Satish Verma, 3 november 2021
Your frozen words float
like flakes
falling from invisible lips.
Aimlessly I would
pick up the yearnings
trying to caress me.
Talking to me in
hushed tones, to give a
tang of silence and release.
The otherness, like a
silvery spider's web invites.
You wait at the edge, pondering―
To walk in or not. You
bite your tongue, cannot move.
There were suicides.
The cadavers talk.
Satish Verma, 2 november 2021
To know, who I am…
in the name of truth.
We move in different circuits.
Our toes don't meet.
Fraternity mangled, I will
not sell my wounds.
I will not show my scars.
I will wait, wait till eternity
after the black end, in the hope of dawn.
As a mark of respect, you fly
low, invisible to the eyes of walking gods.
The thick men, become menace
for the slums. There was no light.
I turn blue.
Satish Verma, 1 november 2021
Searching in your
rainbow eyes
relics of past.
Your pride on the leash
goes on a rampage,
refusing a kiss of hemlock.
My indulgence ends,
becoming a sufi
you walk through a thick smog
to drag the failed suicides.
A tinge of vulnerability
when I meet my image
in water. You break into hundred tears.
Where this path leads
in the jungle of predators?
Would you carry the flag
of dramatics for quick relief?
The bubble bursts. My
feet buried in swamp,
I look back in agony.
Satish Verma, 31 october 2021
Nothing to think for,
at this moment. Faceless fears―
like pine needles,
prick the toes in walk.
You cannot―
collect the white roses
in blue rains.
You remember precisely, a toothless―
poised tiger. The prey
tied to a pole gives a
long whimper, before being mauled.
The game continues. You
cannot do anything. Violence was
real, the pen becomes the
weapon.
You start drawing vultures.
Satish Verma, 30 october 2021
Like the xenia effect
the terror
was changing the landscape.
Will you become my eyes
in scorched run
to my god?
The sea has turned black
in holy rain. I don't ask
any numbers.
A child weeps inside
me. Hydrophobia. You cannot
go near the water. Stay
away from me. A white
cobra was coming to kiss me.
Religion has become a
toxic drink. I cannot mix my
tears with hate.
The bodies are still
coming in the water.
Satish Verma, 29 october 2021
Not scared by stings
I will carry you in river to―
put you behind sun.
The maple has shed the
red leaves one by one in row,
as prayers for you.
Why would the snow skip
the road, where you stood midway
to stop the whirlwind?
Satish Verma, 28 october 2021
For image breaking
I exile myself
for one half-god
to lick my scars.
I have not touched
you even for ages―
in words.
The door knobs remained unturned.
I let go the dust. Time
was not ripe for me.
Still I have to
find my eternal muse.
I will strive, will
look around, to smell your―
presence. A warrior
always waits for the graceful exit.
Satish Verma, 27 october 2021
Cause of things―
finding in myself in solitary
manner, reaping
the harvest of failures.
The ghost of a town
roils under the protests.
Nobody knows the ―
length of suffering.
Me and my god―
we are one. Nobody else
was entitled to live.
The half-burnt bodies,
making a crowd at the bank
of a holy river. At least they
were not shot in the head.
Reasons were flawless.
Fallacy was truth.
Satish Verma, 26 october 2021
Yearning to reach you
like out of body experience.
Dreams will not agree.
He was stunned when
you disappeared in flames.
Was this a protest?
Reincarnation?
I will wait until the death
of the Super moon.
Satish Verma, 25 october 2021
The moment of truth
for a flower seller.
Sun will not rise today.
Learning the―
alphabets of violence.
I would not bet on you.
At nude beach
I was wearing the moon
in pitch dark.
Silently weeping
a prophet today asks
for the mercy of dead.
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