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Satish Verma, 19 july 2017
Strange
All night November,
I was searching the vulnerable
lips after loosing you.
Now fingerless hands
were moving the sun-dial
away from light.
The shroud was heavy,
I would not breathe.
Give me a blue moon before dawn.
You cannot engage in
sudden withdrawl. I will
come back for a kiss.
The paper that leaves a wound,
I will not sign for the bread.
My hands had stopped trembling.
Satish Verma, 18 july 2017
Unfinished
Can you enlarge the moment,
when the time stopped and
you were trying to get a
glimpse of beyond?
You become a no-moment, a
no-truth, in a sauteed
orgasm.
And someone plucks a death
from your poems to
resuscitate you, draped
in tears.
The track record will show,
you were only yourself,
and never became a riddle.
Let go of me. It was only
a happening, undoing the
play, held in dark. As I
cross the door, you become invisible.
Satish Verma, 16 july 2017
Truncated
A midnight craft
dumps the moon
on a heap of deceits.
I ask my sap to turn back for truism.
It was a question of spacing
between the bodies
in scapegoats;
coming for slaughter.
A scale measures the depth
of defeats. The hands
were busy in mending the
walls of psychiatric ward.
Have you ever tasted a white
poison, sweet in taste?
When you grow old, you will
look like your father.
The name which was absent
in calendar, was found everywhere.
Satish Verma, 15 july 2017
Hurting Dive
As if pruning was not enough.
After severance from the peak,
the ladder was becoming
aloof and murky.
Acid burn on the day
of breaking confidentiality.
An imperfect mirror was
wiping out the cloud, all night.
You are going to take on the
starless sky. A moon was
left out in the stillness of black sheen.
You are now poking at the globes.
Give me a pen to lift the
remorse. I was desperate to become
human. Death was looking at me
with great amusement.
Satish Verma, 14 july 2017
Blemishes
Without assent
I open your book
to find your crazy god on mat.
Love was a blind bird
in a state of agony.
Learning to fly.
Moon would not reply
through aslant door.
Something was between us.
Here, now a sordid tale
breaks the taboo. They
were investing on skin.
It was a cheap wine
in a golden chalice,
for a lipless mouth.
Satish Verma, 13 july 2017
Into The Tempest
The dichotomy was complete.
I walk in your tears
to move away.
The night smelt like a
burnt-out doll, and I was
quaking inside like a peony lip.
The sunk baby. You stay
uncovered in half-sleep.
The drag of the noose around-
your neck was evident. I
want to squeeze the pods.
Why did not the pollen meet-
the stigma? The needles are
coming out of the eyes. A prose
is gone. The poem walks in.
Satish Verma, 12 july 2017
Turning Gray
You wanted to understand
the tenor of wet, heavy lids ―
that had emigrated from
deep oceanic eyes.
You believed―it will go on
for ever. Roused in peace.
I will listen to the voice of river
lapping at the shores of pain.
Cocoon was lying still, will
not open to us. I was ready
to receive the death at door.
But it was a stripteaser.
The lovers will meet in the
wilderness, ride the lioness
and black berries will go to
moon for the payment of wages.
Satish Verma, 11 july 2017
Stonewashed
It laps up the solitude.
A flame hits the stonewall
of silence.
A dust cloud, covers
the finale of conflict.
Nobody wins the race.
You arrogate to yourself
the skill to accept the heat of argument.
Can you reach the end of thought?
Ravishing black
picks up the fallen moon.
Somebody will go green.
If I could walk on
the lake? The faithless will
wreck the pledge.
Satish Verma, 10 july 2017
*on 100th Birthday Of Alan Turing
Why were you collecting the
people all around?
Unsure of yourself on the
ambiguity of an inquest?
I remained unhappy my
whole life and left the
bed after chemical-castration,
in hurry.
In hindsight inside the
nightmare room, what was
left to imagination? The
half-eated apple?
Hold my hand. I am coming
with you, to settle
my account with god, for
creating people of this type.
•
The purple spillage 24 June 2012
was ready to play with-
fire, for estranged lover,
inventing a fake enemy.
What if I die again and
again for you.
It begs the identity of a
black moon, perhaps to reflect
the stuttering homophobia.
Crossing the time zones, searching
the old snow, in the cracks of
volcanic rocks, you kiss a clove bud.
In anger, I receive your ashes,
when it was raining blue.
A baby died in a crib, unattended.
*Code breaking genius, founder of computer science, who allegedly committed suicide on 7th June 1954.
Satish Verma, 9 july 2017
Leaves Of Roses
A racial profile begins
between black and white.
A silver moon ambles
as a prelude to dark music.
A winter night tosses hundred
excuses,
for not lighting the lamps.
Words were still trying to
find the ropes.
You should know your boundaries.
The honeysuckle will
not graze your lips.
The salt of earth settles
in tears of dawn.
Latest comments:
5 july 2025
violetta
Zarosłam myślami:)
5 july 2025
jeśli tylko
lubię do Ciebie zaglądać, Ewuś :)
5 july 2025
wicewersja..
5 july 2025
chabry i kąkole..
5 july 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
och rany, czuje sie jak na działce, tyle tej
5 july 2025
można powiedzieć spokojne.. można..
5 july 2025
dziękuję :) jedne są na jasnej glinie, drugie
5 july 2025
Jak wiatraki
5 july 2025
Piękności
5 july 2025
Ach piękne dni:)
5 july 2025
Fajna opowieść jak z życia:)
5 july 2025
Ja nie zwracam na to uwagę;)
5 july 2025
wiesiek
5 july 2025
jeśli tylko
4 july 2025
Jaga
4 july 2025
wiesiek
4 july 2025
wiesiek
2 july 2025
wiesiek
1 july 2025
wiesiek
27 june 2025
Jaga
26 june 2025
Atanazy Pernat
23 june 2025
ajw