Beyond the horizon of furor Rests my philopolis, Where love takes tint like Sun through the day. Where a song shapes dreams Of lush spring plums. Words weave wisdom
Bombay – Thy presence is a mirror to my dreams, To visit thee, my heart screams! Being one with thee, was all I needed, Delays galore, by and by I succeeded. Thy first sight came in a flourish,
My life without me, A speculum through which I see, Hermes’ lies and Thoth’s folly, An awakened flower, pleading for a bee.
Yellow Pages of My Life I feel scared To explore the box of reminiscence. Who knows,
I wonder how it is to wander, Aimless to the core, Where food comes with the thunder, And shelter on the shore.
Two plump toes went printing, The map of a hungry heart. Like a flame in wind, Gliding, resting, Smearing milestones in smoke.
Born as injected, Now as we travel to the corners of the mind, Were the soul is shackled, No friend No foe, But misery prevails
Statutory warning – Cigarette Smoking Is Injurious To Health. Statutory relief – Non-Smokers fall sick as well. “Mukesh was not harmed during the composition of this poem.” You made me fall in love so fast, My smoked romance with you...
I wander aimlessly Lost in the bedlam of life A lost voice Hidden in The eaves of darkness Lost amid cuckoo chirruping Unheard unspoken
The Last Picture of Sanity Oh Winged Wonder, As you take flight, I peer through the window sill, My mind vanishes into this Bright Light, The last picture of sanity, A negative, A giant ball of fire, Even in darkness...