The masquerade

I often came across a face, which wore a masquerade circadian bright flashy,sometimes grey when eyes flashed as pretense. while it stepped out dodging the world The ruse, it played became deceptive aid. Changing masks, a regular charade simulation of hidden guile What a guise, the face plates? Façade of false expressions Pose of honest… Read More The masquerade


“me” the universe rotates around, swirled “I” in the prism of creation dissolves the outward character like a particle of salt I be a part ,now of the supreme ocean… One drop ,is what I become of the gigantic waters… What for then”I” cried and wailed When tis the drop ,what I become! Rather promiscuous… Read More “I”


O! look ,there’s the real poet who pulled out his heart adorned it with “the blows of ruthless love” the mute feelings unearthed from gravels slide as drops across the scar creating a magical aura in between the theme. The silken imagery of fabulous scenes diced with stupefying verses dipped in the blood ink.  … Read More THE REAL POET