The train must be whistling past posts

I love train journeys

Love the dark blue evening 

Quivering outside your window

The ivory moon with its lavender gaze

Ascending and descending on your ineffable face

The train must be whistling past posts…..

Ignorant of my savage impulses to stop the train

To migrate the unconsummated distance

And simply stain your face with my indolent forelocks

Mooning it with my motionless shadow

Perishing the lavender solitude flowering inconclusively like a ballad in the amethyst sky

Devouring the ageless music that started between us

I love train journeys when it doesn’t lament of distances

Doesn’t lament of my crocodile denials

Illusion-Stained Poetry

Sometimes you came naked…
You bloom out of white phosphorus
You bloom out of library shelf
You bloom in my dark melancholy
You bloom in urbane svelte…
You linger with me in the city in luminous street lights
You linger with me in bonfires in certain smoky nights
You linger with me in breathless whistles in unascending blues
You linger in my bedlam of thoughts in reddened hues

Sometimes you came wild …
Sometimes quivering in my litany of words …
Sometimes in slovenly threads
Yet you came, you ached, you massed in me
Crumbled in me an illusion-stained poetry.

Oblivion

I live in a doll’s menagerie

With legitimized breathless walls;

In the dissymmetry of darkness

The albatross flies,

Amassing lanes of fleeting lives;

It’s the stench that came pervading tonight

Drenching my inheritance of oblivion.

Raindrops keep creating wrinkles

Unwanted children cry all over my city

Outside it's monsoon rain

Wet, drenched trees

Look solemnly at the brimming drains

As raindrops keep creating wrinkles

That quivers out to death

Silenced ... till the next drop

Raindrops keep creating those wrinkles...

Mañana

Unattainable emotions disembark from irreducible mist of thoughts;

Dressed in quartz, dressed in alphabets, dressed in unleashed plots;

They have lost the jacket of words,

Been accumulating them so long, in so many monsoon nights,

Tonight they have devoured the sonorous thunders of pride.

Hopelessly tearstained they stand amidst

Unfathomable explosions of wounded chimes in abandoned temples.

They witness vacillation of customary solutions

To embellished music of sounds and words.

A poetic wilderness has been breaking the waters

To reason with the unreasonable dismay, solitude and silence;

Surfaced, seeking its own space amidst the flaming constellation of noteworthy expressionism

Translating the absence, the salt, the bitten into a midnight souvenir of poetry

Yet awaiting the promises of a new delightful Mañana*

*Morning in Spanish

The moon’s been travelling with me...

The moon’s been travelling with me since evening

It’s been his old way of life

We have done so many lanes and by lanes together

So many impulsive pavements to parks

So much of immemorial discretions to art

He followed me to bronze coloured knobs

to the evening's promise of night

I wonder why he has to wait outside at the cathedral spires?

Why follow me to certain smells of sundown

to this frenzy of coming undone in the deepest of nights?

He faithfully watches the reflections through the stained window glass;

Couldn’t we have just said goodbye at the doorstep without his silver white shadows tangling with mine?!

Oh moon, I wish to hide

Let me hide in certain wounded nights…

Priceless Tonight

The sky that held the divine moon tonight,

Winds its way down to your balcony

Where you stood behind the railings

Caught up in your irreversible chasm

of a new born communion

chanting its prose in rhythms

of spiritual love, of perpetual despair, and of immodest desire;

In your eyes the sky held the promise of seasons;

And here I was passing by your city

with the moon following me again; 


If you saw me through his eyes

I was made priceless as ivory remains...

I am walking towards newness

I am walking towards newness

Soul has pined since long 

Leaving you in the breakfast table 

with cyclone and rain 

I did try with birthing and love 

Got cold dinners, whispering solitude and hours 

slaughtering my nights to inconsolable, visceral mornings.. 

Multitudes been spent on you 

Inexhaustible rituals of hope and catastrophe 

I don't plan to return anymore to the unconsumed decay

I am walking towards newness 

Soul has pined since long....