RENATA, 21 december 2021
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
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
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
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
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
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
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.
Satish Verma, 15 december 2021
Go to the speaking moon
to fell the stars,
and to learn a way of becoming―
unbeing.
It was a rough ride.
How could you open the
fist of darkness
and see in absolute nihility?
Can you unattach me,
when I was seeking your pith
in my poems?
Come to me with unarmed
lies, to fight with my truths.
Life is very short and I have―
many things to do.
Satish Verma, 14 december 2021
Why did you cast
a net to catch
the monster?
Some dark whispers
intending to flog the
supermodel?
What was your fecundity
before you had become
a saint?
Lean unto me, my
soul mate. Can you hear
the footfalls of invisible?
The wholeness was counting
the beads. Are we
killing our icons and prophets?
Moving like a madman
was the motif for you.
I am not going to live dangerously.
Satish Verma, 13 december 2021
Listening to green voice―
genderlessly,
I anoint the beautiful death.
Stream of consciousness slides
on shell of faith.
You disturb the pattern of life.
The core question was,
who did not hunt
with brutality, the lost horizon?
I become radical
in captivity. But the exit
was inside me.
Through the small window
I will catch the baby sun
to become my muse.
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