Satish Verma, 21 january 2021
He wants to revert
back to mutism.
No thyme―
no secrecy.
The half-baked pursuit
of non-violence,
accepting the violence,
on other way round.
The otherness.
You want to identify yourself
with a new religion.
Terror of anonymity?
A night blooming cereus
wanted to avoid the sun.
And love, must you
play desert?
Satish Verma, 20 january 2021
You come to me formless,
to claim your dues―
of whispering poems.
At sharp cliff,
what was your dream―
destiny of taking a long fall?
The rising smoke dissolves
the boundaries, when you
fondle the dark for some pulse.
The final gift arrives
of tears, within reach
of the implosion.
Along the boulevard
a flight of swans―
sails for another lake.
I lift my hand for final salute.
Satish Verma, 19 january 2021
A poem
borrowed from the roses
sits today on my lips.
Crowded with pricks
at night, words move
around the flickering flames.
Thoughts.
They fly like sparrows
encircling the mind.
The sky falls. Import
of faceless assaults thickens. Red
poppies bloom in wheat fields.
White mushrooms,
come up in summer to complain
against the muted surrender of clouds.
Satish Verma, 18 january 2021
The waves
had brought me to you.
Do not be gentle to time.
Lower the songs
into a mass grave,
as the violence spreads.
This time-travel
will take you to panic attacks.
Blackness moves very fast.
Hypoxia.
Photons will take you
to fading sun.
Glitterati,
now hurts. You cannot
haul the gift of reeds.
Satish Verma, 17 january 2021
I walk towards you-
till it hurts.
In moment of nemesis
I set you free,
and deceive me.
You look beyond me
and become blind for the road.
Life starts drifting away from
each other to discover the meaning
of truth.
We may not meet again,
behind the faulted moon,
groping for light.
You always knew-
I was not you. A miniature
vice- religion apart,
had become a river between us.
I won't swim again.
Buddha smiles with alacrity.
ShareShare In Quiteude
Satish Verma, 16 january 2021
The cat had the feral
look. The home was
burning. Drag of
day to day dying
unceremoniously.
Nowadays the god lives outside
the temple. You don't have patience.
Some zealotry?
A siren song?
I was not in any trinity
of god, man and beast.
On the remote trail you will
find my blood-soaked footprints.
Instead of emptiness
I have filled myself with grief.
Satish Verma, 15 january 2021
The intimate god,
versus the body of slain faith,
was not ready to bring in the rains.
What quality was the substance
in shadows, while you were
reigniting the inquest?
The space was shrinking
noiselessly. The nest―
was crowded. You would not
place your frame on the wall.
This happened, which
was, not supposed to happen.
The eyes don't blink.
You are looking straight in the
glass of elegy. Why coming and going
of a name should affect the masses?
Satish Verma, 14 january 2021
Living in a wax palace
and deliberately―
firing it.
The beseeching fault
of life. It demands pure
blood.
Self-consciously I
pick up the glossy cowries,
with beautiful patterns
and play my childhood.
How come, the style
remains the same as that
of a butcher or a saint?
The humiliating defeat
in the hands of a dirty character―
becoming a class.
The cradle rocks. A new―
born theme is thrown out.
Satish Verma, 13 january 2021
Half night of insomnia
half night magma
you never go quiet.
Tremors of blaze
enter the veins.
Moon was crazy.
The graveyard.
First you dig up the hole.
Shot, then you are tossed inside.
A copper in the tank,
you sleep past the belly.
Vessel in vessel, you are dead.
Like a relic, you carry
your head, looking chasing
the cottonwood tree.
Satish Verma, 12 january 2021
What would you give
when I ask for nothing?
A mysterious lineage
of the soul. It has no sequence,
no flesh, no body.
I was heading towards the edge.
Did you know the perfect
no home? It has no crumbling walls,
no hurting windows. The gray roof of sky?
The earth, the damaging
winds. An hour of awareness
in wait. You start
exploring jinxed mind,
hearing voices, but no words.
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