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poetry
RENATA, 2 june 2020
-Rzeźnik
Renata ---Rzeźnik na pdst Rzeznika M.Czornyj-2-06-2020
obłąkana natura potwora
zabija robi przetwory
w tych bigosach jest moc wielka
już na targu robi się kolejka
widziały jego oczy
dużo wojennej przemocy
serce zamknięte w butelce
rozum stuka się w czoło
gdzież tyle mięsa marnować
jakiś czas ma spokój
pracuje choć z jedną nogą
namiętnie chodzi do kina
chłopców nagania mu słynna bileterka
nie wiedziała że sama skończy w walizce
pociągu relacji Szczecin-Katowice
tylko dlatego że tak bardzo chciała być z nim
zrobiła się nachalna zwłaszcza po kilku głębszych
demony w głowie robią dziury
szczątki wnętrzności siekierą
młotkiem na dół do góry
Irena ostatnia była w jego zbiorach
z jajecznicą dobrze smakowała
jej głowa w rzęsach jeziora tonie
Rzeźnik zawisł na klamce
u piekła bramy
bez łaski
Satish Verma, 2 june 2020
Post Valentine
After the full moon
I will collect roses
from your ashes.
The essay will not-
be written, about,
how did I love you.
The silent shriek
was left alone
in the valley.
Satish Verma, 1 june 2020
Point-Blank
I know the flesh heals
but not the ethos.
Though I was not the doer
yet I did't fail in my journey
through dark.
It was a fait accompli.
Knelt in prayer, I was branded
with hot iron.
Why am I shaking
like Titanic? Your long arm
did not save me from the shining
iceberg of simple knowledge.
Do we go together in the sea?
The dark music was very
enticing.Brick by brick we had
made the levee.Now the river of rage
has broken the embankment.
You want to climb
from the abyss.A death wish
overtakes the hills.
Satish Verma, 31 may 2020
Synopsis
Valentine?
What do you want
to read?
Between sex and
surrogacy?
No monikers.
Pure frankenstein!
O, naïve culpabilibity,
do not sleep on my arm.
Unmoving, the suffix
disappears.
I am still holding
the question mark.
Satish Verma, 30 may 2020
Abstract Thoughts
Escaped soul
was pronounced dead, after
becoming rich. You start
peeling of the skin of neo-poverty.
Hunger equates you with god.
It hurts your tarnished honesty. The
image of half-man, half-tiger.
The veneer coming off very soon.
The pepper spray was well
planned for steady hands to
make you spring-blind. Your pockets are
full of fireflies.
The poetry effect was negligible,
when you start praying for snowstorm.
Satish Verma, 29 may 2020
Ascending Paresis
This was the art of killing.
From the dizzying
heights you throw the
vesicants.
Now you need the gliomas
to finish the job.
At wrong time, I was
raising the bizarre questions.
Why the wealth brings-
the change of life?
A wandering pain
caves in, where the moon
looks sick in its paleness.
The massive lies, deep
in dirty tricks after the traffic
of voices.In blank space
I plant my poem.
Renato N. Mascardo, 29 may 2020
Loneliness of Being One (To Will Liao)
against solitude
sunrise
sunset these mean
nothing to you who slip
in and out of awakening
alone
the pain
comes in waves but
never goes away it
stays to harry and heckle you
alone
in health
in illness and in
dying the most pain is
the thought that you are solitary
alone
yet we
who love you stand
in close proximity
we stay so you know you are not
alone//
renato
thursday 28 may 2020
Satish Verma, 28 may 2020
Not On Crutches
Not impassible.
Buried in snow, I
will bring back my moon.
There was no divination.
I still stand on my legs.
I will not talk about shadows
or any haloes. An urge to find
unknown. Touching the feet?
No I don't submit to body.
No rewards. No citation.
I will walk alone in the jungle
of prying eyes, in my
visible bones.
The flame-test. The truthless
blames, and a naked god.
I have come faraway from my childhood.
Satish Verma, 27 may 2020
A Grave Question
The bio sheet remains
incomplete.
I am leaving the papers blank.
Singed, as the white coal:
the ash, smudged on eye brows.
I have come to rekindle
the dying flames.
The anger was mine,
scolding the scarf in winter storm,
what was the need to spread the
white sheet?
Like you will not write, an―
apology for kissing a cobra tongue.
It was ok to become a fool?
Where a tear sits on
the edge to fall in silence
for not undoing the hawthorn?
Satish Verma, 26 may 2020
Armless Salutation
Going within to feel
the war moves.The pagan
gods have come out
on parole.
Was it an esoteric event
to propitiate a violative
divinity? From crude to soft
affirmative nod, I am going to-
see the game of chairs.
Between sin and virtue,
wrong and right, nonage
always jumps into.Too proud to accept
the defeat.First the annihilation
and then the fathering.
This genesis had no design
no vision.A miraculous journey
downhill.The dawn is still
faraway.Nightlong agony
will continue.
Unclenched I hold the pen
to say nothing.
Latest comments:
26 december 2025
wolnyduch
Dzięki za niemą obecność... Wszystkiego dobrego,
26 december 2025
Ciekawa puenta... Też sądzę, że prawdziwa
26 december 2025
Tak, wspaniały Wiersz, to prawda, że są zawsze
26 december 2025
Jak zwykle wstrząsająco mocne i niezwykle prawdziwe pisanie,
26 december 2025
Wiem Bel, że cenisz komentarze, w przeciwieństwie
26 december 2025
Wiara czyni cuda, bywa, że złych czarowników też
26 december 2025
Też bym chętnie udała się do tej kawiarenki, wiersz
26 december 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
do tej kawiarenki to bym poszedł, czy oprócz
25 december 2025
violetta
Ładnie powieszone :)
24 december 2025
Toya
Przepiękny wiersz. Czytam sobie poprzez pryzmat
24 december 2025
Jaga
I Tobie Sam, wszystkiego dobrego, nie tylko od
24 december 2025
sam53
a propos miodu... smacznego piernika i innych
27 december 2025
wiesiek
27 december 2025
Jaga
27 december 2025
Jaga
26 december 2025
wiesiek
25 december 2025
wiesiek
24 december 2025
wiesiek
23 december 2025
wiesiek
22 december 2025
Eva T.
20 december 2025
Anthony DiMichele
19 december 2025
wiesiek