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poetry
Satish Verma, 30 april 2023
So Shall Be
Why bewildered?
There is always something
to say to unknown,
You wouldn't believe.
Where violence ends,
God is born.
The hummingbird
croons a note to bring
back, spirit of hymn.
Satish Verma, 29 april 2023
Path Taken
It will not happen
again, the eye contact
with swaying moon.
Smoke was rising
from heaps of dead leaves
from distant garden.
You become a past
in the hands of slaughterer.
Ethos plays game.
Satish Verma, 28 april 2023
The Power To Burn
Shy from finding
the depth of your being?
I was walking on the
cobbled shadows.
Like thinking of
afterlife, when you were
preparing legacy of black moon.
Who would not do it?
Would you go to
the fire temple to know
the age of dying god?
Space widens between the eyes.
The grid cannot
hide the deepening chasm.
Your musing shifts. A pen,
the paper and words assemble.
Satish Verma, 27 april 2023
In Disquietude
You were lost
in this brutal world
I was a failed truth.
Exotic your heart
still sings for the future
of awakening.
Very old, very pained
were our wounds.
Man was rising every night.
Why were you not
present at sunset, when
twilight was burning
in moon?
You need a gift
of grave to stay cool
when the sky was burning?
Satish Verma, 26 april 2023
The Poem Before Meaning
Choosing the dusk
before dawn to halt the
flowers beheading.
It wriggles like
snake, the time. No wait
between life and death.
Take me to deep
sea of pain. I will never
count falling stars.
Satish Verma, 25 april 2023
Elusive Peace
One scripts one's
own doom, standing at the
bank of a dried river.
Bone china reflects
the destiny of ‘being' in war
of grounded ships.
Limbs take you back
to the ruins of young night
outside of moon.
Satish Verma, 23 april 2023
Gifted Hands
I don't hear
I don't speak.
Only the ink flows-
without words, waiting
for birth mother.
Water breaks.
A poem is born.
Satish Verma, 22 april 2023
Blue Lights
In lost island,
water and boat, I
will never know you.
A volley of stings.
I bleed inside, without
single drop falling out.
There will be no
tiara, to put on the head
of pain.
Play on flute,
before the sunset. I
want to invite fireflies.
The numbers don't
agree. War continues for
the red sea of tears.
You won't reach
your abode alive.
Satish Verma, 21 april 2023
A Pinch Of Salt
Was there a purpose
to wear mascara
and nestle in giant
clouds?
You scare me
holding the candle
burning at both ends.
What was the
confusion before jumping
from the bridge?
O moon, I always
loved the honey color
of your skin, before
collecting ashes.
Who had created this maze,
I will never know.
Satish Verma, 20 april 2023
Becoming Yourself
The fear right
below your skin, festers.
I listen to hissing sound of
simmering muse.
Space between the
words suffers. There was
no meaning left by
unspoken ties.
The castle of dreams crumbles, brick
by brick, in the hands
of sleeping volcanoes.
You need a
snake charmer to sway
the beauty of crooked
smile of time.
I still watch the trap.
Satish Verma, 19 april 2023
Sacred Horse
Charging at the
huddled moon, palm
leaves release the
elixir.
I watch a beautiful
death dance, pouting
her lips,
very quiet.
Oh, precious pain,
come again. The
rock wants to
commit suicide.
My entreaty
will not reach the
heavenly bird, I want
to walk on holy sin.
Satish Verma, 18 april 2023
The Myth Of Truths
After you gave me a
split rupture,
there was a mirror pain.
The bruises get away
without mercy. A hand will
write reversely a poem.
You cannot erase
the stink, which comes from
the mouthless words.
And the triangle
will eat the floating bodies
of bloated dreams.
Who always chased
me with subtlety, when
hills were crumbling.
Moon becomes lunatic.
Satish Verma, 17 april 2023
Take Back Your Swallows
You let go, of me
to wear the hawthorn's
crown, to probe, what I
wouldn't know.
In the ending was
beginning of a fragile
kiss of waning moon, before
the daffodils fall on ground.
I try to forget
the number of steps you
have not taken towards
the moment of enormity.
The laced wounds
prepare to make water
thin for the sleetof
salt water in red eyes.
Satish Verma, 16 april 2023
What You Were Not
In soundless
landscape, I will meet the
ultimate, waking pain
of understanding.
Back and forth
pillars of strength would fall.
Nothing else will shock me.
Measureless I become.
Do you see a halo
around the moon? She was
the goddess of a
lost songbird.
I want to stop
thinking. I owe you the
holy truth. Life was
no more grainy.
Satish Verma, 15 april 2023
Suffering
When I ask for
the innovation, you
lob the moon.
Glass and sand
in your eyes, melt into
kisses. There was no
other way.
You cannibalize my
poems, make a statuette
and wear the pendant.
You stone a wall
of paper. Why did it
carry the names of
failed gods?
You watch the stream
of tears feeding the red
poppies about to be
slaughtered.
Satish Verma, 13 april 2023
Want To Think?
What you will not
say, after becoming cosy
with the moon in sleep walk?
Holding my hand,
you wanted to squeeze
time for the sake of fallen
star in the black sea
of ifs and buts.
The tears were
great solvent, when you
inhaled the fumes of
karma, to go high.
The seizure will
come again, wrapped in
golden shroud, against the
hope of suicide.
Meditation brings
sweet music.
Satish Verma, 12 april 2023
Maturity
Black tree
feeds the blood root.
There will be no sonic
connectivity.
How could I love
you so, at moonrise?
Shall I say the watercolor
has been washed?
It was not the culture
and style of time. The
renaissance wants to extract
the rare price.
Crisp nouns would
take revenge on the
unuttered words. The sacred
ism was no more valid.
Let the clouds cover
the bleeding sky.
Satish Verma, 11 april 2023
Ephemeral Wings
Night was pregnant
with the moon.
The execution will follow.
An arrow finds
a path, which leads you
in fog of baby steps.
Adoration lived in
the narrow eyes of firefly.
The dark bush sways in
flightless arms.
Embrace of an
angel goes amorously
tense. Negation leaves a
deep wound.
There would be no exit―
of the trembling pain,
live on the flames.
Satish Verma, 8 april 2023
Fall In November
Hurting myself
in piecemeal to reach
your meanings.
Paradise lost―
for one day, when the makeup
goes in flames.
I will be in sea,
when the valley burns deep
and a Digambara
finds the truth.
The mob was arranged
in place. Wasps had very
thin waists, but stings
were sharp.
The smile was
venomous. You will not
live to see the slaughter.
Satish Verma, 7 april 2023
In Dustbath
The freckles were
appearing on the face
of Venus―
Arms broken.
A man-eater was shot
dead, while feeding.
The reddened skin
invites a vespa. Sometimes
you love the stings.
You wait for
the sunsets, before the
Venus flytrap shuts.
Drifting on the
dust road, I start
searching my lost address.
How will you hear
my voice?
Satish Verma, 6 april 2023
Most Gifted
The trauma will not go,
I will go to sea.
My lips reciting veda.
You hire the new currency
to buy a kiss of bodiless lover.
Sky offers the moon.
Infallible palm
spreads the leaves foe your
footfalls not to single
under the sun.
I speak wordlessly
you listen by eyes.
Mercy kissing comes
in vogue. You have increased
the surrender value
before the Agni.
Satish Verma, 5 april 2023
Who Was Creator?
I am scared.
You are becoming human,
looking back at the
colored leaves falling in autumn.
Was your pain
ripened? And you bled
poems? Ah you were the―
first wooly animal!
Surreal. Dancing
with beautiful words to
entice the lies. To woo
the narcisstic mode.
Thought of dying
shimmers like a fish in silvery
water. I won't throw
the net in your eyes.
River will not drink
its water.
Satish Verma, 4 april 2023
Hope And Despair
Home coming
was not true. A character
remained unread.
What image was
holy? You walk barefoot
after worship to listen
the voices of earth.
The volcano weeps
for centuries, waking
the flames one day. What
were the questions
which had no answers.
A pink bandana
becomes the heartache
of moon. No star was
worthy of you.
The book wipes out the
new sermons.
Satish Verma, 2 april 2023
Out Of Question
Will you break the
golden triangle, one day,
and come to river?
Time-lapse memory.
I will meet you midway to
hold your rough hand.
Do me a favor.
Write the other name of fire.
When you walk on the
sleepingvipers.
Can you push the
rock like Sisyphus after
refusing to color the night?
Rose is rose. Can
you commit for black petals
which will stay
in hot sun?
Andrzej Talarek, 1 april 2023
Psalm Siódmy. Sędzią narodów, Panie, byłeś zawsze.
Biblia Tysiąclecia: Modlitwa oczernionego
Jan Kochanowski: W Tobie ja samym, Panie, człowiek smutny
Księga Psalmów dzisiejszych: Sędzią narodów, Panie, byłeś zawsze.
Sędzią narodów, Panie, byłeś zawsze.
Dziś tym daliśmy sędziom spraw sądzenie,
co za pieniądze wyroki łaskawsze
mogą nam wydać po przystępnej cenie.
Więc nie czekamy na Twe rozstrzygnięcia,
bo zbyt odległe, trudne do przyjęcia.
A prawa nasze, choć nienaturalne,
pisane krzykiem pod dyktando tłumu,
w konstrukcji swojej są akceptowalne
dla ludzi biernych, wyzbytych rozumu.
Myśli zaś skryte w słowach uładzonych,
policja pozna jak Ty, Nieskończony.
Czego przez spowiedź do Ciebie nie ślemy,
na świat krzyczymy miliardami bitów
i słowa w sercu, i nerkach mielemy,
aż wyjdzie papka ni grzechów, ni shitów.
Za złudną tarczą firewalla trwamy,
opiekę Twoją na przyszłość chowamy.
Choć bywa chwila, gdy jesteśmy sami
z czymś, co sumieniem ciągle nazywamy,
nie definiując, myśląc sloganami,
gdy z nagłym krzykiem nocą się zrywamy.
Gdy dobroczyńcę lub wroga wspomnimy,
obu skrzywdzonych, i się zawstydzimy.
I ciemność lepka staje przed oczami,
w sufit myśl chroma uderza jak kamień,
niby ptak nocą, bo nie ma Cię z nami,
a sędziom sądzić nie daliśmy sumień.
Chcemy słać apel do wyższej instancji,
rojąc na jawie wydumane racje.
A kiedy wreszcie sen nas ukołysze,
zapominamy rankiem nasze zmory.
One przed śmiercią zabiorą nam ciszę,
całego życia wskrzeszając upiory.
I nie zdążymy wyjść z grzechów gęstwiny,
by przed Twym sądem stanąć już bez winy.
Satish Verma, 1 april 2023
This Panorama
Sitting on a white
rose, the miniature god
writes the lines of life.
Inside animal implodes.
The dark blue blood has a
weird relationship
with broken limbs.
Dismembered,
I don't want to die again.
The bright Ariel claims
for the rebirth.
Was there a promise
to repair the flesh torn
out from the bones
of faith?
It is too much dark
here, I don't see your face.
Satish Verma, 31 march 2023
Ash On Roses
I am, because
you are not there.
In cold blood
you slice the moon
and drink the tears.
The forest path
opens for the shot
tigress. She will
survive.
A mysterious hand
picks up my name to
write a wounded
poem.
There was no war
between the gatherers
of blood-soaked shirts.
Will you come back
bone, flesh, heart?
Satish Verma, 30 march 2023
Lost Tribe
At life closing,
were you in peace
with your slips?
The weariness brings
a curse. You start
shredding.
Like a newfound
fossil egg, you kiss
the lost poem.
A dependent
wound stops hurting.
I bring a stoned version.
The moon and the
resurrected dream,
throw long shadows on lake.
My boat goes in flames.
Satish Verma, 29 march 2023
Not In Wake
Your theme will
not endure the momentous
push. Stars are falling
one by one.
In row of skulls
time stands still, to revise
the angle of moon. Now
the words haunt. We are
in peace.
Will you embrace
the religion of trespassing
against rituals? You were
the creator, you were the destroyer.
Venus sleeps naked.
Talking of self, we
forget the nature of
vicious vipers. Can you play
with the flames of past?
Which of the god was not
a love child?
Satish Verma, 28 march 2023
Every Moment
Do not unveil the
wound of errors.
Let me in―
in your green eyes, where
the goddess weeps.
The terror changes
the polarity. You were in chains,
fighting the demons of sea.
Unlike moon, a star
plunges in valley of tears.
Who will measure
the depth of fall, from the
edge of life? Time has the
wings of golden eagle. It
flies on the peaks of thoughts.
And the merciless
gray of dementia wipes
out the words.
Satish Verma, 27 march 2023
Caretaker
Cannot undo, the
headless leap of faith.
It was not the answer.
A thousand moon
I will wait for the calamity, when
you come back with empty hands.
Playing Mozart,
I discover myself in the
jungle of antlers.
The grief survives
eternally. I arrange all
the words to spell correctly,
a white death.
The black tree
stumbles on pale moon.
The angel will not
open the door.
Andrzej Talarek, 26 march 2023
Psalm Szósty. Panie, Ty byłeś zawsze Bogiem miłosierdzia.
Biblia Tysiąclecia: Błaganie o litość
Jan Kochanowski: Czasu gniewu i czasu swej zapalczywości
Księga Psalmów Dzisiejszych: Panie, Ty byłeś zawsze Bogiem miłosierdzia
Psalm cierpiącego
Panie, Ty byłeś zawsze Bogiem miłosierdzia,
więc proszę, sądź me winy tak jak dobry sędzia,
jednak dopiero kiedy żądze w sobie zduszę.
Dziś, proszę, ulecz ciało, a w przyszłości duszę.
Cierpienie jest bezsensem, bo cierpią niewinni
pospołu z grzesznikami, chociaż nie powinni.
Nie jest karą za grzechy, jak było przez wieki,
nie naprawia człowieka, czyni go kalekim.
Ono zasłania Boga, im większe, tym bardziej,
jak zło, które je rodzi dla ludzi w pogardzie.
Zmniejsz je przynajmniej tyle, by było cię widać
i modlitwa do Pana mogła siły przydać.
Spraw, by z kroplówką łaska spływała pomału,
wtedy prośby do Ciebie dadzą zdrowie ciału,
żebym w cierpieniu był tym, który Ciebie łaknie,
bo któż Cię będzie chwalił, gdy życia zabraknie?
O cóż dziś więcej prosić, Panie mego ducha,
któryś jęków o zdrowie przodków naszych słuchał,
kiedy jesteśmy syci, chociaż w bólu niemi,
nie wierząc, że królestwo Twe będzie na Ziemi?
Co jeszcze możesz zrobić, Boże, Stworzycielu
Kosmosu co poraża, dla ludzi tak wielu,
którym ckliwy obrazek do wierzenia starczy,
gdy ich prośby do Ciebie powrócą na tarczy?
Satish Verma, 26 march 2023
Divider
Mauve detachment;
I wanted a short placenta.
The dust wants
to eat me. My legs give―
away, when sun goes
blind.
I will offer you
my dreams to nestle
in paws of destiny.
Don't walk on the
hot sands. They are going
to roast my poems.
I smell your pines
I drink your cones
Lake was inviting
the boat.
Satish Verma, 25 march 2023
Camouflaging
A hard drink of
heartache, and you blink.
It was very difficult
to understand blues.
In black sky
you whimper and ask
only for the love to happen between
the sweaty hands.
The stings have
a job to do. They breed the
wasps amidst us. So your
signs bleed.
The night terrors
return. I touch the toxic
insignia. Such pure flesh
will kiss the poem.
Andrzej Talarek, 24 march 2023
Psalm Piąty. Usłysz, Panie, głos z Twej ziemi.
Biblia Tysiąclecia: Modlitwa poranna o utrzymanie się na drodze Bożej
Jan Kochanowski: Przypuść, Panie, w uszy swoje
Księga Psalmów dzisiejszych: Psalm krzywdzonego dziecka
Psalm krzywdzonego dziecka
Usłysz, Panie, głos z Twej ziemi.
Niewyraźny. Jakby niemi
próbowali coś powiedzieć.
To, co, Boże, musisz wiedzieć.
Słuch masz, Panie, doskonały,
co przenika nawet skały.
Więc głos dziecka krzywdzonego
słyszysz. Odwróć się do niego.
Ono w hańbie swej zamknięte
jak w skorupce z ziemi świętej.
Z niewinności swej obdarte,
w swym mniemaniu na proch starte.
Milczy za swym wstydem skryte,
za grzech wini siebie przy tym.
I jest samo. Nie pomoże
nikt mu oprócz ciebie, Boże.
Tylko wie, że nienawidzi
za te słowa i się wstydzi:
Bóg cię kocha, ja cię kocham,
musisz wierzyć i nie szlochać.
Wierz, bo nikt ci nie uwierzy,
że z twej strony prawda leży.
Bóg łaskawy dla nas dwoje,
niepotrzebne niepokoje.
Nie wie, że niemiła Bogu
jest nieprawość jego wrogów,
że Pan nienawidzi świni,
która, grzesząc, się nie wini.
I nienawiść je przeraża,
niemoc wokół je poraża,
obojętność je zabija,
kłamstwo, jak pętla na szyi.
A na szyje młyński kamień
dla przestępców. Panie, zamień
krzywdę dzieci w miłość Twoją.
Niech za siebie się nie boją.
Ześlij Boże Twoją zgubę
na opasłe karki lube.
Pokaż im swe obrzydzenie,
wypędź, gdzie jest świń pasienie.
Bo spiskują przeciw Tobie
krzywdząc nawet spoza grobu.
Sami są jak grób otwarty,
a ich język mówi czartem.
Osłoń słabych swoją tarczą.
Niech radości im dostarcza
Twa obecność, Panie, z nimi.
W niebie, ale też na ziemi.
Andrzej Talarek, 23 march 2023
Psalm Czwarty. Sprawiedliwość wymierzasz Boże w swej mądrości.
Biblia Tysiąclecia: Modlitwa i napomnienie
Jan Kochanowski: Wzywam Cię, Boże, świadku mojej niewinności
Księga Psalmów dzisiejszych: Sprawiedliwość wymierzasz Boże w swej mądrości
Sprawiedliwość wymierzasz Boże w swej mądrości.
Proszę, wyjaśnij jednak moje wątpliwości:
gdy modlę się, lecz Ciebie w mych dłoniach nie czuję,
dźwigasz mnie z utrapienia, czy skrycie biczujesz?
Czy jesteś dla wierzących na ich zawołanie,
czy wciąż za tajemnicą ukrywasz się Panie?
Czy wyrzuty pod innych adresem rzucone,
mogę wspierać, żeś zawsze jest na mą obronę?
Jak wykazać wątpiącym lub tym co nie wierzą,
że oni też do Ciebie, jak i ja, należą,
że możesz im dopomóc przejść ciemną doliną,
bo iść z Tobą lżej będzie i w mroku nie zginą?
I że darów nie muszą ci składać ni hołdów,
bo wystarczy westchnienie i kropelka modłów
ze słów prostych sklejona, co wprost z serca płynie.
Boga wzruszy w niebiosach, w nicości nie zginie.
Ja zaś Cię chwalić mogę słowami najhojniej,
że moje szczęście w Tobie i sypiam spokojnie,
boś w życie wlał mi Boże tak wiele radości,
że bez niej w Twej winnicy bym musiał zagościć.
Satish Verma, 21 march 2023
Crucifixion
You had big
violence in your bones.
I suffered. Dream merchants
were ready to violate.
Benevolence descended
to know the depth of anger
in the eyes of the primate.
Why skin had gone thick?
The trapped scream
of the buds waits in lul
before the storm. Roses were
going to explode on the altar.
Bride comes slowly.
She had a date with
the thinking god. There would be
no consumption.
Satish Verma, 20 march 2023
Supernatural
You were dressed up
to burn. Tears had memory
pure as gold.
The ache of standing
in flames of tongue, to wash
the hands and underbelly.
Where would you
find the green words ready
to weave the silk?
that was my poverty
to mine the glass and mercury.
There was no inside,
no outside.
Give me the fever
as hot as moon, when you
harvest the sun beams.
Satish Verma, 19 march 2023
Greek Tragedy
Where blue meets the
red, I will bring moon to cross
you river of tears.
Thousand suns away
the pygmy god sleeps in thatched
hut, to feel the pain.
When you swim in my
eyes, I become an ocean
to drown the deity.
Satish Verma, 18 march 2023
Defining Equation
Returning to past
you tend to remain all mum,
murmuring nothing.
Measuring speed
of light coming from my eyes
without spilling dark.
What burns up, ejects
the sparks on your shroud
of three parting words.
Satish Verma, 17 march 2023
Sacred Steps
Retrieve me, by my
voice, to stay at the pause
between wounded words.
Unopened scar
beams from the moon to heal
the breached faith.
You know, lips always
remember the kiss of sun
in raging snow.
Satish Verma, 16 march 2023
The Ascetic Grieves
Why Buddha waits for
Yasodhra, to become sane
and atone a sin.
The time was catching
up. Like someone plucks a
narcissus for prayer.
Pink and white, the
cherry blossom in your eyes
cracks the asphalt.
Satish Verma, 15 march 2023
Trekking
In blue dawn
pure truth will hinge on the
personal moons.
I was ready to tell
you all rumors to learn the
art of mimicry.
The air smells of the
masks. Not fakes. Skin dries
up to dew emboss prints.
Satish Verma, 14 march 2023
Form And Muscles
You talk of evil,
I become incendiary.
The name had power.
Unthinkable. You
fight the lurid details of
chopping off fingers.
How would you write
the opus of human slip
for seeking royalty?
Satish Verma, 13 march 2023
Embittered
Mauled, with no
known crime. Autumn wanted
to take revenge.
God's will, not the brown
eye's dilemma, to suck the
venom of moon.
How long the struggle
will continue to understand
the color of blood?
Satish Verma, 12 march 2023
End Of Suffering
Snow and Sparks. Methane
burns. I will scramble for the
moon in dark woods.
The desires leave
the scars in dreams. I walk in
sleep to touch you.
Where the world was
going? You dismember the
frog's limbs. No rapes.
Satish Verma, 11 march 2023
Recreation
Like sphinx I put up
before you, three questions.
What was in a name?
A bane? Deceptive
image of a sin? Don't
give me everblooms.
You give brief
answers. I should know them. I
am setting you free.
Satish Verma, 10 march 2023
Repeat Dilemma
A secret poem for
you, to forget myself lost on the
noiseless sea.
Of words. Reclining
Buddha in dilemma, to
wake, not to wake.
I was on voyage
to find the bliss of salt
in starvation.
Renato N. Mascardo, 8 march 2023
TO A FRIEND
being my friend at 3am
i can’t
even imagine
please let me try what you
feel right now in this darkest hour
before
the break
of dawn being
so alone so short of
breath half reclined in bed so so
tired but
too tired
to sleep instead
my wheezes keep time with
the wall clock that keeps vigil as
best as
it can
conducting this
cacophony of pain
within and without rising and
falling
my tongue
nails skin eyeballs
nude scalp bowels all clamoring
to be
heard by
an audience
captive and one trying
to sort out and plan what still lies
ahead
too much
to learn way too
many steps that can be
taken detours to hurdle when
will all
this end
initials like
notes chirping around me
her2+ adc dfs pfs
leave me
alone
quiet my heart
the war proceeds recedes
the siege continues but i’m far from
alone
but in
this deep lagoon
of ennui in this the
coal black hour of the night please let
me live
an hour
or two of quiet
desperation so that i can
savor all the more another
new day//
renato
wednesday 8 march 2023
Satish Verma, 7 march 2023
Impeccable
How do I carry the
moon, wherever I go to search
you between the clouds.
Gradually, thoughts
become homeless. Can't catch
the wheezing flies.
Blaming self, the trunk
dies inside. No sap will
rise. No glue will roll.
Satish Verma, 6 march 2023
Small Pains
I want you to call
me, when my shirt was stainless
and sun was rising.
The monarch lands on
my book to read the verse―
meant for the moon.
The empty mind spins.
Script was totally burnt-out in
my voicelessness.
Satish Verma, 5 march 2023
Whom To Sing
The first stitch
of the poem. Painless words.
There was no song.
The lull before the
blast. Buddha bends to pick up
the tangerines.
Deep orange-red
sun rises to name the sin.
There was no saint.
Satish Verma, 4 march 2023
Sorting Again
Love blooms in hush,
like cranberry. It heals soul,
half moon, half stings.
Gives you wisdom
to singe without flames
in month October.
Woe was done for,
when the snow comes in
to cover the scars.
Satish Verma, 3 march 2023
Not Any Acrimony
At dusk, I will smear
your lips to color the moons.
Acts like Midas touch.
The dunes tend to
shift from the shivering hands,
when the knuckles bend.
The scope expands.
You will walk on periphery.
I will tow the line.
Renato N. Mascardo, 2 march 2023
OF SATELLITES, TRAVELS, & FRIENDS
occasional sputniks
fellow
traveler each
one of us was is and will
be from birth to our last gasp
whether
we choose
to or not the
elisions we build merge
and consume parts of us with
pleasure
and pain
companions in
hurt and healing love and
hate being around even when
ignored
off and
on together
we have become casual
sputniks yet we persist or at
least
one of
us who reaches out
to keep the sputnik flame
burning til our discrete journeys
dissolve//
renato
wednesday 1 mar 2023
Satish Verma, 1 march 2023
Ruminating
The fire thoughts rise,
when the stinging stubble burns
on your green face.
It doesn't smell, the
forked tongue. Taste was
sweet on the skin.
A crimson twilight
narrates the glory of sun,
inviting the moon.
Satish Verma, 27 february 2023
Under The Bodhi Tree
Would you remove
your mask once, and come to
me as you are?
Don't throw the pebbles
to skin my pain. The wound bleeds,
to quote the past.
I ask myself to
be quiet in this moon time.
Saint was turning red.
Satish Verma, 26 february 2023
What You Didn't Say
When Rilke stops
whispering, I search
the cut flowers of gladioluses.
You don't speak
at all, blinking your eyes
anxiously. There was no
spate of quivering lips.
The exodus of long
breaths had the lethality.
Words come and go like,
a bunch of bees.
My problem was,
how to meet my beautiful
end.
The culture, the
wisdom would wait for
the angels.
Satish Verma, 25 february 2023
A Paroxysm
Something was left behind.
I was collecting all the
dried roses for the prison of
eyes. I ask myself― what was that.
Something was left behind.
A black rose? Near the
smoked candles of poems? A
tiger lily, still had the blood spots?
Why do I forget the precious things?
Something was left behind.
I wait for the butterfly,
to wake, which had breathed
last between the tender
moments. Why do I want?
Something was to be left behind!
Satish Verma, 24 february 2023
Water's Face
Space versus time.
You blend in my singularily
I will meet my other self
in the black hole.
Counting my heartbeats
I will cleave to you, but I find
that only my shadow―
walks with me.
With minimal touch of
love. I discover the asset of
stupidity. Like feeble thoughts would
swap for stinging tentacles.
A bizarre equation appears.
The fearsome becomes a jelly
fish. I am trying to give
a name to quarks.
Satish Verma, 22 february 2023
Strange Pictures
Don't read;
feel the words. They weep
in full moon.
The hills were
moving. Trees wouldn't
wear the dresses.
I was not ready
for autumn. Can you come
back after the death
of hope?
The stalkers
stand in queue
to harness the dark energy.
The frills were
beautiful. Face was missing.
Satish Verma, 21 february 2023
Don't Kill The Moonlight
Dying inch by inch
to catch you between the poems
before night ends.
Life changes words
without sounds and vowels.
You will not find truth.
Create a wound
for me to print image
of fall from honeycomb.
Satish Verma, 20 february 2023
Fear of Losing Someone
Your memory returns
to listen to waterfall
and watch sunset.
Body speaks to soul,
interpreting eternity.
Something doesn't die.
Whom to call in dark
when you blow-off the lantern?
Hail the arrow man?
Satish Verma, 18 february 2023
No
Reaching the end of
life, are you ready to listen
when I don't speak?
The charisma of
gods was wavering, you will
smear the poles red.
Step by step moon
climbs down, the blue lake, for
last rites of blaze.
Satish Verma, 17 february 2023
Glinting
Ready to barter my
last wish with your tulips
glowing in eyes.
I didn't ask for
any help to decipher my
blue dream of edge.
Two little words may
be sufficient to
resuscitate charm.
Satish Verma, 16 february 2023
Meditating Again
Adoration short of
consonants, was a sin
of little gods.
My silent prayers
beseeched you again, like
humming raindrops.
Kiss my bodiless
sleep in sad poems, when
the scars of words start
moaning.
Not to wake pain,
I held your hand for
eternity to write my epic.
I fumble, I forget.
The days I don't fall
in love with thorns.
Satish Verma, 15 february 2023
Ignorance?
Who was honest to
toes, to take a flight
like a legend?
Hearing the voices
in head, you appeared as
a gift in dark.
Was there any code
of silence, in feeling a
guilt of smiling
when hurt?
I was talking of
basic pain, like a jasmine
to cuddle when touched
by a moonbeam.
Marek Gajowniczek, 14 february 2023
Lobby - dżentelmeńskie hobby!
Nie obchodzą mnie dochody polityków,
za to bolą mnie niewielkie - własne.
O różnicę nie podnoszę krzyku,
lecz rekinom - politykom nie przyklasnę.
.
Każdy bywa nagrodzony za pokłony
przy pomnikach wznoszonych na placach.
Za to lepiej jest uposażony.
Czołobitność politykom sie opłaca
.
Żyję skromnie w świecie przez nich okrojomym,
nie bywając w gabinetach i pałacach
i nie cierpię przez to za miliony.
Nie czekając kiedy z nieba spadnie maca.
.
Pewnie jestem z tych za nawias wykluczonych,
którym laur nigdy skroni nie pozłaca,
a należę do zadowolonych.
Proszę jednak o nic do mnie się nie zwracać!
.
Zimą karmię Bogatki Sikorki
strzegąc przy tym domowego swego kota
i nie dla mnie Emiraty, Nowe Yorki,
bom się nigdy o szczodrości ich nie otarł.
.
Niech gotówka strugą płynie w Chobielinie
sum dalekich od unijnych apanaży,
gdy domosień o skrywanej winie
nie ma żadnych dotyczących dygnitarzy.
Marek Gajowniczek, 14 february 2023
Pączkowanie podniebnych meduz
Ten, co był "pod..." chce być "nad..."
Latawce, dmuchawce, wiatr
niebezpiecznie ponad głowy
pochylone nad straszakiem atomowym,
niosą skryte pod powłoką,
a wymierzone wysoko
nieznane ludziom zamiary -
bąble, bańki i koszmary
hybrydowej prowokacji.
Na co hegemon w reakcji
podjął skuteczne ostrzały.
.
Nie wiadomo, gdzie spadały
wsiąkając w sensorów śluzy,
bo myśliwce oślepiały
macki podniebnej meduzy.
Wielka przestrzeń Oceanu
wymaga korekty planów
i tak właśnie się zaczyna
upadek kostek domina
agresją "poniżej progu..."
Podział na przyjaciół - wrogów
i polaryzacją sitw
w rozbiórce systemu SWIFT!!!
.
UFO może nam rozpalić
kryzys o globalnej skali
z myślą o Porządku Nowym
po nalocie balonowym
bez szkód oraz złych intencji
sztucznej już inteligencji.
Satish Verma, 14 february 2023
Opening A Wound
Lunatic will
not go for adultery, like
a river which doesn't come
face to face with ocean.
Ink of genuine
poetry spills on the wings
of a dying butterfly that spreads―
out without bleeding.
The poet has nothing else
to say. It was a spirtitual
fault. Man tries to overrun
the god.
The raging viper, likes
the soul, to negate the thoughts
towards anonymity to read
the age of sun.
Satish Verma, 13 february 2023
Strange Rivalry
Your lips start
quivering, when I touch your
intimate aura.
My defence was
always neat, not to be
misled in half-light.
Why do we suffer
in the hands of the unknown,
when we know the ending?
Satish Verma, 12 february 2023
Unmasking
You own your breath,
talking to dust adrift.
Earth was dark and cool.
Heaven was hot bright.
Velvety black
night falls on the flowers
coming to see moon, like
in passive surrender.
A cloud sits on the
eyes. You were in haste.
There is no beginning, no end.
Salt water was panacea.
Death never comes
alone to carry the old
bags. Names were grafted in
the brown leaves.
Senograsta, 11 february 2023
Pijawki i obrazy
Jak piękna pani wysyła mi wypuszcza obrazy by żyły poza nią
tak ja wypuszczam pijawki z moją krwią do rzeki
Krew dojdzie do Pradżapatiego za horyzontem
a jak do zakola tajemnic to tam będę trwał w zanikaniu Marzanny
Czego szuka życie i istota? Dobrej śmierci Dla ryby i pijawki
Dobra śmierć to życie
Czy dla śniegu stopnieć jest bólem
Czy będziemy go trzymywać sztucznie przy życiu
Czy niezliczone robaki co tworzą mnie
będą mnie tworzyć poza granice mego trwania?
To ostatnie życie trupa to też tylko rozpad i rozłączanie
Chcą zginąć w szczękach We mgle i oddaleniu
bo taki ich los i przeznaczenie
Moje ciało też chce się rozpadać gubić ślady a potem rozpaść
I to jest wypłynięcie krwi z wierszem I to jest życie
Bo teraz proszę piękną o obrazy a może byłem już o nie proszonym
Bo mamy czas..
Satish Verma, 11 february 2023
I Am Not One
This saga follows
the stargazing of one
buried ethos.
Where the words stop
to transcreate the ruins of
hymnic heritage.
You cannot change
the world. World will change you
at the end of gaze.
Satish Verma, 10 february 2023
Honor On Sale
Coming of age
in dark waters of thoughts―
to swipe the moon.
Half-bread was
not sufficient for the earth.
We need some sky.
Words don't come
easy, from the scythe, to draw
a line on face.
steve, 9 february 2023
Time Won't Stop
You say that I don't give, the kind of love you need...
I say to have a forest, you first must plant a seed,
It isn't that there isn't love, it's not like I don't care...
It's just the things that matter most, are things that we don't share,
I don't need to tell you, again the way I feel...
For if you cannot hear me, these wounds will never heal,
There's not a day that passes, that your not in my heart...
And not a day that passes, that we don't tear apart,
I've heard it's just a fine line, between what's love and hate...
But the clock for us is ticking, and "time won't stop" to wait,
I wonder if things were different how happy we could be...
If we break the chains of anger, and set our spirits free,
As long as we hold to pain, these chains will hold us down...
And we'll look back at what was lost and love we never found,
I don't know if you hear me, or if were too far gone...
But I'm out here on this ledge alone, for us I'm holding on.
Satish Verma, 9 february 2023
Half-Blues
Don't bury my pain
in your sad blinking eyes.
It won't fill the void.
Who was evolved
from a cruel beast into
a human being?
Some pieces of
divinity survive in the
bright passion flowers.
Satish Verma, 8 february 2023
Earthly Claims
The lunacy of
touching you, to plug a―
hole, in your innocence.
I wanted to explore
the horizon in your eyes,
where sun meets moon,
in graveyard of sins
and virtues.
Before you had become
my shadow, I used to smell
a distant scent coming
from a slithering
wet body.
I fumble for the words
for mercy of pain. My desert
was once a sea.
Satish Verma, 7 february 2023
A Beautiful Song
To begin again,
the travesty of understanding
life.
A mole, a warton
the face of fractured psyche,
I will never know you.
Generations bleed,
to feed the corpse flower―
of fraternity. I go
insane.
Going beyond the
touch of your life, I begin
to shred my forbidden
sin.
You know what
was classic love, to burn
like a moth on flame.
Satish Verma, 6 february 2023
Hope In Undoing
Stay till end of
my poem, for
dying sun.
Howling winds searched
my body, my soul
when I stood alone.
The blue scorpion knows
its religion. That was predation.
Landfall for hungry.
If the blood leaks,
the victim sings for moksha.
Milking starts.
The golden leaves
are peeled off from the moon.
No night was safe.
Satish Verma, 5 february 2023
Living With Grace
Didn't agree to
sell the dream, for afterlife.
There was dread of
crossing the graves.
Moon intends to
come one step closer, to
find your candor. The innards
wouldn't take off the veil.
There was no iconic
shadow. Hope was fading.
Time to confront the unexpected
assault. Light enters from a crack.
What could be a
second coming of realization
on week legs, in twilight
of disturbing truths?
I am holding the mirror
at a distance.
Satish Verma, 4 february 2023
Ancient Landscape
Weeping asokas were talking.
Only THE Plato will tell
the truth about republic.
I was shaken like
dew drops on grass in whirlwind.
No end of unending.
Moon goes on rampage.
When will you meet me in charisma
of midnight September?
Mankind will not
change. The stones roll down
to remain afloat in river.
Take off your hand
from my shoulder. You have
to go for a long journey
without me.
Satish Verma, 3 february 2023
With No Anger
Truth survived between us.
You were my anthem―
in dying light.
Like a crucible, the
absent moon, fills it with a poem.
Maybe you will find the signs.
That the illusion
transcends the truth, and
becomes blue.
Who will be born―
again in the ambit of
slavery and deliverance?
Ah, the tragedy
of life was, to give
away the honey to insectivores.
Satish Verma, 1 february 2023
Like Hurricane
How would you retrieve
the soul of moon? There was
not enough darkness.
Long back, the ink
was always black, and
the words would tremble
like aspen.
The echo comes
loudly resounding the green
valley's anguish.
Don't hit me,
by a vivid farewell. Buried
one's head in poems
somebody walks through you.
The wound had been― still raw.
A panther jumps on the antelope.
Marek Gajowniczek, 31 january 2023
Niepewności czas nerwowy
Gdzie Car Dzwon obok Car Puszki
tam Kagiebistów wierchuszki
i moskiewscy bojarowie
radzili, jak armii mrowie
poprowadzić aż za Doniec,
wieszcząc reszcie świata koniec,
grabiąc, burząc, gwałcąc, paląc,
na nic się nie oglądając.
.
Na przeciwnym krańcu świata -
tam skąd człowiek w kosmos latał,
Centrów Wywiadowczych świty
widziały przez satelity
gromadzonych wojsk roszady
Znając groźny plan zagłady,
tylko w silnej odpowiedzi
wszystko, co Starlink wyśledził
stałoby się łatwym celem.
Pozostało by niewiele
Wschodniej Flance do zrobienia
w kolejnych kontruderzeniach.
.
Jak ty komu - tak on tobie!
Różnica leży w sposobie,
a wyniku nie zaręczy
nawet udział sił zastępczych,
co może problemy sprawiać.
Może więc lepiej rozmawiać,
choć splątane są języki
znawców geopolityki
i strategów hybrydowych.
.
Niepewności czas nerwowy.
Satish Verma, 31 january 2023
In Full Moon
Cuddling instinct.
Was that important to
hug a bear?
Standing like a
candlestick, you want to
touch the blue sky.
What emotions do―
you need to beat the
unbroken kisses?
Something crashes
inside, like bone china
to mimic the brutal
fall.
Be some tender―
to me, I am carrying
a burning glass.
Marek Gajowniczek, 30 january 2023
Gotowi na każdy scenariusz
Na styku dawnego i nowego,
chociaż nie ma nic dobrego,
trwają rachunki sumienia
i trudna do przewidzenia
nastąpiła sytuacja.
Pokój czy kontunuacja?
.
Pokój niby ludziom droższy,
może zdziczenie zaostrzyć
odnawiając siły wojny.
Czas pozornie jest spokojny,
ale geopolityka poszukuje zapalnika
i nie podejmuje akcji
bez zaczepki - prowokacji,
jaka może bez wątpienia
wskazać winnego zniszczenia
i kolejnego horroru,
jaki nie dał już wyboru
gotowej na wszystko stronie.
Musiała stanąć w obronie
ludzkości oraz wartości!
.
Domysły, nie wiadomości
błądzą po zamglonych mediach.
Strach zobojętniał - spowszedniał,
ale bój sie nadal toczy.
Jutro może nas zaskoczyć
czymś naprawdę niespodzianym,
a świat jest przygotowany!
Satish Verma, 30 january 2023
Incredible
I was hungry
and you fed the tiger
back and forth.
And then a fierce
battle commenced between
lie and truth.
In temple of eyes
deities were disappearing.
There was no signs
of large fig tree, under which
you can sit to become wise.
Satish Verma, 29 january 2023
Revelation In Dark
You begin and end
in sameness. The trust will
veer you back home.
I won't teach you
to define dignity of
salt in brown eyes.
I knew, the bridge
was going to collapse
one day on water.
Satish Verma, 28 january 2023
Microevolution
Kissing under the
mistletoe. Moon puckers
wearing a hijab.
The creed tumbles,
for vast and open space,
to remove zeros.
Treat me as I was.
The shadow falls on lake
when time freezes.
Satish Verma, 27 january 2023
Drunk Like A Bee
My charm lies. You
will not come in this poem
without toes.
An amputee runs
on blades to wipe out
tears of colossus.
How do you know, the
karma always walks bare
foot in dry river?
Marek Gajowniczek, 26 january 2023
Mama Ciao
Nie płacz mamo!
To było rano:
Pada strzał, pada strzał,
pada strzał, strzał, strzał...
i nas długo opatrywano.
Każdy wojnę przeżyć chciał.
.
Medyk z Polski wiedział to samo,
cicho nucąc "Mama ciao"
i chociaż nas ostrzeliwano,
jak szalony drogą gnał.
.
Leciałem potem
ich samolotem
Mama ciao, mama ciao,
mama ciao, ciao, ciao...
Choć z kłopotem -
wrócę z powrotem,
a nie każdy szczęście miał!
.
Śmieją się starsi terytorialsi:
Oleg wstał, Oleg wstał,
Oleg wstał, wstał, wstał...
Roześmiany dzwoni do mamy -
Mama ciao, Mama ciao,
Mama ciao, ciao, ciao!
Satish Verma, 26 january 2023
Unwritten Affair
This was eerie
in blue seizures. Half-mother
was ready to defend.
The sun, spins the hot
ash overnight. The waste land
will never answer.
You wake and lose
the rare event of alchemy.
Gold turns to base metal.
Marek Gajowniczek, 25 january 2023
Deutsche Opposition
Leopard, lampart, pantera
różne imona przybiera
w zależności od potrzeby
mataczenia, również żeby
przy wykrętach i kłopotach
móc łatwo odwrócić kota
w inną stronę wraz z ogonem,
gdy wszystko jest uzgodnione
i dowodzić już na nowo,
że to ogon kręci głową,
a sprzeciw wciąż nie zależy
od deklaracji Kanclerzy,
których postawa jest twarda,
jak pazury leoparda.
Marek Gajowniczek, 24 january 2023
Informacyjna sieczka
Do sieczkarni szatkujacej ścięte drzewa,
ktoś paliwo wciąż dowozi i dolewa.
Już od świtu huczy, warczy gilotyna
i nie można do wieczora jej zatrzymać.
.
Budzą wszytkich, choć to bardzo wczesna pora,
a przestaną na jesieni - po wyborach.
Lecą wióry. Przekładają stale miazgę.
Przesiewając, zawsze znajdą jeszcze drzazgę.
.
Czy wytrzyma rozdrażniona to ulica?
Ta wycinka już nikogo nie zachwyca,
ale sprzeciw nie obchodzi wcale drwali.
Będą hurkot nieustannie powtarzali.
.
Zatrudnienie wciąż ta sama ma ekipa,
a sieczkarni żaden ząb jeszcze nie wypadł,
choć trafiała i na śruby i na sęki,
bo profity wyciszały jęk udręki.
.
Ciąły klekot to nie jest łabędzi śpiew.
Warkot, wycie, to nie wici ani zew!
Zwolenników ta metoda
już zniechęca i nie doda,
lecz medialnej propagandzie weszła w krew.
Satish Verma, 24 january 2023
Sleep On Stones
Words of violence,
violence of words. From where
these letters come?
The duplicity of
message unfolds the snaky
chess play of destiny.
Dreams, they will fly
away like sparrowS in a
troupe of actors.
Satish Verma, 23 january 2023
Strange Encounters
Will go sepia, if
you are black. No shipwreck was
visible after.
Let colosseum
break in, under the glass ceiling.
Come September.
The end dance begins.
There was no cracks in the
moon, lips waiting.
Marek Gajowniczek, 22 january 2023
Z krainy Deszczowców
Przemieszczenia i dostawy -
wielka gra wojenna.
Tajemnic swych strzegą sztaby -
Obawa wzajemna.
Burze oraz gęste chmury
ukryły zamiary.
AWACS stracił widok z góry
przez antyradary.
.
Napastnicy nie liczyli
na swoją technikę.
Z wyprzedzeniem przekupili
Unii politykę.
Teraz wiedzą, słyszą, widzą
więcej niż by chcieli.
Dawnych metod się nie wstydzą.
Komu dać? - wiedzieli!
.
Money, money, money
kont Panamy
zacierają ślad.
Money, money, money -
Świat przegrany
nie doliczy strat!
Aha, aha,
Póki Orkiestra gra,
bój na wyniszczenie
jest w groszowej cenie
i bezkarnie trwa!
Satish Verma, 22 january 2023
Any Ambiguity?
Between us was
left a prelude. I open
the ruined book.
Why there was other
pain in eyes. Differentia?
Of unknown feel?
A creeper climbs,
your small window of psyche.
Jets ethereal spray.
Satish Verma, 20 january 2023
Think Again
Is it sacrilege?
Half-men were becoming―
predators? Insects?
That transcends the
sounds of agitated earth.
You don't bend to kiss.
A perverted sense―
prevails. Listen to rustling
of darkened night.
Latest comments:
29 april 2024
Weronika
Promieniowanie ciała doskonale czarnego.
28 april 2024
samoA
dziękuję. uśmiech posyłam
27 april 2024
Jaga
Bardzo, widać że dobrze mu z oka patrzy ;)
27 april 2024
On tak dostojnie chodzi, że to czysta przyjemność
27 april 2024
kb
hm tutaj pokazano niejako wprost sprawcę światła.
27 april 2024
sufit, uśmiech i barany... no tak to jest, sama
27 april 2024
"wszystkie modlitwy wymyślili grzesznicy"
27 april 2024
social-real. bardzo fajnie ujęte
26 april 2024
jeśli tylko
właśnie :)
26 april 2024
Adam Pietras (Barry Kant)
Dzięki, Violetta!
25 april 2024
violetta
Dziękuję:)
25 april 2024
Bociany są takie ufne:)
29 april 2024
Satish Verma
28 april 2024
Jaga
28 april 2024
Satish Verma
27 april 2024
Jaga
27 april 2024
Satish Verma
26 april 2024
wiesiek
26 april 2024
Satish Verma
25 april 2024
wiesiek
25 april 2024
Satish Verma
24 april 2024
Satish Verma