one last effort

Tears, that half stop in my eyes
Shreds I snatch and scratch all around
My face I hide behind the veil
As I listen to the haunted sound

Tonight again the color altered
The light split in seven sounds
As my day dressed as groom
Married my night in seven bounds

Scratches became scars yet show
And bleed enough for them to hound
Those trickles I still hold in my eyes
Trickles that will fertile the ground

No no I must hide, burst open myself
Parts torn and sewn for parts to pound
And hang over the seven skies
Split in light and split in sound

TANDAV

A long lost vision
I had and had
that came and vanished
came back and went
when the clouds hung low
in the violet swings
the surf surged through sky
as the moon wept
stars dropped dead
the earth heaved
In the dark of the night
the oceans had melt
leaves flew off
to the distant lands
to grow on trees
the blossoms crept

and I towed and towed
with the broken vases
and spilled soiled words
drooping to pick
picking to droop
the wilted petals from
the desolate paradise
floating on the dry tears
weaving cheap chimeras
seamed with fine gossamers
hanging loose from the
forgotten tales of the lost memories
humming the haunted tones
that reverberate in rotten corners

as I collect silent sounds from
broken tables and soggy bread
mangled cutlery, mildewed bed
moth eaten clothes wrapped tight
on frozen skeletons pearly white
I hear the cuckoo clock cry
broken time bleeds to try
one last effort to match the step
to set in motion the dance of life.

Desire...

through the fissures I guide
the humble breaths in
in inside of me
to the dry most core
of my parched self
sucking in some fresh death
laden with the moist tears
and strands of a few succulent dreams
flesh white with life
eyes oozing blood
till death holds on
I shall not give up.

The rising smoke from the burnt milk
Wafting circling wafting up
Scum on the stove Smells of hunger
Wafting circling wafting up
The charred pan desire stained,
Stare hard at the red red flesh,
The blackened milk holds me back,
Bound and tied in a hunger mesh,
And
Oh the child wails and wails
And oh the child wails so loud
What shall be fed
To the wailing child
For the child who wails
Child has to be fed
The burnt dry blood
The burnt dry milk
For the endless hunger
The red black milk
The black red blood.

midnight dawn

the shadow of the glittering light
a passing whim, a sniffle slight
drapes the sea goes back to yearn
the sultry moment on waves to burn
the incense dark with vapors cold
to weave dew drops in a goblet gold
the ether melts the fires moan
melody entrapped in voids forlorn
brought back to play by the shadow bright
the shadow of the glittering light
as it flows from the golden urn
the burning silver of the sun

repentance

I listen to the clamor of a broken chime,
Fingers trying to recreate a broken rhyme.

I used to feel the verse I borne,
But words fell dead in their prime.

Living each moment was I, in the past,
A zombie I move in the frozen time.

I trace and retrace the steps I did tread,
Groveling for marks in grunge and grime.

I suffer not from dementia I know,
Stuck up within my own sweet slime.

Too long has “MIRAGE” for limitations argued,
What follows now is some dead dry rime.

FAANS

दर्द बस तब तक महसूस होता है,
जब तक फांस दिखती है आँख को,
और उँगलियाँ करती हैं कोशिश,
उसे निकाल फेंकने की,
एक पतली सी सुई लेकर.
जब फांस दिखती नही,
मे मान जाती हूँ,
की दर्द नही है अब.