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Satish Verma, 25 september 2019
I Will Write A Poem
He used to tread lightly as if
walking on concrete, barefoot―
to capture the apologetic
colours of rainbow in lake.
A spinning top, he wanted
to float on water and touch
the soft contours in depth―
wrestling with waves.
A dark sky was hovering
around. Something was rising
from the black hills, as if
on fire. I had never seen before―
the golden moon, rising. Two
song birds darting to and fro
as if in great agony to save
the nestlings from the lynx.
Satish Verma, 26 september 2019
Disconnection
Move on. O city, you
were not worth of
living any more,
sleeping on your tusks.
I will not assume
any other new name―
when the hurricane
finally arrives.
It will not go. You
can keep scratching
for whole life.
Your psoriatic scalp.
The attempt to
commit suicide was
worthless. Nobody
will write a note.
I will not invite
the white moon to―
break the fast,
after the bloodbath.
Satish Verma, 27 september 2019
Vast And Near
To shut the methane,
you sent―
the barbs. The brutal
assault against the thimbles.
I will not send the
edict for withdrawl.
Even the river
was thirsty.
The freaks were
jumping on the fence.
An interrupted moon
was wary of them.
I will draw a
sand painting to heal
the man on the
beach.
The air smells
like an egg. As you
run, the mist
fills your eyes.
Satish Verma, 28 september 2019
A Patty Thing
The primal urge to undo―
your hair. I am going
crazy.
It ends at beginning.
A rite of passage to nakedness
of soul, when you have
nothing to hide.
The master cell, has flipped
over, after you squeezed
its belly. The tasteless sphagnum
was out.
The hunger stands at your door.
Wants the bread of pride.
Will you stop the clock
and go for timeless?
I had lighted the incense
sticks. One for you and
one for God.
Satish Verma, 29 september 2019
Proclaming
After land slips it was
most surreal scene. Cadaveric
donations had started.
The author of death would
ask for a showdown. Blood
for blood and bone for bone.
The loneliness erupts again
like a volcano. The new moon
will weep for outdoors.
A mermaid breaks the
rules. Starts wearing the
makeup and becomes robed.
Fishing in aquarium was
prohibited. An absurd
proposition of the glass.
Satish Verma, 30 september 2019
Moon Burning
I become again a fakir,
but not on alms.
A giver wants nothing
after a knife thrust.
Take away as many as
you can, my thoughts, my limbs.
There is no language
of charity, in the black hole.
You are the one, who
does not need any ladder.
Sitting on the beach, watching
the waves collapsing.
One day you will move
away from the walkway.
Satish Verma, 19 september 2019
Infinity Of Aching
Leaker had started
the invasion of the lake.
The house blinks every night.
Was there any civility
for boats to collect―
the skeletons from the bed?
The dust dances in my
empty home. From where―
the ashes of wounds had come?
There was fear of unknown.
I was afraid of the fear.
I am burning your address.
I see an apparition. A
branded witch. I don't care.
Death was always my friend.
Satish Verma, 18 september 2019
Another Mistake
Training your voice, you
had come around to open―
the door of the miasma.
The departure stretched
very long. Strange blinkers
were holding the light.
A cunning God would
not let you die―
in the trenches of syllables.
The moon would withdraw
from the humming night―
for a face-lifting.
One blind sun, hurts
the path, where I had
laid the marigolds.
Satish Verma, 9 september 2019
The Raging Storm
A scavenger fails to thrive
in upward mobility.
The emotion becomes a virtual,
collects all the garbage
and becomes negative.
There are only varied questions
of different shades, and
no appropriate answer.
A fantasy remonstrates with the diminutive moon.
Stone pelting becomes a daily
ritual with the song. There
was no music in the language.
Scarves were few. And it
was very cold―
out in the chilled dark.
Satish Verma, 10 september 2019
From The Streetlamp
Hits you in the face,
disseminating the chivalry
of fragile connotation.
A virtue slips away from―
your hands, when you think
what is a pain.
Then the poem starts
writing about the pen
which had no ink.
You need courage to―
smash the mirror which
was telling the truth.
And the complexity of
relationship comes, to the fore, when
the belief was stronger than love.
Satish Verma, 11 september 2019
Picking Up The Threads
No attachment with the
alma mater. You have
eaten away all the grass.
Bounteous breast was empty.
Like a nun, dropping
the robes, the moon was rising.
Would you meet her in dark?
The night wanted to come
and sit in your lap.
Let us play with cowries.
You know my life was
never in the hands of god.
I was a walking tree.
So simple were the means
of death. Nobody knew
who was me.
Satish Verma, 12 september 2019
From The Edge
You were becoming more prone
to violence, confronting
the moon. Heat was rising.
Like a mongrel, twirling
round and round in dirt,
to sit in.
It was very dangerous, the
racial thought of eliminating
oneself in the mainstream.
A morphogenic change
was visible. Why were you
shrinking in horror?
The group pain was getting
a hold of me. I am not
sure, what I will do now.
Satish Verma, 13 september 2019
Kidnapped
Lamenting, what not to―
think. Condemned to burn
the words daily.
The dwindling values tear open
the sit-ins of faith. I was
not ready to become a stone.
A busy vessel sends daily, the
blood to remote memories.
I look askance at the falling peaks.
A dog star following the
heels of master with blinders. No
straight vision. Time was the
mystery of the clock.
The moon is nowhere
in sight. I was starving
for a cardinal pain.
Satish Verma, 14 september 2019
Where Dreams Live
Despite the great divide
a dialogue must ensue, between
earth and sky.
This was a climacteric change, when
you cannot land on your feet,
after the rainfall.
The criminal assaults, rapes
and homicides, bring the species
on boil. The books are our god.
You cannot start a group
conflict, skirting the question
of mining the gold.
The void within widens, you
will not tell my dreams. For each
star I had picked up a soul.
Satish Verma, 15 september 2019
Killing Yourself
It was a flame in the drizzle:
a golden peacock.
I was trying to understand
the Adam and Eve.
Between X and Y, my
heliograph stood in the foliage of words.
The hetero factor was generating heat.
The mitochondrial Eve will
search the land where the seeds were
dispersed. The swinger was still
active in the dark.
You have missed the bomb.
The laser-fed boom landed―
in the crotch of death.
The black dust covered the grave.
Satish Verma, 16 september 2019
An Elegy
The abundance spills on my
torn shirt, when I was
gathering your voice.
The affiliated sore
begins to fester in your face―
after flying a kite.
It blurs, when you give
a speech, manipulating the lives
of innocent bystanders.
When you were heaving the numbers,
I was holding on the poems, like coins
not your paper thoughts.
Being blind was not becoming
a Buddha in the garden.
Suicides were increasing every day.
Satish Verma, 17 september 2019
It Was No Magic
When you would be absent,
O Druid, I will know you better.
Time leaps my watch―
I have become blind.
It was not enough to
read― that was not written yet.
I am coming down the mountain
to meet the dust.
Life was not very kind to me.
Too much undoings had given
me a white sheet to―
write the names of fugitives.
I sweep the floor, I wash
the black earth and shut―
the windows. Too much knowing
had made me a dwarf.
Satish Verma, 1 october 2019
Testimony
A wax house you were
gifted to live in sun.
No comments. As if the chess
game now starts. You do not know
how to move a checkmate
Always a looser. You do not
want to win this game― of
betting the cemetery― where your
ancestors were buried. No―
body has come to claim the remains.
Unkissed, the seeds will wait
to become antiqued, till a
historian finds a shovel. A
state of mind, you were very poor.
I will not cry for the fall's colors.
Satish Verma, 2 october 2019
When Technology Fails
Your comatose
countenance:
punctuates a coronal spurt.
Life will never
forget this insult and return
your freak awards.
The moon cancels
a lake meeting. You cannot
celebrate the arrival of night.
Helplessly, I scrap
the terror threat, though
your memory was severed in an ambush.
At ground zero,
a young couple starts a sit-in
against the raining sermons.
Satish Verma, 15 october 2019
Flawless
Like walking on coal dump
coming of age.
Magnifying the blackness
of a miner's hands.
Excavating a long burrow
to feed the pain.
A muffled cry and you
locate a bound sea.
A clear moon was rising
as a witness to this atrocity.
A classic dance of an
angry god to show the presence.
Satish Verma, 16 october 2019
Forces Unseen
He was slated to become
godless, without engaging―
the nature.
The violence continues
in every joint, after an ego clash
in fractured body.
A blood carnival, between
divine and the beast, paying
the debt of earth.
The decadence. Let it be.
Becoming beautiful
in great decline.
The dice has been thrown.
A chance to meet―
the death after the duel.
Satish Verma, 18 october 2019
Appropriatly Speaking
No use, running after the scent
of the hounded animal.
The cat was dead.
You cannot travel beyond the sound.
Your presence was noted―
in a particle only.
In the blurred image of a paper
you may exist, may not.
But I am alone. What was life?
An unheard script handed down
by unseen hand?
Sugar curtains and salt-water:
you cannot stand the acrimony
of the pair standing nonchalanty.
Satish Verma, 19 october 2019
A Nondescript Night
The quality drops. You
look at the sky.
A juvenile moon was
following us.
The intention was not very
clear. To shake off the tail,
we went behind the bushes―
to understand ourselves.
The ennui was taking a
big toll. The roots were becoming
robotic. Cannot negotiate an issue.
Seedless, you cannot
impregnate. No thoughts―
no poems.
But then the life has so
many giggles.
You can start reading a murder.
Satish Verma, 20 october 2019
Off The Tangent
To foil the pride of
initiating the blasts;
there was a terror watch―
to share a common link
of violence.
And speak I will, for the
grains, for the grass,
in the endless search
for the peace.
The obsessed autism
illustrates the bipolar.
Light and darkness―
alternating.
A thought poetry, in
quantum physics, makes
a sacrifice. It will
not look back.
Satish Verma, 21 october 2019
In Mist
There was a scream,
a howl. Something, somebody
had scuttled the platter.
You stop and frisk yourself,
and as if the red ants had
started coming out from your
eyes.
It wets the script. An apparition.
A dove flutters in the chest. A
fantasy, like you leave your body.
A window opens, shuts. Opens, shuts.
One vestigial flicker of the miasma
unsettles, the tree culture,
The undersides of the tongue becomes blue.
Do you know, you read
from the back side of the brain?
Have you heard the hindsight?
Yes, sometimes, means no.
Satish Verma, 22 october 2019
Shooting Stars
It is over. The curtain falls.
I have come to settle―
my account with the waning moon.
Will call you later,
when the dawn breaks
and sun spells out the light.
The water has receded―
on the beach, leaving some
empty shells, hollowed fish
and upturned paper boats.
I move around the small pool,
left by the angry sea.
You will start commenting
on my poems. I wanted to read
your handwritten notes to know―
how your mind works.
I will not meet you again.
Satish Verma, 23 october 2019
Chasing The Wild Cat
Pushed aside and
sequestered, like a
frieze, you hang on a wall.
From grape to grapefruit
the journey was tedious.
When you start reading the mind,
the crisis deepens.
Cannabis? Like psychoactive;
the anger rises against hyper―
male identity. A gender
based disorder. It kills
scores of cuckoos. Who will
give now, a mating call?
A prison-break. You set
free all the songs and
release the inmates of conscience.
Satish Verma, 24 october 2019
People Versus Silence
In the humid night
there was a circularity
of rhythmic chirping of the crickets.
Suddenly there is a lull.
Everything stops in the tracks.
Then a chorus rises―
building up to crescendo.
You become easily distracted
being sole surviving species―
not defending you flaws.
Then your mind shrinks.
You would like to hide
the emptiness, but
the psyche impales you.
The baby moon starts
transliterating the great―
silence on your lips.
Satish Verma, 14 october 2019
Cross Beams
A quest for negativity
after becoming apolitical.
The moon was marginalized,
when you lighted your―
earthen lamp under the
holy basil.
At night the demons
begin the assaults to
make the milk dirty.
The bluebird descends
in the dream to pick up
the elders for a wreath.
I am not going to cross
the river in flames.
Satish Verma, 13 october 2019
Did Not We Cry?
Ash and smoke.
I am fever, not becoming
any sound.
Like a lichen, a mycorrhiza
on damp soil,
unfound by light.
Thriving in airless
dark. Will not see the cool―
moon of summer night.
There was no key
to find the invisible.
A random poem will see.
Your painted body
in blue scars, still
remembers the fallen roof.
Satish Verma, 3 october 2019
Not A Dream
Imperfect mating.
I am lurching forward―
in a chaotic
non-existence.
There was no divinity
in your sinless sprinkling.
A timeless death was
the only riposte to ephemeral queries.
A lif-size God stands
sentinel outside the museum.
Only the mortal were
etched on the walls.
A pygmy cycas has bloomed
after a decade. I have come back
home to collect―
my belongings of last life.
Satish Verma, 4 october 2019
Being Alone
Writing your own elegy in a
blocked artery―
for a syntactic analysis.
How do I know
that dolphin will remember
my name,
my address?
It swims silently.
No ranting.
Eating nothing― anorexia.
Standing under a tree,
tying the thread round the trunk,
you want to move against
the time.
Only a question
remains unanswered.
From where the journey begins?
Satish Verma, 5 october 2019
A Hanging Tale
Your hands tremble,
when you accept―
the cup of hemlock.
Not like Socrates,
who described the ascending bane
paralyzingly.
Art of letting it go―
was inherent. Exogamy.
The root population grows.
I have come to take
your hand, O death,
out of caste.
You tell me,
it was out of turn,
to stitch the black wound.
The howling was persistent―
Moon was not yet sighted.
Satish Verma, 6 october 2019
Concealed Fever
It is raining.
The water colors.
I miss the ache.
When, to wear a crimson
dot on forehead, the sky
had become a bride.
Destiny fractured.
Why did't I tell the lies
to achieve the greatness?
Not my effects. I stare
blankly at your portrait.
Blaming the conceptual
crisis, you cannot speak the truth.
Weaving a web of unseen
threads, you hold a poem
ready to take a flight.
Satish Verma, 7 october 2019
Musing On
There was an urgency―
to finish the job,
beheading the tulips.
Wolves were coming.
The surveillance had failed.
Nothing but clouds between
the titles.
Writing was illegible.
It was the last offensive
of blankness.
Before the dawn.
You have to draw a crescent
moon on my forehead.
I am going to scream.
Satish Verma, 8 october 2019
Sunbath
The tibial spiking
now hurts.
The floaters on the dried bed―
of bones, speak volumes
of sand in eyes.
Pawns have disappeared.
The earth is wounded.
A snake climbs onto the pink lips
to know its crime.
The matter interacts wrongly
with radiation. Spectroscopy
fails up to the hilt.
On the spur of the moment
I ignite the shadow
of the space between us.
The miser starts counting the coins.
Satish Verma, 9 october 2019
The Seeker
Skin bleached in moon,
you prepare yourself tonight to hit the mystry,
of a recipient. The days are
tattooed on your body. The hands become claws.
A terrorist, becomes a canine,
biting blood-hot.
Like the opal, in a slow stream
of light, displaying the pisces around your―
eyes, swimming. There is no
money left to bring the milk of blue pain.
A physical contact via moon,
would you talk to me after the glorious sunset?
O, multiheaded cobra,
which of your hood is going to strike me
Satish Verma, 11 october 2019
Renunciation
The bifurcation―
was complete.
A fire baby―
and a weird ritual.
Criticality was redundant,
once I knew your gender.
Reeking of timelessness
in zero hour.
You fly the balloons―
from the ruins.
I scraifice a tree
for you, with
a shrill cry―
falling mid-flight.
White moon had
become very harsh.
I will bring honey
for night.
Satish Verma, 12 october 2019
Bloodless Eyes
The fresco had started
peeling off. I was―
searching for my ancestors.
The walls had the secrets
buried deep in the bricks―
when they were baked.
Few abandoned poems,
some fakes and counterfeits
and many masks.
A dynasty speaks of
the grieving world without any―
remorse. I do not arrive.
A birthday present for the new
generation, a bronzed
face with glazed eyes looking beyond gravity.
Satish Verma, 25 october 2019
How Did You Arrive?
After sitting in dark
through the black smiles,
you cannot stand the light.
The bloodshed, inclusive
of measuring the purity of intent,
celebrating the arrival―
and departure, ignoring the passage.
The road smells the spot, and feeds the rags.
These leaps and bounds
land you at the dead end. No trees
no leaves. Where you will go now?
How you hate yourself, now
beheading the roses. The cloud forest, where
you will find a new carnivore.
Satish Verma, 1 june 2019
Tempestuous
Stargazing will not stop.
The will to find the answer,
when the glacier breaks.
You bring the god down
to earth. Don’t want to
bother any door.
A pair of fetters fastened
around my ankles.
I hop to the house of sadness.
The auroral spark
ignites the leaker. Clouds
burst crimson with tears.
A ring of red stones were
markers. Here fell the divine
spirits, climbing on water.
Satish Verma, 27 december 2018
Biography
A name without
a face. I am an ancestor
unknown.
A shortened height,
difficult to exult
in honors bestowed.
The light hurts, in
earthen cave. You write
on wall of conscience.
The mud clings.
Stink covers you, like
serpentine arm.
The arbor has many
colors. I will choose
none in dark.
Satish Verma, 13 january 2019
Receive Your Children
Law of causality was
seeking answers from the
rites of flowers. Why do a black powder
and glass sharpnels interrupt
the turnover of bliss,
when I held the sacred
lotus in my hand?
Somebody brings moon
at halt. A loud explosion prepares
the earth for penance, where
we have come raising the bar.
Apparently, a carnage
will deluge the street
with the blood of bystanders.
The planet is dead today
in the belly of violence.
You catch me off the guard.
All night I will go for vigil.
Satish Verma, 14 january 2019
Rudimentary Thoughts
So near and so far
you live together
sorting through the detritus of life.
*
The erosion
sends back the gravel,
the sand and silt of human script.
*
The violence,
will it end someday? Asks
a child playing with a time bomb.
Satish Verma, 15 january 2019
The Blooming Blood
Sky-clad, you are going
to meet the nemesis,
digging the street to―
find the nails. Do not fret.
Nails had burrowed deep in the
flesh of unknown. When you have
nothing to say, what are you
going to say?
My heart misses a beat. Takes
a pause to look at the
spring of songless birds. I watch
myself ruined amid the legless run.
Soon they will be coming to wash
the stones with tears.
Do you smell the pungent smoke
rising from the no name tragedy.
Tonight the gas will not burn
in the kitchen. The beds will
remain unslept.
Satish Verma, 16 january 2019
Massive Explosion
Why does it happen,
when you collapse in,
on yourself, a black
hole is formed? I don’t
want to enter, the depth
of eternal death!
Would you come with
me to have a look
at the fading sun?
It is beautiful. The
rainbow on street, in-
viting you to cross the colors.
It bleeds the heart, the
irreparable loss of the rival.
You are here, not to come again.
Satish Verma, 17 january 2019
Scouring
Like a bee,
you wanted to land―
on the snapdragon’s,
curved lip.
Light years away―
a mouth gapes open;
you will not,
walk in.
A wrenching search,
for a home, where
you will not find
the violence.
A wax palace, you
are invited to live in.
The dummies, abound,
without backbones.
Satish Verma, 18 january 2019
Climbing Up
We are burning―
the boats.
Freckled in the sun.
The river was drying up.
The stupid moon,
will not listen, was
in love with lake. One
day the water
will flow.
Do you believe in
rebirth of a universe―
from the fallen
debris of life?
The dead man will
walk out from the shroud,
to reclaim,
the lost integrity.
Satish Verma, 20 january 2019
Sacrifice
It was a free fall,
drowning me on the footpath.
The yellow glare had
scattered me completely.
Left alone to suffer, the
failure were you. When the
brick come, you met yourself
in the doorway of menacing home.
The hunger pang was
obsolete. The fish will
not swim outside the orbit
of a new isle for enigma.
The Turkish stones, blue―
green eyes, haunt me in
sleep. Your life takes an
about-face, march outside the promise.
Satish Verma, 21 january 2019
Gifting Away
Want to return,
to unknowing, the
trap door.
Filling up the gaps,
the arrow slits. No more
I will need weapons.
Trespassing the,
brutality of sin, committed
against the sanctity―
of body. This is how
I am re-creating myself
without morbidity.
Annihilation, was not
the answer. I am holding
the gold leaves of sun.
Satish Verma, 22 january 2019
Dreams Wandering
The moonlight―
singed him at night.
How will you write a poem?
*
Standing at window,
you watch a shooting star―
hearing a cuckoo’s two-note call.
*
Picking red hollyhocks,
your face swims before me,
and fleeting time!
Satish Verma, 12 january 2019
The Abeyance
Running without legs.
A perfect apparition
of sandhills.
I cannot see far, but
hear the synchronized call,
of peacocks at midnight.
Cannot sleep. The solemn
mystery of dark is broken.
In the cracks, I am
discovering myself.
Was it not an enough reason
to abandon the search
of peace and return to killing―
the gods of clay and find
the sanctity of emptiness,
stripped to gravity?
Satish Verma, 11 january 2019
Economics
Revisiting my lust, in
beyond borders;
I want to write your
name in cursive script.
Forked, when I pick up
the undiluted hemlock
from your eyes. How would
you like to become a game changer?
A shirtless moon walks
with me on empty stomach
to scrap the night from
the exuberant trees.
Conversion factor comes
into force, unusing the nector.
I will still say my prayers
to seek nothing.
Satish Verma, 28 december 2018
Squeezing Out
The falcom rises again.
With pointed wings.
For a name unknown,
that deemed an incendiary.
Falconer sits faraway.
Cliché. The offence goes
unnoticed. Your shirt
was bloodied. Your
lips sealed. The barbs
stuck on kisses. Death smiles.
Water overwhelms, you
are drowned in the lake.
Eyes blink. Cannot
heed to light. The skin
burns. You will watch a medusa!
Satish Verma, 29 december 2018
In Trepidation
It was in reach for,
a chilling sensation.
A flame of the moon.
The world shrinks.
You become ready
for the direst consequences.
You deserve to be hurt
in the arms of truancy,
without a trace of remorse.
The wounded breast.
It wanted to disappear―
and come back in dark.
Frozen, the repeat hymn.
It lives in my heart.
How can I forget you,
O, my tormentor!
Satish Verma, 31 december 2018
Revised Version
A damp moon
staggers across the sky.
I will find my balance now.
*
Meditating on
the words and meaning,
I read your face.
*
Quasi-intelligent,
half-man, half-beast,
the new species.
Satish Verma, 3 january 2019
Thinking Off •••
I walk through the slush
of moral grief.
Here lies my mortal poem.
A prodigal menace.
You will not breathe in, the
golden grass, once more.
Lingering beside the past, the
savage today. I pick up
the silence of the tomb.
Lateral conjugation. You
come from the otherside to
breach the wall, bear the
pluralism-
and become none. The under-
belly, the yellow blood?
Will you hold my hand
to cross the meaning?
Satish Verma, 4 january 2019
Disturbed Age
The odor brings the
neo-violence, along the fault line.
Standing on the road.
You,
do not want to go right, or left.
Chemoreceptors will warn about
the incoming quake.
They will crush the blooms, the
corrupt winds.
The landscape was changing.
The unlikeness, when you come
back from woods.
You do not mean anything.
Words don’t convey the full meaning.
The thoughts will find a poem.
Satish Verma, 5 january 2019
Bareland
It plays tricks.
Rattles the animal, inside you.
Back to back, you start giving names.
It had happened―
under his watch. Opuntia.
It spreads like a cobra head.
Prickly fruits. Represents death and bones.
How the people believe you,
when I am thirsty,
I wanted blood.
The skin becomes black. Stones
shine in sun. You extend
the hand to touch the mirage.
No water. The black bucks
turn around. Somebody shoots
them between the eyes.
Satish Verma, 7 january 2019
Unending Marathon
Like a large, black,
stag beetle, you give a sermon
on living. You don’t believe
in death.
Ready to jump from the
cliff, how did you reach there?
Slipping through the
cracks of a marathon!
Amid fear and anxiety
hitting the raw line of finish
with tranced frenzy.
After glass and long kisses,
did you eat the prickly pears ?
On the way to salvation, you
were giving very―
uncharitable commentary
at the terminus.
Satish Verma, 8 january 2019
New Features
Eating each other,
the survival instinct takes you
to the coal-pit.
*
Seeking the closure
of gold mine. The jellyfish
has lost the stinging tentacles.
*
The beehive was in
turbulence. Golden honey was
going up for sale in famine.
Satish Verma, 9 january 2019
Obligatory
Moving between the spaces,
you fell short of a small―
sky and you give up the grid,
your secrets.
A sense is lost of direction,
and place. The opaque mind
will not tell even once, where
you are.
Wrestling with your conscience,
and demons, underside of
the palette, you become ready for
a self-potrait.
A drinking spree of moon
after a cease; where were you
going. I ask? Shell-shocked, you
pretend, what you have been.
Satish Verma, 23 january 2019
Metaphysical
Like the artifacts of ruins,
you look back
at the lost innocence.
Too much knowing,
was hurting.
Life does not spare you twice.
You arrive incognito
in the jungle of
fake hugs and kisses.
Innovative. The fear
strikes, bites with
a lethal sting.
Could not reverse
the anhydrous eyes.
Trying to exhaust the vision.
Satish Verma, 24 january 2019
Questioning Again
Writing,
a blood code.
Manipulating the taint.
Path,
towards the violence,
had the tribal instinct.
Scent,
of testosterone,
was the key thread.
You,
will not know, what
I conceive of the coming onslaught.
Constellation,
was ready to strike.
I am not myself today.
O, life, we will never know each other.
Satish Verma, 7 february 2019
Fealty
Doing nothing, for no
obvious reason, engaging
the travails of self-watch, I do
not want to confront the propensity
of withdrawl.
The elder pain blooms, again
like Ipomea. Will not stand the
bright sun’s gaze, I will sail―
out between the blackened
teeth and stammering
words.
It sucks, the female snake.
The phloem, the flora. A tree kills
its own birds. Cannot ambulate
tender promises. A stricture
chokes the poem. Double-
edged truth lifts the weight.
Moon knows the art of giving.
Sends the blood tears.
Satish Verma, 8 february 2019
A Small Story
Talking of obscenity
you were undressing
to show the scars.
It was and it was not
a display of is. Little
raw wound.
The lungs will not take
this insult and scream
in full horror.
One collapsed faith, after
the god failed him
to climb a ladder.
I am still convalescing
from the gunshot injury,
when you fired at a blackbird.
Satish Verma, 9 february 2019
Becoming Myself
A ghost truth
levels down,
the traffic. You enter
into catatonic stage.
Rage and anguish
will ask,
for the price of blood
flown down the river.
Listening
with the eyes. Leaffall,
luteus, music of descent
on grass.
A dust storm
settles on sill. I will
look through the window, at
a setting sun, unadored.
Satish Verma, 14 february 2019
The Syntax
Coming over here
to find me, in abstract meaning?
I was very much there in your eyes.
*
A ghost appears
on your lips, when you explore
the silence of the road.
*
Learning the grammar
without prepositions; how will
you reach my words.
Satish Verma, 15 february 2019
Starving
The who was
inside you.
I want to discover,
a foam-born deity,
killing the moon.
You destroyed
me in the poems.
I cannot weave the
moonlight on the
jessamines.
Can you send
a message to Mars?
It is too crowded on
the earth. There was
no room for the muse.
Satish Verma, 16 february 2019
Soliciting
Come to me
like never ending pain.
I will wait till eternity.
*
Wing pierced, like
butterfly amidst cacti,
still trying to reach your lips.
*
I carry the fragrance
of fallen jessimines on grass,
white as the morning snow.
Satish Verma, 17 february 2019
Cruel Bonhomie
Like a meteorite streaking
through the sky, iron
and nickel, for a proxy collision
with hidden destiny.
It was the post trauma
syndrome, after the great
divide of breast, lifting
the nipples.
The lofty peak crumbles.
There will be the scare
around, to grow the poppies
on the mounds again.
Are you ready now
for emasculation? The
legacy will, on its own, pass
onto alternative sins.
Satish Verma, 18 february 2019
An Opening
I will color
the sky, grieving for the
departed moon.
*
Tossing my words
onto the lake, to bring back
my baby pink.
*
Night I had woven
a gold pattern on the bed.
Memory will know.
Satish Verma, 19 february 2019
Some Glimpses
Moon rose from
obscurity, once I released
the fury of darkness.
*
Do not want to
repeat; why my song was
stolen by flight of birds.
*
The negativity of
the penknife. Always tearing
away the heart.
Satish Verma, 6 february 2019
Nowheres
Attending to my laments,
reading a poem to myself
I could not foresee an incoming missile.
*
How could you change the world
when a black and white magpie
writes the script of life?
*
A god once told me
in whispers, he wants to
die in the shadeless sun.
Satish Verma, 5 february 2019
Secretly
A sniper was around.
I did not want to rush
and kiss the jessamine.
Last night, it was a
retributory offer
to put off the candle.
I am here to stay
for prudence, speaking
the dialect of the nameless.
I survive the fetishes
of light. O unknown, I
live in darkness.
Moon was my solemn-
pledge. I had always stayed
in the house of truth.
Satish Verma, 25 january 2019
A Snaky Path
Where do I begin,
extracting the earth
from your skin?
The grim reaper
would wait. I have
to unwrap the gifts―
digging out the roots,
peeling off the bark.
The time stands still.
An exit wound
will receive the unborn
daughters.
Mother dust will
return the name
of annihilator.
Satish Verma, 26 january 2019
Blackness Of Moon
You walk out from
the bruises, like a late
bloomer, for a clandestine
affair with indigo pain.
I break the barrier,
and teach myself, how not
to make an incendiary bomb.
A cohort will untie the barbed wires.
Now you can tread carefully
on fire ants, undaunted.
While stitches will take care
of the woundless blood.
A hoax sends you scurrying,
to find the golden apple,
which never emerges in light.
In despair you commit a crime.
Satish Verma, 28 january 2019
Escaping
You walked with me
when it was pitch-dark.
How do I find you in light?
*
These were the last roses,
for you. Henceforth
no water will flow from the eyes.
*
Only your face will swim
on the nippy moon;
burning skylark.
Satish Verma, 30 january 2019
Song At The End Of The Road
Drinking from the portrait
of an alienated moon
in a self-taught remedy―
I was looking very
hurt in the muse, which
had failed the earth.
I wanted to say, my
sun was my sun,
broken, eclipse by eclipse.
Who was traitor to oneself?
Sifting the leaves of a
raptor, to find the death
under the shade of
sundew, which blooms
when you become an insect.
Satish Verma, 31 january 2019
Different Renderings
You were lost
like a rolled away pill.
Hibiscus was waiting
*
As the night departs,
I will look at the moon
through misted eyes.
*
A bridge has collapsed.
How sad.
A bell tolls endlessly.
Satish Verma, 1 february 2019
Volatility
Sailing over the body,
dream to dream
I see, a seated Buddha,
at salt coast.
Everytime you were on wrong
side. It was only accidental?
You start making a snap against
the thumb.
Levitating, you start to under-
stand life anew, cajoling
the pain of abandonment on
the roadside.
Dark lightning sexed the
clouds. Eons away a galaxy
had cried and signature came,
milky way.
Satish Verma, 2 february 2019
Unthinking
Earth was sending a long
shadow on the moon.
A great night for both of them.
*
A city of dreams
lies still. A divine path
opens for the erring earthlings.
*
A night falls
surreptitiously on the lake.
The moonlight was trapped by waves.
Satish Verma, 3 february 2019
Silent Journey
The orange poem
wanted to blunt the white
moon, obliquely,
liberating the sameness
from the hands of
twin souls.
There was no invitation
to jump from the immoral peaks
when the fire broke out.
A blue thorn
in the flesh of a pink dawn
explores the text of broken earth.
Dust on dust
writes a song of wings
who would not take a flight.
Satish Verma, 4 february 2019
This Was Love
The feel, it hurts
when you
open the eyes.
The world
returns you back,
your name.
A moon
will miss the
night, the darkness.
A door shuts.
Nothing moves, except
the footfalls of unknown.
Satish Verma, 20 february 2019
Head And Torso
Nothing-ness fills me
again. Once visiting a funeral
home, a child asked me,
why do the people die?
How do I explain the dark
side of life? A blunt trauma,
makes me jaded. One collapsing
process creates the black hole.
A nude, the tall figure, stands
on the rock, much venerated,
and you cannot take off the
eyes, deciphering the skin.
In the intense pain of―
learning, a fantasy of
looking out at a ghost deity
in the vegetable, springs a miracle.
Satish Verma, 4 november 2018
What A Scenario
Put me through the
french knots. I am
under the gaze of
a jilted lover.
A freeze melts in
the rainbow. The dew
sits on the eyebrows
of the grass.
The spark splits
between the shadows.
Someone has hanged
himself from the window.
There was no life left
in the stump. Now
bristles will not stand
at ancient sites.
Satish Verma, 19 november 2018
Endless Search
Moon was not faraway.
It rejected the evidence against the rhyme
and proceeded to release
the poem.
The colored bracts of
bougainvillea, fall solemnly, to kiss
the grass. Spring was around
the corner.
Quizzing a stone, a dream
crashes in my hands;
becomes a tiger moth and
settles on your lips.
Future turns into a shell.
I pick it up from the beach of time.
Play with it for sometime and
give it away to my offspring.
It was the beginning. It was the end.
Satish Verma, 20 november 2018
Sacred Committment
Under the holy basil,
lighting the earthen lamp,
whom do you invoke at dusk?
*
A needle pricks your finger.
You smear the blood
on your face.
*
It was the flame of forest
which ignites the path,
you wanted to tread on.
Satish Verma, 21 november 2018
Frightening
The winds ruffle the
solitude. Sparrows were
watching me.
*
My name was floating
in dark. I want to burn the
book, to throw some light.
*
Violence will toss
you around, when you
are wearing the grass.
Satish Verma, 22 november 2018
In Disguise
Raising the walls
around you, you started
a ritual of placing a single
rose on the tomb daily.
Trapped in the blues,
there was a killer instinct
to destroy the self.
I become a flame,
passing through the flesh
eroding the body's mystique.
The ravage words
now sleep. A dying
moon will set the
night free.
It was an invasion by
deathless roots at night.
A slow music starts by puppeteers
to undo the potter's field.
Satish Verma, 23 november 2018
Unrisen Horizon
Take off the glasses and
look at it closely, the infant
universe of the ―
receding age.
I said, weapons should not
be allowed to speak, cheating
the all terrain of
humankind.
The legality has to be
defined to earn the daily
bread for impregnable
hunger.
Whatsoever, there was no
precedence to take the occult
into the homes of non-
committal voices.
You become the temple
without god, who was
waiting at the gate.
Satish Verma, 24 november 2018
Flares
There was no secret
among mountains.
Clouds were their adopted siblings.
*
Only the rain drops
were dancing.
The mounts stand still.
*
I beg your leave.
The spring has invited.
I have to meet the yellow blooms.
Satish Verma, 26 november 2018
Untold Journey
It does not make any sense
to go beyond, where the road ends.
He was searching the meaning
of life. Moving out of comfort zone
to Roman cave.
Émigré to chessboard,
he will stop pushing the game.
But what about the demons―
sitting on my chest, in cahoots with the nails?
Somebody walks into assassin's
trap. Somebody's bread does not
reach the home.
A child will ask, when my
father will return? There was no answer.
The tide has brought back
the ashes.
Satish Verma, 27 november 2018
Evoking Images
It was not easy to recall,
the love in truancy. Needs
extra gene. I would wake up in blue
darkness for an aubade.
The salt glitters when I
shut the mind.
In random wreckage,
the first glow before dawn,
sets you on fire. A star gazing
begins, buried in the flesh, only
the eyes protruding, incapable
to locate the moon.
A blank paper floats. You
were surfing on words. Not
yet to meet the inevitable. Not
the kiss of hurt. I am coming
to unfurl the opus, the
noble commitment of navel crossing.
Satish Verma, 28 november 2018
The Middle Ground
I try to think,
not to think of you;
cede hope to candor.
You will not contribute,
to your own rape, of truth;
rediscovering the shame.
The modesty will not sit
on the stigmata.
Moths were becoming defiant.
Copiously drenched,
under the wet moon,
a poem will seek a title.
It returns back, the
kiss, you sent for the flame.
It was very hot, the farewell.
Satish Verma, 17 november 2018
Blue Valley
A tiny doubt sends out
the solvos. Self on fire,
you want to bail out the hierarchy.
Physically imperfect, a star
ejects the charged rays.
There was no secret of coronal
mass. You were taking a dip
in golden plumes of nirvana.
No suffering, no remorse.
A slice of moon will heal.
In your path lies the gray earth.
Who will incite the ocean now?
A transient truce will not give
you the leaping death of
valley. The clouds will take there own revenge.
Satish Verma, 16 november 2018
The Nature
Unmaking the bond
between cause and effect.
You start throwing stones
as a mark of intimacy.
Ipomea:
You wanted to learn the
art of blooming silently
at dawn.
Huddled like solar flares
before colliding with
a drift, you wanted me to live
for eternity.
Watching sperm dance
without tails
in bell jar.
It was barely visible.
Cultivating a digital entry.
This was becoming
a terror-haven.
Satish Verma, 5 november 2018
Day Of Anxiety
Between the soft glow of
twilight and moon, it was
cold. For a faithful swan.
*
The black smoke billows
from the rooftops of mud houses.
Time to celebrate a dinner.
*
I will not give up,
though nothing was left to do.
Atleast I can write a poem.
Satish Verma, 6 november 2018
No Vilification
Do you think milk?
The medicine,
had already become
a bromide.
One benign question,
opened the potential
of conflict. The fan-
tasy? Golden knife?
Devastating me. Car-
essing the dark, did
you stop by the moon
to say hello?
Unmasking the secret―
of immortality? Ephebic.
You were always lying
to yourself.
Satish Verma, 7 november 2018
A Bruised Memory
The basics to live
was with the peeling off,
the tangerines. The innovative flight
takes you to surrealism-
of a countdown, which begins
to send a subsonic device
to small jupiters.
You receive the call and
jump into black sea-
eliminating the foes, breaking the bridge.
This moment after sometime splits,
ejects the god particle.
You slip out of backyard
to embrace the apparition.
The ending was never a happy thing.
Latest comments:
16 may 2024
violetta
Może w lipcu będę miała takie wakacje:)
16 may 2024
jeśli tylko
słońce w płynie..
15 may 2024
Weronika
Za jeszcze jeden rejs!
14 may 2024
Mam takie oko :)
14 may 2024
Jaga
Zwierzęta upodobniły się do koloru otoczenia
14 may 2024
To naturalny suchy i pustynny klimat. I tam są
14 may 2024
Klimat taki, że nie był i raczej nie będzie,
12 may 2024
Melancthe
Kajzerki są przereklamowane ;)
11 may 2024
kb
wielki wypas - był albo może będzie. kto wie...
11 may 2024
sama prawda z tym myśleniem i psoceniem ale
11 may 2024
zastanowiło mnie czy owe cenienie kajzerek wynika
11 may 2024
skomponowane kolorystycznie..
17 may 2024
wiesiek
17 may 2024
Satish Verma
16 may 2024
Satish Verma
15 may 2024
wiesiek
15 may 2024
Jaga
15 may 2024
Satish Verma
14 may 2024
Satish Verma
13 may 2024
Satish Verma
11 may 2024
Satish Verma
10 may 2024
Jaga