When you call

when you holler
the wind, the rain, the thunder
will come through

when you whisper
the dew, the breeze, the drizzle
will make do

and when you call
the sun, the stars, the moon
will serve you

Bauhinia

Bauhinia

Popping violet in green bush sturdily rises 

in front the sky-high concretes.

Bouncing branches among monsoons carry 

heart beats of urban hustle-bustle.

Imperial far east as it’s first found

remains a not-twice anomaly — cross-bred,

East and west, airheaded mistake or 

calculated diplomatic?

Painfully blossoming in gloomy traffic;

like a fake corsage pinned in

personage-filled banquet room.

A fruitless efflorescence!

Alas! The bauhinia is a curse of

perennial flourish! Fate has it however spendid, 

remarkable, reproduce not itself except

on tattoo-ed finite silver money.

Headache imagery

Gall-bladder temple

Frog-hopping pulse

Heartbeat in head

Thoughts clotted bad

Star-tattooed retina

Monochrome metro map

Tree-lined blood vessels

When lids drop dead

Thought-cramped arteries 

Tunnel-jam veins

Poppy-red watercolour 

Blotted on cheeks

Semi-vibrating eardrums 

Two times thick

Cut-blade breeze 

Heats up mists.