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

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Satish Verma, 21 november 2013

ECHOES

It was burning again
like goldenrods in drift valley of ethnic hate.
You start climbing down deeper in fear
holding tight your identity.

The anguish of ruined home
under the shadows of bribed hands,
runs on the bodies of pilgrims
who were protecting the unborn baby.

Along the shores of morality, a prodigal
becomes a martyr, forever a blind rock
in the womb of an infant truth, not yet
reached the gates of heaven.

A father begs for pardon, spawning the
tireless edicts, with its grieving craft
of burdens and weightlessness. The time’s predicament
will not tell the secret of death.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 20 november 2013

AGAINST DEPORTATION

Ahead of pain, we did not cry;
intimating of dreams, crowded;
stranded on issues, reaching nowhere.

Black, a weired hairdo, unfurls a moon
in half-sleep. You can open the door
without sound. The snake writhes under your feet.

A traveler waits for a hymn, holds a green
urn, full of tiny eyes, looks at sky and returns
the darkness for any possibility of light.

The missile whistles down; hushed, gnarled
fingers start the rescue efforts in a lonely
cosmos; goldilocks starts howling.

Terror strikes again in offering, so far
about nothingness; a vague, masked scapegoat
sits in bold greens, to start the beginning of end.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 18 november 2013

STRAY FALL

With gray wolves around,
he put the gun on the chin
and pulled the trigger.

The crowded nest and tainted gemones:
the double helix had the sex crumbling:
consensual hate.

Some beasts and hairy saints
were turning the world black,
sitting on marbled floor and talking of white moon.

Drifting faith in swollen eyes, watching
a burning train;
tomorrow I will travel again in pursuit of walking trees.

Proud legends like scorpions
climbing on your throat. Enamelled stings
ready to spin you blue.

Clams shut on the poor pink,
honeycomb becomes a trap.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 17 november 2013

BOUND BY CEILING

Sitting at the edge of a bubble
uncooled, trying to light an eternal flame of anonymity;
counter the wrangler, one skull in each hand,
of ancestors, you prepare for the crime of breaking
the umbilical cord.

Ostracized, you forge the ariel in arid zone,
burned, one patch on the eye, rubber thighs,
sniped at, lay still in a pool of blood,
in cauldron of terror, the brilliance of sun cracks
the marble statues.

Avarice of black boots mirrors the borewell;
washes out the color of smiles on blue lips.
Fireflies sink in darkness of punishment.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 16 november 2013

BLIND SWINGS

gradients
vivid, humbling
I was collecting a bit of myself

reading anatomy
of animality
spawning the hidden eggs

flecks of echos scarring:
reconnecting to starry night
I could not hold my enrged otherself

and the homely smell of gunshots
orchestrated to send a message of
mayhem – for optic illusion

the reptiles have broken
the law for an oceanic boat
collecting the golden fish

on the burning ghats, streetscape
full of falling leaves and
bloody wings of black crows

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 15 november 2013

DEWDROP

absence of a melody
was wrenching
on the face of a song

surface tension –
a venom creeps
surging in twin black eyes

you raise your price
in extremes
unburdening of embryonic waste

outsider
matches his death
with antiquity

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 14 november 2013

FRUGALITY

wanted to send a call to me
sitting in a flowing traffic of life, a sinister,
sadistic happiness to see the disasters

coming home, in triangle of death,
for visitation of a nihilistic visual, the wedding
of taxidermal violence, at scope of frugal

clay, moulding the age of anxiety
because there were enough girls to be raped
and hunger was disconnecting the tribes

in camps, the bunkers were safe haven
for daunting, unremembered prodigal sons;
the vultures were dying daily,

you were outcast, a sleepwalker in dark,
confronting the boundaries of labiate palms

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 14 november 2013

FRUGALITY

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Satish Verma, 13 november 2013

EMPTYING

perversity behind the orbs tilts,
scatters the fragile cohesion, a spectre
looms on the wrinkled face of an old tree,

the bee-eaters have flown away;
annual rings on wooden panels were defying the age
of smile on the mouth of bright doors

petitioning to the naked beams of body;
infusion of totality for antimutagens
of nude spiders weaving a lethal design:

the tender fall of deathless night on
forgetfull; I am ready to reach the bottom
of fear, bring out the poison for celebration,

unveiling the apes of tomorrow on the
black prints of dragonflies stumbling out
from golden words

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 12 november 2013

INVERTED

A tribal instinct stops the nemesis:
Spraying the blood-soaked, small
foot prints on my chest;
unlocking, I accept
myself.

why contained anger
of awesome ache over the periphery?
Through the atrophied, black limbs -
an elite infusion of trespassing knowledge?
The green adolescence was waiting in chains.

The hoarseness as from a cyanosed throat
after the sips of hemlock, the brave ascending
of a gaint stroke on the cheeks of death;
the dust will sing a farewell
to a river of tears!

End was not me on the chainsaw
a chamomile will wipe the blemishes of the Grail.

Satish Verma