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	Satish Verma
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Satish Verma, 26 czerwca 2020

The Claudication

Is raining. Since night.
You have no claim on
dry lips. Wry stance. The
city walks slowly. Wasted
faces. You want to kill
the words, the profanities.
Want to unwrap the knife.

I don't need any flowers.
Always making faces. Too
Many boats in the sea of eyes.
Rowing, arowing. I am
Afraid. The fast currents. And
then my shirt becomes stained.
Dirty words.

You reach the bottom. The
terrible depth. Digging up
my body. Even my hands
become shovels. Slowly
I erase my name on the sand.
The sea has divided us.

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Satish Verma, 25 czerwca 2020

Let's Decide

Less of charity
was needed, when you sleep
till dawn.

The spirit of the tree
comes down to
wake up the sage.

It spills the light
for a troubled window
cracked by hail.

A drenched house
of words
becomes pale, page by page.

I do not know
how to tell the story
of two bats which flew without wings.

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Satish Verma, 24 czerwca 2020

Aham Asmi, I Am I Am

Night melts into tears
day sums up the pain.
A fear stalks the flute,
and darkness falls on the drapes.
I was a lake
and I was the sun.

I held you on to my breast.
Give me your fangs
and give me your venom.
I was blue and I am the death.

Centuries of wounds
and million of scars.
Silence of sky
and lull in the clouds.
I am the fire
and I am the gale.

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Satish Verma, 23 czerwca 2020

Ink Fall

Snakebitten
you raise your hand:
not to strike back,
but to salute the pain.

Weaving the aurora of stainless performance
of inevitable.

Not going to change my path.

Gazing through years,
the fog, the hurts.

You were flame-born
in strong winds.
Father of woods,
the hunger was very faithful.

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Satish Verma, 22 czerwca 2020

Unmaking Me

I want to shake them off,
the weird thoughts,
like a swarm of bees,
buzzing, whining, aimed at nothing.
Want to write me off?

Loneliness.I
observe the hands of a watch,
looks like they are not moving.
Time stands still.
Waits for me to move.

An atavistic ache.Again I view the world.
Everybody is making a sound without bending.
With dreams dead, I step into emptiness,
barefoot, to feel the earth.

Not going to quit,
free to kill my ghost,
I move into sunlight.

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Satish Verma, 21 czerwca 2020

Brilliant Stroke

Unstable like a mercury
drop, when you hold
a pen, hiding your
icy thoughts.

Like an archer, ready
to abandon the bow, without
shooting at the target.

The bull's eye was a
blue rose, sitting in the dark
niche, afraid of light.

In synesthesia, of
nights assault, you fume
and sizzle, when the dew
drops hit you.

You will not give the name
of slayer, who killed you with a smile.

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Satish Verma, 20 czerwca 2020

Self-Righteousness

Put a candle under
the rose bush.
I am going to draw blood
from the moon.

See my body has become
a boat and you are the sea.
I am an opus Dei
and you are my deity.

We mist and we rain
on our frailties. The drama
unfolds, when we grieve
for the butterflies.

Who was taller than
our sins? Like pixies
falling from the skies.

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Satish Verma, 19 czerwca 2020

This Was Cobra Night

O pathfinder,
you wanted to leave unsung.
One day I will track down your footmarks.

Last night I understood
the unholy drowning of the truth,
before the priests of innocent surrender.

Jealousy was the secret of
downfall.You can use the parenthesis now
to defend the corporate
blunders.

Politics has become a
grammar to cheat the morphology
of gospels.

Do not go like naked truth
in the crowd.I wanted back
my eyebaths to see clearly.

The gap between the lips
was widening..

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Satish Verma, 18 czerwca 2020

Mammoth Blackness

You had left me reeling
under the bluebells,
like a trembling leaf, like wheels
in human conflict.

Trying to learn the democracy
of honeybees, like the
cohesiveness of fireants,

Handcuffed, staying in
solitary confinement, hitting at
the walls. Chipping away
the ungrateful.

The triage will leave me
unattended. The road...
do you think, it will be visible?

The stars will listen,
night will not.

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Satish Verma, 17 czerwca 2020

Death Mask

It was not the worth
of a cloud,
your garden, sitting
on the lake.

Refresh drops, in the
dry eyes of the rope, which was
wounding around your neck
like a snake.

You want to become
a blue god now, on
opioids. A living ruin, attracting
the tourists.

The terrible change,
we are dragging our dead body
under the shadow of
the toes.