Satish Verma, 9 may 2021
Playing a foghorn
for self-esteem,
is an ego trip.
The white tiger
mauls a cow,
beyond the audio.
You are shrinking―
now at the hands of
unqualified arms.
No need of any
funeral finale. The bones
are as white as the moon.
RENATA, 8 may 2021
a oni wyją i wyją
z łuków mają ręce
cięciwy w palcach
groty mają w głowach
strach chwyta za gardło
aż oczy nie chcą patrzeć
usta chcą krzyczeć mocno tak
ogień z nieba pluje na świat
na rzekę na łąkę
na lasy pod strzechy
wir wir już zalewa
topi zdyszane strachem myszy
RENATA, 8 may 2021
on czyta te same książki
on kocha rośliny i kupuje kwiaty
opiekuje się mamą jest taki męski
i mówi zawsze dzień dobry sąsiadkom
głową muru nie przebijesz
choć bardzo chcesz na chama wręcz
poznać pana by spełniał marzenia
był lekiem na całe zło i chęć na sex
seksapil ja mam i w pełni kobiece usta
uda się kocham muzykę która wywołuje
śmiech delikatna wonna i dojrzała
tak eksponują swoje walory poznaje
siebie ciebie poszukuje co będzie wezmę
*******
nie chce starą panną być pilnować cnoty
pojawił się on nabrałam ochoty
taki naturalny przystojny i szczery
czas leci opatrzyły się ręce poszły w las maniery
hej niestety faceta mam i problem mam
miał być ratunkiem a to jest cham
tak mnie ciągnęło do jego ramion
teraz chętnie uciekłabym stamtąd
Paweł Szkołut, 8 may 2021
Peering into the interior of the tulip's cup
is engaging in an intimate act -
insects arrive and drink up the nectar
pollen from the stamens
are falling upon the petals' crown
and the ovary post
peering into the interior of the flower
is enacting an intimate scene -
like looking deep into your eyes
like a penetration of your soul
to get to its bottom
and there is
the spring
2008
Satish Verma, 8 may 2021
Let there be dark
in your life.
One day, you will
be able to see the light.
Wind would sleep in the
earthen lamp during day.
Come evening―
tears will light the wick.
Hordes of moth have
resumed their sorties. Any
cruise of moon was
impossible.
Not acceptable was hiring the womb
for manipulating the race. An
eagle dance, brings out the
savagery of man.
Satish Verma, 7 may 2021
Night begins
the self-discovery
with green and cream pills.
A binary existence
you would love to
break the myth.
The wind in the sails,
you are going―
nowhere in darkness.
All colors of―
midnight moon,
were for you.
Time will meet―
you in different masks,
to find the truth.
Satish Verma, 6 may 2021
Begins to reel,
the dusk,
down the street.
The grey moon waits,
solemnly, for the
music of earth to start.
There is enigma―
in dark. You see
the inside of a shut house.
Like the stone
eyes reading the heliograph
of shrunken gods.
Plunged into a gorge
your eyes, to find
the secret of a fall.
Satish Verma, 5 may 2021
The clouds hang on the strings.
I cannot dry my eyes.
Picking up the pine cones, on grass―
one by one, as the years went by.
How did I lose my home again?
Were there not footprints in snow?
The caladiums, you planted in
summer, had the crimsoned spots.
Like the kirmizi sun
dipping in lake one night.
Satish Verma, 4 may 2021
Cessation had no direct threats.
You had stopped thinking.
A shadowy future starts hating
you and your financial motives.
The September light falls on leaves
ready to go, yellow-brown-red.
You are still warm, still receptive
of the hollyhocks to welcome you.
A guiltless flight with singing birds―
homing to their mating abodes.
You want to arrive
without qualms, without fainting.
Satish Verma, 3 may 2021
How will you be defining
a war, when you
meet without machetes?
Between real and fiction
lies a deficient bridge.
We will go for a walk to find―
the weak spots.
A dead city moves in its
entirety. You prepare yourself
to read the tea leaves.
The dregs were in power.
Why you were becoming schizophrenic?
Do not blow at the dead sparks.
How long the shadow now
you want to throw?
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