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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 november 2021

Present Life

It is.
What you don't think,
and don't want to share. Nothing.
Kamikaze― divine wind
destroying your crotch.

Saffron― dried stigmas.
The hiss of a dead shake,
kitchen's flavor for celibates.

Many roads to reach
the mannequins. God is
one. Hydra's tentacles catch
the believers.

Unwholesome.
I won't taste the violence
of celestial bamboos.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 november 2021

The Great Dilemma

Break your silence.
Stay for me.

Face-to-face, after
my first inning,
prey for me.

To know the whole truth
I will change the
ecosystem.

The fake reals,
would become the change,
you never wanted to see.

Smitten by your verses
I was in distress. The
sexless army of thoughts
stand in snaky queues―
beating the big gods.

A nickel for your
eyes. Why they have become
fathomless?

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 november 2021

Against The Current

That mad truth.
The unborn was knifed
long back. Now you throw―
the net in the crowd.

I had found you
after the centuries of conflict―
in small eyes, looking
for the stolen myths.

I want to hold your
face one day and bury it
in my tears. It should not have
happened in the jungle
of jinxed plays.

The unmarked tree. I
had picked up the fallen fruit
to taste you. Would you
find me in dark?

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 november 2021

In Misty Day

Moment of truth.
Bougainvilleas
on grass.

A visible absence.
I was searching―
you in poems.

Your fluid eyes.
My moon-clouds
ready to crash on the land.

In my cupped hands
I collect the tears
of the sky.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 november 2021

Who Had Spoiled The Show?

Muzzle the ape, that
bleeds the tall tree,
tearing apart the blue birds.
I saw it coming.

I was overwrought; watching a
beheading― of the innocent,
in the town square.
People standing in queues to
grab the voodoos.

When you will end my woes
basking in the glory of blood?

O god, take away my chips,
my papers,
my pen.

I am tired of this deceit of man.
Everybody walks like a saint
on the holy banks
where flows the river of tears.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 november 2021

Searching New Phrases

In twilight
the sickle moon,
waits for the dark.

What a kill.
Roses in bloom
watch haying.

Halix of life
uncoils, to warm
the man.

The butterflies
shiver in sun.
Fine weather.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 november 2021

This Myth Of Life

Today I am alone―
with myself,
not even with wet eyes.
A corona intends to go into flames.

Stars unaligned―
where was the need of the god
to commit a failure?
The ruins must stay for ever.

Hurtling towards the sun
you wanted to know― why black scorpions
live in the flares of light?

Nothingness bites you. The
despair hurts, because you wanted
the freedom to die without
inventing the Deity.

My guilt should not be identified.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 november 2021

From The Flames

Under your eyes
shadows, my poems curl up.
When do I call you?

From wires, tiny drops
of dew hang perilously.
Sun was going to kiss.

First I take you, then
I will cry for the last time.
Going to meet the gods.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 november 2021

Snake Dance

Silence was so loud―
a pain ago, would you
resume me now,
between a scion and stock.

The sap had dried up.
A tiny human inside a pen
draws the borders
of bleeding lacerations.

Black mouths,
confront the grizzled gods.
I want them now
in water.

Suicide of a fig tree was
evident. It had eaten its
own figs. No leaves
were left now.

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RENATA

RENATA, 6 november 2021

WESELE

;;Wesele ''- Smarzowskiego

Bawią się chochoły
bawią się warchoły
jak przystało na całość

Wilk sprzedawca świń
urządza wesele swojej córce
jakiś kibol grzebał w jej dziurce
-ale się kochają
-trzeba się tym zająć

i tak chleba i wina nie brakuje na weselu
Wilk ogląda urządzony w masarni spektakl
albo milion albo w eter
pomiędzy wódy kieliszkiem
pomiędzy życzeń śmietniskiem
pomiędzy żoną która chce odejść
pomiędzy księdzem a furą kości

tańczy murzyn tańczy Żyd
daj forssę bo będzie wstyd

Dziadek ma wizje wspomnień
o nieszczęśliwej młodzieńczej miłości
do żydówki i cały wojenny pogrom
przewijał się jak taśmy ogrom
nienawiści i krwi to my

Polacy jesteśmy tacy
nie przepuścimy Żydom
zazdrościom i różowym tęczom
my rasiści my Polacy
polskość jest święta
inność to przynęta
by sponiewierać i zdeptać
serce by mam pękło
i oko wymiękło
gdyby jakiś chochoł
śmiał uderzyć w POLSKOŚĆ

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