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RENATA

RENATA, 27 november 2019

ukryte żądze

piasek pustyni
złoto w skrzyni
biały proszek
szklane wieżowce

bogacz obłędem szalony
niczego nie szanuje
po kawałku kupuje
uda cycki i dupę potem żony

tu nie ma miłości
pośród setek ciał w nagości
zazdrość tu nie gości
piękne ciała zmyją okruch samotności

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RENATA

RENATA, 27 november 2019

nadziany-nadziana

ślicznotko
masz chęć na walizkę
pełną dolców?

szejk zaprasza
na przyjęcie
oni kochają rasowe
konie i kobiety

i nie śmiej powiedzieć nie
i nie śmiej zakochać się
a będziesz mile widziana
nadziana

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 27 november 2019

A Bold Step

Yes it would remain
incomplete, my story―
my poem.

The henna speaks today
against unadulterated lies,
against the rage of
losing path.

No more the wrens
will sing, till the clouds don't send
apologia for not
sending the rains―

of blueberries. If I
were you I will turn the
bees into butterflies.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 26 november 2019

Retrievability

Shredding begins.
One by one all the leaves fall, like disrobing.

The words hang around, the naked soul.
You have to catch
the essence.

Deep in the sea―
lies the earth like pain. It
rises― when you prod―

to recover the intensity.
The center and tangent,
both, cry.

Perception comes, when
you break the ―
giant silence, searching for a poem.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 25 november 2019

Fading Faces

Widening the scope
you want to remain
at center stage.

Thinking starts, battling
the ghosts. Doubt remains alive.

A broken beer bottle, at your throat.
You suffer the fall
of humankind.

The acid burns. You wire the
clouds. Tears will not flow.
This is not the end.

Turn the page. Why you
need the signs?

Those pale, staring eyes, unclosed.
Not sufficient?
Can you read the red line?

Was it not an oblique cut,
where the sand was lifted?

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 24 november 2019

Uncementing

Gold fringed, the hood
strikes. You are bound
to throne.

It was unnatural to
demolish the ancient shrine.
God will not show his face.

And what about the dew
collecting on grass leaves,
when you were crying?

The kids won't cry now.
The hunger has put
them to sleep.

It was the dead end
now. You are melting in
great walls.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 november 2019

The Spillover

Not a dog day―
after snapping. In
fatigues, you get a parole
to start sowing sunflowers.

A butterfly skips,
the roundabout and lands
on your lips―

after spending entire
life from flower-to-flower
from bush-to-bush.

I was a witness to history
in making. There was
no togetherness. Will you
believe that?

I am a flame now. All
night I will burn,
to read the explosions―
reaching the bottom of fear.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 21 november 2019

Balancing Act

Collecting the dirt,
a speechless drama unfolds.

Now you can hear the―
wails of buried amnesia.

You can touch now the footsteps
where the activist fell.

The gift of bleeds coming
from the saddened past;

the space was expanding―
to accommodate missed abortions.

My limbs giveaway gathering,
the blackberries of moon.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 20 november 2019

Uninviting Destiny

I would not understand
your fabric, when you come
wearing only smile.

The politics of life was beyond
my poetry. I only have the words
as my wealth. No other assets.

I wanted more space
between the black holes. My earth
needs a rebirth. I am very lonely.

Poison poems. You always
sparred with a family of weighting
heights, which could not touch the sky.

A series of serial killers,
were ready to begin the assault
on the tossing daffodils, deaf, dumb and blind.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 19 november 2019

Empathy With Tattered Cape

Weep every don.
All the translations were fake.

The yellow peaks do not burn the
sky, now at sunrise.

I am forgetting myself―
in the gathering of my foes.

The pilgrim's path is now dirty.
You cannot transcend the―

dead remains of ancestry. In
the hutment, that was the end of view.

Nightblindness. I cannot fathom
out the saint descending a great depth.

From beastkinds I swim back
to save an unborn epic.

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