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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 march 2019

Soaked In Glory

The plunging line was―
going deeper, cutting close to
the bone. I was preparing
myself to be martyred
alive.

Prod me viciously, my
love, I want to die in your arms before
the dawn. It should be
too good to be true
for you.

Waterbirds. They are ready
to take a flight. Petal
by petal, sun will send you
the message. I am going to fade away
in moonlight.

Water hyacinth had the death secret.
Knife me gently. I will
meet my Apollo in dark.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 march 2019

Along The Path

Encountering a dislocated self,
here it goes, the “I”,
flicking out the name
which will reach nowhere.

The foreword will not
disclose the contents of
the book. It was reading
only a footnote.

I place a searing moon
on your plate. You can take
a slice of it and gulp
your agony.

The arrival does not finish
the journey. There are far―
away worlds beyond
your fantasies.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 march 2019

Left On The Dunes

Talking points at ground zero
trap the heat. The tyranny
knows no bounds.

Trauma of awaiting liberation
was intense. No truth was
ready to accept the bends.

I feel cheated when,
the dark gives a sermon about
the hidden dawn.

The hair burn in unmade
bed, taking a cue from
the beast, who will not sleep.

Where do the white stars
go, when the sun rises? I
will ask the crying lake.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 march 2019

Winter Story

When clouds were
drawing graffiti on sky,
where were you?

Untamed manners
in a profound grief
brings back the black buck.

The buck stops here,
fallen on the golden ax.
Get me the lantern.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 5 march 2019

Unbuttoning

Scratching the rusted face
of the dust storm-
to read the message.

I have come very far,
from the old stinks.
It was not the escape.

The unshaped sap,
spills from the cut end-
of treetops. I gather your cones.

The fall begins abruptly.
It was a landslide of
leaf drop. Yellow and brown.

I wait for the red.
It reminds me of blood
dripping from your poem.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 march 2019

Tones Of Beige

That obscene stare
aggravates the silicon
thrust. You become a victim
of an upheaval.

The white dwarfs have
invaded the blackboard.
You can get a glimpse
of unsolicited rape.

A cyanide capsule
hangs on your chest.
Will you commit a suicide
after an unnatural kill?

It takes a toll. The
abuse of the fingers.
Instead of writing a name
you print the cave.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 2 march 2019

Walking Down The Lane

Time entombed, a negative
film, showing the
white bones of
a black moon.

I am surprised, how
a jungle of humanity, lives
with predators―
uncomplainingly.

A lost genre will find
new syllables to start a
heliographic script to
make history.

There has to be some
reason, in the lamb days
to become a wolf.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 1 march 2019

Lone Wolf

On ladder, you climb
for espionage, with
a feeling of an evil.

Somewhere, somebody
pulls the strings,
at arterial roads.

You put yourself
in harm’s way for
exotic blooms.

A civil disobedience, starts.
A bone of contention was
the muscle of love.

One on one
tooth for tooth,
lips for lips.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 28 february 2019

In The Labyrinth

The pungent smell of dry
smoldering leaves, greet you
when you cross the road.

The knower has become
unknowable and I start collecting
the pebbles, a remimder
of lost childhood.

Somebody has kidnapped the
art of the nocturne. The
songbird will never find the moon.

When you are under attack
you run faster,
to drink the speed of dust.

It was a case of intimidation.
Invisible ghosts were demanding
their bricks of gold.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 27 february 2019

The Warts

Like a wax moth, me―
sensing your footsteps
from a mile.

*

The half-truths
were always baked in milk
to look white.

*

The cleric was
jubilant. God has decided
not to live any more.

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