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.

longing...

समय के झड़ते फूलों की

कुछ एक पंखुडी

रख ही लेनी चाहिए

संभाल के

कभी कभी बसंत

बोहत देर से आता है.

An attempt at translation,

from the falling flowers of time,

some petals shoul be kept,

as souveniers,

carefully,

at times spring,

arrives very late.

For all the time i have not been here i just want to say i missed it very much but circumstances kept me away. hope to be present.

ALTERNATIVE...

Draping the truth to adorn a lie,
A smile to easily utter a sigh,

Loneliness be woven within the fabric,
Love bleeds fast the color of a dye,

Unit conversion, best understood,
When a step away you see distance multiply,

Desires and longing and yearning arrive at,
A presumed past that pricks every try,

Crouching and crawling in the shadowy corners,
With words that subsume the urge to cry,

How long shall we sit and stare up above,
Lets hang “Mirage”, earth over the sky.

Artificial.

Tow along,
Unfinished the task, for yet its day,
Its not yet dark, the light will stay,
The cosmos awake, the dusk away,
Just a passing shadow, its month of May,
No snow, no storm to bar your way,
The fall shall never fall from today.