art · Philosophy · Poetry

An arty soul

One rose was full of perfume that She fainted in her own arms

as if perfume had undone the airs of her form


She plucked the song from a twig of her perfumed memory

as if it was her sixteenth birthday stirring two decades


She hesitated with the thought inducing coffee

as if it was her two decades gone on cloud nine


She blew a whistle to dig out the unconscious mind

as if a thousand clouds like herself were hidden beneath the thought


She gave up the final chase of a pretty job

as if her hidden thoughts have found the little Buddha


She didn’t give up the Buddha then




I read adlib a silence written on your face,

you have washed your face thousand times,

silence won’t go away that way

I have deluge of flowers at the bay,

only to bind me to the charming coupe de etat,

of a citizen holding bunch of roses in her nubile hands,

to throw away the raincoat in the face of wind

And clamouring for more love from the seasonal rain,

as it would blast the streets and so do the flowers

In watery glimmer have all died because of silence on your face

And she was reactionary to emulate your love as her fate



Open your sky,

and let me under it,

for I am alone,

under my own Cirque,

that rotates with the sun,

and the mirth of it,

I want to share with you,

So let me under your sky,

for the Cirque would be,

part our joy and part fancy,

for us to share the space,

come on and have a pansy,

Have me a seat of joy,

so let me come under,

your love sky.

art · Beauty · Philosophy · poetry in motion

Hazardous days

In these hazardous days,

even air is empty of life,

like the soul of love,

which drinks water from the fountains,

in the wild heavens running with milky dew,

and nudges me in the elbow to belie,

what I have got,

an existence,

In essence,the winds blow,

and the air shuns its emptiness,

what is life?

A crossbed of desires,

to shake the mountains,

and in return embed,

it’s signature-

A dark temptation