akhila
queen of masks!
each veil worn
to germanic perfection
they’ve become you,
hiding that true deity
lurking deep within

each motley camouflage
a charade to quell
a rising dam
of kaleidoscopic emotions
bubbling from regrettable actions
of lives past

this towering fortress
surrounding your jello heart
self built, brick by brick
and coated with
the leaded paint of distrust,
is now impenetrable

akhila
sporting a thousand faces!
lose that stealthy visor of denial,
and true to your name
open your white silk kimono
at once
to let the tides in
and watch that inner pink lotus coruscate

who am i?

the beleaguered king
tired of wearing a million cloaks
and desperately looking
to lose them all
in order to find
my true goddess akhila

© 2019

in the far reaching circumference
of your eloquent silence,
a galactic gravitational pull
tugs me deep within
busting the black hole of my own illusions.

i spy
nestled inside your incandescent halo:

avatars, bliss. compassion, divinity, enlightenment, forgiveness, grace, holiness,
infinity, joy, kindness, light, miracles,
nirvana, omnipresence, peace, quiescence,
radiance, self, tranquility, utopia, veritas,
wisdom, xenodochy, yogi, zen master
all gift wrapped in one!

the a to z of sanctity.....

untouched by clocks
i stand as a king-side pawn
who’s magnetically drawn
to that shining white light
like a moth to a flame

© 2019

anahata, my darling
      how i long for union with thee

narayana, cosmic healer
      resides in this ocean of love

india, as always, for you and me
      offers solace to our bruised hearts

taamarai like
      you are grace and beauty personified

aaho purusika!
       thou art my love and my life

everything
seems just a little less
the melody of my flute
the fragrance of the roses
the stars in the night sky
even the wetness of water
just a little less
without you there
my crescent bearing goddess

© 2019

tis the golden hour
atop this apsidal hall of sentience
seventy-two thousand bilva leaves
shimmer...
as four cosmic forces
simper
in mute surrender
to an eye-popping waltz
choreographed by
the crescent bearing jewel
who’s white as jasmine


© 2019

at the center of the milky way
rests
the reclining lord of sri ranga
adorning a diadem
accentuated with a peacock feather

complexioned like
the dark rain bearing clouds
his golden navel
the true seat of
this galaxy’s black hole

a waft of
warm sandalwood
floats all through space
as i revel in the lilting tunes of
die zauberflote


© 2019

wizard and le wand ~~
pruning that black forest
her moist velvet purse


© 2021

you and i
may soon be gone,
but these three magical words
“i love you”
etched in the metaverse
will stay on.....
immortalized forever!

© 2021

besotted by a gazelle’s gaze
beguiled by her effusive smile
bewildered he stands,
bereft of any shame
begging with a bowl for her lips and more....


© 2021

warped,
weird,
whirling,
wonder-filled,
a garland of words
eulogized by occidental cosmologists today
to deify the milky way

for five millennia,
in clandestine chambers of
the temple of the lord with a lotus navel,
oriental sages, finely tuned into
ultimate mantras of the cosmos,
initiated ‘twice born’ namboodris of kerala
into a mellifluous sanskrit verse....

a potent heart melting hymn
where our star-studded galaxy,
milky in complexion,
is seen as a spinning jagged-edged discus,
worn as an ornamental ring
around vishnu’s slender index finger,
from whose whirling lotus navel
originate the birth of inseparable twins:
warped space intertwined with flowing time

now this is a garland of exquisite beauty!


© 2019

with each flutter
those kohl rimmed eyes
reveal
a mirror to her heart
lips fail to deliver
heart’s murmur

her slate of the past
now wiped clean,
a new future is chalked
ruthlessly trampling
past residue

residue
may be all that I am...
soul’s temple frail
from its combat with life
but
my resilient inner beauty
audaciously still seeks
a glimmer of hope


© 2019

her alluring smile
may just be his aphrodisiac,
in that near constant state of arousal
the lyrical words
“who needs a lover that can’t be a friend”
keeps ringing like a temple bell instead

rendezvous may be planned on WhatsApp
but unions are only made in heaven

© 2022

daughter of the mountain
those fierce himalayan winds
bring home
the music of your tinkling anklets

with each cat-like step
you take
i hear esoteric ragas
neatly arranged
forming musical treatises
exalting
your indescribable beauty
and infinite greatness

for now,
i meditate on
that space
between these notes
which is where
i know
you truly reside

© 2019