Latest items:

poetry

Satish Verma, 15 april 2020

Slit The Heart

You are trying to
seel the half-truths
in terror.

In the fear of-
annihilation, you
want to remain unborn.

The pity of unnaming
the pain, your body wrapped
in tinfoil- ready to be roasted.

The barren spirituality-
and nudeness-
of ecstasy.Do you think you were floating

like a cadaver?
Who will drink
the arsenic now?

The miracle.
I am legless and I move
swiftly to catch the words.

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Satish Verma, 14 april 2020

Less Than Perfidy

Again, I remember you intensly
in dark night.

Fractious with myself
to fill in the void―
for not writing any end.

Trying to become human,
revenge for revenge―
life measures the exactness.

Like holding a firefly
in my palm, I was searching
the light.

Still trying to shake off
the dust, the ash, from the wings.
A long flight was ahead.

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Satish Verma, 13 april 2020

The Moon

Like a mole, she was
coming up, tunneling
with strong paws.

Indignant, of being called
by the name.

You need darkness, to show your brilliance.

The language of fear, at hair distance
where the horizon ends.

The reluctant lover
will not speak the mind, to act
alone was impossible.

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RENATA, 12 april 2020

zostań w domu

zostań w domu trąbią trąbią wokół
zmienia się świat i my wystajemy
w oknach tak głodni powietrza
parku śpiewu ptaków i dalekich podróży
wychodzimy na balkony śpiewać
blus odkupienia choć bóg wie
łakomstwo w dzień namiętność po zmierzchu

Ona jest żądna naszych płuc
i adrenaliny jest anonimowa
może wpełzać pod skórę automatycznie
szukać i przebierać groteskowo
naszych ust nieprzytomnych wina
porobiła obozy w garnkach gotuje
miłość i nienawiść skażeni chowamy się
a ona pluje unosząc nas do innych galaktyk

zostań w domu bo inaczej agresja
policja jest wprost niebezpieczna
zespoły napięć rosną i mandaty
czyżby to przedsionek końca świata
rosnie liczba trupów chorych i bezrobotnych

ona jest egzekutorem spraw typowo przewlekłych
cząstka prawdy miesza się z zapachem śmierci
widzisz ją wokół w dobie głodu w roku szczura
gdy wiara się załamuje a my kochamy
pędzimy myślami tęsknimy marzymy
żeby doczekać świtu pełną piersią odetchnąć
pomysłami zasypujemy się co będzie dalej
bo teraz cały świat to cztery ściany

number of comments: 1 | rating: 1 | detail

Satish Verma, 12 april 2020

The Sundial

The orifice was absent
from the face.
The hatred will unite the enemies.

You won't speak
in the debate, how to
murder the humanity.

Old affections are made
anew.You can score the
highest tears

Armless, you move
the clock in-
opposite direction.

The stigma still remains
after the flight.
I am going back home.

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Satish Verma, 11 april 2020

Unlikely

Seasoned,
a red hibiscus
will ask for a white name―

in winter. Like drinking
night, under the moon
for a torn meniscus.

How far was the skyline?
The snow wants to reach
the ultimate blue.

Water cries for a
beautiful weep for the sun.

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Satish Verma, 10 april 2020

The Fabrication

What you would not give,
age opens
and eats you.

Finally, the fly ash
was liberated. It carries the
memories of burns, in furnace
that was life.

No android will fight
the proxy war of flesh. The cinnamon―
body will write the elegy
on sandstone.

The bronzed face, now
reflects the pain of earth.

Let the hymns stitch the life
without needles.

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Satish Verma, 9 april 2020

Deep Tragedies

Life plays the tricks.
You become a meteor-
a streak of light, in the almond eyes
of a god.

I don; t like the grey areas.
Can you become fearless
and confess the guilt of drinking
the mercury? Blisters had
appeared on your face red and blue.

Was it a pure fault?
Mother earth smiles.When buried
alive thirty below the mound of lies
you remained alive.

Dehydrated, you speak
the truth and spill out the
false teeth.Your mind separates
from the heart and blood stains emerge.

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Satish Verma, 8 april 2020

Fencing

Scouring, the unmarked
silences―
for the invisible executions.

My name was
on top, for exclusion
from the list.

Now you can read the
applicant's account
under the sun's fault.

A thrill of terror
runs through the buds.
A celebration will stop the words.

There was no other
way, to know the pink of
a dying rose.

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Satish Verma, 4 april 2020

Show Me Your Jewel Box

Not reaching somewhere,
I was not today,
what I was.

You seek a hand
for a handshake, and I watch
the dirt gathering
on the nails.

Sky does not give you
an award.The soot
collects on the windows.

The blue skulls dance
to defy the earth.No forehead
was formed.How would you
read the destiny?

I swear, I did not fathered
the deity in a-
monotheist gathering.
A black hijab covers
the moon.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

Slit The Heart

Less Than Perfidy

The Moon

zostań w domu

The Sundial

Unlikely

The Fabrication

Deep Tragedies

Fencing

Show Me Your Jewel Box

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