wordsSometimes   the  words  are  arrows.
 Some other  times  they  are frogs.
 They  move  about  jumping.
 Words  are  manykind  like
 Chameleon,Doves, and Dinosaurs.
 Only words know  how to change  color.
 Words seldom think  theselves
 While   uttering or  enjoying.
 Once  a word talked  about its bondage;
 Not  needed,nothing is needed.
 Iife  seemed waste.
 For what all these havebeen to?
 The life  that is not needed for the word
 Is necessary  for  the   Man;
 The  man who  rapes the  word.
 The   prey
 Did  u come Summer  Birds
 The other day,
 Will u spare me  from
 This vain cage of  flesh?
 Iam  just  a body
 In the summer  paths
 Where humanim is lost forever.
 You can  gulp me too.
 Iwould be an ideal  prey for u.
 Tell me if  there is some preparatins
 To  become  an  ideal prey.
 I have decided 
 To become  a prey.
 Sufferings  given out  by Life
 Never  complain on  anything.
 Every thing was  enjoyed well.
 My knoledge remained in complete
 If  these  were  not  there.
 Now  I  understand   every thing;
 The prey,the body and this  life.
             
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
trans: k santhoshkumar
 Words  again  
 My  words  left  me
 With out  showing any courtesy.
 When  unrefined   words
 Tried  to  be  poetry,
 I  objected.
 Words said;
 We  want  to  be  poery.
 The  poet  is  their   enemy!
 Words ,leaving   the  poet,
 Usurps the  arena.
 Where  is  the   ground
 For  the words to  become  poetry?
 Words  said;
 We   would   buy the  land.
 The  words,searched  for  the   Truth,
 That  would  buy the  whole  world.
 At  last  admitting  their  failure,
 And  remained  alone  at  the gate,
 I  asked ;
 What  happened?
 Words said  again;
 We   failed.
 It's   impossible  to  find  Truth  alone.
 But would  give  the truth-seekers
 As  much  as  u  need.
 sans  peace
 Searched  for  liberation
 In the  Ganges and  the  Yamuna.
 Felt  like ending  each   journey.
 Cows did  go  grazing
 But never did  come back.
 Bird nests fell in the wind.
 Fises are thrown scattered in the tumult of the  ocean.
 Prostrated  before
 The fire,the water,
 The  air,and the  corpse.
 Prepared  rice gruel for
 Ant, cat ,crow and  begger.
 Yet  mind  alone
 Never did  get  peace.
 bats
 Bats  hung upside down
 In search of  a chance to be sad.
 While  sad,they  remember
 their  previous births.
 To be sad is a cleansing  forthem.
 Acleansing  from the
 Damn life's darkness
 A cleanliness
 Like  the  one  when  iron is hot and  beaten,
 To  make it  supple.
 Saddned  and thus cleanesd,
 Hanging up side  and  down,
 Bats  could  see the
 Nakedness of the  humans.
 A beauty which  the humans
 Bear  unknowingly.
 Singular
  Body's  plural
 Mind's also  plural
 World's  plural
 Language  is  plural
 Name  is plural.
 When,
 Mind  leaves the  body,
 Words leave the  poem,
 Sky leaves  the  cloud,
 Flowers leave  the  tree,
 To   be  free,
 The  singular  me  is  born.
 In  search  of 
Searching  me, even yesterday
 I thought of  enemies.
 Iwent alone   where
 The  city lay dead   like a sick  dog.
 Didn't find  me.
 Searched me  in the  market
 Where  carcasses were hung upside down.
 Saw life   trying desperately
 To  leave the  last  grip  of  breath
 From the  tip of  the goat's sliced meat.
 Saw  the   broiler chicken sitting   impatiently
 Awaiting  the  butcher,in their   nest.
 life  must 've become  so  much bored
 Only for  the  broiler  chickens.
 Never  did  i  see me in
 The government  officials  who  came  to
 Gather  the  bones  of  the  street that  died
 Slashing  its  guts.
 Never  did  see  me evenwhen
 Reaching home  and   getting   naked,
 Hurried  to  make  love.
 Was it me  who went by   caressing me
 Like a  lightning?
 poetic
 As  banana  flowers  fall,
 As  the  dew  drops fall from the foliage,
 Clouds  transform  in to dusk,
 Reuctant  to  seek  the  fruit  of  poetry.
 Poetry  is  lost somewhere
 When  ever  thinking  of  poetry
 Some  thing  poetic
 Surges up.
 No  flower is  poetry;
 Not poetic  either.
 night
 Night turned  a  raindrop
 And  hide
 On the black  feather   of  the bird.
 Where ever  the  bird  flew
 The  night  also  went  along.
 When  it  was about to   dawn  
 The  night got dead  bored.
 Loosing  the  grip on the  feather
 The night  fell  down.
The  painted   forms Colored   shapes  fill in the canvas   
 As  terrifying  forms.
 Drawn, all   in  mixed   colors,
 When  ever   tried  to  beautify  them,
 Devils kept  on  dripping down  the  brush.
 Who  makes the  world   weired
 Hiding behind   the  colors?
  Are  colores  the  successsors or  representatives
 Of  some  terrible  truth?
 I  kept  the  brush  washed
 To keep  my life from getting  colored.
 Are  human emotions  green?
 Is  Nature green?
 Is  Nature's   green also  a guise?
 Could easily detect empty  emotions on the  painted  faces.
 Let's  not color the  picture  of  Life.
 On the  canvass,invisible   forms of voidness
 Blossomed.
 It is  always risky  to seek  the  soul
 That   throws away  the  mask.
 The  risk of enjoyable emotions.