Satish Verma, 9 january 2022
Roping in, as if―
all my defeats, creating―
a tiara for a royal fall.
Being hurled
towards the enormous black hole,
chased by the sun.
Like an old thinker
I was putting myself in a
violent comet's pathway.
Not being a whole religion
why did I worship a walking stone?
How would I communicate
with my destiny?
I was not born a shining star.
An individual becomes,
an androgyne, unsure
to name the gender.
I am going to honour the talent.
Satish Verma, 8 january 2022
In shadow of moon―
amidst banal, repeated answers,
you take a shot.
Moment of truth―
dissembles, the religion
of fear and kill. I hear
a sea of daffodils
going wild.
After the aching, The vision is lost.
You revert to bind
alleys. Between faith and hope
flickering light waits.
You stir and churn,
breach the obscene party
and go for a god.
Satish Verma, 7 january 2022
You wanted him alive.
To witness the evolution of
man into beast.
Hounds start yowling,
one after the other―
in dark.
Why do I break the coconut to―
celebrate the death of a god?
It was that simple as
an orchird opens its bizarre labellum
to trap the sun.
A paperweight against
an argument, shatters the window.
The bluebird
refuses to sing.
Satish Verma, 6 january 2022
On the run,
was a bon viveur―
in amber thoughts.
I start unknowing you―
O invisible. A curse
will follow if you make me
a god.
I plead, standing
on the rubble, I will not learn
to live without the muse.
Sometimes you disappear
unshorn, in the rain forest―
of stunning phrases.
I hold,
the existence of a ghost.
Undying for the sake of
forced acceptance.
That was the art of inevitability.
Satish Verma, 5 january 2022
You by yourself,
will become me―
one day.
I am standing―
lone, with
body planet.
The intrinsic design―
of ampersand
falters. And
partition of soul
begins. The mutation
from the dust to schism takes place.
Where tears cannot
reach, the poem
will carry the message.
Satish Verma, 4 january 2022
For lurid details
of velvety arms,
in ashes you sleep.
Knowingly you walk
into a death well,
opening the trapdoor.
Seizure brings
the nearness to unknown,
deliberately.
I do not know me―
now, after reciting
your name.
Oh God, why did
you play with coda,
before the curtain drop?
Satish Verma, 3 january 2022
Phobia. As it occurred.
Earth was being spread
on the tryst of man.
You won't learn the
life, wearing the veil of death.
That will ditch the destiny.
It was a big question. How to meet you?
One's own beginning was
transient. You will always
imagine the end.
How wrong world was,
when you were stigmatized
for saving the poems?
Give me your fist not the hand.
At least I am not going to be perished.
Long live the Homo.
Satish Verma, 1 january 2022
Fear returns to
glass jars. The generic gap
flutters in narrow
basin.
The caged image. Regency
starts burning. The
divide widens. Your fidgety
fingers roll the stiletto.
Premonition. You condone
the crucifixion, beheadings. I
heal the broken limbs,
punctured hearts.
The striped, elegant walk
on the ramp. I dream of
empty bowls. The rubber
mannequin smiles.
Satish Verma, 31 december 2021
The leaning neck
of the moon, getting
intimate with
a tall pine.
Partheno-sculpting
a protégé, without touching
the essentials.
Somebody waits for your
footfalls. Somebody
loves you without telling.
Like sensory pits
of a viper. I smell
your heat.
The swaying hips
of downing night.
Sun was rising.
Satish Verma, 30 december 2021
In shadows of dawn,
there was no theme―
on way to home.
My agile hands were trying
to find the sins of
unbroken faith.
Will you hold for sometime,
the trembling questions
of my parched lips?
My deepest secret was out. I was
preparing myself in extremis.
Not worth speaking of,
I was changing my path.
You will not cry anytime.
Here goes the culture,
the credence of unbelieving.
Stand by me, when I explode.
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30 november 2024
Pamiętaj o mgle, któraEva T.
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IkarJaga
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bo jak wtedy jest nas wszędzieEva T.
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