Latest items:
poetry
Satish Verma, 26 december 2021
The Land Pulls
Dying was not worth
living. Your journey
starts for unknown.
Why were you fixated to
watch the small men―
milk the moon?
It was very expensive to
buy a decent death.
Religion makes it dirty.
Do you remember the myth
of Sisyphus? I love to
carry my rock without a face.
Not quality of life. It
was a matter of degrees
when you feel liberated.
Satish Verma, 25 december 2021
The Land Pulls
Dying was not worth
living. Your journey
starts for unknown.
Why were you fixated to
watch the small men―
milk the moon?
It was very expensive to
buy a decent death.
Religion makes it dirty.
Do you remember the myth
of Sisyphus? I love to
carry my rock without a face.
Not quality of life. It
was a matter of degrees
when you feel liberated.
Satish Verma, 23 december 2021
Little Gods
Do you know the
truth of lies, when
something goes wrong?
You pick up the names
from private dialogues,
to hurt yourself.
Increasingly on edge,
You release the―
doves, to reach the affiliates.
To buy some time
for a debate, I put
off all the lamps.
Why the amnesia,
becomes a blessing in
celebrating the mass beheadings?
RENATA, 21 december 2021
droga do przodu gna a życie w poprzek
mąż dobrze zarabia
w rozjazdach
żona rozpierdala jak tylko da się
ciężko zarobioną kasę
a niech ma w końcu piękna
te masaże SPA solarium
mąż myśli piękno zamknięte w akwarium
jak recydywa gdzieś się wyrywa
bo ona i jej chuć szalona
szuka kutasów do romansów
bo przecież tych strojnych ubiorów
jej osoba nie zabierze do grobu
szaleje jej telefon i laptop
faceci do łóżka jej włażą
bo gorąca jest ta trzydziestka
a mąż choć przystojny rzadko tu mieszka
aż raz przyjechał wcześniej niż przystało
otwiera drzwi a tam szum nagich ciał oj się działo
żona w płacz i przeprasza mąż zawzięty nie wybacza
rogi mu urosły aż stąd do Berlina
nie chce jej rozwodem rzecz ucina
Satish Verma, 21 december 2021
Coding An Ocean
You fault me for
a silent poem.
In infinity of this moment.
I catch the miracle
of unspoken words.
Let me not forget
the way you look at
me via tears.
Why buttercups were
poisonous, untasting you?
Even a simile touch
brings a shudder in leaves.
Give me a kiss of parting,
only you can give. For
ages I will remember the sting.
Satish Verma, 20 december 2021
The Cameo
Chinks― honest to nails,
averting the wants.
It was very dark here.
My screams were not reaching to you.
The sublety seeps
into conversation. Salt was
very bitter. Tears swirl at
the banks of hurts. The stains
were becoming darker.
Poachers were honing
their pens. Someone falls
out of line, to take revenge
on the gods.
Weather was changing.
No dress code was needed
to take a dip in holy water.
A moon crunch will meet you in nude.
Satish Verma, 19 december 2021
Speaking Of Angst
Killer was brown―
not white. Snowfall
covers the wounds of earth.
No questions were
asked for the body
lying in your lap.
Invisible was the
hurt, inflicted on my soul―
for not paying the debt.
Let the myth of
glory fall of the man.
It insults the god.
Satish Verma, 18 december 2021
In Nostalgia
Dual to one another,
I became
a victim's faith.
Collapsing at
far side of the moon, before
I remembered ars poetica.
There was a motive
behind the question, in
between the teary answers.
It was not possible to find
peace, in verses, on the loud
lake at night.
Will ask myself
again, why not to set
the boat on fire?
Satish Verma, 17 december 2021
Infinite Loss
Small truths
of gun battle,
with black roses in hands,
beg for peace.
You fly with broken wings,
and fall like a damp squib.
The darkened facts
in outsized pain, want to
revert back to line of separation.
How will you enter
into the sinless book to find
the words of a prophet?
Nothing was personal.
I have come to you―
to complain about you.
Your wrinkled eyes
look straight through me, and
push me into a dark blue lake.
I want to go dumb?
Satish Verma, 16 december 2021
Eyeshades
Your body, intense―
eats the sins,
dedicated to hunger OF temple.
Weeping windows
will speak for ground zero
from where you picked up the rosary.
Would you invoke
the spirits of owls, who would
not open their eyes in day light?
This was the thought
of the moment. I hail
the half-finished kiss.
There was an allegro
in the outskirts of moon.
I wanted to wear a mark.
Latest comments:
5 october 2024
sam53
dziękuję też wypadałoby... choć ta dzisiejsza
5 october 2024
Belamonte/Senograsta
ekwiwokacja słowa wielkość
4 october 2024
Eva T.
I tak chyba pozostanie :)
4 october 2024
:)
4 october 2024
Z przedpokoju :)
4 october 2024
Weronika
Wszelkie poznanie jest aspektowe, więc do końca
4 october 2024
violetta
Można to zmienić:)
4 october 2024
jeśli tylko
lisi ogon :)
4 october 2024
pieprz w szyszeczkach :)
4 october 2024
Nathas
jaki będę tej jesieni otulony koszmarem zatopiony
4 october 2024
18. wers zgubiłeś "c" we ... wciąż 25.wers
4 october 2024
petunie... non olet?
6 october 2024
wiesiek
5 october 2024
wiesiek
5 october 2024
Eva T.
5 october 2024
Satish Verma
4 october 2024
Eva T.
4 october 2024
Satish Verma
3 october 2024
Eva T.
3 october 2024
Jaga
3 october 2024
Eva T.
3 october 2024
Satish Verma