poetry

poetry
Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 october 2019

Forces Unseen

He was slated to become
godless, without engaging―
the nature.
 
The violence continues
in every joint, after an ego clash
in fractured body.
 
A blood carnival, between
divine and the beast, paying
the debt of earth.
 
The decadence. Let it be.
Becoming beautiful
in great decline.
 
The dice has been thrown.
A chance to meet―
the death after the duel.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 october 2019

Flawless

Like walking on coal dump
coming of age.
 
Magnifying the blackness
of a miner's hands.
 
Excavating a long burrow
to feed the pain.
 
A muffled cry and you
locate a bound sea.
 
A clear moon was rising
as a witness to this atrocity.
 
A classic dance of an
angry god to show the presence.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 october 2019

Cross Beams

A quest for negativity
after becoming apolitical.
 
The moon was marginalized,
when you lighted your―
earthen lamp under the
holy basil.
 
At night the demons
begin the assaults to
make the milk dirty.
 
The bluebird descends
in the dream to pick up
the elders for a wreath.
 
I am not going to cross
the river in flames.


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Renato N. Mascardo

Renato N. Mascardo, 13 october 2019

and so it goes

muscae volitantes
 
floating
pieces of my
memories just beyond
the pale of the eyesight of my
dim mind
 
in the
morass of my
past the flotsam of what
I thought I knew flit by out of
my reach
 
still in
blind hope I wait
unwittingly for thoughts
long gone for wit long lost to me
I wait//
 
renato
13 october 2019


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 october 2019

Did Not We Cry?

Ash and smoke.
I am fever, not becoming
any sound.
 
Like a lichen, a mycorrhiza
on damp soil,
unfound by light.
 
Thriving in airless
dark. Will not see the cool―
moon of summer night.
 
There was no key
to find the invisible.
A random poem will see.
 
Your painted body
in blue scars, still
remembers the fallen roof.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 october 2019

Bloodless Eyes

The fresco had started
peeling off. I was―
searching for my ancestors.
 
The walls had the secrets
buried deep in the bricks―
when they were baked.
 
Few abandoned poems,
some fakes and counterfeits
and many masks.
 
A dynasty speaks of
the grieving world without any―
remorse. I do not arrive.
 
A birthday present for the new
generation, a bronzed
face with glazed eyes looking beyond gravity.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 october 2019

Renunciation

The bifurcation―
was complete.
A fire baby―
and a weird ritual.
 
Criticality was redundant,
once I knew your gender.
 
Reeking of timelessness
in zero hour.
You fly the balloons―
from the ruins.
 
I scraifice a tree
for you, with
a shrill cry―
falling mid-flight.
 
White moon had
become very harsh.
I will bring honey
for night.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 october 2019

The Seeker

Skin bleached in moon,
you prepare yourself tonight to hit the mystry,
 
of a recipient. The days are
tattooed on your body. The hands become claws.
 
A terrorist, becomes a canine,
biting blood-hot.
 
Like the opal, in a slow stream
of light, displaying the pisces around your―
 
eyes, swimming. There is no
money left to bring the milk of blue pain.
 
A physical contact via moon,
would you talk to me after the glorious sunset?
 
O, multiheaded cobra,
which of your hood is going to strike me


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 october 2019

Sunbath

The tibial spiking
now hurts.
The floaters on the dried bed―
 
of bones, speak volumes
of sand in eyes.
Pawns have disappeared.
 
The earth is wounded.
A snake climbs onto the pink lips
to know its crime.
 
The matter interacts wrongly
with radiation. Spectroscopy
fails up to the hilt.
 
On the spur of the moment
I ignite the shadow
of the space between us.
 
The miser starts counting the coins.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 october 2019

Musing On

There was an urgency―
to finish the job,
beheading the tulips.
 
Wolves were coming.
 
The surveillance had failed.
Nothing but clouds between
the titles.
 
Writing was illegible.
It was the last offensive
of blankness.
 
Before the dawn.
You have to draw a crescent
moon on my forehead.
 
I am going to scream.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 6 october 2019

Concealed Fever

It is raining.
The water colors.
I miss the ache.
 
When, to wear a crimson
dot on forehead, the sky
had become a bride.
 
Destiny fractured.
Why did't I tell the lies
 
to achieve the greatness?
Not my effects. I stare
blankly at your portrait.
 
Blaming the conceptual
crisis, you cannot speak the truth.
 
Weaving a web of unseen
threads, you hold a poem
ready to take a flight.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 5 october 2019

A Hanging Tale

Your hands tremble,
when you accept―
the cup of hemlock.
 
Not like Socrates,
who described the ascending bane
paralyzingly.
 
Art of letting it go―
was inherent. Exogamy.
The root population grows.
 
I have come to take
your hand, O death,
out of caste.
 
You tell me,
it was out of turn,
to stitch the black wound.
 
The howling was persistent―
Moon was not yet sighted.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 october 2019

Being Alone

Writing your own elegy in a
blocked artery―
 
for a syntactic analysis.
How do I know
 
that dolphin will remember
my name,
my address?
 
It swims silently.
No ranting.
 
Eating nothing― anorexia.
Standing under a tree,
tying the thread round the trunk,
you want to move against
the time.
 
Only a question
remains unanswered.
From where the journey begins?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 3 october 2019

Not A Dream

Imperfect mating.
I am lurching forward―
in a chaotic
non-existence.
 
There was no divinity
in your sinless sprinkling.
A timeless death was
the only riposte to ephemeral queries.
 
A lif-size God stands
sentinel outside the museum.
Only the mortal were
etched on the walls.
 
A pygmy cycas has bloomed
after a decade. I have come back
home to collect―
my belongings of last life.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 2 october 2019

When Technology Fails

Your comatose
countenance:
punctuates a coronal spurt.
 
Life will never
forget this insult and return
your freak awards.
 
The moon cancels
a lake meeting. You cannot
celebrate the arrival of night.
 
Helplessly, I scrap
the terror threat, though
your memory was severed in an ambush.
 
At ground zero,
a young couple starts a sit-in
against the raining sermons.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 1 october 2019

Testimony

A wax house you were
gifted to live in sun.
No comments. As if the chess
game now starts. You do not know
how to move a checkmate
 
Always a looser. You do not
want to win this game― of
betting the cemetery― where your
ancestors were buried. No―
body has come to claim the remains.
 
Unkissed, the seeds will wait
to become antiqued, till a
historian finds a shovel. A
state of mind, you were very poor.
I will not cry for the fall's colors.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 30 september 2019

Moon Burning

I become again a fakir,
but not on alms.
 
A giver wants nothing
after a knife thrust.
 
Take away as many as
you can, my thoughts, my limbs.
 
There is no language
of charity, in the black hole.
 
You are the one, who
does not need any ladder.
 
Sitting on the beach, watching
the waves collapsing.
 
One day you will move
away from the walkway.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 29 september 2019

Proclaming

After land slips it was
most surreal scene. Cadaveric
donations had started.
 
The author of death would
ask for a showdown. Blood
for blood and bone for bone.
 
The loneliness erupts again
like a volcano. The new moon
will weep for outdoors.
 
A mermaid breaks the
rules. Starts wearing the
makeup and becomes robed.
 
Fishing in aquarium was
prohibited. An absurd
proposition of the glass.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 28 september 2019

A Patty Thing

The primal urge to undo―
your hair. I am going
crazy.
 
It ends at beginning.
A rite of passage to nakedness
of soul, when you have
nothing to hide.
 
The master cell, has flipped
over, after you squeezed
its belly. The tasteless sphagnum
was out.
 
The hunger stands at your door.
Wants the bread of pride.
Will you stop the clock
and go for timeless?
 
I had lighted the incense
sticks. One for you and
one for God.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 27 september 2019

Vast And Near

To shut the methane,
you sent―
the barbs. The brutal
assault against the thimbles.
 
I will not send the
edict for withdrawl.
Even the river
was thirsty.
 
The freaks were
jumping on the fence.
An interrupted moon
was wary of them.
 
I will draw a
sand painting to heal
the man on the
beach.
 
The air smells
like an egg. As you
run, the mist
fills your eyes.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 26 september 2019

Disconnection

Move on. O city, you
were not worth of
living any more,
sleeping on your tusks.
 
I will not assume
any other new name―
when the hurricane
finally arrives.
 
It will not go. You
can keep scratching
for whole life.
Your psoriatic scalp.
 
The attempt to
commit suicide was
worthless. Nobody
will write a note.
 
I will not invite
the white moon to―
break the fast,
after the bloodbath.


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George Krokos

George Krokos, 25 september 2019

Simple Observation 146 - After a new thing is acquired........

After a new thing is acquired and repeatedly seen
it will almost seem then as if it has always been.
_______________________


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George Krokos

George Krokos, 25 september 2019

Quatrain 151 - Do not tarry too long by the wayside.....

Do not tarry too long by the wayside on the road home that you have taken;
get up, move forward, look ahead to the horizon and with the sunrise waken.
If you've got yourself caught in a rut get out as soon as there is an opening,
because this world is a vast place with many paths and doorways beckoning.
________________________________


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George Krokos

George Krokos, 25 september 2019

Never Lose The Laughter in Your Eyes

You should never let anyone take away the laughter in your eyes
when they look into them and see the inner blessing is still there;
as they've recognised it being lost in themselves and try to disguise.
 
For if it is still with you, then you are very blessed indeed
and the other person will only try to steal that very thing
which has been missing from their life out of jealous greed.
 
It could be anybody you may know or will sometimes meet
in your wanderings, no matter who they appear to be like,
because they have squandered theirs and are now out to cheat.
 
That person will try just about anything to steal your inner mirth
in a deceitful or unsuspecting way; so you'll have to take care,
as it's rightfully yours and perhaps have even regained since birth.
 
The laughter in one's eyes is the connection with the bliss and light of the soul
which is inherent in all human beings no matter how cold they seem to be
but can be lost when one acts against their own conscience and neglect its role.
________________________


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George Krokos

George Krokos, 25 september 2019

A Long Lost Love

I fell in love and lost my heart
and that was why it tore apart.
The love given wasn't returned
by the one for whom it had yearned.
 
It all seemed so sad at the time
I often thought it was a crime.
But then I could be so naive
early in life's path to believe.
 
Nature's hand had dealt me a blow
and recovery was very slow.
Everyone I asked was futile
in answering to make me smile.
 
I sought for love in wrong places
and all I got was strange faces;
looking back at me with contempt
'cause in their heart love was exempt.
 
Rejection is a dreadful thing
and everyone has felt its sting.
A love you may feel for someone
is best experienced as fun.
 
Never force love on another
even if they're a real brother
You'll just draw them further away
and who knows what else is at play.
________________


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George Krokos

George Krokos, 25 september 2019

A Bumble Bee Mystery

I once had seen a bumble bee
or so I thought it was to me.
In the backyard one sunny day
I saw it flying low and stay
hovering there near a flower
as I walked by like a tower.
 
It was big and did seem busy
looking at it made me dizzy.
Glowing in an unearthly light
and its colours were also bright.
It almost seemed now I recall
that scene was supernatural.
Because in the blink of an eye
it vanished without telling why.
 
I looked around hoping to see
where it had gone this bumble bee
But no matter how hard I tried
I never again caught or spied
another glimpse of that creature
with such a radiant feature.
____________________


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 25 september 2019

I Will Write A Poem

He used to tread lightly as if
walking on concrete, barefoot―
to capture the apologetic
colours of rainbow in lake.
 
A spinning top, he wanted
to float on water and touch
the soft contours in depth―
wrestling with waves.
 
A dark sky was hovering
around. Something was rising
from the black hills, as if
on fire. I had never seen before―
 
the golden moon, rising. Two
song birds darting to and fro
as if in great agony to save
the nestlings from the lynx.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 september 2019

Beyond The Stars

Coming from the dark―
to deceptive bloodletting.
The light was my father.
 
That eternal moment
of pine cone―
to become the third eye.
 
The ancient memory
becomes vandalized. I
still treat it with respect.
 
The unclaimed truth was
yours. I wanted to retrieve
the spoken word.
 
Incongruously brazen
was your thrust, exhorting
me to drown.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 22 september 2019

By Any Reckoning

A young grasshopper lands
on the paper, I was writing upon,
making a chirping sound―
and starts reading the poem.
 
It was an exceptional treat
for the eyes. Shutting the storm
window, I will watch the rain―
pounding on the frame,
to recall the visitor―
 
which was behaving like a
celtic Druid, in meditation, to see
the future of mankind.
 
Not sure, the bent legs, will
ever lift the body and
propel it to move.
 
The mayhem was thin, but I
declared― the poetry
was not for insects.


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steve

steve, 21 september 2019

"Walk Away"

It cuts just like a knife.. everytime I hear your name..
And I feel the blood just drain away.. as I'm consumed with shame,
Your never going to let me touch.. the part of you I need..
And I'm never going to let you know.. just how much I bleed,
The tears rain down inside my head.. and I am washed away..
As this heart is broken once again.. by the things I couldn't say,
I tried to hide this burning flame.. but I got to close to you..
Now my whole dam world is burning down.. and theres nothing I can do,,
I don't want to beg you .. I'd rather "walk away"..
It hurts too much when you walk by.. its not your fault I'm gay,
Even tears can't douse the flames.. as I begin to burn..
And the pain that only lonely brings.. is far too strong to turn,
My hearts desire in front of me.. and yet a world away..
But I'd give this life to feel your love.. if only for a day.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 21 september 2019

On The Death Of A Friend

Unsung:
how it was, you died
wearing your shoes? The
jesamins will meet you―
in the backyard.
 
The stains are unwashable;
like pomegranates bursting
open on my chest. The
screams still run after me.
 
How do I get you midway―
in anonymity. I never wanted
you to go, my make-believer.
It was not homozygosity.
 
Your face swims like
a dragonfly on the interface
of tears. There was no re-entry
in the frame of life.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 19 september 2019

Infinity Of Aching

Leaker had started
the invasion of the lake.
The house blinks every night.
 
Was there any civility
for boats to collect―
the skeletons from the bed?
 
The dust dances in my
empty home. From where―
the ashes of wounds had come?
 
There was fear of unknown.
I was afraid of the fear.
I am burning your address.
 
I see an apparition. A
branded witch. I don't care.
Death was always my friend.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 18 september 2019

Another Mistake

Training your voice, you
had come around to open―
the door of the miasma.
 
The departure stretched
very long. Strange blinkers
were holding the light.
 
A cunning God would
not let you die―
in the trenches of syllables.
 
The moon would withdraw
from the humming night―
for a face-lifting.
 
One blind sun, hurts
the path, where I had
laid the marigolds.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 17 september 2019

It Was No Magic

When you would be absent,
O Druid, I will know you better.
Time leaps my watch―
I have become blind.
 
It was not enough to
read― that was not written yet.
I am coming down the mountain
to meet the dust.
 
Life was not very kind to me.
Too much undoings had given
me a white sheet to―
write the names of fugitives.
 
I sweep the floor, I wash
the black earth and shut―
the windows. Too much knowing
had made me a dwarf.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 september 2019

An Elegy

The abundance spills on my
torn shirt, when I was
gathering your voice.
 
The affiliated sore
begins to fester in your face―
after flying a kite.
 
It blurs, when you give
a speech, manipulating the lives
of innocent bystanders.
 
When you were heaving the numbers,
I was holding on the poems, like coins
not your paper thoughts.
 
Being blind was not becoming
a Buddha in the garden.
Suicides were increasing every day.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 september 2019

Killing Yourself

It was a flame in the drizzle:
a golden peacock.
I was trying to understand
the Adam and Eve.
 
Between X and Y, my
heliograph stood in the foliage of words.
The hetero factor was generating heat.
 
The mitochondrial Eve will
search the land where the seeds were
dispersed. The swinger was still
active in the dark.
 
You have missed the bomb.
The laser-fed boom landed―
in the crotch of death.
The black dust covered the grave.
 


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 september 2019

Where Dreams Live

Despite the great divide
a dialogue must ensue, between
earth and sky.
 
This was a climacteric change, when
you cannot land on your feet,
after the rainfall.
 
The criminal assaults, rapes
and homicides, bring the species
on boil. The books are our god.
 
You cannot start a group
conflict, skirting the question
of mining the gold.
 
The void within widens, you
will not tell my dreams. For each
star I had picked up a soul.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 september 2019

Kidnapped

Lamenting, what not to―
think. Condemned to burn
the words daily.
 
The dwindling values tear open
the sit-ins of faith. I was
not ready to become a stone.
 
A busy vessel sends daily, the
blood to remote memories.
I look askance at the falling peaks.
 
A dog star following the
heels of master with blinders. No
straight vision. Time was the
mystery of the clock.
 
The moon is nowhere
in sight. I was starving
for a cardinal pain.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 september 2019

From The Edge

You were becoming more prone
to violence, confronting
the moon. Heat was rising.
 
Like a mongrel, twirling
round and round in dirt,
to sit in.
 
It was very dangerous, the
racial thought of eliminating
oneself in the mainstream.
 
A morphogenic change
was visible. Why were you
shrinking in horror?
 
The group pain was getting
a hold of me. I am not
sure, what I will do now.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 september 2019

Picking Up The Threads

No attachment with the
alma mater. You have
eaten away all the grass.
Bounteous breast was empty.
 
Like a nun, dropping
the robes, the moon was rising.
Would you meet her in dark?
 
The night wanted to come
and sit in your lap.
Let us play with cowries.
 
You know my life was
never in the hands of god.
I was a walking tree.
 
So simple were the means
of death. Nobody knew
who was me.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 september 2019

From The Streetlamp

Hits you in the face, 
disseminating the chivalry 
of fragile connotation. 
 
A virtue slips away from― 
your hands, when you think 
what is a pain. 
 
Then the poem starts 
writing about the pen 
which had no ink. 
 
You need courage to― 
smash the mirror which 
was telling the truth. 
 
And the complexity of 
relationship comes, to the fore, when 
the belief was stronger than love.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 september 2019

The Raging Storm

A scavenger fails to thrive
in upward mobility.
The emotion becomes a virtual,
collects all the garbage
and becomes negative.
 
There are only varied questions
of different shades, and
no appropriate answer.
 
A fantasy remonstrates with the diminutive moon.
 
Stone pelting becomes a daily
ritual with the song. There
was no music in the language.
 
Scarves were few. And it
was very cold―
out in the chilled dark.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 september 2019

Influenced By Lingua Franca

Be precise, I would say.
The definition was changing― of the sand,
in our eyes.
 
Who was going to judge the
translation of sex? There was no man, no woman
in terms of misery.
 
The nights were deluged.
Days dry. My grains refuse to grow under―
the timeless sun.
 
The mother tongue is
laced with fluid endurance. I stand in
a storm, breathless.
 
The absent death
mocks at the living dead. How many times
you will go to the river?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 september 2019

Great Defiance

A smear campaign starts
against the ladder, which permits―
the ascension, but leaves the spaces in between,
of dark. You stand still.
 
The hunger becomes the mouth―
of rags. I will come and collect
some numbers.
 
It was useless to hunker―
after the game. The fear will ultimately
start a monologue.
 
On bees, I will build a
synopsis. The sleuth always falters
when the moon hides.
 
A canned script draws the
scorn. The player had become grey―
in dark.
 
A bunch of mushrooms,
like tall girls, standing
in wind, gossiping.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 6 september 2019

Seeking Carefully

Where do you stand―
in the crowd, for the love of a cause―
your feet cannot measure the ache
of the earth, respecting the rhythm
of a lone survivor.
 
Can you believe in the fall of a titan?
 
Stranded in accuracy
for a salt lick for
a zipless mouth wide open.
 
Intuiting,
what the flesh would not say.
 
And I keep standing by the midriff to see the face.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 september 2019

Moon Burning

I become again a fakir, 
but not on alms. 
 
A giver wants nothing 
after a knife thrust. 
 
Take away as many as 
you can, my thoughts, my limbs. 
 
There is no language 
of charity, in the black hole. 
 
You are the one, who 
does not need any ladder. 
 
Sitting on the beach, watching 
the waves collapsing. 
 
One day you will move 
away from the walkway.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 3 september 2019

Sound Bites

The plaques were being 
attached to the wall. You would not be able 
to go for refusal. The right to say no 
was inherent in yes. 
 
Accepting the exorcism and self― 
flagellation, exonerates you from the guilt of 
giving away; which was not yours. How 
can you claim that you are your own master? 
 
You tie a knot on the thread, hang it 
on the weeping tree, throw back your head, 
and wipe out all the questions, I wrote 
on your forehead. 
 
Peace― it will be mine.


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steve

steve, 3 september 2019

"Holding On"

I've been holding on for life, for love, for us, for me...
I thought the storm would pass by now, so that we both may see,
But the skies are even darker, than they were the day before...
And the distant sound of thunder, says that soon the rain will pour,
The cold wind stings, and takes its toll, each time that we lash out...
And its one step back, from where we were, when you live in love and doubt,
The rain pours down upon me, I've been holding on so long...
I thought by now you'd know me, but I've never been so wrong,
The stars once shined above our heads, now it seems like its been years...
And I haven't seen a clear night yet, but its hard to see through tears,
I wonder if the chance we had, is all we threw away...
Or just how much, that we have lost, for things we didn't say.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 2 september 2019

Shadow Boxing

Find an auspice today. 
The moon was coming back 
after an abdication. 
 
Lurching on cobblestoned stretch 
of blue-black clouds; paring 
the tall conical trees of 
royal pines. 
 
Heaped with roses, a man 
with no-war slogan, lies 
in the open earth. 
 
You will not perceive― 
any smell of smouldering pen and knives. 
 
The body turns without 
a comma.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 1 september 2019

Modesty

In fever, I will 
always see butterflies 
landing on your nose. 
 
White, yellow, black. 
They come and go and I am 
sitting under a cherry blossom tree. 
 
Stroking you, cajoling you 
to drop the wings. 
 
In grass the sun waits 
in a dew drop. 
 
The moon was not a poor thing. 
Will come in white robes 
to preach.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 30 august 2019

One Turmoil Deep Inside

Resisting your wisdom 
I want to remain, thoughtless. 
Not bargaining, I come in the crowd, 
to negotiate a stunt. 
 
The awakening, 
the trepidation. I pay honour 
to the great stress angler― 
my poverty of cruel jokes. 
 
Like a fox to reignite― 
the identity. I will move away 
from the body of blood soaked denials 
standing alone, against the genocide. 
 
Was still hungry, eating 
your violet-red― plums. Not was whole, 
the controversy. Somewhere a 
forensic evidence will say, mask was not real.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 29 august 2019

Interlacing To Catch A Theme

With the tip in the center, 
this is the circle of an iron will 
undoing the circination. 
 
You are moving in a straight line 
now. The knots in the chest 
will take you to surrogacy. 
 
The needle's eye was watching 
you― gauging your grit. 
Can you take a prick? 
 
Without blood? From an 
urn you lift a red string to tie 
on the hands of unborn thought. 
 
You miss a line, a word 
an image. Still it happens deep 
inside. An angst constricts you in 
pythonic grip. A poem becomes you.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 28 august 2019

The Atrocities

Friends and foes 
would have a scuffle 
about, who was going to pluck the lymphoma. 
 
A rainbow deflects, 
from your eyes, making 
me grasp for the breath. 
 
Seeks apology, while 
talking to trees, on boil 
was the language, under the poverty line. 
 
It does not make any sense. 
The rain catcher was on trail 
of a fugitive. 
 
The sun. Always hiding 
behind the veils of massacre. 
I am not going to face the moon.


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steve

steve, 27 august 2019

"Pretty Please"

Everything I've dreamed of.. when I close my eye's to sleep..
And every perfect lover.. who's price is just too steep,
Could not hold a candle.. to what I see in you..
Your so far beyond.. anyone I ever knew,
I shudder when I see you.. I could drop right to my knee's..
I could tell you that you stole my heart.. and beg you pretty please,                                               But it wouldn't change what you feel.. or how you look at me..
Or the "wild spirit" inside you.. or a heart thats running free,
I can't hope to hold you.. like a stallion in the wind..
The best that I can hope for.. is learning how to bend,
But I'm thankful for each moment.. that I get to spend with you..
As its etched into my memory.. and everything I do,                                                                                                           I love you now for what it is.. and what could never be..
But part of you will always live..  here inside of me..


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 27 august 2019

Before The Sunset

I am trying to do my bit, 
nonpareil. A soundproof doer, 
erasing the palm from the painting― 
drinking the nitrogen from the air 
starving myself. 
 
Cannot bequeath my eyes, 
my thumb vision. You were always 
asking about my sadness, emptiness. 
I will not tell about 
the acid times. 
 
That killing instinct was not 
there. I will give you the 
unborn poems, that would not wear 
the death mask, my unspoken 
thoughts, peeling after the darkness and 
I will let you go to find your path.


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steve

steve, 27 august 2019

"Man On Fire"

I feel a fire raging.. deep down in my soul..
White hot flames are burning.. and knowone has control,
You can't know just how I feel.. and knowone has a clue..
Of the fire raging inside me.. when all I want is you,
I wish that I could tell you.. exactly how I feel..
Instead of stepping lightly.. while trying to conceal,
Life is more exciting.. when I look into your eyes..
I can feel every heart beat.. as my blood begins to rise, 
Everything inside of me..  I'm trying to control..
Like a moth to a flame-.. I can feel it in my soul,
I wish that you could look at me.. the way you look at her..
So I could feel the passion.. the way we never were,
To know the love inside your heart..or the heat beneath your skin..
There's nothing that I wouldn't do..  that I wouldn't do again,
I know the dreams I have of you.. live only in my head..
And any tears that have to fall.. are tears that I have shed,
I know that you don't understand.. why would you even care..
For you don't know the depth of love.. for you my heart must bare,
And though I cannot say out loud.. my true hearts desire..
You can see me from a hundred miles.. for I'm the "man on fire".


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steve

steve, 27 august 2019

"Monsoon"

There's a monsoon pouring down.. in my heart and in my head..
And I can't stop the rain.. from things that have been said,
The torent that is rushing by.. is washing me away..
And the years keep coming faster.. leaving only yesterday,
Dreams I used to carry.. have turned to nothing more..
Than vessals on the water.. never reaching any shore,
The winds of time are blowing strong.. but have yet to lift my sails..
And nothing that I've done in life.. have ever tipped the scales,
Its like I'm here, but I'm not.. and nothing that I do..
Will change a single thing.. or make me visiable to you,
Sometimes when I think I'm right.. everything is wrong..
The years are passing way too fast.. but nights are still too long,
If I've learned a thing.. its that life.. is never what you think..
And when its good.. hold on tight.. for it passes in a blink..
So let the rains fall down.. let it wash over me..
Let the tears fill the rivers.. that are heading out to sea,
Let the tides rise and wash away.. the truths that we deny..
To cleanse the land of every man.. that built this world on lies.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 26 august 2019

Predictions

The hunger was scouring 
each house― in utopia― 
daring you to open the door. 
 
Weavers were ready for― 
the moment― of encounter― 
to spin the corona. 
 
As if an asteroid was heading 
towards the silent ariel, 
to destroy its integrity. 
 
Beyond good and bad, there 
was an effigy of a designer― 
in dancing mode. 
 
It was a jinx in your 
speed. You would not climb on a 
walk without a rope.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 25 august 2019

The Dumps

The words had started to fail me. 
There was always an ‘if'― 
before every war of hunger. 
 
The candlewick has burned 
out. I am collecting the― 
wax from the eyes. 
 
Wrapped agony, now lifts 
the dead bird from the 
rose bushes. 
 
The frosted god 
will melt to bare a 
black stone. 
 
I am not luck 
I am not the future. 
You know where this path leads into?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 august 2019

Why A Poem

Unfazed you stand in― 
a drizzle, to locate the 
moon nestling in clouds. 
 
The speed of bite was fatal, 
showing the movement 
of incompleteness. 
 
I searched the identity― 
of one anonymous, who 
had fathered an illegitimate eunuch. 
 
I wanted to make a 
confession, looking at the 
blue sky, about my waywardness. 
 
The crazy thing of mixing 
the flowers, winds, moon and birds 
with serious chores of life. 
 
Unmistakingly a poem.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 22 august 2019

Be The Human

Not giving or taking. 
I will share you― 
in water. 
 
Believing was not significant. 
I was holding you 
to implode. 
 
Not your words, not 
my script, will translate 
the thumbprint. 
 
A time comes, when 
you become your own father, 
to carve out the pure truth. 
 
The duality bothers 
a lot. You want to convert 
the myriad into one.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 20 august 2019

For The Heritage

For the beasts and men, 
a transition will not work. 
This was explicit cap― 
the polar ice was melting. 
 
He will not take the slights 
for the moon. He will 
not go far from the eyes 
of stars. 
 
Not enough, the astringent 
microbes were peeling off 
your mask. Sometimes you want 
a frugal strangulation. 
 
Incredible. The words 
were making a mound, out― 
of the space, left by 
the departed fever.


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Esther Hadassah Sendeza

Esther Hadassah Sendeza, 19 august 2019

A Special Kinda Love

I have fallen in love with myself, 
In love with the entirety of everything that speaks me.
It has been one long way to get here, 
But every step,
every scar has got me here.

I have fallen in love with myself, 
With what I am now and what I aspire to be.
Writing vows to myself on how I promise to treat me,
For better for worse, ‘I do' with my inner being.

In our younger years,
most of us aren't taught fully, 
The most important lesson of all in the school of life.
To love ourselves first deeply and unconditionally, 
To believe in ourselves before others believe in us, 
To fall in love with all that we are and the greatness we could be.

Yes, I have fallen in love with myself today, 
And this is just the beginning of a great love, 
The kind that survives all odds and inspires, 
The one that has meaning and immense depth.

I have fallen in love with taking care of me inside and out,
Investing in the health of my mind, body and soul.
Radiating so much love within that overflows on the outside, 
Oh, this kind of love has got me speechless.

It may have taken so long, but I am finally here,
The journey was long but worth every tear.
Everything that makes me ‘me' is precious,
Damn, I have fallen in love with my very core.


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Esther Hadassah Sendeza

Esther Hadassah Sendeza, 19 august 2019

Rebuild

Take the time to regroup.
Cry if you have to, 
Focus on mending your soul, 
Then start the work.

Rebuild your heart, 
Piece by piece at your own pace.
Remember what made it beautiful, 
Paint it with radiant colors, 
Make it more beautiful than before.

Remember who you were,
Before you fell apart.
Then recreate yourself, 
And become much better than before.

Do all this, 
Intentionally, 
On purpose.


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Esther Hadassah Sendeza

Esther Hadassah Sendeza, 19 august 2019

Not My Heart

Stop looking into my eyes, 
You'll find nothing there.
Stop trying to let yourself in, 
I have locked all my doors.

Stop throwing your heart to me, 
Because I won't give you mine.
Stop opening up to me Because i won't let you in.

See I have built walls so high, 
That no one can get past.
So, don't give me your heart, 
Because darling, I won't give you mine.


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Esther Hadassah Sendeza

Esther Hadassah Sendeza, 19 august 2019

Your Lifeline In A Crumbling World

You are your lifeline, 
So take care of yourself.

Love yourself, 
Fill yourself up, 
Cheer yourself on,
Believe in yourself, 
Invest in yourself.

Take breaks.
Re-energize.
Let it out.
Heal.
Exercise.
Give yourself pep talks.
Dip yourself in coconut oil.
Give yourself time.
Take a one hour bubble bath.
Take yourself on a date.
Go on a road trip.

Take care of your mind, body and soul, 
Because you are your lifeline, 
In this crumbling world.


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Esther Hadassah Sendeza

Esther Hadassah Sendeza, 19 august 2019

Lost

I will not be lost

Not in the world and it's ways,
Not in the darkness that comes my way,
Not in the depths of my own mind,
Not in the disappointments,
Not in the failures,
Not in the success.

I choose to be grounded,
I choose to rise above,
I choose to pick myself up,
I choose to forgive,
I choose to try again,
I will not cave, I will not break,
I choose love.

See, I choose to still be me,
Whatever the experience.

Even when surrounded by dark waters,
My beautiful colours will still shine.

I will not get lost,
Not in this world,
Not in the next.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 19 august 2019

Taking The Odds

An amniotic fluid initiates 
the moon to the thunderstorm― 
as you climb the tide. 
 
Like a stag― opening the 
summer, browsing on 
the daisies. 
 
It takes sometime 
to sink. This was― 
the peacock hour. 
 
A finch will land― 
on my shoulder and 
look into my eyes, ritualizing it. 
 
The glow was real 
in your hair, 
borrowed from the sun.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 18 august 2019

New Invasion

Nestling in the arms of 
blue sky, a young moon was asking 
the questions―like the pages of moth-eaten 
book― why did the blood ties 
are ripped apart with the passage of time? 
 
Of the same poles, at the 
axis of rotation― two celestial bodies― 
would not come near each other? 
 
Following the heels of the 
hunter, a small dog star sniffs at 
the earth, a pale blue existence? 
 
The entropion overwhelms. The 
lashes were scarring the 
vision? 
 
The all was not one. I am 
still standing at the gate, 
bleeding like sun.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 17 august 2019

Old Maxims

This was a twisted ladder 
for reduction of poverty, 
which climbs the steps during 
methane breach. 
 
An absent presence will 
snatch away, your unconscious 
surrender. The scent had 
made a wall of its own. 
 
A summer fall incites the 
book makers. The naming was 
a secret bet. The dead will 
never recall the skeletons. 
 
Spawning an army of robots, 
will you go to the volcano mount 
to offer a living bait?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 august 2019

No Demagogue

This was not a witch 
or witchcraft, striking 
a pose to entice the sleep. 
 
The grass will not― 
listen the earthly 
eavesdropping on moon. 
 
Some extra neutral 
wine for a resilient poet 
who will refuse to die. 
 
My color was not black 
nor white. It had the 
golden hue. 
 
Your nails were very sharp 
digging for a *Digambra 
on my bare chest.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 august 2019

Dog Days

Why do I give you the bliss― 
of my poverty? 
The burden of asking, was light. 
 
Not like the unquenchable 
thirst of a desert. I will be a 
night blooming cereus. 
 
In exile, I will remember 
your sky, tying the stars in 
my poems, to recall your shades 
when the moon moves away. 
 
The sunlight throws the voiceless 
profiles of clouds, motionless 
suspended, waterless― dead. 
 
There is no traffic, no history 
of any scandles. The corners of 
my prayer book have― 
become dog-eared.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 august 2019

Sting's Betrayal

Not settled anytime 
between a beast, an angel and the man: 
who was indebted to whom. 
 
A cyclic ritual it was, to pay the debt 
to the eternal dancer, who 
was, harbinger to catastrophe. 
 
Not wanted to be judged. 
Fatherless, a shadow moves― 
in the womb of justice. 
 
Why do the moon was in distress? 
A catmint will improve― 
your vision. 
 
No artificial insemination was― 
needed. The pungent smell 
would put you off. 
 
A taste of triangle, lying 
next to the moon 
in bed of water.
 


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 august 2019

A Fracas Goes On

Remarkably steadfast, the 
mighty oak was standing up, as 
the thick rain was pounding at it. 
I had come a faraway to unleash 
the tenacity. 
 
The flesh and the moon. 
It was the anniversary of ropes 
and shackles. You should not have 
adored the distant dreams 
without touching them. The transcript 
was not ready. No template 
was perfect. 
 
I would not know most of you. 
That was a bliss. In blue and dark― 
I will sail for nothingness. No more, 
no less. The chirping, synchronized trill 
of crickets, encourages to stand still, I listen 
without hearing. 
 
I have come back to zero.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 august 2019

Sheer Expanse Of Tragedy

Staring into nothingness― 
the body clicks. 
Smells the pungent fumes and/ 
cedes the suspension of tears. 
 
Quenchless, you drink 
the white phosphorus, glowing 
in dark, of 
stark reality. 
 
The barrenness will put 
up a Harappan seal, 
to come back. 
The stomata bleed. 
 
The blue salt was naïve. 
Will not leave the ocean. 
You cannot swim, 
you cannot drown.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 august 2019

Frost Was Setting In

No moon tonight 
I had to find― 
my path along the hedges 
by fireflies. 
 
The river was in haze, 
not wearing any scent. 
Some invisible hands were 
rowing a boat in midstream. 
 
At this time a god jumps― 
in, to sort out the memory of dark nights. 
Not dementia. But I will 
try to remember your face in moonlight. 
 
Once I had lost my way 
to your home. Now my 
home has lost me for ever.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 august 2019

Matter Of Fate

While ascending throne, 
you cover up your tracks― 
by putting up the somber demeanor. 
I don't find myself happy. 
 
No stings visible. The world 
is savagely beautiful, always 
indulging in finding a goat. 
Can you see through a person? 
 
Wooden legs cannot take you very― 
far. What you need was your intent, 
to scramble and make a kill 
of a subtone. 
 
The crowd goes in a tizzy. 
Tortoise in a bag, was moving 
faster than the man.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 august 2019

Blood Stained

For a long time 
I will look at you 
to find my image. 
 
In the grainy morn― 
the frivolity, 
dithers. 
 
Thrown from the roof 
a cluster of flowers 
for vanity.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 august 2019

Vendetta

Brown eyes: 
little things― 
I ask from you. 
 
This is the holy land, 
you can walk, without 
offering anything. 
 
I will not surrender 
an alter ego 
for a price. 
 
The walls scoop 
the shadows 
for future skin. 
 
A small pilgrimage 
for the 
dying god. 
 
It hurts when 
my lips will not touch 
the flame.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 august 2019

It Was Not Vicious

Digging deep into 
the body of moment, you have 
to find out the roots/of dopamine― 
blend of dopa and amine, 
circulating the gossip. It was 
a prelude before a personal take― 
into the consciousness of guilt. 
 
Do you need to bring in 
the demigods and tree nymphs― 
for fertility? The arboreal pain 
sends the apology of the shade. 
There was no need of any limbs to 
walk. Standing on the brink, 
you can reclaim the pyramids. 
 
The precocity of non-existence 
appears, when you start confronting 
the blue lake of tiny eyes.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 6 august 2019

About Unhappenings

Taking refuge behind the 
solemn words, you speak loudly. 
 
It rattles you, when you― 
hear, it was the world's end. 
 
I have not yet spoken to you 
about the happenings, which never happened. 
 
You want to slingshot the 
malignancy without your remedy. 
 
Illegible was the writing 
on the parchment. I must dig up the ruins. 
 
Matter of instinct, when you start 
washing your hands and spitting unendingly.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 5 august 2019

It Was Distressing

The red dot was sinking 
to smear the lake. It was 
in soft focus, the waning light. 
 
You want to bury 
the attachment, on the bank. 
Let the waves wash away― 
 
the footprints. The 
clan was in great distress. 
On ventilator, the icon was not dying. 
 
Innocence goes on the block 
I will not get a fair deal 
from the silence of the stone. 
 
The disk tumbles 
into obscurity. Who will 
bring peace to the withering art?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 august 2019

Speaking Stones

When there was a cloudburst― 
it was time― I thought 
for the soul search. 
 
Again I turn back to― 
our complexity, in religion, 
caste and lineage. 
 
The prairie was giving― 
way, for a volcano to erupt. 
Can there be a drive from the back seat? 
 
A prisoner of one's own 
follies, you would wait till― 
the sky comes down and liberates you. 
 
The illegitimacy bursts 
open, when you claim that 
no child was left behind.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 3 august 2019

Holed Up

You are becoming a 
frozen leak, the violet 
end. 
 
Ultra was not going beyond 
the zero. Here the― 
journey ends. 
 
Dispersion of light was 
increasing, the surface tension 
between me and religion. 
 
Again you are deflecting, 
taking an oblique route 
to find the truth. 
 
Who was the father 
of an unborn lie? 
I was not expanding any more.
 


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 2 august 2019

Times Are Changing

Addictive in shambles, that was 
cognitive decline― 
amidst wars of life, 
with a right to death. 
 
The gold dust falls 
from the dead, colliding stars, 
after the violence of giants. 
You may not need stem cell transplant now. 
 
Like a gamma ray burst― of 
cataclysmic events― to start 
the creation of verse. Were you 
ready to hear the inner voice? 
 
The urge to go up, was very strong 
without grit. My burden will 
increase if you are― 
reluctant to propel yourself.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 1 august 2019

Till The Ceremony

I accept, my defeat― 
in the hands of Ariel. 
 
You start hiding from your 
own chrysanthemums. 
 
Trying to merge the agony 
with the diminutive flight. 
 
The tale of a big fall from 
the height of assimilation― 
 
I will go all the way to 
challenge the unknown fear. 
 
The passage was full of 
bumps, slowing the pace of kisses.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 31 july 2019

After Meeting God

You should not be present― 
everywhere, O God. Pull down, 
all the shutters of your temples. 
 
I am mortified, of a 
hidden hand, that gives 
spurious― sugar coated hymns. 
 
A hometown crowd 
assembles at the door of the― 
palace to hear the arrival. 
 
What was the natural 
descent made of? A cyber attack 
was the most desirable thing. 
 
A crypt sets you free― 
from the engraved sermons. 
All night I will sit on the vigil, for a vision. 
 
The book was blank 
for a goodnight deal. I will 
not cross any unwritten poem.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 29 july 2019

Seeking Carefully

Where do you stand― 
in the crowd, for the love of a cause― 
your feet cannot measure the ache 
of the earth, respecting the rhythm 
of a lone survivor. 
 
Can you believe in the fall of a titan? 
 
Stranded in accuracy 
for a salt lick for 
a zipless mouth wide open. 
 
Intuiting, 
what the flesh would not say. 
 
And I keep standing by the midriff to see the face.
 


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 28 july 2019

Confronting The Unknown

I walk for a short while― 
talking with the moon and 
thinking about the zero― 
 
and spirit and water― standing 
my ground, I ask the earth― 
tell me, whose fear was greater than mine. 
 
If god was blind, then why 
so many planets and moons? Is that true 
that between good and bad lives a shaman? 
 
There was something 
behind the walls. A lot of noises coming― 
out, as if nobody was perfect. 
 
The realization itself was hurting. 
The day I started sweating, 
reaching the icy peaks of understanding.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 27 july 2019

Violence In A Cup

The winged sex of the 
module/wants to stay naked. 
Everything backs it up 
to become a suicide bomber 
on the beach. 
 
A cactus will not bloom tonight. 
A shirt was loaned to the 
tortured torso without head and limbs. 
 
She was possessed by a 
black spirit of a squirrel, 
which was killed by a hatchet. 
 
Bit by bit a moth was eaten alive 
by the ants. Only the dry wings 
were clapping.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 26 july 2019

The Prairie Wool

The trapped body 
will not listen to baby fugue. 
 
The perception will find― 
the writing on the flute. 
 
For Neptune, the liquid 
carries your voice. 
 
The fugacity will find 
the tongue of eternity. 
 
The sea has divided 
the land. Water sends the wreaths. 
 
The future will keep an eye 
on the scavenger, time. 
 
There were signs. It was going 
to become a predator.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 25 july 2019

Self-Effacement

Gender― 
was becoming unborn, ― 
untaught. Very fluid state. 
You could transgress the boundaries 
like the sea spreading over, 
on your land. 
 
My ankles giveaway. I cannot― 
walk incognito. Moon will 
not open the door. Nightshade welcomes 
with open arms. A climber 
with purple flower holds my hand. 
I may stumble. Almost done― 
disconnecting with present― 
and past. 
 
This is the sun. This is the 
sky. Circumcising becomes an 
escape, to cut off the bondage with yourself.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 24 july 2019

What Hospice

Becoming unsteady 
at points of darkness. 
 
Tinged with blue 
I am ready for the unspoken departure. 
 
How to reach out― 
for a situation, which was not? 
 
You sleep on the floor 
to hear the earth’s agony. 
 
A helix― surrounds the 
imperfect creation of unsavory thoughts. 
 
Abusive was the creator, 
The evil had a beauty in destruction.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 july 2019

The Daphnia

The truth of my blood 
at the mensal 
without prayer and anguish. 
 
Will you be able to 
heal the rift between color 
and smell? 
 
The other face― 
offering the tears in 
cupped palm. 
 
The slant eyes will 
never know, the end of― 
the day under the shadows. 
 
The endemic fugue― 
tilts the balance of angels. 
The bay tree sends the condolence.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 22 july 2019

The Rarest Thing

The night watchman 
has become an etcher. 
 
The stoning of the shirt 
must stop. These moments were the 
real sinners/beating the moon. 
A simple story becomes an epic. 
 
The belly buttons start 
stammering. Meaning did not take a bath. 
 
Canaries have gone on a strike. 
They will not sing on the edge of night. 
 
An oil painting walks out of the canvas― 
to become a parable. 
The creator of this art 
was done.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 21 july 2019

An Awakening

Profiling the flaws 
after the ignition, starts 
the outrage. 
 
A stoic will assume a 
secret. The mute testimony 
against my naked walls. 
 
Your gifts are lying unseen, 
unused. I have gone, O tormentor― 
beyond your reach. 
 
When you would try 
to annihilate the vision, I will 
check the bleed of eyes. 
 
If the bell rings; 
somebody will arrange the table 
for anaesthesia.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 20 july 2019

Cracked Open

Living my own way 
like flint, 
you will not read 
my cosmology. 
 
We two, keep quiet in― 
the same book― I 
want to read some 
hidden message from you. 
 
A day slips into night. 
What a consumption of will. 
The train stops at the terminus― 
without a traveler. 
 
Stepping out, from the 
grave of body― you will throw 
a reflection, of the nerves, 
in a wreath.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 19 july 2019

The Benevolence

Borderless pain was 
said untold. I am writing 
a new chapter of night. 
 
The somatic scent― 
does not rise now, for the peaks 
dissecting the snowy falls. 
 
Racial climbdown 
brings friction amids the uniqueness 
of downtrodden dolls. 
 
There was an intense― 
urge to rip open the endless sky― 
to find the secret of blackness. 
 
The fabled light, 
fails to distinguish between 
eyes and ears. A blind man 
 
will not find the shape 
of truth by noises.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 18 july 2019

Skirting The Book

This was man made, 
the blue-chip― 
changing the landscape. 
Fanatically you cling to mother 
terra firma like a baby primate. 
 
Incontrovertibly― 
I am going back to look 
like my fathers, 
with twisted contours. 
Forward― facing, but looking behind. 
 
I climb up the blue, 
to unsolve the murder and go 
into deep meditation to reject 
the gods. The gold mine was flooded 
by unprecdented rains of hands and footsteps.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 17 july 2019

A Space, A Dot, A Line

The hesitant― 
dawn cracks, as the 
river of darkness squirms. 
 
The moon― 
was in last, to leave 
the howling bank. 
 
It looms large, a ― 
brain-dead future. I think 
I am forgetting my age. 
 
You must face the 
dying earth― sustained― 
on prayers only. 
 
This is the height 
of dilemma. Why― 
poems were hungry?


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