Reading a poem:
Chop, turn and locate.
Stir the dust and sniff the page
No, do not gulp right now.
Halt and watch the words
flossing amidst the golden page
there, a wire of tangent imageries,
a sharp tooth that slurps the pain
wiping faded things,
blossoming into a new Earth-
No, do not stop!
A word you mis-spelled,
just like the rotten limbs of yours
a field of moth & moss,
scratch the page, prick the word again
now scratch your face & swollen head
Think. Think. Think.
It roams and gossips a false hiccup
a false person into your thinking
But it does not make sense yet, as is this poem to you.
An empty hallway
a barren seed and faces of pale glamour.
So how do you read a poem now?
Do you make love to it
or watch it getting naked
moist as a Sunset charm?
I suggest you chop, turn and locate this poem.
Flowers come to mind for some reason
poppies, cactus in December
spaces silted with darkness
I didn’t know I liked the Sun
A multi- coloured chart without boundary
Not quite dawn. The plain white stare.
I go out for walking
somewhere along with my loneliness
narrow streams running through
River water mixed with my eyeballs
saying my poems?
Traces that stir
the waves of an old affair.
All day is stoic,
At dusk i wake with eyes wet.
I carry that and go off to bed again.
People like light rays, leave- Inspired by Sylvia Plath
Between the ribs,
the glow disappears into a surreal thing.
A wavy black mirage appears on a crushed paper
/ the piquant distance now,
Slipping between the cellulose air of void/
a mayhem of loose threads,
a dawn kisses by a hurricane,
Will things occur in heart now?
Or will the sit and devour the morbid mind?
of dust- laden mouths
filled with anger/ sins,
Oh humanity! The disavowal of sodden eyes,
almost each night, in darkness.
People like light rays, leave.
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Where do I stick flowers now?
The empty faces,
the mundane eyes.
The silhoutte of a dark river
shifting its path across my face,
turn by turn;
Where do I paint red shades of sunset now?
A myth of potpourri,
a lake of setting cold nostrils.
I pray and repeat my rituals,
a soothsayer of my belly now,
a tale forgotten.
A night of crippled stars.
Where do I sit and attach these sunflowers now?
Buy my poetry collection here-
There, beyond the ripples of mouth,
lovers sits & communicate,
through the sprint in their lashes,
flutter of springs.
a translucent shadow defies time.
for that particular moment.
small things begin to dilate.
too much convulsions,
temperature drop, wrinkled grass land.
A grasshoper watches sky detonating.
laughters circulating the wobbly afternoon.
A visceral face expanding.
There are marks.
marks on the filtered earth,
A wasp of Lilith neck.
Lovers scamper across the evening sky,
floating through the oasis of skin,
flesh, promises, a picture to repeat the art.
the shapes that attach like clay.