Wednesday, November 25, 2015


Writing down back,
The pain fades away.
These memories never last,
Itz just a game to play.

The pioneer of the blood,
Love vs. lust...
Dreams shake reality,
With dust and bust.

Awful moments comes with pain,
You won't gain until it drains.
The pitiful showers that curse the oceans,
That shape shifting power with radium.

In the camouflage of the light,
Hides the darkness, coward.
The dreams still panic
And makes it awkward.

Prepare for ambush, it never comes forward,
With the sorrow, with the hazard.
It gives us thing giving us the reason.
I can't drown my demons they know how to swim.

It's starting of the end,
The blackish colour,
Deeper than any wound,
Cuts the wound of heart.

We are not alone in this world,
And are anonymous partner.
The curse is back,
The pain all gone.

Tuesday, November 24, 2015


What trade
Mobile matrix do
Swapping love

Hearing a tweet
Jungle roars
in amoled swipe

All embossed love
have vanished
from the pulppy keypad

A whip
to lash the remains
crucified in love

the swipe, the mobile phone ...


Buzzing life particles
Pledge its part, suspended
Between timeless flow

One knows, not
One hack,
by colorless strip
will sow slouching shadow
On the death-field:
The seed of mortality

Flagellating tentacles of animating life
Brace time, with
Slender markings of fading hues;
The fur that cascade color, before
Consume the rest, after;
By the willing shadow of death

That probing;
Groping for the life, again
Probe the seeds of mortality

Saturday, November 21, 2015


Who we are,
in body and mind

When I seek;
You drive your walls closer to me

I choose to live alienation
Between skins and white bones

When I stretch my heart
You play a cotton beat by your ears

No vermin, nor voice; metamorphose
To get me transformed

What class do you fit me in your capitalism
Proletariat I was, proletariat I will be.


When breath, stops
by the bullet fire,
throwing grenades

Death, walks in
with flower wreath
Freezing in smell


I have changed the options for you
to see me
to feel me
and to hold me in your breath;
by all this attentive mountains, the soft breeze
the swaying fields, the earthy soil, the flowing brooks
the glowing city bulbs and the running nights

When I will be less more
To drowse you a nap


I will be braiding your locks
somewhere in the dark skies
with my proper hands


I went to the market
to buy vegetables
What pity
I saw crushed tomatoes
splittered along the path

Just before
there was a blast

Does blood
taste sweet
like tomato ketchup

The taste of death
in my mouth


Monday, November 16, 2015


Where is the quill script
of my golden hands,
dipped in Quink
it flowed capillary to my veins

every facet
in glass, porcelain and silver
Angled my love
with unhurried glance

Many 'Magna Carta' chartered
all cloved hooves
In swift say and justice;
Dripping its measured hands

In exemplary finesse
I exemplified my handwriting
towing my proven strength
with milder pride and soft love

With renewed vigour
I power my knuckle
For another manuscript
For another heart to win

My handwriting...


When memory
Flash a moment,
‘Time’ shush passes my dreams

I giggle,
Frothing the time
In ceaseless fizzle

My rationality, drown
With a plunge:
Who plays “the pied piper of Hamelin”.


Faces rise high
Twinkling a beauteous smile

A candy crush, cushion
Sweet dream enamored

A blush, shyness abound;
Charm thy heavenly gait

Planetary amulets bind the skies
Vamping soft to ward off evil

A pang, I keep by my heart
To be; and, crush your heart

Mystery, map an unknown thrill
Bellowing the cloud smoke

Yet of twinkling brides, that
Orb beauty, as faces rise


Amid thoughtful stance
Your fancy you wear

What drudgery gained, that
Those who have woven your life
With hike and hue
Struggle with strain;
The trauma of burdened life
Dilapidated and coarse:
The strands, shabby
Decayed and decomposed

Amid rattling clang
Your tail wiggle like a dog

What appalling silence, heave
Sticky and sultry air surrounds;
Those who were empathetic
Whole your life, and
In all your woes;
Slide their lips, grim
With diminishing wish
And greater goof


Falling statue does not
Strike you dead

You have not found 'You'
When you make mockery of the mould

To unlearn,
Unlearn the God of the mud

Rim your heart welting your soul
And so is, the anger broken away

Monday, November 9, 2015


Images wipe down
like desert sand
As colours storm
Back-facing the canvas

The desire choose
To live
By its own gainsay
Life back-facing death

I strain my body
To shift consciousness
May be He can tear my time-fleece
Shearing all my skin


How must I measure
An angle of thy love;
All degrees, slant
At the base of thy feet

As I pull up
Stretching my head;
All my wishes trails
Behind thy halo face

I have ever tried
And tried my thoughts
With an innocent desire
To dance thy dream

All values in morality
Pride in false realism;
Keeping me to follow alone
The path, that Is.

Must I follow an end
To creek happiness
With my last wish
Streaming down my cheeks

How must I measure
An angle of thy love.
All vanity, strike
Lightning with madness, alone!

Friday, November 6, 2015

My silent faith

While you beat the drum
with dumbbell sticks

My silent faith
Brew another religion


How curvy
Thy Coca Cola smile
Frothing mouth to mouth

A wordless manoeuvre
To gulp;
The colour of my heart

To self
The potion strip;
A medicinal bump

A pie
I earned;
Ploughing seasoned broth


The pretense in ‘time’
Prime on waste.
Those who boast their Lamborghini
With air and sport
Are callous of style and elegance
Proving their empire's demise

One slurp of deadly spell
Will engulf your sum
The glitter and the gleam;
And flash a deserted look
With whimper and whine
Homing waltz of weeds

The scarcity groped
Cloying forgotten looks.
No raging bulls, now
Race the car,
Nor Lamborghini
Flare its nostril

Monday, November 2, 2015

David Thane Cornell

Life is full of scrapes and nicks, But you're so polished at 46. Keep shining!

~ David Thane Cornell


Glass is on a table.
The glass, is on the table.

Premise is judgemental
Where the proposition ends.

Burden of thoughts, does;
Cracking the glass

Inertia stays transparent, at ease;
Where the words changes in a lie.

Silence does;
It does beyond the crack!


I cocoon special moments
for your 'Like' and
Facebook updates in my heart

and I keep treading my cursor
for the hungry clicks

Your images binds me
with joy and hues

and you are never far
by my dreams

May He be there
twinkling in the sky

But may be someday
He will tweet his kindred heart

All denizens of mother earth
Will reap His compassion at heart

All will be peace
And no war!


Lapping nights, masquerade
The darkest fold

A facade of loving smiles
Curves dimple in space

It rain blessings
As flower blooms


Tonsured tree
Enforce slovenly
The wilderness of wasteland:
The life;
Bare of greenery
Cobweb of stretching and stiff branches
No capillary, no viscera, and
Nothing for mitochondria
To power its dead cells

Disheveled head
Shear skins.
Nothing of wooden rings
To brace its perennial age, and
By asking:
An ageless deprivation

Gentle soul mine, sleuth
The missing link with ample hands
With rootless root:
A packet of photons
A gift from Godot!


Not less was
the raining of pleasant dreams
more happier, than
When anointed one
swept the breeze
With pinkish smile:
The blessings of God

Flowers waded
willowful of hues
In handful bouquet
with joyful enchant
Wafting an essence
that traced
An aroma of birth

Blue halo

Blue halo
Sky thy vastness
As, wisdown speaks
Silvery clouds


Vases of flowers
counter-top my senses
Seeing the glass, painted
with fresco gardens
the crunchiness
of dead flowers,
The petals of which
have fallen;
of which
I have picked up one
To sense the 'wait'
in my present
without words or symbols

‘I can do it, picking
Head in the clouds,
confabulating without deception
my emotional processing