Satish Verma, 4 grudnia 2020
Everything was in place,
and I started to find-
the kingpin, door by door.
Wanted to know more about the death,
when you were struck in silence-
of blackness.
Displaying the art of kill. It has
an ancient throw of fangs.
I am ready to catch the blues.
All day the hibiscus has
been bleeding. I will never
disappoint the skin of the pilgrim.
Oh pink eyes. Sometimes
I wonder, why this shade rests
after wedding a celibate.
Satish Verma, 3 grudnia 2020
Eclectically, do not say anything;
put a bullet in your head
and go to sleep.
I know what was coming
after the ballot. A heap of
abuses, for not maintaining the war.
The presence you can feel,
I am the native of this land― when
hurricane comes, you untie the shoes.
May be, wearing a dark suit,
the bartender comes and pours the
honey in your broken glasses.
The music must not stop. The
black spiders, with paired legs have
synchronized with myriapods.
Satish Verma, 2 grudnia 2020
Aquilla. Would you
carry the burden
of ungiving?
Transmuted, I
will find you in portrait
of sublime?
And I will see in your eyes
a cosmos, floating in void.
But a primal question
remained unanswered, who were you.
Through the blue sky
and legends of dark, the
constellations squirm.
And I start believing
in God dust.
Satish Verma, 1 grudnia 2020
The ostrich problem
of catalepsy.
You go into a cocooned
opacity.
I will wait, till you
come out, ready to take a flight
for an oath ceremony.
The land suffers,
the sky weeps.
The shotguns would now decide
the boundaries of speech.
I will walk into the
sea of heads, to find the sunken ship,
to retrieve the faded road map.
I have to face a new testament,
how to remove this poverty
of right words.
Satish Verma, 30 listopada 2020
You will remember-
what I would not- the
inner darkness of noon.
A bright sun goes
blind for a caged bird. To
dream or not to dream in
the path of unknown.
Any celestial movement-
will bring the halcyon days?
One day the man will change?
This culture, your
ethos were making the
sense datum extinct- a fossil.
Far from the meanings
the body language flies
in wings of wax.
Again an era ends,
the very blood of stones.
Satish Verma, 29 listopada 2020
Night blinks.
Light sits under the door.
I am ready to confront the moon.
Too much brilliance
was there. Would you redesign
the blue sky and paint the new stars?
Poverty was my great strength.
Nothing to lose, when
you were dancing with the shadows.
Satish Verma, 28 listopada 2020
Trembling…
the burning coal has gone to sleep,
before igniting the dry grass.
Eye to eye colliding
turning you into ophelian mess.
Light had gone back to black matter.
It was a frisk season-
in sick society. The hidden plaques
have come out in the blood stream.
You are now backtracking
on the uphill, ready to fall
from the green heights to connect with ground.
For keepsake I will
again unwrite the book
not mentioning the stillbirth of freedom.
Satish Verma, 27 listopada 2020
Be what you are.
As night falls,
I start moon spotting
standing starkly against the pain.
Reaching for you
from you, in-
moonless night.
The relationship of
dream blood, was never
seen but heard.
The pursuit of location
where the eclipse descends like a dot
on truth.
I am going to touch
the surreal constellation
again in your wet eyes.
Satish Verma, 26 listopada 2020
The weight of the ideology
flattens your upheaved chest.
You speak, what you did not want to say.
A fake hunger and pseudo-demands,
put you on the pathless clouds.
How would you now fly towards the sun?
The polarization was deliberate,
to usurp the authority. Blue jays
have refused to join gangs.
A faded document tells about
your missteps. A bunch
of eunuchs have come to guard the palace.
Black versus black will
not brighten the screen. One third of
generation had the criminal record.
Satish Verma, 25 listopada 2020
My bronzed speech is available,
accepting the defeat of daffodils.
I will not write an elegy.
The postpartum blues are over,
I am coming out of the crib,
like a new born poem.
Floating the paper lanterns, at
night, on flowing river, to send the
message to moon. No more the beach will cry.
The triangular nuts will
speak of the hurricanes, protecting
the hairy seeds.
No resistance was needed
to stop the invading army of black
ants, ready to tear the dummies.
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