Aquarians- Parts 1 & 2.

"Aqua Luna - Part 1 aka The Presumption."

In some distant mind,
thru the layers of age
The Aquarian dreams ;
In spasms of lunar fanatsy
comes the notion of wind gone awry
like the crystal cuts a sharp light
it takes a second to awake
and then the world seem so ochre
not for a thousand shall he sleep.


" Aqua Luna - Part 2 aka ( Union of cusps )
Now awakes the eyes of the dreamer
a thousand sleeps has he been to
a thousand dreams can he been in
like the soft,wet textured orchid
the eyes blink softly to morning bliss
and as the blue jaded iris turn
to take in the sight of the golden ferns
a fluttering butterfly flutters by
as the hand of the lady in the rose velvet
makes an arc to tip the cusps of fervent
and once swirled these waters will foment
in a divine conception of the unknown
the water bearer stands in awe
of the silence calling in mysterious chanting
of a distant religion or a once forgetten living.

AQUA- LUNA ( part 5)

“The insane wisdom of the waters bearer ,
Sheer calculations of the days to come
Who needs to love him ?
At least the moon is not dead
I hold the water in the cusp of my palm
The infinite craving for knowledge
To be and let them be ?
Who thre the stone in this pool of fear and loath ?
Ripples reachibg back and forth ,
My mind is in a whirl pool
The eclipse brings out the moon in me
With two dark sides the one you never see
Who has got the keys to unlock the doors
The darkness finds its way thru my minds gateway
The child looks familiar with age though grown deranged
Distinct definitions of gray over white
The water beares waits thirsty and parched
Here is no well-to quench his thirst.”

Aqua Luna –part6

The face in the mirror looks in the mirror
Frowns at my own sight
Questions unanswered
Searching fot the possible freeway
The child is dead
The man is still unborn
He waits for the face in the mirror
Hints of some possible familiarity in strangers
Layers upon layers of thoughts
Shifting like the sand dunes
The wind of forgiveness never blows over these ruins
Reason’s just sift thru the sands
Scattered in the dust of conscience
Lovers facing each other eyes never meeting
Held back by unknown pleasures
The water flows dark and muddy
While the serpentine death lurks inside
These hands tremble at the knowledge of truth
Lost and confused don’t know what to hold
If only there was a hand
To hold mine and lead
A little help and the road could have been crossed
But all those friends were caught in commotion
And the man holding the dead child
Is still there,waiting,standing alone
Has the time run out for me????

MUSHROOM….
“Mushroom……. The repulsive one
Always growing where people piss
Mushroom….the symbol of detachment
Of isolation
Mushroom……the obscured one
Born decayed and born again
To be trampled underfoot
Swallowed in boilibg hot soup
Stuck in the larynx of an unfortunate one
Mushroom……the magical ones
With the caterpillar atop it smoking hukkah
Whirlpools of technicolours giving a ride to wonderland
Mushroom…the unfortunate one
Never recognised….till it dies “

All the above were written while I was at Jehangir Art Gallery ,Bombay circa-94-95.

The Pebble Jewel
(in memory of M.B. aKa Baba(1972-2004);The real jewel in mine pebbles as friends)

(R.IP- dear manish...and i will be joining you there...Neelabh.)