Satish Verma, 5 may 2022
Not for me,
this politics of living
for sexless alchemy.
You take on―
the pen's broken nib,
writing blood soaked birth
of an illegitimate avatar.
The spin was fatal.
Unfazed a bizarre tone,
announces a miss call. You
are pronounced dead.
You will swim now
in veil. Eyes looking deep
in water where light does not reach.
The mission of salvaging a
heritage fails.
Dog winter.
Sun hides behind the thin survivors.
There was no will,
no suicide pact.
Satish Verma, 4 may 2022
Discarding―
the past, systematically,
you reach the core,
of undoing.
A curse hangs―
over the empty cup.
Now you can fill it
with tears.
Space shrinks.
Eternal memory of
losing your faith―
brings in the damaged truths.
Stick and carrot―
both survive.
It was not, it was,
the liberation.
Satish Verma, 3 may 2022
When I need something.
I will ask you.
But I was never going― to need anything.
From where this―
armoury comes, trying to
influence the vowels, from
the clenched teeth?
When I hold your hand,
you start trembling.
There was mist and
there were walls.
Are we drifting apart―
in search of moons?
Flesh for flesh, bone for bone? You
swim fast, I track on the land.
Satish Verma, 2 may 2022
Time
was the great avenger.
It takes you away
into war,
with swan words.
My baby poem
cries. Lost in a crowd of swindlers.
Not finding the home of truth.
Was it a rarified
phenomenon, that it was
a dark nebula,
that gave birth to the sun?
Are you free to
agree with me, with my existence?
The conclusion was
beyond the judgment of insane people.
Are you going to harm yourself
by accepting the fireball questions?
Satish Verma, 1 may 2022
Shadows―
were lengthening.
I start mending myself.
Speechless―
you commence telling in signs.
Grass flattened. Glass―
in water. The body floats.
The game was over.
A new chapter opens without a book.
Another spurt of poetry.
I will never forgive me.
Fear becomes my guide.
The sound of decapitation
resonates. I lift the pen
and kill myself.
Satish Verma, 30 april 2022
Depression―
was deep blue.
In zero-reflux, I was
intimately involved―
with your pride. The conflict
was rising.
Human mind
like shutting off the sex,
was making a bibliography.
Purity of link will
describe a yellow hollyhock,
waiting to be crushed.
It becomes a burden
when I spend on you― my poems.
Chemotherapy had failed.
Satish Verma, 29 april 2022
The sins of mortals
have become ordinary.
You can breathe like
nekton, in deep ocean of
idyllic mind.
Pull out your hubris like
a tinkling coin and rub it with your―
body / let it become dirty.
The wayward emotion and
illuminati will meet for the
first time/on the turf.
Desire wins ultimately.
You pick up a red rose
and place it along the jasmines.
Acceptance comes after the fall.
Satish Verma, 27 april 2022
Perfect domes―
beehived.
An alien sitting in
Mona Lisa? Do you believe in the
pshyche of a beekeeper?
A vision. The future tense
retrieves the past glory of tenseless era.
The mimicry will do its own job.
A freak incident. Earth was
moving. Corned bodies riding on lead.
You must fill up the blanks to―
prepare for lethal descent.
Idolatry. Every cult becomes
a new idol. Hate-filled sermons.
Yestersins will pay
for the mortgage.
Satish Verma, 23 april 2022
Set free the water―
do not harm the spring.
A short poem will write your
theme in air, without asking.
The unbaked bread
will feed the oven.
And the silent prayers
will seal the lips.
The bride of desert―
weeps. No palms, no ariels.
You run over the ruins
to find the tools.
Now breathing stops. A
hammer strikes.
It was the tragedy
of a brainless tumor.
Aneurysm brings the stroke.
Satish Verma, 16 april 2022
Hiding behind the faces,
you had pushed me to the edge.
Now Himalayas were weeping.
The self-mutilation
starts. Human body and mind
collide like tectonic plates.
There was no rape in
sacred marriage. Do you know the
anxiety and depression are not
only the human traits?
Psychosis. The obscenity
does not leave, and the language
starts dying. You block the
road. Nobody was going to leave
the doomed plains.
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