I am God, only
When you stand by me
With swaying smiles
Of heinous eyes - spread-eagled
And the moon turns blue
Like your fugitive selves praying
And prying into your solitude
Of a war amongst the infidel collages
That mask you and me
Into an only entwined circle

You save yourself not
From my brushstrokes of lies
As you worship
Not the images that cast curly shadows
Not of bellyful hunger
As I am god only if you die me
When I drive home
To see through your undressed truths
In a pseudo contentment of pleasures

You only follow me
In guise of a priest of soul
Who swells not
Just in desire of your welling tears
That drop you dead
Not as a die-hard martyr, but as an epitome
For several lives altogether
Baying for your fresh blood

So, for god's sake
I am that demasked God, only
If and when you, as you were,
You stand by me as a departed part
Of the whole tapestry
With no secret missives to swallow,
And with the saliva
Of fresh blood that happens as nothing
Between you and me entwined
Body and soul, incognito.

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For several eyes
I have saved you in the selfsame darkness
Of your whispering shadows
All dyed in the bucolic blues of the rising sandstorms
That broke the impressionistic silence
Of ashbones shyly ghettoed in sheep's wools
To attain the too early adulthood
Like in a strved soul as naked as you were

As you were, as if, then
Bespeaking your early adulthood in images of falsehood
Like murmurring in breathing lies
I just ageing myself only for your several eyes
That I saved you for many more times
From the cubist looks of the selfsame darkness lying before you
And I demasked your faceless guise of your starved soul
To severe from the very cellular claustrophobia of no consequence
Looking for some spatio-temporal existence.

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If there is you
God is not
Not God but only you
Reveal in me
In throbbing pulse
Of truth
And faith - well inside us
As rhyme and reason
As reassuring as stoically living
Brings home
All that is still ours

You and only you
And me - everything else
And everyone
Of consequential existence
In wellness of being
In self-slavery quest of freedom
From blind alleys leading us
To humbly believe that there is God
Not you and me
Have ever found - not anything
So deeply felt
Anywhere there of squarely false lies
All those feudal lies
There in the latifundia of promise
Dare not face the bugaboo of God
Of no consequence in the flying leaves
Through the first blood of ages

If there is God
There is very you, and me
Just in very suchness
Of sapphire blue of the seventh wonder
Belittling the smally little creatures
Of homo sapiens - of the twelvth universe
Not in likeness
Of anything in His own images
But not for God for God's sake
We built a hominid canoe
To cross the blowing winds of Noah's Arc
Long after the seventh day's
Cease of fire from the God's random head

It is you and me
But not God for God's sake
We are born and unborn
In blindness of rigorous imprisonment
For deadly sins as we are, you and me
Held hostages together all alon
For lust of life as it is - throughout.

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What do want of me?
Not a half-way all to the scorching sun
And a fresh tide of dying rainbow
So hardly falling in droplets of crying tears
Or a few rhymes of harvesting hunger
Everly for dwelling in a closing cubicle
Of huffings and puffings in hanging illusions
And a superbowl of human eyes
That rove in cleavage of long deceased soil
Thirsty for colloquial revenge
In forlorn love and swelling womb
Of hopes alive and kicking
For more fondlings in your smelting breasts
To feel the suckling little creatures
Predestined to be unknown and unheard
As a downsize stillborn
Smelling nothing but the barkings
Of the streetdogs hunting
Hard for the little creatures of yours
Under those very cherry orchards

Those cherry orchards
Once danced together in compliance
Of my love for you
To come to the closing circle
As near as the billion years' forestry
Gets to the fattened roots
Of the forbidden soul as virgin
As the strawful silence
Belonging somewhere to caravan of worshippers
That never felt the mouthful of love
Hating the entwined souls of ours together

Stll you do not know
How to perish yourself in imperial befittings
To say cheese in pastel colours
As your eyes follow the shadows of my footsteps
In exile of an amber-green law of the jungle

And I humbly blame it
On the share-cropping of love between us
Amongst the peripheral planets
In steady brillance of cathartic refulgence
To know what do you want of me
In a sort of violent defiance of angst of ahimsa
But not blame it on you for your aloneness
Together with me in staying course of darkness.

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Not here, not there
Just somewhere in the whipping eyelashes
Of your whoring eyes thereby
Horseshoe images in stoic stormy blues
Fade in and fade out elsewhere
Where you undie lovely in your prying pangs
Of breathing vowels, not known in ages
Somewhere where you ccho your own braying silence
In ashphalt clouds, nowhere
Near the burning jungle of praire fire

The praire fire wishing you
In whipping lashes of praying prostration
As if near the vertibral seashore
Of your kohl laden tears, falling in tearing montage
Like in a canvas of offbeat misgivings
To hang you over an edgy ire of Democle's sword
To melt you into the smelting blues
Of your not steady eyes of fire, so unkindly

But here, there and everywhere
It is you and your subtle fear from freedom
That sparkles you in sparks
So really like a daredevil silver lining
Somewhere near the endings
Beginning in a very olden saga of crusade
Against the long torrid unkindness
Of the lethagic days' winkings at the staring death.

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Years ago, years on
Once hunger was like butterflies' wings
Carrying corpses of dead larvae
So unsurprising and so beautifully unassuming
That reminisced hardly as never ever
The dark days of mencingly proliferating nights
So dead drop at the excellence
Always of enticing prophetic foibles
That the harpsicord twanged
In god's best tuned singing of mantras of manna
From the soaring sleighs
High above the seventh heaven
And never fell silent
On the last ditch ending on the humanity
Decreed by the god's own will, as if

Still the hunger dies not
Even butterflying with the end of humanity
The blue moon desert stumbles
Upon the strangers for ages and ages on
Who knows is it the end of history?
Or, the beginning of the end of age of reason
Drowning in the deluge of deadly blinds?

Who can swear by the fingers
It is the infinite end of all beginnings
In even more deadly sighs
Outside the barracks of all rhymes and reason?

Still the hunger slips and sinks
Still the hunger gasps for breath and relapses
And the beginning of history repeats
Just in plain sackclothes of droppings and refusals
As the civility rutures
In roaring laughters of closed petals
Of all hungry lesser souls
Tied and never to be untied, as if
By god's own simian decree.

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