i knew not
of you or your exploits
till that time
when my finely tuned nasal buds
invaded by your magical creation
transported me
to a fragrant heaven of sorts,
merging me temporarily
deep inside her moist velvet purse

‘For Her’
your fitting tribute
to grace, perfection
and all womanhood

if only
you could’ve come up
with a more permanent fix,
while you helped me
win that game of lust
i seem to have
lost the war on love


© 2019

all afflictions
imagined or otherwise
are created
in the turbulent ocean of the mind
and resolved
in the tranquil oasis of the self

why then an existential need for a creator?

© 2019

to the crescent bearing jewel
who’s pure as jasmine,
easily placated
with heartfelt devotion,
eradicator of the
lingering fear of annihilation,
i offer my toxic ego
for a deserved crucifixion


© 2019

show me
but a glimpse
of your alluring beauty

an unlined forehead
streaked with vermilion,
lotus-like eyes
where cupid resides,
bow shaped lips
which shame the tulips,
and those full-moon bubbles
which alleviate all troubles

even shiva
cosmic ascetic
gets weak in the knees,
in your voluptuous presence

© 2019