May I Say

At ethnic moment on the moonfront, artless impressionists of parallel conflicts with anxious looks come to share the self realized truth of mangled uncertainties, watching your own dead body : small chicks huddle together for contemporary thoughts of violence-to kill or not to kill- humanity walks with bent head listening nothing: I am desperate, the moon was stone faced black holes bleed and throw the crystals of red light: drop your pen and hold the death on doorway, morning wind was coming from the seaside: for dissolution of your ego, I would go for a long swim. SATISH VERMA