Satish Verma, 7 stycznia 2018
The fumbling picks up.
The sixth sense
was failing.
A mother weeps
for the unborn child.
You were still ogling the peaks.
Were you true to yourself
in the dark, when the
moon was away?
I had lost the burning
coals, after the
rains came.
The dark mine, where
they were shot, for
picking up the lightning.
Satish Verma, 6 stycznia 2018
A leap into death bed.
The water of life
had sucked you dry.
Tracking a subtle sound,
I was chasing you
in the jungle of untruths.
You being in the crowd,
I was locating the god’s
vision in failing lights.
Who was hiding behind
the torn pages of
scriptures? The words
had started bleeding.
O, my god, the man was
going to defile a beast!
Satish Verma, 5 stycznia 2018
A doer was seeking
a physical thing
in this age of carnality.
Truth falls on your
path when you become
an absentee.
Take a break from
the silent assaults. Do
not go for a dirty play.
I will not do any
commerce with the paid
style of the omnivores.
The soil does not need
any weapons. It was
always under your feet.
I will wait for a disaster
to happen.
Satish Verma, 4 stycznia 2018
One day, a dark tunnel
will ask, what was your
being, survival mode?
*
On a mission, concluding
the life, I am changing
the view of the world.
*
Back and forth, you
lived days, months, years.
Seeking eternity in moments.
Satish Verma, 3 stycznia 2018
It was not the ordinariness.
The pain of rejection. One
night my lips touched
the lips of moon, to soak the
grief. Do not want to cross-
the threshold of guilts, like
burnished armor
taking the law into my own hands.
Waiting for a spacewalk
of the gods to find the culprit,
who escaped before your
own eyes through the gauze
of silver dust. To quit the ground
or not was the cardinal point.
You remained attached to the
faded poster of childhood. It was
a generational tragedy.
Satish Verma, 2 stycznia 2018
Under a blue moon,
a cuckoo
gives an agonizing call.
*
Clouds will wait.
Till a caravan
of herons will sail.
*
The rains have
washed away all the malice,
all the soot.
Satish Verma, 1 stycznia 2018
To find peace,
you break the coconut,
a ritual to dent
the dark night.
Amnesia disconnects
your pronouns.
You do not remember
your name.
A monkey or a fowl.
The existence was
the same for your
unknown inheritance.
Want to collect the golden
motif; from the
old brick house, sans
a real god, old brick house.
A straight line hangs
from a roof, igniting the
faith. There was no ghost
no jinni.
Satish Verma, 31 grudnia 2017
Rainbow, a hymn
never betrays you.
Always comes after the rain.
*
Lying on grass
watching the sky
for a blue moon.
*
I dream and I
stare without eyes
into the words.
Satish Verma, 30 grudnia 2017
Poverty of thoughts
beats you endlessly.
What was the other form of violence?
Body of water bursts.
There was an absentee lover
trying to overtop the levee.
Pounding of chest
was figurative.
Someone was dying of hunger.
It was a great paradox.
The eagle was rising
for a sudden dive.
Labyrinthine. An intricate
argument. From which-
side will come the death?
Satish Verma, 29 grudnia 2017
Overly possessing the karma,
you sail in meditation.
Does creation tag along
the destruction of self?
The chain persists. You leave
the theater. The ancient
voice gives the soft resoundings.
Something was always left
to say. The neophyte will
not speak. The arms
were overreaching.
Take hold of the window.
Some light will have deep
penetration. Edge was very
sharp. Pack up your belongings.
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