How often do we remember, how often
To cover our face at the long end of a street
For how long do we live to die
Every time the streetcar jumps off the bumpy road
To kill the shadows of a mocking bird?

Never tell me your woes, never ever
While stealing the all for the half-penny moon
Let the nightwatchman fire you
At your every straying footstep of all ages
Every time you fall swoon in the corner dry and cold

Let the heart burn your fingers
For how long will you be fiddling your bones
Rome will never be burning by your side
So long as we look at each other's gloomy face
To feel the pulse of unerring sadness.

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Because
Silence looks for
A naked guilt
And collapses, darkly
In miniatures
Of a surreal - infinity
To the nth. time

You see
The hypnosia of - war
Deadened and muted
By the scowlings
Of the unwise assassin
- to keep you up
At bay of love, love...

The assassin
Rapes you - in silence
Of darkness, so darkly
To freeze you
As stillborn of love
In fear and scare
Of the old street
Lying dead
Of splintered mosaics

You stare back
At hues
No sooner than the older foes
To gaze a horny look
Barely - at the white mischief
- of minstrel musings
As the assassin rapes you
In infinity of nth. time...

Assassin! Assassin!
I scowl at the assassin
As I see you
Raped and loved
Mockingly
Mutated the cosmic genes
On harping lyre
In hushed notes of silence
And darkness so entwined
So to ask for forgiveness
As the splintered mosaic
Breaks its eyes
On the old forlorn street.

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Stalin damages
In straitjacket of peace
And downsizes Mao
So as to cease not to be so
As in his half sky

Mao weaves
And weaves wools
Of subplots
Subplots upon subplots
To quit the day
On the wrong route
In all lies of truths
Beseeching not to reason
Why the spin
Stops to revolve
- and surrenders
Its spine
To darkness, darkly

And Lenin
Perplexed in his words
Tights his seatbelt
In an armchair of diktats
And demons to follow
Suits of empirical colour
Of unburning sun
As if not to stare
At Buddha's qualms
Of truths...

Who laughs?
Who laughs at nothingness
Of all and everything?
Who asks whom - Marx or Buddha
For forgiveness?

Buddha smiles
- Marx stares back
To see
If his oracles prove
Fertile or futile
To take it all to blame
And he blames it all...

But the little soldiers
Evolve to revolve in spins
Adjourned sine die
- in chronology of history
Ending here, there
And nowhere to fall back
Upon nothingness
Of all and everything

As Marx takes it all
And blames it all - all the more...

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Together we fell, and rise
Upon a sudden little drop of rain
As the concrete arid earth
Of so infinitely solitaire the summer cracked
The beginning of only monsoon
Seeping well past into our sweating love
Somehow slashed and burned long ago
Regained warmth of charm on the terra firma
Of our shortly verbal equinox, long lost

The suddeness of the lonely drop
To rain so long after the so very sulky deluge
Coyly as the decoy duck
With a lame excuse of terrifying and tempting
The blind soul in the alley of love
Hating to befool our entangled bodies
Of no existence inside us as it were,
That somehow left us hum and haw
Behind the marble cornerstone
To hide ourselves against the lurking clouds
Of forthcoming darkness, without clothes

We caressed not each other
- as the sudden drop of rain melted - out into the blues,
Flinging our eyes widely shut off
Fingers not nimbly foreseeing as ever the softness
Of the smelling rose withering so slowly away
Into a heap of deep sun left stranded - into the round void
Of the equinox like in a smelting summer
As it were we suddenly felt the resounding ending
Of the fleeting beginning - of such a saga,
Of the monsoon so decreed in a sudden little drop of rain
Into a columbrium of a black rainbow
That closed the warmths of our love, on its wings
In lurking moments of an ending of the beginning.

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You are, who?
Who sheds clouds, so solid
As the rocks of silence
Into the armlet of Brahma's hemisphere
Who sheds darkness afloat
Well ahead of defying moments of time
In fluffy space of not knowing?

What brings home light
Older than the longer thoughts
Falling off the wisdom
As truths of lies, to pursue
The leafy foliage
Of the jungle that darkens
The blues of reason in oms of peace -
And violence - what would be of you?

What would be
Of God's knowledge to know
What disguises you
In chronology of space as primordial
As you are in being
Of long existence, what leaves you
You behind me
Way behind the bloodless peace
Of violence to ask you -
Who you are, and what
What again leaves you and me
Unknown and known, so ephemeral

In God's knowledge to know

What we are, and you are, who?

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War, no war
No peace in pelvic musings
Of crying symphony
As lub-dup lub-dup goes in the swollen womb
The thumping little stillborn curses
The curfew of silence and the grizzly bear
Rejoices in vanquished peace
Squarely of four-lettered expletives

No war, no peace
Cries in big bubbles of the humpty-dumpty
Carrying high-yielding phalanx of death
Here, there and everyehere to no less ending
Of acrobatic missile in chaste hip-hopping
The imerial game goes on, endlessly on and on
To rupture the pitchblend hymen
Of easy humility ridiculously so hard and dry
In foibles of so many twists and turns

There will be war
And war, just peace shot at the praying heart
Not far from the point-blank range
Duly unpaid at the cost of fuzzy logic of human truths
To gather pelfs of steam
Seemingly rolling over the incense whatsoever
Of sense and sensibility - no non-sense
To draw the first blood from the welling woes
Prying into the jelling fear of death

Damn! Damn!
Damned are the god's own pharista
Looking for downright shelter
Refused in curfew of bloody dust and smoke
As no messiah comes to his heel
Close to the clogging circle of detritus of shame
To join in chorus of symphony
Of million's souls to survive from the lengthening killing spree
So inordinately delayed in curfew of silence at length.

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