Satish Verma, 29 august 2020
Let me paint a still life.Like
your eyes- unmoving.The irises
with shut pupils.
Why I should be green-
I ask my old mentor?
The terror of a smile
wipes away the tail of dust, with comets.
And the pachyderm remains
buried in the sands of time.
Touching the margins was gone.
You cannot leap over the grass of antiquity.
In fog twin hills will move away
without any acrimony.
A denial becomes a stake
a part of the golden ring- the boundary mark.
Satish Verma, 28 august 2020
Zinnias were stalking.
The fading moon hangs upside down
from the massive Ficus tree.
Ultimately the grace withdraws.
Now you sit under the bo-tree
becoming a wet Buddha.
Unthinking, unblinking
falling out of thoughts,
and start supervising the barren landscape.
The dawn sets free, the white
pegions to become prey of ravens.
Would you talk about peace?
The evil touches every next door.
I will write a long letter
to me, to unwrite the sermons.
Satish Verma, 27 august 2020
Something exciting
was to happen.You
call for an assayer.
Morality has failed,
running after the
false values of untruths.
Pure virginity.
I won't touch you again
for the sake of god.
Crossing the threshold
like walking on burning coals
to test the bonding.
The mankind was
always cannibalistic.
You devour the body without blood.
Satish Verma, 26 august 2020
I left a piece of moon on my
table and started writing about
the broken mirror. There was a time
when we used to cry together.
Dusting off the old books, uncared
for months. A rare ritual
defines the motion. It was the
temblor giving me a dustbath.
Do you know who was the leader
of the pack? The greed, the authority?
There was a bright door, between
the umbels. Would you taste the hemlock?
Every thing is in disorder. You
remember how cranky I was when
I found you unframed. Today
I will embrace the empty wall.
Satish Verma, 24 august 2020
Hunting calm, without
a kill, without a
mirage.
A momentary lapse
and you suffer
for centuries.
The pangs of separation
were rising.No birth.
You become a white mausoleum.
And the ancient
bloodshed will take care
of the pearls in your eyes.
Ask the moon
to lift the veil.Bonfires
of sharp pains have begun.
The halo around
your face quivers.I was
not a god.You were not mortal.
Satish Verma, 23 august 2020
Do not sleep, as libido
Moon will visit
the shrine of love today.
It was an end of the-
lone journey. You recover
the path of lost poem.
A river lies buried in
my chest, unawakned.
Would you kiss the stone today?
Satish Verma, 22 august 2020
Trying to quantify the vices
in you, I am becoming
brute.
Going my own way.
I join the migration
of invisibles.
A plucked tiger lily
roars. Amphibians were ready
to invade the mountain.
The curled fingers
had become question marks.
Blindness had become a bliss.
Inlaid in the redwood
lies my blood. I lived under
the branches, naked, carefree.
Satish Verma, 20 august 2020
The mood-lifters
you will need, when
night falls and the poems
start howling.
The crisp massacre
of golden dreams, and you
start disposing off the defunct philosophy.
The myths of heaven
and hell, causing the colossal
anxiety.A dog walks past
a dead body, near the burned temple.
This is the world apart, where
you opened the book for
an eye hole.Then you suck the images.
The pebble in the pond
starts moving.No water was left
to wash the dirty idols.
Satish Verma, 19 august 2020
The caterpillar on the lawn-
in the name of god,
eating away the copper,
the blue veins of thighs.
Barefoot I come to wish
you farewell. You must stand-
in the decaying woods,
to pronounce me dead.
The auburn fawn climbs on
the podium, to mimic a birdsong.
It was sloth time. Moon was
away and it was dark.
The eagle swoops on tiny
breasts, popping up from the
nest of muse. There were no
feathers and no beak left.
Satish Verma, 18 august 2020
Deck is empty, today: -
physics of life unfolds.
I know you less now, what
I knew you earlier.
A cloud city after the collision
had become distraught, after taking
a dip in mudslide.
With chainsaw I am cutting
myself. Why not to become a fossil
with imprints of the collapse―
of our culture and education, in
coal pits of ancient times?
The body has hardened, bones
twisted in agony, I grab the window,
to pull in the sun. Only
the eyes will shine in dark.
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