Satish Verma, 13 listopada 2016
Now burns the stillness of thoughts.
Be my enemy.
Ants are running out
of the eye.
Nightmares:
I am collecting the ashes from
the burning ghats.
The steps to the lake are disappearing
in the blood of moon.
The dogs-
are carrying away a half-burnt leg.
It stinks
stinks
the whole river, all night
all day.
Don’t shut the window
I am crying.
•
Tin man was walking on the sea
of words.
He did not want to utter F………out.
The hirsute triangle
pops up, every time
you close your eyes.
All night he was dreaming
he had become inert, like a corpse.
Can you start a salvage chemo?
So that I can levitate in emptiness
and meet
my arithmetic
midway like cherry blossom
falling, yet not falling.
You will never understand me.
I was waiting for the night
beyond the sky
beyond the stars.
•
The stigma
the style.
No pollen wants to land on your cherry
Stainless shirt waves a white flag
to stop the war.
I am not a cherry picker
in a moonlit night
undressing the smile.
It is for you, the next life
a little wee
if I don’t come back
from the sea of carnage
pure as a fish.
Satish Verma, 12 listopada 2016
After scarring, the big gap
confronts a mascot.
The caster is telling a lie.
Under shock and anger
you start cursing the renegade truth.
Black windows now perceive the light.
Nobody wants to catch the dust now,
falling from the stars.
War of words comes to disarming of
wailing hands.
I reconcile with the setting sun.
Back and forth, back and forth
the unabashed, moves a bridal moon.
Satish Verma, 11 listopada 2016
Deep inside
there was a simian jealousy.
The opaque words will raise
a burnt-out storm –
returning the whole family
of white flowers to the moon.
The falling
inside the bowl
before the snake could strike
interrupting the dead soldiers
of unknown war-
weapon-free.
A stunning invasion
of the spoons in summer months,
when sweat was expensive than
truth and a sentence
was lost between the punctuations.
Yet I was going to recite a poem.
Satish Verma, 10 listopada 2016
Burying
your titanium teeth
in flawless
apples.
You release
a terror.
The scream.
Centuries-
of fear
and fear of
centuries
chasing a mysterious silence.
The scream.
Satish Verma, 9 listopada 2016
Miranda:
talk to your restive soul,
elementally abstract.
Home –
was minimal comfort,
for the flying birds.
Clock,
to explode today
on your face.
You were eying
the bride,
in turbulent sky.
Who had
brought the moon
at Agave’s feet?
Satish Verma, 7 listopada 2016
A vigil for scrolls:
who writes the history now?
Actors are barbaric now –
playing the malicious music of
rebirth.
There is no threat now from intimate-
bombers.
Be drunk on my breast –
in lunar landscape, wearing no shoes.
Buddha has lost his libido.
Can you fix the bed of black
roses?
A sick mind now writes-
a transgender prose.
Satish Verma, 6 listopada 2016
The snarled monogamy
needs a firework.
A solitary moon walks on a lake
nonchalantly.
The marriage
between the planet and moon
was falling apart.
In amphora lies the secret
of a jeweled crown. Cynical
berries were searching
a quartz to find the truth of the bush
where the colors were mixed.
There is no further news of
half-crazy stars who became
pretty girls to start trading
their shines.
Satish Verma, 5 listopada 2016
A chocolaty moon was rising.
I have lost my riverbed.
Accuser has become accused.
The hangman has shifted
the ground while glistening
in moonlight. Oxymoronic?
Eponym exited the lips of a drone fly.
A flotilla of tears
dies in an eye of a storm.
An audacity of a drifter
to stop the promiscuous honors
of strangers in death.
Only night-bloomers will watch
the sunrise in eternal lonliness.
The roots will always stay in dark.
Satish Verma, 4 listopada 2016
1
The reluctant thereness
I want to embrace.
The spiritualism without a god?
This whispering darkness -
always becomes an incensed flesh.
I unwrap myself.
2
Please let me touch
the multistrands of understanding.
After all what was a religion?
You were always seeking an exit.
The betrayal, godliness and
fog hours. I always remained obsessed
with the failing lights.
Satish Verma, 3 listopada 2016
A red clock and the dwarf
will not meet on the wall.
Time slips out in virginal shyness.
On the verge of collapse was
an ossified civil group
after emotive conception fails.
Unambiguously an azure
sky measures the human steps
in somnambulant thoughts.
You throw a bound kid
in a water tank, after postpartum blues
and walk away with a halter.
Who will grab the fractured
age, during the fire dance?
A mirror lies flat after announcing the award.
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