Poetry

Let me navigate the resentment
in non-verbal manner, I go in myself,
dislocating the whole experience
of goodness for vulnerability

I was stung a hundred times
into playing a role not of mine
deceiving the life,
which was on the other side of self.

This encounter with hypocrisy in meditation
was very gratifying.
I begin trying a repetitive motion
of my hand to ward off evil,
and find a parallel home for a second thought.

At night I travel to galaxy of waste,
the perfect paradox of failure
where time clones a beautiful mistake
which will hop from man to man.


Satish Verma