Satish Verma, 8 december 2012
When life falls apart
you do not pick up the shadow.
It is the shadow, which
gathers you in arms.
Little things make a difference
a diety comes at your door.
And a gift lies broken
a little bread was black.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 7 december 2012
Keep the paper blank,
do not write anything new.
Words were abducted earlier also
Let the truth speak from the folds
of dying clocks.
Fauns were searching the human
abodes for fake currency of truth. There
was no method in their method. Do you
find a pride in their attacks? A strange
militia had joined hands with sleep mafia.
My soul colours the half-black berries.
The sum will not eat them.
Father was beaten in war of tricks
I still follow the laws of kindness
in filling the extended empty cups.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 6 december 2012
After rolling the story of wrong sex by teeth
the sheen comes off the subway
and a hanging moon starts rotating
a lonely earth.
I was afraid of rumors, they were
snowballing. The particles were dismayed
at medieval thinking so they decided to collide
for consuming the planet.
Pirates were everywhere searching the god
matter from the black hole. A scientist
versus godman begins a fiery dialogue
on the fate of light.
Who was copying the big explosion
of live in gays. Where the feminists will go?
let us find, who we are and part the ways
with dignity and mooned.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 5 december 2012
Vexed at a long sit in,
after collision
we will meet at a canal
in the watery grave.
You believed in philosophy of giving
I would apologize for the slaughter of babies.
Pink dolls
I wished to know why they were thrown
on a bank of the river.
The maroon red water
wanted to snub the lawmakers.
Step out from bloody arm badges,
there was no hope to count
the death toll. Abandoned lies
the face of god in mud.
Paper name for the dead child
paper name for the living father.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 3 december 2012
Will you tell me what it was
the unknown of the known?
When you step into the eyes of stangers
you start talking without uttering a single word.
Give me back the body,
of dark pink matter
to understand the god’s will.
He was sitting in field of sugarcane.
The petrol burns with hate
in the necks of panthers.
Tiger, tiger I look at my son coming back
after encounter.
The bleeding revolution has overturned
tomorrow. No body knows where we are heading.
The babies flick like tender candles
inside the saints.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 2 december 2012
Spurred the kerosene
to burn the logistics.
I had moved on untrodden snow
of tanned gifts.
There was no tomorrow for me,
living from moment to moment.
The warships
had moved into positions.
Adoring the monotheisn, I still
loved many angels, you were
making many moons for me.
Breathless I was running after gold rings.
Terrible, the bell breaks my ankle
and the anklets emit the trembling
moons. Let us go out on the lake
I have many scores to settle.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 29 november 2012
Wearing a skin
where flesh had melted
in blankness.
The moon was sitting
on window
parting the curtains
The sunset
accepts the death
as final verdict
Small scholars
will find out the pain
of molesting.
Estrogen untamed
on street
rises in arches.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 28 november 2012
It was inheritance
of age
before the mirrors
for the language of windows.
The high rise buildings
always cast a pall of gloom.earth seems to slide
and I cannot reach the sky.
I want to say
what I did not want to say.
The lake has gone in a siege
till infinity.
Wrap me a sharp knife
I will cut my tongue today
to offer to goddess of shame.
The light has gone away from my heart.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 27 november 2012
In the dust storm
a discarded moon
sat in my lap.
Then internal rhythm
crashed.
Amorphic I would not find the music
of words translated into a kiss.
Gold started weeping
in my hands.
The clouds will rest
after committing a sin,
of letting out the sun.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 26 november 2012
Driving green fire
out of melodies.
It was not make-believe
not mannerism
but smell of autopsy.
A pseudo-elegy starts
at burial site.
Frugality of dust
first decides to go to god
and then die.
Race, religion, tribe
and their foot-soldiers
had become red
for lupines. It feels like
fire of hell. I am drunk
and I am burning.
Satish Verma
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