With every intoxication, the red devil ascends near,

The smoke whiffs fail to stop the lethal fear.

The circle binds, finds our each secret,

With every drag you’re pulled in – a devil’s bait.

Fiery music, the lips hear.

All evil the heart will bear.

Now there’s no turning back,

You burnt the ways yourself.

The tomorrow - full of ashes....

The moon

I want you to take me to the moon,
There’s a secret..a dark secret stretching out of a dark room,
Take me to the encroaching moon..

Let the smoke taste the salty waters of the sea,
If it turns into a mist ..let the smoke set free…

Let’s touch the cotton spreads on the sky,
While the wild birds of night fly by...

Let our inner selves float,
Like the waves carrying the salty froth,
The sand bits stuck to our foot ends,
And the soft dark clouds as our sleds...

I want you to take me to the moon,
There’s a way to the heaven from the moon,
Lets hold hands…the smoke will show
the distorting way to the silent moon...

Not all love knots are unbreakable. Some face the storms and grow as strong bonds, while some are woven to split one day - here's one such story...

The ropes are tied
And the ropes are rigid
The ropes are tied
Untie it I plead

They look at my helplessness
And they laugh so loud
They look at me with hatred
And they mock unbound

Dreams made the world
And the world dreamt
But the world killed the dreams
And left the dreamers to faint

So many rules
So many paths
The world made
Follow them blindly
The world said

While crossing the tunnel
A light arose from nowhere
you touched my soul
and filled love everywhere
my world blossomed
while you brought the sunrise
happiness in every dew
love in every flower ties

we loved from within
and we loved heart-whole
but our love was something
the world did not allow

‘we belonged to different worlds’
they said
we can’t be one
the rules were made

my dreams are tied
and the tie is rigid
….the tie is rigid
Untie them…I plead…

The backpacking trip

As we rush to and fro in the city...facing the same old routine...same old phone calls...there comes a moment in our life, where we really stop and think -- is this wat i really wanted?? or is there something out there..i really need to seek!! The moment passes by. But, the craving stays back.


let our life be like a backpacking trip

wine bottle in your bag and whisky in mine
sweet water of the regions and brown bread to dine

let the unknown streets hear your guitar tunes
and our footsteps be carved on the sand dunes

let every border crossed seem like a new birth
and let our experiences reincarnate a new cult

the aromas of each town
the cold rivers flowing down
their kingdoms, their cultures will be our discoveries
which will flourish as our golden memories

the mourns lost in the darkened homes
will drop tears in our souls
to see a new sun we will move ahead
but those images will never fade

nothing pure as an angel, no rivals so cheap
let our life be like a backpacking trip!!