colors.

man!my man,
when you were being a chameleon,
i was being a colorful butterfly,in the same garden.

man!oh my man!
you changed your colors often,
and i got confused you're which one.


man!oh my man!
i used to think you are a flower,
all these days,'cos you smelled so nice.


man!oh man!
you changed your colors often,
and i sucked the whole garden.

man!oh my man!
when you were being a chameleon,
i was being a colorful butterfly,in the same garden.

man!oh my man!
they stuck me with their pollen
and now there are fresh blossoms...

man!oh man!
it's such a shame,that i forgot i was once a larvae,
now m a sight of amusement.

man!oh man!
i wish i was'n that,a colorful butterfly,
infatuated,confused by a color changing chameleon.

word smith

word smith in his smithy shop,
heats the thoughts well,
he bends and beats,
the roads and the curves,
walked by men,from a longtime,
the world, to make 'em see through his needle eye,
and get them a mind,open wide, and very fine.

intricate.

on a single grain of sand,
there are stories of the great,
sun,moon,stars,and the massive rocks,
light,wind,storms,
days and nights.

the stories are carved,
by each of them with time,
to make the grains stand alone,separate,
very tiny and infinite,full of grit,
and still confronting change,and they narrate...

just to tell me,how to write a poem,
called life,and to to be called a poet,
full of love and intricate,
how to feel a loss,fill a void,
freely,flowingly and still not hopeless...

fool!

when you are angry at nights,
you write poems with rhyming lines,
and with some word play,like you ice,
the baked hot cake,flavored with some nice,
or not so nice surprise,and you feel fine.

and you feel fine,
'cos you conveyed the message right,
to the world lost,in itself and time,
and that you are 'oh! so right',
and i appreciate, your thought,your mind.
'cos i am in this,the society,i write.

i am in this, the society and i write,
i write,to quit,and share it here with might!
yeah.nevermind.

condemned

i cried too much,
it's a crime.
so i was condemned,
to love it till the end.

i yearned too much for love,
it's a crime.
so i was condemned,
to like it more.


and i cry.and i love.
i am condemned,
so i have a heart big enough,
and it lets me laugh my arse out.

OLIVE IN THE ZOO.

she is an,
olive.

green emerald,
moon moods’ lustrous shine…

moving gold fish,
flying eyelash,with a wish…

fingers’ path and the balustrades,
rolled dice,from the forehead,on the velvet carpet…


this,
is a,
square box,
sun’s scream chained with cages,
tied octopus’s tentacles,
tendril of a creep,with carnivore flower petals…
bodies caught, souls hung,
checked mate!camels,elephants,horses,lions live…


when,
the main gates closed,
she wants go out,
it’s too late,
she lifts a dark tile,
there is a rook inside,
she closes the exit,
she runs around,
she examines the field,
four elephants, cornered alive…
she lifts a white tile,
there is still a rook inside…
she runs around,
examines the field,
four elephants,cornered alive…
she lifts a dark tile,
looks into the eye,
of the rook inside,
it had cried, more it cries…
she keeps the tile open,
she runs around, examines,
four rooks cornered alive,
three more tiles, she lifts…
and all of them cried…
she stays in the zoo,too…
bodies caught and souls hanged,
green splits ,to stand straight,
rooks, knights, bishops, kings lived…
but life is only black and white…
wars they fight,
check-mate!
and all the beasts, free outside…
game not over, but it’s the end…



but look, there is so much oil,
in the can!

pink elephant.

the wind is in the hair,

as i wait to see the place,

as u ride faster and chat,

the white bars are single line,

they ended into a narrow lane,

with wide pot holes everywhere,

they are dry,there was sun after the rain,


you ride real slow,i feel like always...


i knot my head,with the rubberband...

i stretch,i stretch...


yeah the potholes,they are quite dry,
there is dust,there was heavy sun after the little rain..


but on what's left,the mosquitoes,
do dwell...they can sing,
even when it's all pee and famine!

the cows and the ox strayed,
do they mate?when do they mate?

there big solemn eyes,say,
they are like that grand pa,homeless..
with wrinkles under the broken frame...


i know about them dogs,
today they just forage...

thier gait,suggests,
they are like that beggar,with needs,
content with the choice made...


you park the vehicle,to face the tall wall...
i take a not so deep breath,to smell the stench...

the air stays,never moves,
like the crowd hustling inside,
calculating about the best buy...

you buy me a gift,i accept...
'cos it's the t-shirt with a pink elephant...

as i try run down the escalator,
i feel a fall,and i wake up in the bed...
i know,i am no different,i am as love less...

i sleep again,i dislocate.
to the foot of a hill,a stream flows there...

and as i stand,looking at small pebbles,
through the green waters,
there is a pink elephant,sliding down with a smile...

as it climbs up to slide down again,
i don't read it's eyes,or comprehend it's gait...

i just smile,
'cos in some time,
the pink elephant will fly...


and shower love all over,with a trumpet,
and the mosquitoes will die...even as it rains...