Satish Verma, 16 july 2012
Before the spill there was
soaring. And then anti-g.
I readied myself
for the ultimate fall.
This was the poetry of submission
sharing the pain of disillusionment.
Who was pretending of liberation
in a see-through heart?
This was the time when
you run amok
under pheromones of dead clones:
the drowned dreams.
Pelting stones at moon
we were made for each other.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 15 july 2012
A futurist virginity in black rose
was seeking posthumous award
for immoral kisses of thorns.
Unaware of lethal thighs
skipping the lunar landscape
at night.
Were you going to leap over
the mountains curling across the glaciers
of white pain?
I will extend the shadow
of infinite truth,
when we talk about the half-death
of unborn hunger.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 14 july 2012
One day I will meet you
on a dirt track
and ask about back yard
where moon lives.
Will you give me a kiss of the clock?
I have forgotten the back years.
Autumn now takes care of my assets
and I keep on erasing the names.
O, harvest moon, don’t go away.
I was playing with the black thoughts
eating the yellow grass,
learning the alphabet of white pain.
It was a crystal midmoon, dark animal,
who has taken away all the tears.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 12 july 2012
So my absentism will prevail
over presence;
I will talk to you in space
between the moments
of autumn red
when nothing else was moving.
In classical pursuit, I straignten
the equation and we understand
the complexities of life, and agree to depart
unlooking at the moon, crossing
the river of silence, with no blueprints
on hands.
The random pain will eat the words
like a vanGogh painting.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 11 july 2012
A sage plant scrambles for the
mob, walking out of bed
and begs for a death.
The adolescence had become
graphic. Do you agree with the
splurge of moonlight under the street light?
The unborn stink was hovering
after the shipwreck. The seagulls
were bewildered.
There was only one slogan
for the black booth.
Priest was sitting cross-legged in a liplock.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 9 july 2012
This fake city
encounters
a thundering
moment; I go down
coveting a mating
call from an explosion
of hallowed
questions, with no answers.
Stones were after all
stones, not gems of knowledge.
How can you make a
universal elixir figuratively
put of garbage of
human tongues?
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 6 july 2012
For the dream slaves
the incense has become a moon
for the alchemic effect of tear’s stain
in erotic war.
Ask a mooner,
will he bring her to bed
for a song to measure the cantus
between flight of strings in midnight?
The small bruises of stars
were playing under the lemon tree
in sinking clouds. You must know
the richness of poverty at night.
This was the theme to play,
it was enough to have walked on golden
leaves of November, while I was collecting
the false truths of life.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 5 july 2012
The myopic tongues
of tall trees, going downhill
to find the roots of four-letter words of dead,
unspoken, but sung in dark.
They had come out of the skin.
River was flowing on emotional track,
with heavy eyelids. Father said,he would never die.
Your unborn children were tasting
the salt of the road still untaken. The pain
in the neck was grizzlier,
when the sun was retreating in virgin hole.
Moreover, the wrinkles will tell the tale
of truant hands who would not
play with the silken adolescence
of a delirious moon.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 4 july 2012
Absurdity was waylaid
like a black swan on the
grass shaking a leg.
A child walks through me
antithetical to scorched life
of parallel egos.
Austerity was neither present
nor absent.Volcanic ash
was spewing on recti.
It was drifting, the snow bound
killer, spilling the blood in sea.
Home was still for away.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 3 july 2012
The visible was most
invisible.
Watching the moon
through veil.
A bomb explodes
in your hands.
The poem wavers-
and then falls on dew.
This was not bone-green;
original,
not a fake cloud –
to kiss the feet
of a burning god.
It was natural conjugation
between enemies.
Satish Verma
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