Satish Verma, 9 lipca 2018
A war was on,
(psychological)
to transgress the unwritten line.
Me, stranded on the
sands of time.
Day after day
shaven heads in protest
erupt in fury.
Firebrands join like
ducks to water.
In camera, you
open the folds of mystery.
As we start reading script,
the wounds were mine,
and you were the sounds.
On the table, I put my
eyes, ears and my
father's shoes. I come
out in open, to take
a shower of abuses.
Satish Verma, 8 lipca 2018
Despite the anger,
the truth will
not speak.
*
It was a concussion,
after the fall.
A prophet had fainted─
*
in midsentence.
A blue vase was broken
in the smell of roses.
Satish Verma, 7 lipca 2018
Ethics
takes a nap,
in a blink,
without qualms.
*
A jilted lover, like
a broken moon, takes
a jump from the hill.
*
In this twilight
who am I,
in this crowd of sinners?
Satish Verma, 6 lipca 2018
Night.
A scantily clad sky,
with unkempt clouds.
Moon was climbing.
Caved in.
I had nothing left
to say, except
soundless poems.
No regrets;
in this climactic
struggle of life. The
pain eases, when
memory fails.
The flesh engages the
spirit. End would wait
till the grass banks.
Satish Verma, 5 lipca 2018
With shaking hands
you give a fatal push
to the old year.
*
Inner turmoil
falls through the cracks
of your persona.
*
A troubled past
wants you to end the slavery
of sleeping, between birth and death.
Satish Verma, 3 lipca 2018
Like a prune, it was
an old year, standing
before me. You start
counting the wrinkles.
In shift, you become
the problem, cannot read
the jigsaw. It had
uprooted the faith.
I was terribley upset, the
birds had not returned
to the lake this winter; what
do I do, I was talking to moon.
A new misty morning. I take a
small foot, set myself in the
god's hour and start
planting the bulbs of tulips.
Satish Verma, 2 lipca 2018
The lesion was
spreading. From
inside, I hear the wails.
Past and present
of time, plows
the furrows, in future.
Seeds remain
unplanted. I seek
justice from the earth.
Turn off the lights
I want to see─
the moon in its full glory.
Someone has left
the message for us.
Go out to face the wolves.
Satish Verma, 29 czerwca 2018
Step down from your
ego. The brain dead has─
left a lesson.
Left a lesson, the brain dead.
Will you measure the
EF before the cardiac arrest?
Sexing an issue
of dented verbs, why
do you need a defence?
The numbers are climbing.
You have entered─
a high risk zone,
of killing yourself.
Give me a ghost writer, I
need an art, not a duplicate.
Satish Verma, 28 czerwca 2018
Into the nightscape,
an earthen lamp ushers in
the new year.
*
I will look
back at the bright moon
hung on a tree.
*
In misty dawn
the suspense grows deeper.
There was a huge explosion.
Satish Verma, 27 czerwca 2018
There was no clear move.
Flamethrowers were on the way─
and I was looking,
backward.
A fragile truce with the
clouds. They had abandoned─
the sky and were wringing─
the neck of mountains.
Compromising with the painted lips
of winter, my secret was out.
I was shivering in the crowd
of moon-gazers.
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