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Poetry

	Satish Verma
	PROFILE About me Friends (3) Poetry (3973)

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Satish Verma, 2 november 2016

Flirting

Half-mooned I have left the envy.
The basic instinct of lesser love
for my failing god.

Come to me, my cloaked enemy,
a sweet lover of pain
in the milky hours.

Mother of seeds was far away
and you wanted to suck on the
pollen from the wings of honeybees.

Soft and cruel, I cannot leave you
nor I can abandon the post.
The war cry was coming nearer.

Was it a virginal drink to –
placate the lips of a flame?
Time will never know the ultimate.

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Satish Verma, 1 november 2016

Singing Darkness

In hirsute adolescence
a narcissist climbs
the breast and becomes
a graveyard of moons.

Talking of marginality,
a hole in the chest
ejects a secret of peachy skin
when wind was selling sex.

Most corrupt was me
always telling truth about the
warm eggs of chaotic legs
who will not climb down the street.

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Satish Verma, 31 october 2016

Striped Nothings

Floating on a river of fire
sitting in a cooking vessel
you were invoking the rain god.

Your hollow words had holiness
of unmeaning.
The sky opens the third eye.

Are you going to offer your
tongue to a footwear
of a proxy blood?

As a hymn to goddess of wealth,
sugar is thrown out of window
and yellow rice dances before a mirror.

And here I bleed silently
for the shooting star*
who could not conceive.

*A kind of primrose whose purple flowere have
backward curving petals hanging down. The
flowers move skyward on slender stems
turning their face upward after fertilization.

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Satish Verma, 30 october 2016

Very Disturbing

Rains will not come to my land.
Bisexuality starts a slut walk.
Blackbucks were hungry.

The stray dogs were barking
at moon. Into the night goes
the snake without any truth.

Nearly over the scooped –
protection of virginity
against the dazzling hirsutism.

Lost fortune of the flaunted
Buddha. I have no legs
to bow down before the pale god.

This is the sex: there are
strawberries. Have a pick
of comets, bleeding.

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Satish Verma, 29 october 2016

Unphrasing

in love with vermilion
floating on optics

you learn in moments of insult
or insults in moment of learning

fishless bones
still he smels of withering pain
on black satin

you don’t want to suffer
with asterisks
annotation
disfigurs the essence

i will boil the moon
to find the separateness
between scent and grief

i am done
the poem is over
death has walked away

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Satish Verma, 28 october 2016

A Cricket Invades The Night

in a rumpled,
black city
homes are sliced in half
the equality demands
the rights of people

sometimes you love a
tormentor
he will be able to wed, albeit
shyly, with the physical
cleaning the love’s deficit

how far the waiting will go
skirting the mist
it was there
in you
in me
a rapist
a serial killer

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Satish Verma, 27 october 2016

Listening To Rwanda Genocide

In your azure eyes
I was teaching myself:
how to drown. What a nodal
agency to receive the award.

The ailing moon
will not come to my rescue.
The seized cloud had failed
to cry –

embarrassing the sidewalks. An
unfathomable legend.
A bloated name becomes the
mother of rapes.

At stake were all the crutches.
The tribal stain had a stark
reality. The basic instinct,
walks home to stand on the mount of bones.

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Satish Verma, 26 october 2016

Eternal Drift

A hidden lump was revealed
in annual ritual.
You flung open the gates-

to take away the regal pain.
Was it a reprisal
for a purple nail?

Withdrawl was threatening.
In the line of fire
comes the guilt.

The suicide in the goddess
womb? Celebrate if
you pull out.

Floating on the drifting
threat. The welts will sing
the erotica.

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Satish Verma, 25 october 2016

Downhill Journey

There was no need of a sharp knife
in Calvaria.
Night was fighting with the moon.

From a concealed canvas
I could find, galloping,
black horses were gone.

A duplicate key does not work
now. The lock had been
replaced on the door.

Stairs were climbing on my
stale body. The snowy peaks
will not melt in sun.

Disrobing the blue skin,
under a blue sky for blue moon:
unstoppable laughter.

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Satish Verma, 24 october 2016

Strange Happenings

Perpetual stasis
in blank stares.
Who was yawning to moon?

Balmy night will unlock
the secrets of graphic images.
Life casts a spell on you.

Like a round worm
in search of a ceramic cow.
Let me mix the money with fame.

The unfelt pleasure
of a crooked script –
in twilight zone. Every person

was wearing a cloud. Deftly
you break the urn of ashes
to find the stolen eyes.