Poem : Ancestry

I am born by leeches chest

I am boned by the spiders

I am skinned by the cockroaches

I am weathered by the lizards

I am hardened by the crabs

I am teethed by the scorpions

I am tripped by the hoppers

I am a tentacled species

Bloom by brittle history

Braid in buoyant Bridges


Poem : A Journey to Calicut

It is the land of calico

The raw cotton livelihood

The rustic life of livid lines

A vestige of its heritage

I found in crystal lights

Merchants have a lineage

Mermaids have a lineage

Misery has a lineage

I wonder if I have a lineage

I am foiled in this city

I am coiled in this city

I saw pathways of a sweet street

I saw parallels in this sweet street

I saw history paddling in this street

Less of beggars, lots of labourers

Light of limelights, light of lifeless

New calico is on the verge of a merge

New calico is mushrooming malls

New calico is mincing minions

I am leaving the city to come again

I need cottons of my coinage

I need cottons for my coinage

I need cottons with my coinage

I am sure it’s a cotton candy city !!!

Poem : Search

I was in search of a room sans mirrors

I was in search of a hideous hideout

I was on a dumping yard of yokes

I was in a frenzy fissure of faces

Mirrors, myriad of mirrors

Faces, fuming focal faces

Queries, queuing queries

Indexes, incessant indexes

Vexes, vestigial vexes

I primed upon myself

A luminal locus of life

Poem : A Tribute to Myself


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I heap onto myself

I never thought I will pin again

I myself on to this pointless wall

I have a primal earth beneath

I have a pristine water beyond

I have a poetic facade ever

I have a prison of poison eternal

I am burning a man unto its toes

I am bruising veins of my earth

I am drifting in time, adrift, abreast

I am onto a lipid profile of myself

I am not countable, a null and void noun !

Poem : Impulse

A vertical vision
Lucid as ever
Is ebbing out
And preying things
A visceral vision
Lagging as ever
Is hulking in
And bruising things
Pulse of an impulse
Priest of a prophet
Prism of a prime
I may hay way bay
It’s my day say nay
Till the tillage tilts toilers
Will the wildness wit wisdom
Sure, I am not sure, sure thing

Poem : A Miner’s Mind


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A miner is a monolithic thing

A miner is a mixed mine of ideas

A miner mints molten lives

A miner muses moist eyes

A miner mocks at miseries of most

A miner is a mild mild mass

A miner is a master molasses

A miner in my mind, A miner in thy winds

A miner in my winds, a miner in thy mind

Minds a Mind to Mind the Mindless

Mind foils and Mind fullness

Musical to Myself, Mystical to Myself

Miner’s Mind is a Mine of Miniature

Undo my mines, Unless you mind !

Poem : Wheeler’s Fantasy

No wonder it is spinning 

No wonder why it has serrated edges

No wonder it’s a wheelers fantasy

No wonder why it is faster than a blink

No wonder why its finer than a vermilion 

No wonder why it’s lethal to a visceral foe

No wonder why his head is polarised

No wonder why his eyes are his firmament 

No wonder why he is a fissure of last kind

No wonder why his gaze is a gourmet

No wonder why he eats away his pain

Sardonic, Sedantic, Semblances of him

Sojourn, Sophomore, Silence of his

I wonder why he is episodic and ephemeral 

Floating and Filamental, this age

Following his Fist and Fury, foliage of times

Poem : Terminology 


Terminal seeds

End of. Agony of. Epistle of.

Ephemeral. Ellipses.

Genesis. A kinesthetics.

A fragment. A firmament.

Pigment to pixels. Prism to Pinnacle.

Luminous Lava. Larking Lives.

I submerge. I subside. I subjugate.

Aperture. Archaic. Argot. Avid.

Left. Drift. Rift. Swift. I perish. I fizzog.

Gecko, Ghastly, Guise, Gaze, Grammers.

Loggerheads, lost in leeches , a life so lovely 

Poem : Prophecy unkind


I bark like a grey hound orange 

Sometime in near evident future 

I feret in a fuming climate crimson 

Sometime in an clumsy chronotrope 

I crawl like a felonious serpent 

Sometime in an oak wood red

I slope like a high mountain zho ash 

Sometime in a spinning war chest

I howl like a giant lizard brown

Upside, inverted coma, poetically unconscious 

Walls withering, wearing shady lines

Shadows of countless many beings 

Walls, shivering, silky silly wormholes

Zig zag memories of an eventful voyage

This life is living on the vestiges of a prophecy 

Truthful to the trumpets, I live a tropical fire