there seems to be a glitch with this page.

Now a days its thiny climate. very easy to fall sick of some disease and the like. 

probably this aegon religare company does not understand the value of my cool nerves.

what at all.

morning
its attires
spoken words
verbatim tune

throbbing heart

Nature puts
it fingers

one by one

ask
it s

what at all 

skyscrapers
melting economies
anvil of cauldrons
roads
ask its pedestals

skyscrapers 

at your hands.

a day
small lanes of Narayana Delhi

some printing job at hand

I was lost
the soft boy at his works
and its PC

when I see your snaps
intensified
its

lunch hr
I asked official driver
lets have

suje kei kulchei

romance I saw

at your hands. 

poem broadly speaking is a unison plasmatic existence where versatility of ones existence vis a vis Nature comes through may it be in a plethora of kaleidoscopic life and parameters may be beyond. 

crystalline connectivity to cosmos and its existence is something that can not be achieved with brain that is the reason poem is not practically a product of nerves. Making stupid sentences to work like some rather many have had in recent or past times but that is no where a poetry that is a juglebandi in common knowledge.