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poetry

Blueskipper, 20 february 2016

Hello :)

The first time I saw her my heart started pounding
She was waiting by the hall; I stopped breathing
Don't know what to say In my mind I was screaming
Who is this beautiful girl? I must be dreaming

The oppurtunities I try to make to try and talk to you
Asking for a band-aid and waiting at the canteen queue
I tried to speak, but my words outside they flew
Better luck next time boy someday you will break through

Like a sunflower always facing the sun
I sit around lunch waiting for the one
Eating slowly waiting for her to be done
Just glancing at her; oh I've already won

So I finally got her name from someone I know
Better send a friend request right now amigo
Will she accept it? I don't know maybe tomorrow
2 weeks passed by and you finally did; so I typed "Hello :)"

-C. Tagle

number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Satish Verma, 20 february 2016

Psychological Dying

It comes suddenly like a flash,
in some intimate moment,
conception of fear.
Like budgerigars, petrified on the wall,
the cat below, scratching, jumping.
I am done.
Questions of life and death, right & wrong,
the continuous chatter of psychological dying.

The dust goes into the eyes.
we start playing the game.
Melancholic clouds. Cannot look straight.
Disillusions drips. Depersonification starts,
On the parched skin.
Wrinkles dig deep to collect the tears.
The ending, before it starts.

Arguments are dragging the conscience.
Hunger and knowledge staring at each other,
Unabashedly, and dying shadows making a kill.
Some one stakes a claim,
on heritage of purity, pulling the strings.
Freedom to act bleeds the heart.

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Satish Verma, 19 february 2016

On The Jagged Stones

Leaving the faint traces,
of some diluted thoughts
You empty yourself completely.
Poverty and shame without an arithmetic,
is the poetry of life.
Using the body instead of words.
Always needing currency,
to open the doors of clarity.

Naked without skin,
we survive on crumbs of charity.
Lending our organs to develop,
an order of mortality.
I refuse to taste the bitterness,
preserve my sanctity,
go for another version of god,
thinking, how to think.

For the inward freedom,
I forsake safety pins,
walking, bleeding on the jagged stones.
Pain of realization is deeper,
than the hurt.
Cry silently in the veins
pure resistance will not work now.
I will try the fiction path.

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Gino, 18 february 2016

Knowing Unknown is sacred v1

Element by element
the tiniest points
of all been, ruled by Unknown
— and Unknown knowing
just easily peace defines.

Dance of logical pieces
the atoms combined
pure energy, pure being
biting the Structure
giving a birth to new one.

My words are g r a p h e m e s
just nothing more than symbols...
meaning some p h o n e m e s
building my speech - element
by element. Elements.

Foolish wolves, non-souls
Vain cats, grey human hearts
Every piece as dead element
uniting living ivy

[...]

« Thou art a mechanical,
biologically artificial process.
Or a mechanical, biologically artificial process that combines everything which is ready for that orderly chaos and meaning a thing? »

« Why would anything be so complex and somewhat logical?
Is there any pride? Fun? Or maybe someone's waiting for an end?
Or is it endless?»

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Satish Verma, 18 february 2016

Spastic Legs

We did not concede,
textured life was absurd
tried to struggle against misfortune; were thrown out.
To find a new definition,
of the restless syndrome,
without cause and ending,
the untouchable of the underworld,
were screaming terribly.

Conflict widens in the face of existence
the fall was inevitable.
Incessant goading on the spastic legs,
brought out the god of sorrows,
endurance was not the answer.
Danger was always lurking in the corner.

Strange sounds and frigthening,
sights are discernible
the tremors are felt in deep crevices.
You want to touch all the poles.
run away from giants,
smash the hypocrite;
and see your face in a dark mirror.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Karen Adams, 17 february 2016

Być kobietą

Być kobietą
Wcale nie jest takie proste
Palić za sobą wszystkie mosty
Wkraczać jako dziecko
W świat dorosłych
Być kobietą
Wciąż wertować kalendarze
I wykreślać grubą kreską
Najpiękniejsze z naszych marzeń
Być kobietą
Wcale nie jest takie proste
Mając w sercu zimę
Wciąż udając wiosnę

To be a woman
It is not that simple at all
Burn all bridges behind you
Enter as a child
Into the world of adults
To be a woman
Still flipping through calendars
And draw a thick line
The most beautiful of our dreams
To be a woman
It is not that simple at all
With winter in my heart
Still pretending to be spring

number of comments: 2 | rating: 3 | detail

Satish Verma, 17 february 2016

Genesis

The sludge rattles as you tilt on one side
heat and dust swirl around you.
The sun baked age drifts.
The book of life with greasy stains,
preserves a part of your history.
The earth moves on.

Suffering to filthy chatter,
this city was not your choice.
What were you doing,
with your innocent thoughts,
under naked aggression?
Confessions were not sufficient.
Seeking you were not,
then why you were counting the coins?

The last person defeats the death.
Deaf and dumb go in a tizzy.
The bipolars are puzzled.
Is that the answer to a revenge?
No body knows the genesis.
The fog deepens.
Clouds climb up the sky.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 16 february 2016

Namaste

Back and forth
back and forth
culture whores
were removing the skin tags
from armpits.
The private plateaus spurting
lemon grass juice.

Between kind questions
and cruel answers
I watch the heat rlsing.

Scanning the leukemic beach
the sex drenched hour
squirms with pubic pain.

Two round hills -
firm breasts tucked under white clouds
were weary of lip slaves.

Namaste sunset
I was waiting for you.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 15 february 2016

The Ending

No ending of the story. The loose thread hangs.
Journey again starts at the termination.
The smell is something of enigma.
I am again dissecting the body of a stale corpse.

Fever is rising with jokes Thin sheet covers
the ugly face with blisters.
A disconcerned person burns the phosphorus.

The darkness creates the ghosts of history,
two thousand years of knowledge.
Still the niceties of culture are to e observed
and firework started
to celebrate the end of an era.

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Satish Verma, 14 february 2016

Moon Rise

Like burning coals on the tongue
the words smoulder the ardour.
I cannot pursue a thought of untruth
for sake of remainin alive.

The water hole is dry, we turn back
from poetry and greens,
heading towards onother cul-de-sac.
A fear mocks at the face.
About being a human failure preparing
to admit the defeat.
Despair will decide the path!

I always adored a struggle for reality
calmly choosing the self-denial.
Secretly I weave a memory of moon rise
in pitch darkness.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

Hello :)

Psychological Dying

On The Jagged Stones

Knowing Unknown is sacred v1

Spastic Legs

Być kobietą

Genesis

Namaste

The Ending

Moon Rise

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