Where its.

dark corners
sad nerves
retired spirit
I ask is there something left

mud house
plastered with rotten up soil
the fragrance of being
exotica it speaks.

it belies
beliefs forbidden
narrow paths
I curve hard
to understand
what it means

Where sun shines
heat is scorching
mud house

I again see
if it makes a sense

it says

I have had enough
with senses.

I stop short
to interrupt
its empire

I know
its not
the reach
forbidden

I look
somewhere

where its

its boats you see.

boat club
I see every morning
evening as well
some boats
penny less my heart
asks that much
I simply ignore
hawkers

sad notes
haunt me

may be
you cant tell
why

its boats you see

every where.

I have lived may be only in Chandigarh by now all memories gone sore I sometimes ask my lonely walls why is it so we stay together.

where you not
I ask
lets not write such
fascinating words
are trucks on nitrogen

only to be blown up by some
gelatin rods.

I have tired
of my own making

its says
lets go somewhere

how should I
tell
even somewhere
got gelatin

everywhere. 

I dont know.

One day I heard some Pataudi was saying Yamuna river is stale dark and duff but it simply does not touch lal kila as now a days roads have come around this expanse. When floods may occur it may happen but by then some times half sentence gives more meaning.

when I was young
chetak scooter
President house was open all sides
even Parliament house inside could have

now when I pass this area
remnants of Pataudi saying

every day some hands
flowers make seeds
not all

shoots and buds

I learned at Kashyap Hall

I happened to write
I have brought three necklace

Kiran was asked

if I could remove

you have no time
I know

but when Pataudi
comes

I dont know.

as I wait.

probably neither scientists know nor public can afford to know x and y chromosomes have been conventionally evolved by nature to save upon physiological efforts.

gutters of my heart
blossom
effervescence of your hope

sad is why its so
often it asks

words
fail its own meaning

as I wait 

hard.

I cant write prose how crude methodology is adopted to spoil the brave ever possible hearts at the sick brains of taporias but happen to have high very high profiles.

naive dark shadows
Chandigarh my own making
death nell can be written in many ways.
my history teacher
used to cane us
memory has failed me
when I remember best

dust storms
asked my cloths
yet it its hard
it tears thro
took hard
harsh are bushes
I make one

magnolias flourish
I search why

wait is forlorn
asks my heart

I take deep breath

how deep
it could have

why its so

I find reply
hard

I wonder.

drops come
one by one
ask
wet ridden thee attire
stocky bins
hidden sobers
may be
its less

we are
see
its time

eyes full
time less
promises

I wonder