Consummation of souls.

The age old dilemma
between the woman and the man.
of two soul's disjoint,
of one wrongly sung song.

if truth is not sown
how truth that will reap?,
in the conflicts of choices
everyone ends with a weep.

she speaks many tongues
and he works many plans,
when ice for talks
turns into a clashes of clans.

the words that are jubilant,
dont stand the buds of time,
if it doesnt come from right
its only a written crime.

the balms are not many,
to flower and thorn's game,
and if both have not known,
who is it that to blame?

as they try to paint the graffiti,
of lies on temporary walls
a 'forever' of fleeting moments,
and those empty triggered calls.

oaths of giving up everything ,
and the temple of two veils,
when shattered are the foundations,
the house of packed paper fails,



But A time and again there is,
still hope in our days long,
that some day there be a flower
and that too without any thorns

Truely,when man meets a woman,
like the rain meets earth fulfilled.
and harvest is so abundant
that every soul is to be healed.

to that consummation of souls ,
we stand as a new light,
That shall be new heaven on earth,
Mankind, under the sun so bright.

Once from a certain Violet ship in motion,
fell one dim lamp out in the blue ocean.
Yellow on the high tide a glass slightly broken.
it went away and yet nobody noticed or was striken.
It had light enough to last for the night
It had fright enough to last for the life.
Lonesome , dangling it cut through the waters,
Its flame oozing of gentle tears of heavy past.
The smell of old oil and touch of old master.

Song for tommorow

Thats it for today your soul
has been cheaply sold
I will keep bringing in mine
until you have been told..

when your saviours will be dark
I will let you reveal the reel
But come on for the rim ragged now
Dont tell me How should I feel...


And when you will be reading your Books
I will snore at your door..
ah make it real quick I have
got summer mountains to own....

Snoring on your freshly bought white mats
I will give you a good reason to cry
And Once you will be all gone for tonight
I shall finally take out the sore eye.


And If your ever wonder on way
whos that man there speaking
ah I will sneak into your precious dream
and tell you what is cooking

But dont be so eagerly creepy
to waste your busy tortured lives
you think that this wont get you
but I already know of your lies.

smeared on the glass frames
are these lingering winds cries
oh be here tomorrow to call the crow
and sing a melody of deceased Prize.

Your lives are all shiny and elected
but mine is severe and yet to stand
let this be a remainder to all that is pride
of what has been built in slippery sand.

My purest abode.

In my purest abode ,
They speak with honest tongue,
ladden in colorless robes
are their figures ever young

Those sweetened heights of other worldy mountains
where images of men merry in earthly shadows.
the staircase flowered with tiny galaxies
and scattered with leaves of many colors.
spirals up into the tunnel of light
that leads the troubled souls away from dryness,
where ill conceited words have lost their stings,
where my own cocoon has got new wings.

where by the road the farmers till ,
till the stars are in harvest .
and those stars illuminated
have dotted wings in earnest.


there they abandoned all creeds ,
and they breed old seeds,
to a new stem of inflorescence
and is filled with unusual fragrance

There is no effort here,
purged of all mad trombones,
No struggle whatsoever
there is just love ,love and love.
An existence that has not mortal eyes met.
An elixir that no triviality can ever taste.

On left it goes up,
on right it goes down,
Breathing slowly ,no anomaly.
in center then they both meet,
there is untouched sword in it.

In my formless abode
there is nothing impure.
nothing that is mortal
nothing is unsure.

I will be darned mad,
if this be just a fad.
this is only one place,
I have had proof in space.

the lower seat of sword,
rise up through the fragile cord,
to the thousand petalled word ,
blessed blessed is my abode.

Night song For an Edi-yot of no importance.

She is an Edi-yot,
Tell you its a fact.
She thinks she is cool.
I tell you she is fool.


She runs a small shop
Her show is all flop,
A sheep is being sought
ha ha, she is an Edi-yot.

She has her all books,
and her gang is all crooks,
She will sell you lost pot
For she is an Edi-yot.

Trying to sell her goods
she and her gang of dudes.
Their hearts are black and rot.
But she is an Edi-yot.

A sheep without the wool
An ugly sad fool.
But she always says 'what?!'
ha ha ,She is an Edi-yot.

Now she will grow old,
what will be in her store?,
thinks her gang will get her cot,
ha ha, what an Edy-yot.

She will die an old fool,
rotten in her dead school.
a lonely depressed naught.
she is an Edi-yot.


But Boy you dont worry,
just sing this song in hurry
But Do not spare a thought,
ha ha,for she is an Edi-yot.

No meanness my boy,
she is just a toy.
just poor old cow,
she will know it somehow.

I hope you have got.
that She is an Edi-yot
She is an Edi-yot
ha ha.

Who Taught you to hate.

You were always a good daughter,
And always of good set
But tell me my girl,
Who taught you to hate.

When you were here ,
I saw you play,
And you were so happy
That I thought you would stay..
But you wanted to see,
Whats beyond the gate.
Now tell me my love,
Who taught you to hate.

You went into world
And all its politics,
You saw the art
And all its critics.
I tried to stop ya,
But the wheel wont abate.
Pray,tell me my sweetheart
Who taught you to hate.

The woods you have crossed
But what did you earn?
You r gone so far
That you don’t wanna return.
It still is okay,
For I am here to wait.
But once tell me my daughter
Who taught you to hate

Nothing

When deep Into the soul of nothingness,
A figure that is deprived of shape.

visible through a newly stitched time's lens,
danced to the random rhythms of silence

I heard the loud unheard sound.
It was deep and floated above ground.

But the air shook and the wind blew,
As the heart struck and the hurt grew.

When story of nothing was told by naught ,
I heard finally the music of thought.

Everything was clear after this done,
It was all just sweet sweet none.

Yellow Leaves.

Yellow leaves of autumn evening,
abandoned from their parent abode.
Fall slowly to the red ground,
like dreams of young men.

As they grow and follow the same motion
to dissolve into black ocean.
Of time of places lost
Leaves have no address now
Only the lost property of ground.

A lazy breeze sometimes though
Picks them up and up they go
To the heights of their previous lives
To see the greener leaves
and their replaced hives

A silent nod to clueless youth
A spiral then back to the booth
Of places; of inspirations lost.
This time never again to rise.

The Ballad of Magdalene.

I will tell you a story,forgotten long back in time.
Of one Man’s courage,Of many men’s crime.

She was a woman , her Name was Magdalene.
And She,like you or me, was not without a sin.

Hiding, It went well ;But She was caught in ‘act’
She was ashamed herself; as It was the fact.

But ancient Mob of men, enraged once again,
Was determined for Justice, with stone and stain.

‘Hark Ho’ ‘Hark Ho’ ‘stone that impure whore’
‘Sinner she is and only death is in her store.’

Bleeding with hurt she cried for her life,
As they watched ,The man and also the wife.

Some were Moved But argued Justice served right,
Some didn’t care n some silent in their own fright.

Just as then through the stirred crowd of men,
Stood THE MAN , unshakable as a mountain.

His Figure was robust; but eyes were eager,
He looked like a king, But robes of a beggar.

He walked towards her as the crowd watched in shock,
But He too was hit By one random hateful rock.

The color of his blood was same as hers,RED.
They didn’t see;But shouted ‘Blasphemy’ instead.

She looked into His eyes and she stopped her mourn,
The blood still dripped, But her fear was gone

He turned to the crowd now, with steady gaze.
His eyes were kind ,his face ablaze.

‘Behold,children!’ ;He said ,In firm fatherly tone ,
‘He who has not sinned, shall cast the first stone’

The ground shook ,and with silence grown,
Each stone fell down as if by on its own.

Thus was raging hate, turned into shame.
Of this great sin,everyone shared the blame.

Folks,Remember this story , Its only one of its Kind
The Man was Jesus,none like him could you find..

But when you walk in the world of Justice in vain ,
And see the enraged mob resurrected once again.

Forget not this story of one mercy and one sin,
For YOU are the Christ and YOU are Magdalene.

Truth Is star.

Truth triumphs like the pole star,

Unshakable and glued in the far,

As All other stars whirl around,

Only truth star is stable and sound.

When Sailors sailed in old days,

When Dark Ocean had many ways,

But pole star up on north horizon,

would guide their men and water-wagon.

Constellations are only second,

Pole star is fixed and reckoned.

By it, travel whole night,

The sun will be soon in sight.

So,In your darkness and low tide,

Let truth be your only guide.

Truth is ship and truth is station,

Truth is fixed in every direction.

Truth is refuge which wise approve

Truth is star which will never move.

Truth is Guide which never lies,

Truth is eternality which never dies.