OFFERING

A branch of red flowers

A glass of water

A lock of my hair

The rustling of leaves

The bird on my sil

The singing river

A torn page

A half eaten sandwich

A cigarette stub

A handful of pearls

A couple of coins

A melody from yesteryears

The wind on the ocean

The still intact dandelion

The feather of a bird

The rumbling dark clouds

The sand on my skin

The muddied puddles

A day in remembrance

A journey together

A night of love

A prayer

A smile

A kiss

A dance together

A Bleeding Sunset

 

Here I am at that place

Where many have stood before

Some distance I walked and some

I was carried off

In this moment it feels enough
I want you to call me
And I can see your call

My arteries are blood tributaries
My veins are blue but with blood
To the sky arrives my blood river
The ocean beneath is a mirror
The water is blue but with blood

Crimson skies are soul cries
Beyond the veil it lies
I stand here reveling
In anticipation and deep trust
Waiting for it all to fall
To a new door
To a new path
To a new rise

I take deep breaths
Expecting pungent skies, but
This isn't the thick blood on my thighs
It is fresh with death
It is new and ripe
Shiny like a moment of hope
Flimsy like a layer of oil

The staves are singing
About wanting to leave
And seeing the colours of another sky
This is another sky
And even though this could be
Molten lava from the earth's womb
It is likely sweet rose syrup and even better
A dry red wine
Sips of which warm my wintered soul
And the after taste rises like a tide

And then I arrive on his thought

A man with whom I shared eros

He shared his name with a saint

Who understood my predicament

He wrote about this sunset in my soul

And turned my life into a sunrise

Laali mere laal ki, jit dekhun tit laal

Laali dekhan main gayi, main bhi hogayi laal

Artwork - Rothko

Doha by Kabeer Das

The Staves - Mexico

Jis din bhi ghazal mein bandh gayi

Ishq mein azaad ho jaungi

Jo tune rahem se dekha

Barbaad hojaungi

Ek zamana zahen mein mere

Aur kahin nahin haqeeqat mein tu

Sach mein mil gaya gar

To khud wasl ki raat hojaungi

Artwork by : Weronika Marianna

Harud

Jo toofan ki tarah aate hain

Aksar jaldi baras jaate hain

Shaam tak tair lete hain

Raat mein doob jaate hain

Ooda ooda khicha hai falaq

Behta hai neela khoon-e-jigar

Tamanna mein teri jale jaate hain

Ishq mein tere jiye jaate hain

Laut ke khud se milenge kisi morh pe

Harud aane tak khudko sajate hain

Dar-e-tilism-e-ishq

Hath ko aaya

Aur mun bhi lagaya

Par dar-e-tilism-e-ishq

Maine akele hi khatkhataya

Tu masroof tha

Main majboor thi

Zindagi Jo moimma hai

Kisey aakhir samajh aayaa

Ek hissa bhikaari hai

Aur dusra Fakeer

Tere samne phaila dun haath

Ya karti rahun ye khamosh ishq

Pehla bosa Jo kare

Dusra na karpaya

Gehri hai meri rooh

Maine halka jism paaya 

Art: Two human beings,  Edvard Munch

On the occasion of a blue blood moon lunar eclipse

From darkness the contours of your face emerge.

Grey desaturated skin and the shadows on the curves.

They remind me of the moon shot with a long lense.

Your face my love,

is a moon with indentations.

Self portrait (1906) by EDWARD HOPPER

Sweet Nothings

He peeled the moist green apples,

And drove the knife in to their center.

He pushed it in slowly and slowly,

And cored them with precision.

Next he cracked some eggs

And with his fingers caught the yolk.

Even though it slipped and slopped,

He managed to pull them out.

With his knuckles he kneeded the dough

And flattened it with the palm of his hands.

A little butter he slathered on it

And neatly folded them in to a cone.

He smoked a cigarette on preheat,

And frantically looked for something,

while the cones baked.

At last he found it in the chill tray,

rose red frozen blood in my blue veins,

a thin layer of ice on my fresh heart.

Like a musician he chopped it up.

Apple pie in pockets,

Baked shiny brown,

Crisp and fragrant,

Full of wet apples.

He then julliened my heart and sprinkled it,

On his rustic homely dessert.

He ate it without a pause.

Waiting For Amaltas

For a few days Delhi is in spring

cardinal, carmine, carnelian

auburn, crimson, scarlet

lava, lust and folly

leaf-less Semal trees

They blanket pavements 

roads and terraces

a thick cover of blood

drying and coagulated

In the darkness of the night

they fall from the trees

on sunny mornings that should be

a grim post-blast flesh sprinkle

dots the city

When you are crossing the road in Nizamuddin

do look at the side railings

behind the crowd at the bus stand

from the metal wires are hanging meat pieces

a fresh wound is this country

Photograph by Mayank Austen Soofi

A Forest On My Skin

Every night my body comes to life

Between my legs

A thousand zebras look in to the light

For a moment their eyes look like fireflies

Or standing stationary traffic lights

Burdened with their memories

To drink some water 

At my navel they arrive

I know the matriarch

She trumpets me goodbyes

The king sleeps in the pit of my elbow 

Where sun beats like on a grassland 

When I open my arm straight 

He dashes down to my palm

Next to my pulse, where deer graze

The wild buffaloes are migrating 

From one breast to another 

And Salmons are swimming 

From knees to my thighs

A pack of wolves prowl

Along my shoulder blades

They are starving 

The winters are their toughest fight

Gibbons are always in flight 

One strand to another 

The water pours constantly 

In my hair

It is always a rainy night

My fingers when moving 

Are home to crocodiles

Their slender long tails

Resting on my nails

A bear on my shoulder 

Often jumps high

He slips and falls on my clavicle 

And the bees heave a sigh

Their queen is in my left ear

My lobes, their honeycombs

My lips, their nectar nigh

The rarest of the rare

Is around my hips somewhere

He camouflages with the bare

Many gather for just a glimpse 

Seeing a Snow leopard move

Is once in a lifetime thing

Photograph by Renhang

KILL.ME.NOW

I write in a feverish fervour

Drowning my day in black coffee 

I walk down a street

Full of men brimming with similitude

I see your crumpled forehead

Your small mouth

Your tiny frame

Your lady like grace 

I am a constant cliché 

I can't stop seeing you

I write with the Kohl in my eyes

Sealing the letter with my spit

I sweat in anticipation and

I cry when I think of this

I know what a love letter will do

Practically nothing for you!

Until it talks about war and politics 

The demonic hegemony of unjust social constructs 

The complacency inducing virtual dissent

I could generate a little interest

 by quoting Elliot and his coffee spoons 

Or existential rants that disillusion and then lead to disbelief

From disbelief to spiritual enquiry and back to some belief

Even the upcoming third world war

Hell! I think you'll read it for much less 

Like how between Hillary and Trump 

America is a mess

And here I am writing about the darkness of the night 

That refuses to lift from my day

I am on the edge, giving too much away

I slowly tear the letter to bits

I now have a clear image

You wave your hand with your slender fingers 

And say this

"All these are love songs with no substance,

Gibberish not worthy of a poem you see,

Any way there is no older farce than poetry!"

Kill.Me.Now

Photograph By Jerry Uelsmann 

Ruin me

You enter me

Like you enter a ruin

You drag your fingers

On my time torn walls

I feel your fingertips

Their cushions pressing on my edges

You step out on to the balcony 

And light a cigarette 

You send out rings

As the sun sets on my memories

Silently you tread my long corridors 

Your steps echoing inside me

Now and then you stop

And open a door

It would seem like you are lost

But maybe you just like to wander

Here let me show you

Some hidden alleyways

So that you stop opening

Unmarked cabinets 

Where lies jealousy 

Bundled in old sacks 

Ration, I forgot I had

You will take that

One last stroll on the porch

The Chameli would lie stuffed in your pockets

The only proof of the love you stole

“I am going for a walk”

Is what you would say

And never come back home

I will stand here abandoned

As paint peels off me

I'll open a window 

To let the breeze in 

In the dust lie your footsteps

The wind will blow them away

Qabool hai

I want to tell you this

You are beautiful 

And your skin has green grass

In your eyes I see doves in flight 

On your palm flows the Nile

And jasmine lives in your sighs

Lover

Feel these concentric circles

My tongue draws

And let your chest swell like a tide

When I'll be done

You will crash like a porcelain cup

And tears will fill your eyes

Our bodies know us better 

They are ancient and wise

My passion is a flitting wasp

Your disdain a stormy night

Any moment you will turn to me

And speak from the darkness of your eyes

'aur bhi dukh hain zamane mein mohabbat ke Siva',

Rahatein aur bhi hain, wasl ki raahat ke Siva' .

Lover,

Don't be so full of light!

Let's pretend we dont know better

Let's be nice

I'll write on your bare back

With the mist in my mouth

A good bye note

A farewell ode

A little request 

Full of knowing words, so you know

I know your soul

'Yeh subh-e-azal mujhse kaha Jibraeel ne

Jo aqal ka ghulam hai wo dil na kar qabool.

Tu rah na'ward-e-shauq hai,

Manzil na kar qabool.

Yaad-e-maazi

The night of our love

Came to life

We sat on a sunlit porch

Sipping red and bitter tea

The sunset happened very slowly

And the nightingale

Of Ghalib's yet to be created tea garden

Sang in it's heated joy of imagination

And then came death

Someone left

The night of our love

a few moments back

was moaning with pleasure 

Soon it gave away it's soul.

Like a dead body

(Hands under the shoulders)

I am dragging it 

Through a thick forest

It's not stinking yet.

I'll bury it 

When I see the sea

Turtles will come next year

And lay eggs in it's grave

"I was stillborn"

The epitaph would say.

I am petrified of forgetting it

Like my Nana

I close my eyes and remember 

His beard, his spectacles

The distinct smell of his room

"Why do you have this old brush papa?, You should throw it away" I told him once.

"I am also old maybe you should throw me away too"

He smiled and I had fought back tears.

But today 

I strain to hear his voice 

There is not even an echo.

It's a ritual for the dead

It's takes more every day 

To keep them alive 

And one such day

I will have forgotten 

The night you kissed me

The night you spoke to me 

About loneliness 

And adventures

The night

That's all we had.

Artwork By Muretz 
Reference to Ghalib's couplet
hoon garmi-e-nishat-e-tasavvur se naghma-sanj
main andaleeb-e-gulshan-e-naa-aafariidah hoon
translation:
Behold, I sing in the heated joy of imagination
For I am the nightingale of the yet uncreated garden.

Thick Horrors of a Melancholic Midnight hour

When the night pours over me

Like mildly heated mustard oil

And I can distinctly hear

The jasmine 

Outside my room's door

Every bud snapping in to a flower 

The anger is palpable 

The hate, not far.

My dead cat puts his forehead to the door

And it creaks, ever so slightly 

I wait 

I wait

I wait

Dead don't come back.

My several selves

That loved and ached

That moaned and pained

My many faces 

Flushed with your thought 

My hands with darkened finger tips

That I held to your nose

And you smelled the night on them

That me will always be

seated inside a small box

With a million moths

It is easier 

Like a habit you never had

But do now

The price is still the same

Rotting of the flesh of my heart

That's pumping hard

And the raven named WHY

Calls out to the vultures 

Diseased and dying bald monstrosities 

Perfect in their ugliness 

They scorn at the thick blood 

That flows from my nose

But they wait nevertheless 

To have a taste

And I can hear them 

Chanting in a chorus

Louder and louder

We don't fear

What's still alive 

What's still alive 

We don't tear

I splatter on the roadside 

Like dark americano

Exhausted and tired

I lean on the white CP pillars

I flick a lighter, take a drag

Even the vultures won't have me!

I exhale for 8 counts.

In the night 

When I am lonely 

My bed is crowded

Lifeless bodies pile on me

Choking me to the last breath 

The ghosts don't rot

They sear

And mark me

I run through an old house 

With rotting doors

Crushing blue eggs underneath me

The birds just shriek and howl

I cover my ears

I know loss

I know loss

That's all I manage to shout.

Artwork By Saoirse Huang

DEAD END

It was a long walk

The ones that you take by your self

The ones where you hear your breath 

The ones in which you are close to answers 

Very very close

There is a song that has meaning now

And our bodies were inclined 

Sings the man

If you go

I won't even know

I won't even frown

I don't even know why

I try 

Every time 

Every fucking time

To bang my head on a wall

To scratch my nails down the concrete 

You are a coward

You are a dead end

I just want to sit for a bit

Don't worry 

I'll leave

If there is ever a window in this wall

I'll never know 

I'll be gone

I have heard stories 

Of multiple orgasms

I only have 

Multiple fractures

I am powder now

But you 

You are a coward

You are a dead end

IF YOU GO by PRATEEK KUHAD

Some people never get that

If and when I knock 

You should open 

And let me in

I am

The morning breeze

I'll find my way 

Through your unending name 

I'll find my way 

Through your indifference and mercy

An evening when the sun drops in to the sea

And the waters turn blood slowly 

I'll call it dawn

A morning when the sun arrives 

Pregnant and pale

I'll call it dusk

If you let me

I'll fill you up

With 

Black roses and sunflowers

My hair, I'll leave open

For you to feel on your skin

And I promise when I look at you 

Your insides will burn

(don't worry, I don't have superman's eyes or shaktiman's X ray vision)

There is so much

Humour in me

And a consuming desire 

To hear you laugh free 

And when tears roll down your eyes 

I'll lick them

And with the salt on my lips

I'll kiss you

And then you can tell me 

All the things that you don't 

Like what happened to you 

That makes it so easy

To walk out on someone 

You can talk to

You still have to grow up

If you don't know that's a luxury

I get you

You get me

Some people never get that.

Picture by Dick Bruinsma

Let's go back

On my body 

You wrapped your rotten guts

And my lips 

You sealed with a ruminated gum

In the dark you looked beautiful 

Like abandoned basements do

And my moans echoed in you

Our bodies travelled

But we didn't reach 

That sunlit spot 

Where you know

You'll die alone

And free

I remember holding your hand

And if you weren't busy coming 

I would have shook it cordially

Why does this frenzy

Look all but pathetic to me

When I dug my nails in you

It's not like I wanted your skin

when you looked down intently 

It's not like you could see me

On your bed lay with me

ugliness in all its beauty 

And ran down it's cold fingers on my spine 

While you kissed me tenderly

Just that once

Your eyes were shut 

And mine were locked with that thing

A black opaque dot staring back at me

Let's go back

Down that lane

Where we never meet

Even though 

we walk

Next to each other

I swear

It was fun 

And 

I would do it again

Our Bridge is on a river

That doesn't take

That doesn't give 

It's perfect 

The balance is critical 

If you tip over

You will meet the sea 

Cosmic Dance

This is the oldest poem I know 

It is about me

And you 

There is also the moon

Fluid dot in the deep blue

And I want to lick it

Carry it on my tongue

Bring it to you 

And if you stare at me

Undecided 

I want to open my fists

And send all the stars floating

But the moon is in love

With the blue earth 

He is not the only one 

Is he? 

The sun burns with lust

The earth is a bitch of course 

Twirling in the attention

So relentlessly

They pull

And release 

Each other

In this carnal cosmic dance

Do you feel it? 

On a day that was hot

Hot with his desire

The sun leaves red

A giant ball of crimson
And when the moon comes along 

Its honey in colour 

Do you feel it? 

The Convulsions of mother earth

On a night like this

I will lie naked next to you 

And you will tell me

The oldest poem we know

And when our lips meet

The stars will disappear 

The moon will become powder 

The sun will hide behind a cloud

And the earth 

The earth will stop turning. 

I am not sad.

I am not sad

I am not even melancholic

But now and then I turn transparent

And I grieve

I grieve collectively

For all the nights I have cried through

For all the mornings I couldn’t get out of bed

For all the smiles I never smiled

And all the laughs I never had

All the moments when I thought of you

You…

Who are you?

You come to me with a new person every time

And then you turn away

I can’t make you care

I can’t make you love

I can’t make you stay

I think you are broken

Into a million pieces

And I’ll never have you whole

And when the last bit of you meets me

I’ll shatter into a million pieces too

Because you are killing me

Slowly

Every time you come with another man to me.

WE LOST

                                                                     Artwork EGON SCHIELE

You are broken

I am exhausted 

Should we let this pass?

You are wounded 

I am bleeding

We'll let this pass

You walk away

I am still standing here 

This will pass

You want real

I am only fake

It was meant to pass

You are still in love

I am an empty sound

Everything passes

You lost and then you lost again 

I am lost

We lost

Was this always a lost battle? 

Was this a battle? 

I don't fight anymore 

I don't bulldoze people's walls

I am done

How would you know? 

You never asked 

You let it pass.

But I feel you inside me

Passing by

Like a bullet

Like a bat

Like a thought

I'll let you pass.