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.

On the bike

Two feet take turns
to stride towards the end with fury.
Each push each side
forces me along the velocity.

The quicker I go
The nearer you are under my feet.
The harder I push
the more impossible to propel you.

Queer attachment
I cannot remove you!
Dark passageway
As if the moon was you!

The moon follows where I go;
your eyes accompany my flow.
Wonder if I've reached the edge of sorrow
yet sorrow seems not finite shadow!

Dissecting a Heart

Terrible blade
penetrates into soft muscles;
soft muscles cannot
resist the acuteness
and bursts forth like a flaming blossom
with one million heavens in -

The pulmonary vein
a long lake on which floating boats
rolling; carrying piles of correspondence
of slow influxing breaths
of your pristine, pure perspiration
as scent of the oasis springs up the dryland

The aorta
a turbulent sea cannot longer await to
toss and turn fierce and fertile fishes
preparing to mate, to
send all over Atlantic
the affection the broad blue water holds

The vena cava
a lazy-going reservoir of sentiment
exhausted creatures thirsty for love
find a quiet resting place just in
search for what they deserve,
what the story entails

The pulmonary artery
a finale of rowing river of impatience
holding nearly-bursting bottles, and towards
the lungs, tails of love-alphabets are
written in breaths and voices
jostling in particle-filled air towards you

Lolita

He resembles my dad, 

In a way that he says

Goodnight in a German accent 

Beside my bed.

He resembles my schoolmaster, 

In a way that he'd holler

With sheer solemnity

When I create a blunder.

He resembles my childhood idol,

In a way that he is 50 years old

Now, with glamorous charisma 

And sharp wit as lightning bolt.

He resembles my mentor,

In a way that he'd offer

Inspiration unconditionally

To make me an excellent writer.

That's why I resemble LOLITA,

Loved by a man whom is older

Than me by two decades or greater.