We watched the sun fall down and scrape its knee again, across the horizon.
Effusing amaranth, carmine, and cochineal across polluted vista.
It felt petty to issue guttural laughs, or engage the myofacial crescents beneath its visual lament as the Earth turned its back again.

We watched the sun rise, bruised, tender and shy this morning.
Its muddled contusion obviated by the gauze of fog.
A mottled neophyte -
Luminescent crepuscular rays defied dregs of interstellar debris and cloud.
Aching to kiss your skin -
In stellar cloud nursery, it eschewed the torque of orbit and gravity - eras before verity of your essence.
Humbly settling concentrically about oblate sphere, and gaseous tome.
Latterly - It altered the atmospheric pressure on the other side of the planet a week antecedently, as you clung to your dream lattice, and Earth innately turned oblate nucleus.
Its intent –
A veneration of you.
It bade the atmosphere convey a breeze echoing about your dermis, as it gilded your frame laconically, betwixt shaded steps beneath cloud and arbor.

The sun yelled at me at its pinnacle today,
Pallid bone – molten - miasma of rage
Its core missive garnered inertia – coronal plasma warping ellipsoid factions in inflections of elusive filigree
Pirouetting spicules spattered smelted torrents in the dismal anchorite
Atomic schism – silent but felt
It stoked humidity under shadowed niche - casual vaporous smears evinced no clemency.
Flesh torqued, and seized beneath itself, briny globules shed from puckered pore.
Culminations of sensitive fluid sacs scorched into the shallows of my chassis.
Insignia knit in cellular shrapnel

The sun ignored me today – or perhaps, it was I it.
Enigmatic tenacious resolution – an echo of its gravitational collapse
Inverse thermonuclear fusion
It is not fear in a relationship that keeps you apart, it is neglect of the infinitesimal.

A lonesome voice began a mournful air,
As bowing low, it moved amongst the trees;
Its booming tones exuding sad despair,
Disseminating, on a wistful breeze --
A soft sweet voice came drifting down from high,
As bowing swift, it moved with fluent grace;
Its ringing song effusing endless joy,
As two lost voices shared a first embrace --
Their unity, a ringing pack of bells,
And canon drawn midst Ursa's watchful gaze;
Their song a tune that nothing ever quells,
Its tempo strong until their end of days;
        Oft’ times, the canon booms, the bells will ring,
        As two more lonely voices learn to sing

In speculating a plumage’s stinging or sorting
yesteryear’s chromosomes glint of antiques
resplendent as rivulets at The Moonlit Square
that shimmered beneath penumbras of fear
A stained moon foreshadowing
Jahan Ara’s Chowk for Silver Wear
The canals blocked, choking with Change
Glistering new arrivals, effusing of Change:
the tryst carries grave integrity within veins
branching across peninsula for pumping reigns
Ours is the Strange Acquiesce
where a fledgling’s plumage unfurls
toward velvety notes of wealth
A perennial disruption of equilibrium
From Smack to Silk Route till Here
Before Iwans, Jhajjharis, or intricate Basti
its plumage swayed from Golden Age
burdened through pronouncements as
Gujarata-Pratihara; Pala; Rashtrakuta:
the peninsula that sustains formidable histories
shall commemorate edifices lost by centuries

Together We Ruminate: What state must it bear this day?

traversed across periods
sorrowed by time
plumage seeks to retire
in search of rhyme

Dear Sir, I wish to lodge a strong protest
Against the upkeep of our college grounds;
This afternoon, my body was at rest
Beneath a shady tree, admiring sounds
Of blue birds calling one another.  How
They sing their love of England's summer, joy
Effusing from their whistled tune; yet now
I fancy that their song is but a ploy
To captivate a poor soul such as I,
Who seeks to find solace from lectured tomes
And so reclines to watch the clouds float by.
Beneath the trees these blue birds call their homes,
        My head was bruised by fruit they dropped on me!
        I trust you understand the gravity?

Someday you’ll find me
Where the sunlight meets the sea,
Waiting patiently for you.
My spirit will be scattered across the surface,
Riding bobbing, bellicose waves,
And gasping for a nostalgic whiff of
Honeyed oxygen.

Know that my soul will be
Immanent in the rising of the tide.
While my wide liquidity hands
Slither across the sand,
Fervently longing
To catch a memory,
I will reach out to you.

Lastly,
When you hear the roar of the waves
Beleaguering brawny rocks on the shore
Know that it is me
Crying out for you,
Yearning to relive
The serene moment when
We watched sunlight kiss ripples
Effusing through tender waters.

For you, I’ll be content to
Languor in transit,
Bound between Heaven and Earth,
Engulfed by sunlight and sea,
Until we may ascend together,
Limitlessly.

the birds sing from my backyard
and the morning sun hits my window at an angle,
effusing its gold-tinted rays into the glowing room

i dig deeper for the warmth
beneath the bed covers.

moments like these, i think of you.

This is my home now,
God knows for how many years more!
The stack of books
upright arranged
in the shape of my dreams looks
disorderly and unorganized,
Loneliness in the shape of an injured cat
Invades the room, meowing, every night,
sniffs scattered objects,
And eventually rests in my lap
effusing air of some stale memories,

As the days move on like a tired traveler,
The stains on the wall are clearing
to my eyes,
Sticky notes like land mafias
appropriates space from the wall,
Che Guvera with a clenched fist
returns a red salute,

The 'fist' forwarded memory of past,
and one by one
Dreadful images reemerged in my mind;
Mother in hospital bed, pale and weak,
gasping for breath,
I sat beside her
waiting for magic,
Several breakups
especially the last one
that hurt most
where I choose this not  her,
And last but not least
my COMRADE days
participating in protests,
bearing batons, and living
like revolutionaries
fighting the corruption in
the system,

But now I yearn to be
part of the system,
As this series of pictures end
The motivation I consumed earlier,
watching twenty minutes
long video subsides,
And all of a sudden I rummage the bed sheet
to look for a hidden pack of cigarettes
which I bought yesterday,

Choices change as we proceed on
in life,
I do regret some of my decisions
and regret them badly,
I have cried at night,
Laughed like a hyena,
I'm weak feigning to be strong,
I see many reasons to quit this task
but one that keeps me
going on is the picture of an ailing mother
dying in a government hospital.

we stand in stagnant shades of grey
with dark blue, for a change
and positioned between us is a
series of pregnant pauses
giving birth to discomfort
more common than our common conversation.
i am suspended between the metal spring
the dust, the cushion,
and the stone fall.
i admit to you: in my daydreams,
though i bump my head and kick the cat
and wake up too late for coffee,
have to write on my palms to remember your name
in my dreams
the writing rubs away off the skin on my hands from holding.
and the people smile under their hats at me
though it snows so hard it’s swept under the couch
and in my daydreams: i can finally hold
all the warmth in the world effusing from bodies
i cannot feel, will never touch
and when the temperature rises, i go outside after the rain
again but
the rain doesn't culminate on the evergreens;
i shook the branches to feel the balm on my shoulders
but the dryness overhead displaced me
in the absence of water.
don’t you stare at me
i am not great now; i am lying with the insects
to come up with more eyes to see with
i, this great essence of grotesque
but i must compromise my greatness for ever
dancing, eating, loving, finding some reason to pray
prey upon the bliss so truant from my mind.
i feel i am some monstrous vermin,
nameless and defiled, simply tossed among the files,
which has absconded, so punished,
from the living room floor
to under the couch.
i admit to you now, though you look at me
with vacuous acuity:
for all i know, my life was accidentally
whispered on a freudian slip
of paper from God’s pile of post-it notes
and carelessly tossed into the
eternal blue flame.
but i am no fragment
i am no flea nor tick nor
scorched typo
i am less monstrous than the universes between your eyes
which will never shine on me
we guess, we categorize, we think,
we sweat beads to make a necklace of labor
and pass it down the generations
as an embellishment of humanity
and with hallowed bird’s bones do we rip apart our wishes.

O yield to me o wandering companion,
Admit my Heart to Passion's elusive kingdom,
Wherein the birds of Paradise take flight,
Begetting song of joy and eternal delight.

Borne aloft on incandescent, divine zephyr,
Effusing from transcendent, otherworldly ether,
I am swept up in a hurricane, that rolls and waves,
My mesmerized Heart raves, across this reality's enchanted plane.

Love, a beau blooming blossom to be in awe of, to devour,
Through every wild and carefree hour,
So yield to me like water, wine,
And fathom Love and soar divine.

Dreams of freedom are flowering
As flimsy illusion withers, pales
Through medium of the bardic tongue the truth doth sing
And in to peripheries of consciousness sails

The merchants of demise are quivering
To hear the lion's stentorian roar
Their callous bodies quivering
They have no time left anymore

Towards new day we meandering go
Borne aloft on divine zephyr
Dreaming, rocking to and fro
Effusing other worldly ether

I find men to be extremely exhilarating,
stimulating, creative, dynamic, charming,
sharp, broad, strong, rough, sculpted, tall,
flamboyantly handsome, utterly intellectual,
well-dressed, exceptionally talented, clean-shaven,
black-bearded, slender, tender, and warm-hearted.

I love their deep intentions, how their souls
seems to shimmer in the brightest sunlight,
how their eyes are so full of amazing designs
and colors, so powerfully hypnotic that it
enlivens my heart, how their eyebrows are so
perfectly arched, such fineness that feels like magic.

I love touring their grand museums of spectacular inventions,
admiring the wonderful scenery, how the elevators
to their inner chamber awakens my presence,
how their waves of greatness take me further
into their rich plantations of paradise,
how there’s so much life to the essence of men,
just seeing and believing in all that they do.

When I stare at their magnificent lips
full of various shades, I feel like I’m living
in a vast land of adventurous scenes,
the way the outlines and shapes resonate
with my true escape, the way they overtake me
with the different depths of their voice,
their spellbinding smiles, their pearly white teeth.

There’s a whole realm of enchantment
in the structure of their bodies, how their chest
is the best place for relaxation, how their abs
are the pathway to the jackpot, how their arms
are so intriguingly hot, their hands so romantic
and manly, magnetically magical, everything that
brings unbounded joy to the universe.

Their majestic physiques are like a thousand streets
and alleyways leading to various places, like a roadmap
to another galaxy further than reality, a room of marvelous
mirrors, never-ending streams that gleam where the sun
sets high in the loving sky, big ***** of all forms,
so gloriously made, euphoric nations of steamy rises
and highs, exotic delights, a guide to the light,
the head so right, the shaft so impressively long
and vividly veined, so seductive that it draws you
into its astonishing home.  I will do whatever
for their drilling dongs, to stroke and swallow it,
kiss it, rest my head on it, soak in its carnal oceans
of incomparable destinations.

I’m in love with the formation of their *****,
how masculine and moving it is,
how extraordinary it is to feel their frame,
to place my hands so affectionately
on their intimate spot, parting their cheeks,
the hole so hypnotizing and tight,
delicious like a sweet peach, effusing ecstasy
as I wish to place my fingers in it,
tasting the power of a man, the youthfulness,
the truthfulness, the sweetest secrets within,
all the things that make them so engaging.