Poetic stimulation

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Am I the news board?


A despairingly casual question,

“What’s latest?”

transgresses the numb dirt

the nemesis of emotions

outcast potboiler

listing all the shadows of the past

on my elbow

shuddering and breaking

like the midday clausal news

the sponsorship vulgarity

the algorithm of taut dresses

all displayed

on the dark delphi

of dolorous twilight

deliciously haggard

so much of it

stoked down my throat

displayed cancerously

a tactical hit

so much of it

am I the news board?

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In the arms of the Sun (translation of Javed Akhtar’s song – very simple poem)

This life is now

in the arms of the Sun

with rays of light

engrossing the breath

and illumination

enlightening the confabulations


whatever the changes

in the rhythm of the heart,

it is just a profundity of a thought

that we get this life just once

hence we have to love it steadfastly

why do we have to wait for someone

when life is here, and now?

whatever we aspired for in the past,

Is here, for a fine exploration

for you and for me


holding each other’s hand

we will trespass this city

the entire day and whole of the night

is sparkling with a bit of gaiety


you should infer something as life

when you can weave new dreams

and when you can discover

new routes, new ways

something which is always playful

and which yearns

to be in a trance like state,

that’s life


This life is now

in the arms of the Sun

With rays of light

engrossing the breath

and illumination

enlightening the confabulations

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primal, decadent, lustful

when it titillates and converges two beings

into the mortals engulfed in their own fury,

a valediction of the flesh,

a celebration of the evanescence,

the concupiscence of the mind

maleficent when the pain sifts

between the tattered clothes, slaughtered souls and

the contused thighs

the contradicting pain and pleasure

the dividing line

the travesty of desire

the filth of it all

and the obliteration of

a natural sensuality

the animated moans on one end

and the hapless screams of tormented pains

on the other

as if they echo

contrasting sounds

contrasting effects

and a drooping silence

one of ecstasy, one of dreadfulness

and then it is all over

when the heart melts

and laments the ones you never heard of

few such moments bring solace

when you settle

for an ordinary conversation

with solitary mind

without the physical touch

with a gentle feel

of a wish within

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Battered Souls

An oxymoron

battered in a fungal space

of flat batteries

tangled wires

at naphthalene dawn

shattered ideals

of clustered metamorphosis

epitome of brightness

a power switch

carousel of itch

on tenterhooks

my appetite for breath

so I may be a moron

without oxygen

plump batteries

of battered souls

at the charging point

at nemesis

of the beginning


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A confabulation of verbosity

looking you through a glass of red wine

hazy imagery

of a poetic orgasm

peak of the verse

beyond words

you are a trifle pudding

apples and cinnamon

conditioning your breath

the touch is the air

the effervescent day


scented sunset

the image

of a shining rose flower

on an extended winter morning

the sensuous meditation

eyes open

towards your opulent skies

the love indiscreetly seeped in

expressed and unexpressed

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Pangs of delusion (poem)

a postponement of

elusive emotions

as the abstract mind foresees

the solace

in the winds of change

on the sullen clouds

the tightrope of cynicism

carries the light through

the light of the chosen few

hazy windowpanes

and the transparent mist

untouched still

till i feel the dust on my thumb

and misty within

far through a binocular

suddenly the kingfisher freezes

disturbed by the loud whisper

of the sand

the train engine gushes in

the sound resonates

the dust never settles

the deviations of my construct

am i on an delusive plain?


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I am buried yet alive (written this after watching the movie United 93)

Down down down

The souls rise up

Stirred by the downpour of fear

The planet

Crashes on the beautiful grass

Birth, first crush

That first gig on the boulevard

The death of a dear one in an accident

Internet hiccups

Poor service at the McDonalds

Musings of life

All goes down now

I am not me anymore

What have I become?

I can see through my vision

The universe is on its way

To embrace me

The flight goes down

And I fly up

In the ubiquitous heaven

Beyond life, beyond death

Beyond all the rest

A sad piece of violin string

And I become surreal, resurrected

I become real, majestic

The life goes out from my beloveds’s eyes

The flight of life shudders with a thud

I am buried yet alive

I am buried yet alive



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