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poetry

Satish Verma, 29 december 2013

TRADING DESIRES

Wrapped in explosives he was unready
for a bruise. A dive at a mound of torso
to unearth the archives of areolae.

Apnoea will come for arbitration
in clenched insinuation:
pull nipples to open the window of mind.

On the forehead a smear of vermilion
brings glare like a third eye.
Real fish in the green pond of envy.

Desiccation of spine excites the rhetoric
blurs the sea of swans. A lone tree
explodes into a spring, not just leaves of old flame.

Silver moon recognizes the battered hill.
A white wolf was cruising on the road
for appleblossoms.

Satish Verma

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Greg, 28 december 2013

HappyHappy Sadness

Sometimes
The birds explode
Erode the soul in its whole

Fall

Try to keep me down
Fuck the sky inside out
Rhyme you too a banyan tree

Catch me Bitch

Running through the lily fields
With dreams that feel twice as real
As a severed head painted black

Stop

Forget what I said
Let it in your head
Out of the hole on the other side

Oblige

Oblige

Keep me in your heart
Tear the little shits apart
When you are the grayest
Cloud on a bright summers day

Win
Win the prize
Win
Win the prize
Win
Win the prize

I'm just fuckin' around

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Satish Verma, 28 december 2013

DIARY

He went under pile of words
to tie the thread of understanding
but was stoned to death.

They put the piglets in liquid nitrogen
for future generations to study.
The point of departure had come.

Navel-gazing was the best pastime
for the commander whose sepoys
were fighting the battle for freedom.

I have to say something which I need not
say. The fight is gone from the bleeders.
World was moving towards the poles.

We should talk about looking, not only
owning up our blunders. The import of
saying No has been cooked under the small Yes.

Satish Verma

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Gert Strydom, 27 december 2013

Far too much I do miss you

Far too much I miss you and far too much
is the longing
as if my whole life and everything
do depend upon you.
How I am and what I can become
looses importance
when you are away and loneliness does come
and with your love I am still astounded.

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Gert Strydom, 27 december 2013

Silently at night

Silently at night
we see the bright stars appear
and their coming is almost as secretive
as the silent pain
that love asks and brings so suddenly
in mutual company
where it gives and also asks everything
and selfless carry all of life.

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Satish Verma, 27 december 2013

TWILIGHT

On periphery of gestures and casts
I speak for fading integrity while a fossil
of a scream was stolen from the womb
of language.

On becoming silent, an untitled truth
shakes sensibility. Small vignettes track
the battleships of calligraphy. The sermons
wage a war.

The saints praised the puffed up sheep,
suffered the asylum of Atlantic for astral
hopes to cross the folds of virginity. Splashed
motherhood refused the onslaught of tears.

You make inadequate love, exiled in
intimacy. Blood-drowned statements
will not make to the surface of time. Century
moves not for you, not for me, not for him.

Satish Verma

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Anthony DiMichele, 26 december 2013

tomorrow today

frosty wishes
santa chihuahua
barking laughter with a vengence
who asks me did hypnotic pink ever happen?
and what is this wrinkled caramel coating reeking with aging
moth balls?
first light is a painting of sorrow tomorrow today
with all your favorite mammalian adaptations
every angel in the collection bears a crystal
bouquet with coloring books
waiting under the apple tree of judgment
I cry in the freezing rain right in front of it
keeping the best company
to myself
ice cones of geometric perfection
go wavey in the calculus of the white rays
yellowed in brown dwarfing cumpled into
something else
because nothing never exists
you need a mitt the size of Jupiter
to catch the comets and hot rocks
that take down dinosaurs
who can’t remember how they got this far
despite their myopic triangulation and monumentalism
that allows one last glance
before we get here in miniature
okay the gluttonous long fingered kites
are tethered to the beaches where the dead
are served up on platters of cool glass
death kiss in the blue blue snow on the waves
burning in the bellies of skates
I think of all the plumbing slumbering beneath us
while tugs are pulling the aquarium across the river
on fire
snowballs and igloos fill the holes in my palms
Floridas of corruption irradiate the embryos
floundering in oceans of renewal
where the strangest creatures born from cosmic excesses
get passes

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Joe Breunig, 26 december 2013

Poem: Pursuit of Holiness

The flesh lusts daily against the Spirit
and the Spirit wars contrary to the flesh.
The opposing tenets of grace and iniquity
can never with each other… completely mesh.

For the redeemed sinners operate by grace,
while the practitioners of unrighteousness
prefer the dark, ungodly ways of wickedness
and will not inherit the Kingdom’s fullness.

Fleshly works are clearly evident: adultery,
fornication, idolatry, sorcery, uncleanness,
contentions, jealousies, sexual immorality,
hatred, envy, revelries and evil-mindedness.

Fruits of the sinful flesh are plain to see
and spirits cringe- at their being mentioned.
Can we expect others to pursue God’s holiness,
when people are upset- from being questioned?

For we live under God’s grace and not His Law;
His righteous wrath will be eventually revealed.
Acceptance of His gift of Salvation can insure…
that our lives will have been redeemed and sealed!

Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
Gal 5:16; Rom 1:18-32, 2:1-16

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.amazon.com/Reaching-Towards-His-Unbounded-Glory/dp/1419650513/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1388058560&sr=1-1&keywords=reaching+towards+his+unbounded+glory

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.

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Satish Verma, 26 december 2013

NATIVE OF DEATH

He had started his own manhunt
for an autistic seal for a personal vision
in deep waters. They had left him to die at bottom of pain.
The silent screams against inhuman brutality

started coming from underground. A photo
montage was emerging on the walls. I
dip my fingers in blood to write my name.
Just the untitled truth will speak now.

New species of frogs are making headlines.
Men were becoming amphibians, sailing beyond
the shores of kisses to bite.

They were starving for the sun in caves,
to watch the murals for a resume of flames.
The snow was covering the peaks of shame.

Satish Verma