on the mars sports

On dying to see the perigee,

a further sense of time comes,

there is a knowledge of festoons

to decorate the cartoons,

amid the light weight girls,

The Mars must complete its revoltion

indeed it would do it without lime

on the gin tonic, the God has prepared

Green Rococo

Take me in, I am with you on green rococo
sleeping half-awake sleep in a duffle bag
on the journey to the seas at large
where extends the water as eye could see
everywhere, in every direction, half of the earth
dressed in water, not an ounce falls off the surface
as the earth scrolls pass the sun in a cold meadow of space
And I half drunk on sleep could lift the veil from eyes
of diaphanous space,
on the dark sides of the evening as it approaches
cool, aloof and silent on the side of the moon
while the sun goes down on the horizon in amazement
over the earth holding all its water intact
while not a drop to drink in this paradise!

The God’s house

At the corner of the street,
on-looking the sharp tongues of passersby,
that shoot like a meteors in the summer sky
stood small and triangle-shaped,
the house owned by God's take
beleaguered with penchant for triangles
it must be the home to God's wake

they have moved in to open a restaurant
feeding the sardines to nebulous mind
there sunken sea beneath the dungeon opens
to the ghosts of the vast oceanic wind
in whose vagaries have soared many a ship
on the choppy waters opened up like rind

I ventured upon a day so bright,
a night's cat-call to visit the God's site
saw a city having progressed to rectitude
and cleaned off the filth of human's progress
I sat in the God's shop on hours at end
no woman passed by but all men
they were drinking tea made in God's memory

there is passion bound to forehead
that does the deeds as destiny foretell
in a sweepstake shown up on ace of spades
The gambit on the move put a bet on table
The angels devoured silence serving nectar
while the squandering devils posited mirror
in these hopes swimmer was fate in God's house

Day by day

I might not love but lust for you
and let this lust be your fame
to burn on the tips of desire's blue flames
and let the old flame hinge on silence of years
then you told a blatant lie that love was dead
while I watched you smiling over the corpse of night
that was flung by destiny into a day

turn the pages of life, leaf by leaf
from where was placed the bookmark
on the moment I left for long journey
open the book of life, from there onwards
and reach for years that have gone by
without love, without you, drowning in the well
from which nothing returns, not even light

Light on

The sudden burst of light,
with the flowering of grain into cactus in hand,
and the showering of sunlight into bower on land,
I see thy face imprinted as mine
on the bough of tree with wind
fleetingly holding thy smile upright
like the flowers are held in variety by garden
I am a bouquet that emboldens the spring
for another yawning
I am held on to you as gravity holds the harpoon
as Eve was held on to Adam in tandem with apples laden
with the reams of knowledge,
I am pressed upon thy shadow
like the seed immersed in the earth
sprouts again to fruition
while the candle is blown in the wind of heaven
and everything is calmed down to wearing a grin
and passions light on!

My love

To sleep and sleep with stars locked in eyes,
breathe and breathe with mockery like upon flame freezing ice,
sneer and sneer the way peacock straddles to the far side,
swell and swell the breast after upon seeing lover a heave of sigh,
bell and bell the amorous cat who fed on the fatty mice
my love is fulsome like a palate with a knife to cut open the dead moments on the canvas alive.

On today

on the turning away from the sun,
is it slavery to the sun?
that we can't see without its light
and can't imagine anything without its light
Many moons away from the horizon of space
Flickering eye catches a glimpse of time-space
Sipping Bacardi at mid-noon, tears well up
there is nothing in imagination without light up
Here on the earth, the fight for a place of God,
in the shadows of everything that is called Jihad for God
no social justice, no food for the nought
but the word of God spread like a wild forest fire licking its wounds with its tongue,
every one on turning away from the sun is in cheek and tongue,
is it slavery to the thought?
that Jihad is fought without a thought
Democracy is a demonic evil as imagined and is down brought
what is the celebration of man is down brought
let's elect the man
let's elect the responsible man
let's vow to democracy
let's speak to responsible democracy