Latest items:
Satish Verma, 4 february 2018
Logistics
Midnight encounter.
In moon, on sand.
Why you were igniting a sheltered home
of wounded pride?
The blood spills
over the sea, in boat.
You were unrelenting, against traction
violence of unhappenings.
The blackness blooms.
A man will cross midstream,
writing on water the name of a lamb
who refuses to surrender.
I sit between the
kisses of dragonflies.
An empty paper nest waits for the wandering
wasps to come back with stings.
Satish Verma, 4 april 2018
Uprooting
The intrigues, the twists
unravel the woven threads
of the mystery. Traumatized
and dazed, I play─
dice with the unknown to
find out the truth.
Confronting the purpose
of existence,
you come out of the flesh
after flogging─
and start dancing
with bones.
Extremely poor,
you play the hand
and fail.
Elsewhere someone
climbs on the pole
and sets the house on fire.
Satish Verma, 25 november 2018
Streaking Alone
Like sly coyotes
you move around
the fireballs. You switch off
the earthly lights. They are
now oranges. Presently
a broker will sell the wounds
of the moon.
Why did you feel sad of something
which was unsaid? A thousand
and one words will speak
when the poem would be brought
dead. You are not here
not in the nakedness of lies, when
something glitters which was not yellow.
The twilight now settles
in your eyes. Moon refuses to
plunge into darkness.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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