughter of sea
Wind is father of religion
Earth's mother, the fire engine.
Through the self-centered rhythm
Light and twilight saddle me
In the ring of solarium
Temper of seasons suckle me.
Tomorrows and yesterdays are
Torches and candles of the Time
House of here and heavens of far
But cradles in Space paradigm.

Mountaintops are magnificent
Approach them with rapt hunger
Atop lonesome crags
Lies a mnemonic view
Rejuvenating ancient roots
Within the bowels of psyche.
Unbridled of mundane laws
Upon gigantic tombstones
The abyss dies in distance
Accommodating Fate's fancy
To revolt against chains of chance.
Along the cloud-lined crests
Time loses validity
Abandoning its throne
To become a hammock
Tied to casters of universe
Rocking gently the dreams
In search of ethereal wings.

The essence of love
Runs atop pillars of space
Anticipating to transform
The oblivious by-standers
Into inflicters of righteous pain
The pain that will set free
The reins of resistence,
Foreshadowing portals
Of everlasting beattitude.
The songs have all been sung
Yet not one has been able
To surpass the nightingale's
Who spins the sweetest darkness
Without a tinge of temptation.
The rhythms that fall upon thee
Speak eons of platitude
Of pedestrian coronation
Of revelation devised
Where the upshot is
Synchronized syndrom
That eats away the spirit
Like canker.
The flow of love
Is not a smooth ride
Like a luxury car on open road
Love's code is candor
That suffocates without killing
To reveal the lofty window
Toward unearthly meadows.

Earthly time is fine despite Death
The eternal dark out of which
Shadows creep sparking illusions
That hold sway over dreams.
I came from darkness
To store the burning Light
That echoes the yells of creation
Toward some demotic destiny.
Achievements soothe so little
Within the web of eclectic waste
We tend to call societies
Run by the elite undergrowth
Who pay no heed to evergreens.
It was only yesterday
When i first went to school
When i tasted my first cigarette
My first beer, first *******
When i wrote my first poem
And many things in between
Well, out of long list of vices
Only cigarettes have survived
And they probably will
Till my stiff body
Touches the cramped coffin.
Scoop me up Ursa
In your *****
My spirit shall bask
Playing heavenly marbles
Within the volatile void.

Columns of red lights
And headlights
Of slow moving vehicles
Some roaring, some howling
And some, comfortably blowing
The air reeks, the road
The road persistently
Seals the wheels
And the drivers, the riders
Barely visible
Hound the maze.

The Light that i keep
Is camouflaged
Beneath layers of truth and lie
No matter how far or old i get
The splendor of youth
Keeps me nigh.
The Darkness in me
Is mesmerized
Through the feel of eye and ear
No matter how high or low i get
Tilts of moment
Shift my gear.

Poem is a thing of devotion
That rarefies mind's aperture
To captivate the reader's emotion

Through the winding lane of lines
With unparalled tincture
Matter manifests its mines

As the words waltz in detention
To mold the motion of thought
Rhythm ramifies perception

To reach the crest of credo
Via the voices that rebut
Poem elevates by veto.

Glory to craftsmanship
That endures the wrath of time
Artisans vanish one by one
As is Nature's custom
But their inner beauty
Remains in their labored art.
A masterful stroke of hand
Guided by divine volition
Engages thought's flight
To spheres unknown
Where true art gives birth
To creativity's genius.
Art imparts mystical light
Upon envisioned designs
Shaped by hand, heart and spirit
A poem, a painting, a silver cup
Is brought to life
For the pure joy of creation.
O' masters of the wind
Hearken the hopes of craftsmen
And steer their zing heavenward
They are the symbol of plastic arts
A manifestation of wizardry
Toiling in labyrinth of formation.

By the dawn of day
This parson pilfers
The tongue of its prey
And flutters it at will
Till the shades of evening turn grey
And if fact is there,
All the way into caves of twilight.
It deals with opposition
Quite different way:
A sudden wit, a swift play
Followed by hypersonic heed
And that's it
The enemy is shed
And maintained by lightning whips
Or sweet succession of
Lilliputian leaps.
Don't oppose its sermon for too long
For it stuns the breath
Heaven's assigned it a sign
Lovers can read
And beasts endeavor to destroy it
Welcome its weightless landings
For it never rests
Until nestled by fate.

Ah, let them fool me
With their fettered flaws
Their freedom is but lettered laws
And their fancy, out of lee.
Their claws, though I could,
I would not wring to tears
I would not lease
Their learnings to fear
For I'm certain
They can not rule me.

You devils who do deal me wrong
In need, in despair, even in sleep
I defeat you with shameless tongue
And defy your cause
By the minute
Till the morn be night
And dark, light
Till the time meets
The tearing limit.
You gods whom
I'm supposed to trust
To obey, to praise
Till my time is done
Be aware that the day is dark
Where the Sun
Is helpless to shine.
Godhood is reasoned
Devilhood is pawned
Let the notion of good and bad
Be odd.

In the heat of passion
I'm not a kind man
Though kindness lives through me
What is a bard to do
Beyond engraving words in history
His honest intentions fall short
In reality's locomotion
Her repertoire of remedies
Attenuated by degrees
What wind deletes delusions
The dragon stops and groans
The journeys have taken their toll
Upon its haggard soul
How long to fly, to run
Perhaps to frontiers of stars
The distance eludes the dance
Its furnace getting hot
Hot from the cold thought
Of forever moving
Toward indistinct destiny.

I'm sitting alone nostalgic
Kettle's been boiling for a while
Water nearly gone
What was it to be made
Coffee, tea or brew of quince
With a touch of tarragon
In your antique pocelain mug
A windfall from college days
You called it a talisman
Cast out of immemorial lands
A sign you must take to heart
And chase your feelings
With reckless mind
Without help from anyone...
Feelings that show you the way
Toward Elysian fields.
The water is all but gone
A drop or two for fond memories
We might have beaten the odds
Planting love in ******* mold
But enchanted by dreams
You chose to contain your love
And follow the singings of your heart
Though you have long been gone
Your illusion still lingers on
Tempting me to feed your love.

Perfection almost
Paralyzed my psyche,
Should have been a monkey
My head of intentions.
There would have been though
Incarcerating beam
And guilt thermometer
If I had static ego.

Got to move on
To another town
And another dawn
Where time delays to show
The regularity ahead
And thoughts crave to pitch
Deep within my mind
The freshness of search.
And my haunted heart
The outlaw
Induced to finesse
And seize the heart of day
Prepares itself
As though unfamiliar.

Miles and miles of rippling water
Come to a seeming halt where
An uninterrupted line
Draws the edge of my vision.
A limit within limitless
As if some remote wall
Just below the water level
Paralyzing the flow against my eyes.
Are my eyes, who capture the stars,
Destined to some distant miles
Or is this unsquared world
A temporary playground in disguise.

It was written in stone
With celestial chisel
That they walk the path of sin
Reined by the rings of Hell--
Much like a planet
Waltzing in captivity.
What could they turn to
Beyond the drift of revelation
Trickling through the wake of Time.
And I, the so-called progeny
Of such cursed matrimony,
Have myriad of times
Rebelled against
unwanted imprisonment,
Have resorted to
many uncanny schemes
To tear down the bars of legacy
Alas, i have come
To a stupefying standstill
Stood and swallowed
The demons of my waywardness
Oh, how those demons kept me alive
At every destructive yet
ecstatic turn.
How to separate God and Devil
Impossible!
The promise of descension looms
In every game of darkness
The Light above blooms
Every hue of divine harness.
In mystifying ocean of thoughts
Which way to walk, to run
Humanity seems the only savior.
A forbidden fruit
Unleashed the human race
The fable of original sin.

The lost love returns once again
To plow the fields of credence
Moon's divinity  sinks
In sun-baked desert of emotion,
Unearthing buds of rebirth
In the jaws of reason.
What lunacy boils
In the ruse of treason
As the rhythm rigs
The corporeal bliss.

I'm  free of religion, politics and law
The triad of corruption
The rein of my body and my mind
Rest in the hands of my spirit
I'm not above anyone
And no one is above me
I was born unique
Like everybody else
I've kept it that way unlike most
No superbly skilled mastermind
Can infiltrate my being
No cutting-edge mechanism
Can alter the course of my craft
I'm a drifter in the land of mystery
Magical birds shall sing my history.

The aim for my fame
Lies in the bottom of my name
The name of shadow
That charms my game
By the variation of Sun
And runs it to egotistic height
In the hellbound highways of night.

Before i blossom my mettle
I must constantly stipple
Hues of handsome faith and fire
Of amaranthine desire
That would turn my pith to petals
After all the leaves have levels.

When tenor of thought is sleepless
I'm a cat on the prowl
In alleys of sense,
In word's backyard
And can't get satisfied
Till i ****** me a note
Till i choke rhythm's throat
And end the line's last breath.

The pundit on the pulpit
Strumming my wit
With fingers of Providence
To turn verity into meal
And process into page-****.

Soothing shadows surround me
You whom i never met
Offer me love and comfort
In the church of darkness.
I search the moments in vain
For some sensuous touch
Some scent of unearthly perfume
I only find the headlights
Of slow moving vehicles.                
I can not shake out
The sensation of soft sin
Ravaging my bones
I bow down to respect
The mysterious mist
To ask forgiveness
But the moment has long gone
Gone into the galactic dumpster
Yet its residue resides
In everlasting look of madness.

If the truth is to deny
The agonies that love invites
My heart shall insidiously aim
To ****** her, days and nights.

But as she agrees to bind
And trust in my constant song
I credulously attend
To care for and court her long.

If clouds be bulk of sun's cheer
And its laugh the thunder i hear
After its volts have frightened mine
Love be a conceivable wine.

Time descends
And in descending,
Truth becomes stronger in will
And weaker in feel
Till all is found
In a square ground
With no more beauty
To disguise the boundary.