For those hidden arguments about the universe,
said and unsaid by you while loitering under the stars,
there was once a younger sibling of the earth,
consumed by the fire of creation,
what was the spark of light but the earth's birth?
there was sound borne off the universe's trunk,
there in repose lay the garden of Eden, tucked nicely,
under the lower echelons of Paradise,
Having drunk the nectar from the stars,
taking the course by milky way,
I reach to you sitting beyond the glass in the next room,
and the whole universe spread between us,
with butterfly pecking on the flower's breast,
and the universe heaving a sigh of belief,
that we are made for each other and tend to in each other's arms rest
She is beautiful yet surprisingly doesn’t fast on the sadness of rose,
That day I desired the skies and she came walking,
Like this the season of rain has passed away restlessly,
Seller of the heart, the robes of love again adorn the body happy,
Since I have quit alcohol new styles have dawned upon me.
The spring has a whining tone of abeyance,
a thrushling pressed her slender vocals against rose thorn,
a rose stuck to the open end pocket of space suit,
what to expect in wilderness, the ego of Jasmine who understood,
life was a silent note played with a passion,
there was a gung-ho astronaut to outer-space,
and the moon did comply to her overtures,
for landing on the dark side only to be allowed the first time
and the year was as beautifully born as came the bloom on the earth
locked in a tidal-wave she landed like a flower on lunar-dust!
Those scintillating moments
When God was a forlorn watchman
Watched from the sunken skies
Nonetheless man’s torments
Leaving nothing to weather’s options
He was silent but serene
All that spent spleen
Over the cloudy careen
Nothing sums Him up but ocean’s stream
Chaffing in the wilderness
Cracking peanuts with knocking fingers protruding like sticks
Man’s only resolve to turn iron into Golden bricks
God is silent thus to man’s potent solitariness
What a refuge in the midst of a gale,
sunken deep furrowed to the pore,
covered by palm leaves of the vale,
I deeply succor the rain pour.
Blop! blop! where the sun would shy away,
the rain drops in plenitude squash its way,
all through the shimmering light now faded,
all the minnows of the garden-squirrels jaded.
There is celestial wound to the clock,
overhead a dancing lady form in the clouds,
down underneath a bower where I stand amuck,
and the raindrops falling louder and loud.
overhanging the tall leaves form the palm roof,
underneath I have my nature's made room,
gluttony woods carved deep with hooves,
I sing a song niggardly of the doom.
there soon was darkened day,
all hell let loose on the silvery bay,
what a refuge in the midst of a gale,
I hardly mind if it swept me pale.
From the gallery of perfect view
I feast upon the distant mountains
and what is kept not to eschew
I chance upon the heavenly rain fountain
there are birds loitering about the air
and there are grasshoppers whizzing past the hazy snare
while the snails seem to parade in pair
the rain has drenched what is there in open and lay bare
now it has stopped raining for the joyous bro to play
who has kept quite since the beginning of the day
now he has a chance to dance with senorita
who has come the way to view the picturesque vista
Intermittent rain falls and falls with decent drizzle
for us to open our arms to the clouds and sizzle.
Much anger is spewed over God than is on devil
Are we devils in the redder skin of apes?
are we more sentient to the Godforsaken communist anvil?
are we silently collaborating with the spine of jocular fakes
we are surely moving from the north to south
as we are walking from east to west
where then is God's den in Amazon's mouth?
or Van Gogh's skin in starry night's eternal rest
much hullabaloo over women's ken
and gold mining west poking in Japanese yen