the poet in me is born out of conflict, despair, boredom, and from the very rare moments of absolute success.my poems depict strings of my mind.... to read them, is to read my mind, to feel them requires to be near me........ thus in the other sense to know me one must read the invisible letters hidden in my poems.....
In the dark alleys of my mind
They run about.
Sometimes lost, sometimes found.
Sometimes emerging faintly through the dark
...
Suppressed below they try to break through
Suppressed down the ages, they try to
Reassess their identity
Regressive attitude have marked their entity
...
Blood is still oozing out from the deep slit…
A sheaved hand,
Few gapping mouth,
There was a blast here…
...
Eyes no more close to sleep
I hear the groaning
Pagan voice,
Neither it speaks of it pains-
...