"Is This the Face of a Rat?"

Sordid six colored spectrum tinkering with gray whores..
Chocolate dream unveiling swooning scarlet..
Sonorous hymn and screaming six strings...
Deep purple lying catatonic with swirling dust of seething dusk....
Surge of sunken thoughts swiveled into blue horizon..

Desolate eyeballs moist with straw colored spirit of pungent odor
Streaks of freaking colors-
Rejuvenated with disintegrating shells off skeptic skeleton...

Scrape the zest off salted lemon..
Burn the flesh of green tinted salmon..
Pleasure to displease and desires to summon..
Words play their luck in this weird backgammon....

Morning Compartment

Ashes and brown, your swirling purple gown
Velvet dreams of scarlet screams
Savoring cigarette whores and chocolate lovers
Fretting on one floor
Thoughts sail ashore
Quivering red beneath violent violet streams...


Love birds and hate scarecrow
Gray avenue of lust
Frail fantasies of your warmth on bereaved shoulder
Starving life and striving death
Double-coated on Paris wall..sordid silver...

Indigo white spurts off phallic delusions
Teeming with tiny motile possessions
Ink soaked, words blur..
Swords die and colors shiver..
I wake up to find me-
Squirting alone....

Jeer Jingle

Scarlet stains sway above
Up in the sky, where birds fly
To wave a bard back home.

Flowers bloom, amidst green womb-
His rejuvenated youth...

Shines a pearl in eyes
Its color creeps in her lies-
Male order- malodorous...

Rummaging about this life
Where's peace-disillusioned love?


Cryptic thoughts galore
Teeming in a void of joy
Fill in his world of pride.

Endless gibberish...fades ink
Tangle of signs, heaving sigh.

Cups full of liquor
Pour stale brown-a wet conscience...
One sisterly hug.

Burning ashes, swirling gray
Remind him of father's cry.


Wistful philander
Romancing another girl...
Tinge of doleful smile.

Happy glass, queen images-
Her sweet past, sweetened future.

Happy tunes of mind
Drift past ecstatic purple...
Toxic sublime.

Jubilant Beatles, fey Floyd
Swiveling into blue Hendrix.


Empty glass, forlorn ice-cubes...


Straw or brown
And,
Ink and paper.....

Quest- Haiku

Promenading pain
scornfully asks,"Who are you?"
in a quest in vain.

Colored Rogue

Off its shadowy silhouette
Starkly outlined against crimson
Flailing to reach out to sublime gray
Pops up tiny indigo
Mingling pink, spread over burnt brown toast of yesterday morning.
Its stench green of rotten fungi
Pale with yawning yellow, weeping purple.
Stains of silver on shimmery scarlet
Turning into morbid mahogany....

Off all colored whims on weird white
Eyes wake up to the call of a harsh bellow.
New dreams keep senses shrouded,-
Bereft of the estranged reality-
Of shadowy silhouette,
Of crimson refuge,
Of sublime gray,
Of indigo dot,
Of smothering pink,
Of stench green,
Of yawning yellow,
Of choked purple,
Of silver streaks
On splendid scarlet....

It's Real dream, nothing but the morbid mahogany!

Fuming 104

Drops of straw liquor, tinged purple
Dripped into the void of mystic marvels
An endless voyage with seething turbulence beneath
Soul- the sailor sails ashore while aching limbs recede.
Immersed deep into a whirling abyss
Reminiscent of silky vortex of milky delusions
Smothered by creamy layers of immaculate desires
Senses imbued with mellow nectar leaking through sugar-coated sedatives.
Eyes gaze skyward, rusty reality grazing past irate irises
Fairy fragrance conjures scary images
Of smiles
Of cries
Of all your dubious juxtaposition
With my reveries-
My love,
My lust,-
A white dove,
A smear of rust!

Sonnet of the Solipsist

Let my thoughts gaze at my humble refuge-
Warm as her tender embrace in my dreams.
From far off the seas of sublime rage,
I color this world, while my logic beams.
Like harsh zephyr of her sly mysteries,
Senses recall the shackles of instinct.
Like the paradox of life-reveries,
Her cries tickle one old love- so succinct.
A queer silence of weeping enigma,
And I search for some cold purple marvels.
Mystic ties of endless lust- one stigma,-
Like one black ink smearing fuming rambles.
My world unfolds its primeval conflict,-
From lure to love, from life to being extinct.