Latest items:
Satish Verma, 3 march 2013
I TRUST
When the hate began
subordinating,
where were you?
O!
My clothes were on fire.
When you climbed the lips,
words were livid on tongue:
beyond the earth and sky,
water and air,
fire!
You stutter?
Speak not truth.
I don’t exist;
my flesh has become food
red meat,
dirty orchid!
I will forget me! !
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 6 march 2013
LIFE’S TOAST
Difficult it becomes, the secret of
the judgement and metamorphosis of
the painted cotton into a stained truth.
To save the present tense. A dangerous
crowd of vowels to express the incomplete
moment of watery teeth,
so hung, while misspeaking painfully
in dyslexic manneo. I would not
understand the hour-glass proxy.
An undersized leash to walk
with a giant: the magnitude of tragedy
overwhelms the path!
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 2 march 2013
A CLEAN MURDER
Standing on a beam,
shrine:
holding a black dawn,
my phoenix roving on dark river.
The bell still clangs;
I hear the footsteps.
A weird thought
spreads out on peripherals,
makes holes,
the undone communiqué
of a war
between knuckles;
the blind eyes
lift the fallen globe
of light.
I move from tree to tree.
Who was left unburned?
The sky was overcast.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 8 march 2013
GEOMETRY
You catch what was convenient
for age of denial. The exit.
Not being for nothing,
a better half of a belief.
Dependence was increasing
on wounds inflicted on others.
I stop at the mid of road
to turn or not to turn.
For the lost parapharases of existence.
The myth of amorality
was getting a new title. I close
a chapter of non-committance,
walk along a wheel chair.
I am not limbs, not topless.
The toes are prodding on a green vein!
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 4 march 2013
LISTENING
They walk in dreams
nightmarishly
spirits of nameless faces
staring without eyes.
The screams:
of a child
on whom you poured boiling water.
The screams:
of a girl made to wear only flesh, because
she ran away with a priest.
The screams:
of a wipped woman
who tasted the laughing moonlight.
Death makes a big hole
in a spooky silence!
Are you listening?
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 12 march 2013
DROUGHT IN RIVERBED
A randon creation
convulsed by grief.
Death of a pendant was not able
to recall the cleavage.
Kosher scream, the grandchildren
will not know the fakes of
reality show,
pure as honey, then the
scratching starts: look the tiger
was sitting on the branch.
Miracles will happen again
when the prince manipulates
the throne.
The dust melts in the local crowd.
Amid droughts there was a rivalary
to pick up the left over grains in field
between urchins and squirrels!
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 17 may 2012
Acrimony
In longest night
of pitch-dark space
you disappear like an arrow.
No star brightens your face.
Rumor was cruising like a bat on streets
to capture the gullible victim
on winter solstice.
The snow was falling like
sorcery.
A little anxiety to taste the
dried out grapes
and listen to the hunger
mouthless.
You draw the lake
on a canvas
and then jump into it
with visible nakedness.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 5 january 2013
BRINGING DOWN
The road breaks here.
Give me something to heal the fractured earth.
Angels are too much for me, the
gash turns inward ripping apart
eternal vigil.
They head into the burning books
and then explode themselves
on wet sands, generating grids, blithely lethal.
Wired blind, the sun weeps.
A green catastrophe tears a huge iceburg.
Post-coitol emptiness. The sweet nothing
stops. He becomes everything, the world
was not. The clouds bleach, moon
strips to bone. The artist goes into
exile to find a fiction.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 8 january 2020
Fractured
Blunt and bold were
the wet spots.
You bleed like me.
The seizure takes hold
of millions thoughts.
My sins are walking with me.
No annihilation of
the flesh. I was meeting
the spirits.
The face becomes pure
gold, when you
start burning the issues.
The years had survived
in slumber.
Death will not come to the hanged man.
Satish Verma, 6 january 2020
Night Spots
Tonight the moon will sit
on the gazobe,
to have a look at the sea, rising.
*
On the night's shade
dewdrops will wait, till
morning glory blooms.
*
It was a long night.
My lamp starts to flicker.
I hurry up to finish my poem.
Satish Verma, 12 january 2021
Losing Oneself
What would you give
when I ask for nothing?
A mysterious lineage
of the soul. It has no sequence,
no flesh, no body.
I was heading towards the edge.
Did you know the perfect
no home? It has no crumbling walls,
no hurting windows. The gray roof of sky?
The earth, the damaging
winds. An hour of awareness
in wait. You start
exploring jinxed mind,
hearing voices, but no words.
Satish Verma, 29 january 2020
Phenomenal Defeat
A wine taster was
ready to begin the birth
of night.
A wrinkle displays
the absurd mediocrity
of the charter.
I will not play
in the hands of unknowable
I have my own map.
I am shedding,
my skin, my color. Only
a truncated god will speak for me.
Satish Verma, 31 january 2020
Song Of Promotion
I am not going to touch
the meaning―
of nativity for unknown
guests.
A cameo appearance of some
god, does not take away the
most recent fears
of death.
The ghosts have their own
defences against scars,
bruises and unstitched
bones.
Give me a piece of unleashed
poem, my odyssey
has begun in
earnest.
Satish Verma, 19 may 2020
Irrelevantly
To drink the sea,
spilled over
from your eyes was not an easy task.
It was getting
dark, outside.
Inside an eternal flame
of separation
was flickering.
About the consent
of owning
privacy of truth,
I withdraw
my comments.
Now no shroud was needed
to cover the naked body.
Satish Verma, 31 august 2020
Compressed Emotions
I had met the flower
after a longtime.
The rose.
And its fragrance
hauls me to childhood
after the big dying.
A tender, scented dream
will touch me,
to become a poet.
Lying on dewed grass
you think, a promiscuous
microbial libido begins.
The explosion will eject
free verses, waiting in silence-
to witness- the April fall.
Satish Verma, 21 may 2020
Will You Admit?
An indecent
exposure. It was not
a game, to kill
a panther, moving
around in search
of prey.
And the basic instinct.
The fundamental trait defict
was between hunger
and ecstasy, between beast
and man.
You will chase a
butterfly, not for pleasure
but to become
an animal.
This was the observer,
and that was observed.
Satish Verma, 19 february 2020
Watching The Lethality
I
The blend of gene and name.
How you carry the
legacy?
II
We are losing the war.
You are winning
the birds.
III
The sparrows have left
the nest of man,
in search of moving homes.
IV
How do you spell the ruins?
I have never seen
a perfect shape.
V
Chicken-livered.
Why did you try to
confront the wall?
Satish Verma, 28 march 2013
I CANNOT WEEP
Those vicious strikes.
Beaten by sticks,
a panther dies on moon
in midstop.
Standing on a bomb
digging a tunnel
you pay obeisance to
the god of war.
This sweet revenge
for your forefathers?
Who could not walk straight
in the bastard crowd.
Spilling the sperms
O pimp of faith,
why are you selling
your poverty?
The heap of limbs
on the breast of a mother.
A hand of a child was cut
in every womb.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 29 march 2013
WHO WAS FAITHFUL?
That yellow moon haunts me again
and overleaps my sleep.
I do not dare to walk in the graves
of your eyes. The palace
has broken.
Mere suffering was not sufficient.
You have to wince with pain
for a crucified secret,
dying for a graced truth.
Snatch me a tear from
the blind eyes.My precious rags
will make a sacred thread to wrap
you on your arm.
The bruised innocence does not matter
now.You walk like a prince in every dark
page of history. Light follows the
sounds of body.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 13 may 2013
ONE SILVER BOWL
Will you save me
when I take the call of the lake?
The swishing depth was inviting me
for a plunge in the purple pool.
How deep was the pain of a mountain?
The domain was again ailing
with subtle rumors of
a massive landslide.
An escaped love of a thorn
was splittimg open the embrace
of me and my mask. Totally denuded,
a face was dusting off all the self-made
marks of inflictions.
Will you walk with me now
up to the stormy night, where I have
a house of candles keeping a vigil
for a coffin of unflowered seeds?
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 1 june 2013
FALLING BRICKS
From the blank book can I
lift some questions for the lofty hopes
when I lost myself near the home?
The fear was darting inside the white sores.
Keys were lost for the answers
and truth fell castrated.
The magic was fading from the cusps
of designs, unconceived thoughts were
seeking proportionate punishments.
Congeniality drifted from the
architect of hominid species. A nameless
storm plays havoc. Humble peaks bow
before the unmeasured meteors. You
can shut the orphanage now; no
bombs are bound for the wet crypts.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 9 december 2016
Somalia Calling
I met a talking moon
on the road of death.
What easily comes, goes easily with winds.
I was counting the ribs of
my dying child. He went into the
woods to fight the unknown wars
of hunger.
Bunker: it went into flames
sailing into brilliance of space.
I am going to inherit the black grains
of molten day. How I will confront
the night tainted with bonfires
of sunken eyes?
God particles in tiny fists spreading
the spun cotton, intitating a
revolution of thoughts. A bumpy
argument. The icon denies the guilt
of mass killing. I want
to remain unsung.
Satish Verma, 14 november 2016
Blind Alleys
A nascent cry
demands the signature
of space.
I will start the self destruction-
clawing back
on the land of
betrayals.
The rule of sky was at stake.
Trees were burning
and the birds
want to grasp
the stark reality of notional violence.
In dark hour
I know not words
to lift the eyelids
the cloud, the flowers, the blood!
Satish Verma, 12 may 2022
Weird Dreams
Will ask hibiscus―
in twilight, to let moth
live its one night.
*
The bougainvillea
leaves, falling one by one,
always frighten you.
*
Bends like a bow,
the sickle moon, to pick up
its child in water.
Satish Verma, 21 february 2015
KLEPTOMANIAC
This kitsch
makes you hollow,
kleptomaniac.
You become blind in green
ready to make a dumb leap
from tall cliff.
Contempt for climactic throats.
The man walks on water
to meet death in icebox.
Pink torch like royal command signals,
black white moon enters a sober cloud
beyond the vibrations.
Now was the chance to kill
the light, fixing the graves.
One day the laughter was alive.
Satish Verma, 17 february 2018
A Pilgrim’s Woe
Strange. You want to protect
the house after the attack.
Debunking the grammar. Take
a look at the cavernous eyes.
Do you find any rains?
Refresh drops. You will
need them, once a while.
The life. Hides many grudges.
It was scorching. A country
of cantos in politics. The-
language keeps on changing.
What was next, nobody knows.
The trees were there, the birds
there, but there were no leaves.
Satish Verma, 27 september 2017
The Final Call
Answers remain elusive.
Stains were on shirt:
You went on wiping-
away the mirror.
Incarcerated,
biologically, he wanted
to get it changed.
The pecking order.
You were trying to
move away,
from yourself. Death
was the missing link.
Was it indecent
to start the self-inventory?
You start dancing
on the inaudible music.
Satish Verma, 5 december 2017
Looming Large
The art of losing the
core-hurts, standing in deepest
mood.
You want to see, what your
prefrontal cortex thinks.
The suffering: the debris
fall on the eyes.
Vast Greenland melts.
The terror strikes. You
inherit the barren land.
I start talking with the
spirits. In the shoe box, lies the
past. The water was rising
in eyes. The scent of moon
sometimes misses the earth.
The butterflies, sometimes
come, declare the deadline
for garden prayers.
Satish Verma, 28 february 2018
Not Quite A Prayer
You had placed floating
garden on the crest
of five-headed white cobra.
The hooded death,
strikes; when you were
tending to bonsai.
Over to moon,
you send the message. But
The book was incomplete.
On the way to
tiny thoughts, an odyssean
task to put the right words.
I will go and
stand on the edge, to
watch the glorious senset.
Satish Verma, 13 february 2018
A Sneak Preview
Hold your saliva.
The kissing syndrome,
is on prowl.
A threat looms large;
over the face on the face
of most beautiful eyes.
Are you fascinated by the-
picture of shedding the skin?
The reptile was most venomsus.
Strikes, when you are
sleeping. Floats into your house
when it is dark.
A remake of the horror
of holocaust? Will it
affect your lips?
Latest comments:
16 may 2024
violetta
Może w lipcu będę miała takie wakacje:)
16 may 2024
jeśli tylko
słońce w płynie..
15 may 2024
Weronika
Za jeszcze jeden rejs!
14 may 2024
Mam takie oko :)
14 may 2024
Jaga
Zwierzęta upodobniły się do koloru otoczenia
14 may 2024
To naturalny suchy i pustynny klimat. I tam są
14 may 2024
Klimat taki, że nie był i raczej nie będzie,
12 may 2024
Melancthe
Kajzerki są przereklamowane ;)
11 may 2024
kb
wielki wypas - był albo może będzie. kto wie...
11 may 2024
sama prawda z tym myśleniem i psoceniem ale
11 may 2024
zastanowiło mnie czy owe cenienie kajzerek wynika
11 may 2024
skomponowane kolorystycznie..
17 may 2024
Satish Verma
16 may 2024
Satish Verma
15 may 2024
wiesiek
15 may 2024
Jaga
15 may 2024
Satish Verma
14 may 2024
Satish Verma
13 may 2024
Satish Verma
11 may 2024
Satish Verma
10 may 2024
Jaga
10 may 2024
Satish Verma