Satish Verma, 26 marca 2018
The system aborts.
(Multiple organs failure)
A deviant art
of dying pompously.
I wish, I was on a ─
moving floor, sailing
without a walk, looking at
the camouflaged ceiling.
The shrill voice of a whistle─
blower, mimics an opera.
I will snatch the words,
raw, from your lips.
It was here, in absence.
Your poesy, matter-of-factly.
Can you raise your voice
against the fall of the thing.
Satish Verma, 25 marca 2018
A cameo─
after the chemo.
Are you sure, it was a tumor.
*
A black hole
in my bones, gulping
all the pain.
*
You were buried
alive in the wall of patches.
Stitch by stich.
Satish Verma, 24 marca 2018
The ultimate, unsung─
spreads out
and sails to oblivion.
I wanted to become
you, in desperation,
clinging to a swan song.
The great wall─
of silence, built on sand
still stands in hurricane.
Questions mate─
behind the curtain.
The truth, stands naked on stage.
Nothing to declare
now, I collect the pebbles
of childhood, hidden
from your eyes.
Locking the door behind,
I walk out to liberation.
Satish Verma, 23 marca 2018
It insults the─
primitivism. Hypothermia, you
become cold-blooded.
*
Fractured limbs.
How will you climb the
mound of questions?
*
Gray night.
Between black and white
the ashen moon.
Satish Verma, 22 marca 2018
The numbers were going up
and hallowed men were no─
more saints.
You find that your shirt
was stained. Now
you talk
to strangers. fear creeps─
under the skin.
You come near each other in─
dark. Reverting yourself
Against the wall of water as
high as your ego. Epidural abscess─
a silence of unknown.
Now, every hour you die. Light
abducts the dreams. Nothing to-
talk about the blitzkrieg.
Satish Verma, 21 marca 2018
Hauling up
the debris of your life
in failing light.
*
Bending like grass.
Standing like a solid rock─
where did you reach?
*
The fatal night─
to remove the downy velvet
from your sharp antlers.
Satish Verma, 20 marca 2018
It was the day of
dead patriarch.
I was fondling an echidna.
The home was
carried away in the─
storm. Must find a broom.
On the remains─
of a burned-out soul.
A hope sits on the altar.
A piano drenched in rain─
will not sing in the gale.
The sky will collapse─
one day, I will bring
back the bluebird,
for a revenge.
Satish Verma, 19 marca 2018
Festival of─
earthen lamps.
Separating the grain from chaff.
*
Pigeons will─
not be let out to fly.
It is going to be a moonless night.
*
The skin has peeled off.
Time to move on.
The bared trees.
Satish Verma, 18 marca 2018
A dynast in the storm-razed
polity will ask─
for a pardon.
By choice there was
no suicide. You will
eat the clouds one day.
Taking the brunt, ─
living near the sea of
people, a window goes shut.
Curtly, with
levitation, the wind
twists, one and everybody.
An owl tattoo, will
tell it all. The hurricane
has reached your door.
Aftermath was a
conspiracy of silence.
Every one was speaking of landfall.
Satish Verma, 17 marca 2018
The limbs had the raw strength.
They were learning
to walk on the water.
The silver axe
will hack off the neck
after the daunting recovery.
In gestational surrogacy,
you don’t want
the incisors.
To kill a wanderer,
you need a howling─
wind, fledged.
A shoebox contains
the handprints of a skeleton
and liquid eyes.
The hunger has a blue
desire. A savage bite
will bring out the space.
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