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poetry

Satish Verma, 23 december 2022

Subjected To Suffer

No abode for me.
Still seeking impossible―
to find your home.

To define dharma,
when cosmic law of bridal
cannibalism ups.

For trans humanity.
I am sorry to ignite the
volcano in sea.

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Satish Verma, 22 december 2022

A Silent Worship

To understand your
niche, I listen to echoes.
Moon will draw a map.

No beginning, no
end. Arguments continue
till the next world.

To go, not to go
was acrude dilemma.
The volcano waits.

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Satish Verma, 21 december 2022

Legendary

It is a harmless
bloodbath under the moon,
when you stop moving.

Ripples on cheeks
deepen in the fog, that will
settle on red eyes.

Someone should
lift the burden of life from
the trembling hymns.

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Marek Gajowniczek, 19 december 2022

W Adwent męska gwardia stara
spędza w kuchni czas przy garach.
Bez walki przejmuje tron
spécialité de la maison.
Od lat przecież nam wiadomo -
czy za słodko? Czy za słono?
Kto gotuje, ten próbuje!
Bukiet zapachów wyczuje,
pamiętany po wsze czasy.
Uśmiechem stonuje kwasy
i odbierze już przy stole
podziw za swą ważną rolę
kuchennego Pana Domu,
wiedząc, co smakuje komu.

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Satish Verma, 19 december 2022

Holocaust

Like flint, I knew,
it won't work from beginning.
I wait for red moon.

A tragedy was to―
happen. So it happened.
Suddenly one day!

Could you halt it,
the engulfing inferno―
blazing the home?

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Satish Verma, 18 december 2022

Last Dawn

A tardy spirit, when
you cannot change yourself.
The blue birds laugh.

Most needed was
the economy of words for
the brutal future.

Take my footpath
and walk towards the galaxy
to read human cost.

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Marek Gajowniczek, 17 december 2022

Szreń

Patrząc na śniegową chmurę
chłodny wierszyk skrobię piórem,
jak przedtem zgarniałem z szyby
resztki lodowej pokrywy.
.
Nadal jeszcze jestem w stanie
znieść z odśnieżaniem zmaganie
i wysiłek z wychłodzenia.
Zwyczajów swoich nie zmieniam.
.
Wbrew badaniom i diagnozie
przy zawiei i na mrozie
resztki swoich dni testuję
na ile zdrowym się czuję...
.
Nie trzymam się pańskich klamek,
póki nie zamarznie zamek
i nie będzie nazbyt ślisko.
Trzymam się... a Święta blisko!
.
Bezsenność odsypiam w dzień.
Zanim pamięć zeszkli szreń
i ostudzi chłód arktyczny
w cień odsuwam "stan krytyczny"!
.
W świetle adwentowej świecy -
zapisy, terminy, "plecy"
zapomnienia kryje mrok.
Mija tydzień... miesiąc... rok?

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Satish Verma, 17 december 2022

Sweet Encounters

The second death
of orange-moon in―
blood, when sun sleeps.

The magic over.
I am tired of mystery to
die in blue light.

Anxiety rises. You
want to become a prophet
after losing esteem.

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Greg, 16 december 2022

Where Are You?

Why do you make me feel like this?
I’ve given you immense love, convulsive feels
And you let me down with the weight of a decisive hammer
Like Zeus raping the young nymphs
You steal my innocence, my joy, my trust
Which you found in the safest, darkest parts of me
Worked out with subtle, professional agitation
A child drawn to Buffalo Bill’s candy
To be fucking brutalized and ass-raped in a dingy van
In your fucking mind

You give me your candy and I’ll follow you babe
Two drops of sweetness and I’m all yours
Like a fucking pathetic dog getting kicked in the ribs
You tempt me with your sweetness
With your years long lies of reassurance
Forgoing joy after joy, Plato, Love
On an endlessly dying hope
A fish ripped open guts hanging from a rusty spear

Abandoned in the middle of the ocean
Slowly aging into pained renunciation
There’s really not much left for me to do but write out my pain
I’ve tried to love you
And I’ve tried to leave you
And in both cases I fall for your sweet words
For your power-hungry reassurance
“Look at what I can do, you fucking fool”
“If I can destroy you like this, imagine what I can do”

I’m your doll of emotional violence
An endless local of torturous vengeance
And gas-lit emotional neglect

You’ve turned me into a vague shadow of myself
A destitute renunciation of my power
What started as a joke has become all to real
All to deep
This sense that nobody loves me, that I’m alone
You’ve let down my trust for the last time…this hour
I’ll be back for more, whether I want to or not
The decision is undercut by malevolence

So have your knife to your heart
‘Cause that’s where I’ll be
Slice me like rotting meat
And go ahead love, just treat our love like you want to
I can’t even beg anymore
And I have nowhere to turn
For I gave her away too, for you
And you gave me away
As the basic structure of our love
A never-ending disappointment
A never-ending loss of safety, of trust, of the will to life, of love

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Satish Verma, 16 december 2022

Ucanny Thoughts

Break the bread.
Someone waits under
evergreen tree.

*

The tormentor does
not know the angst of falling
palm leaf from the trunk.

*

I will take goggles
to cover my red eyes from
the glare of iceberg.