Saturday, August 28, 2010



I waited for you
and finally you came
the absurd night was spread
on my bed
like broken glass

The distant lights of stars
were absurd too,
You had the flowers from
mortuary in your hands,
That night
the unforgivable savagery
was the witness
of our Union.

You said" I did what I had to do,
but I never knew
who you were,
who I was,
In this absurd night
we fumbled for an existence.
But remember :
This night will come to an end
one day,
The flower from mortuary
WILL forgive us
that day and

Sunday, August 22, 2010

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The Third person

Some wild hyacinth there is
where fire rains,
some limitless pond there is
where only your shadow swims,
some journey there is
where we never see the end,
some bed there is
where the third person
is undefinable,
some word there is
which echoes silently,
some storm there is
which turmoils the mind,
some love there is
which makes you beggar
drops of blood in his bowl.

Friday, August 20, 2010

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I burnt my hand,
and some night a liquid
oozes from my wound.
Very ancient vermilion juice like.

You joy fully stick a knife there
sometimes, hoping to see a rainbow,
then fix your gaze on mine and say
" Tell me what are you going to do with me,
Say it .....say ....Say it"

The socket of my eyes are
a little bit more Royal blue,
my left hand trembles more,
My feet unaware of the earth,
The burning bed
grasps the insomniac man
and runs to that mountain
in search of two empty coffee cup
in vain.



Your so called some one
is going to give you something
which you hoped
I would give you,
and six hundred million cells
inside you waited and waited.
To day you are a beggar,
a begging bowl in hand
you reach the other
for a SEED broken or rotten.
He would glaze for the gift
he gives you.
And I?
I hide my animal whimper
underneath the stone.

I know I have to carry that stone
over Olympia
like cursed Sisyphus
over and over again.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Tuesday, August 3, 2010



A grave digger's hand
rough ....very rough,underneath
the grave
there lies the vermilion soul
of a mistaken poet.
on a glamorous afternoon
the poet held her hand,
the hand was rough, very rough,
but upon the touch
she reached very slowly an ecstatic
unknowable destiny.
She whirled in a fiery flare around
the bleeding heart,
her rose petalled lips parted glistening
eyes closed ,
and she danced and danced
like the distant stars
with geometric predictability.
Now she held his hand
as " Jahanara did,
there ,here , and eternally.
She whispered the song of this
intoxicating earth and the river,
She sighed
" Dont think so much my darling,
Whatever will happen ,will happen"
I shall be with you in the grave
That I shall dig for you.