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	Satish Verma
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Satish Verma, 2 grudnia 2014

MOVEMENTS

you bring pink roses everyday
from nowhere

with an oblique smile,
some questions have remained unanswered

when I plunge in silence
you won’t stop talking

anger is its own failure
for breaking the door

where was the need for honour
killing of flesh

I will come out of the oblivion
once you pray for the retreat

time was running out for the sky
tornado has started moving

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 1 grudnia 2014

JOTTINGS

there was a tree rose
piercing me and killing me, I thought
it was cheating on me after the sunset
when moon was walking alone

you know what is love
we think different things at the same time
but we are always alone, you do not think,
I think about my god, saying a prayer

to unknow him or keep him alive
he has a debt to pay me back because
I created him what cosmologist would
say was an accident

somebody comes with a strange version
I say, a transgender was also entitled
for his or hers right to love, may be
marrying a deity one day and have free sex

what were you saying about the bait, now
a hapless buffalo will be tied with a rope
put up on a rough terrain to invite the
lion to pounce and make a kill for the benefit of visitors

I am perplexed, do not want to talk,
will watch the moon again, sailing
silently across the blue starry sky
throwing the shadow of dew on my eyes.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 30 listopada 2014

MEDITATION

talking of fire and passion
watch a scented pistil
guiding the asteroids, did you

hear the flawless silence
after the cuckoo’s call, an interruption,
a suspended pause, then a

high pitched cascading note, moon
is still hanging out on the western sky,
it is dawn

sun is coming out from the hazel bed
violence must cease
clouds are meditating

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 29 listopada 2014

BEYOND CHANGE

It slides stealthily in you, the fear
shifting the blame, stoking to run. He said
the wolves are coming. I heard a wailing
sound across the black wall,

I hate you, I hate you. He was crying
and shouting. Why were you so good to
me, why did not you hit me? He started
throwing stones on jasmines –

and then hanged himself with a shoe
lace. Fingerprinting the DNA was inconclusive.
Senseless incarceration, a hidden paranoia,
a tormented soul arrested under the canopy.

Heights, yes heights were responsible for the
fall, for the hurt, for the pain. Could not
stay fearlessly for a long time. Perfection
was the watchword.

Death was the peace.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 28 listopada 2014

DARK FEET

Overnight I have turned
grey, stuck on the threshold
of a song

which does not cry
parting the mist
of the eyes.

Why should not,
the humming bird stop
becoming voiceless?

O bystander,
wakeup the moon
night will fall now glittering.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 26 listopada 2014

POINSETTIA

What was that inside you
which was not ready to accept
the compound folly of a man?

What worry do I carry tonight
to my bed?
An intentional leap into the very
fire of mind?

A virgin garden battles with a storm
It is ready to mince the words
for a carnal smell of poinsettia,
and I am going to lower the guard
from wrinkled eyes.

Like a thong around the neck
to obtain the tongue.
I turn towards the blood of game
global erosion of love and waxen defeat!

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 25 listopada 2014

The Moon-ed ‘I’...

Distance was increasing
in spewing rage.
I yearned for a solitude of desert
sand and rocks
away from musty tongues
and eros.

Counting my failed attempts
to reconcile with exits
and slant hopes.

Like an eclipsed moon
plying over the hill
to investigate a shorn lamb.
Plucking the hair from a beautiful scalp
to become a nun.

Arthritic river brings back the waves.
Unreachable was the crest.
Today standing alone on the summit
I watch the dropp with grief.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 24 listopada 2014

Guiled ‘me’...

That is how I injured myself
desiring the right thing,
extracting the reason from charity.
I will now pluck off the rage, the silence,
the exotica from the frozen valley.
Words will become my foes swimming in your eyes.

I was listening to your questions
without becoming a witness; I was my own answer.
The time was revengeful. Show was over.
We were losing the relevance
and guests had departed.
We were becoming the walls of a glass house.

I dread my conscience, a terrible roaring in mind.
Does not allow me to sleep. Values were insulting me.
Falling like an old wall-paper; truth went unnoticed.
Peacocks were dying daily.
I am going to lose myself in the night
of a moonless sky.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 23 listopada 2014

Outsider

Nothing to look forward
I return my gifts today.
Completely denuded I will spread out in emptiness.

I was nowhere in the circle of untruths,
the pain was slipping inside
and self-denial took its toll.

Nomad in exile
for the kiss of unknown
wandering in whispering streets.

There was no more remorse.
Saffron was the choice of pathos.
A collective suicide of pledges in the sun!

Parallel grief of desert and wind
offers the plundered toast
I drink to my parched lips.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 22 listopada 2014

A Sunny Wait...

Young days start with a nostalgia
for a lost freedom
Anxiety was the prime suspect.

As the age moves on,
truth consumes the virtue.
I hold this insult
in the throes of conscience with tears.

The dreams did not last long
in the wild eyes of geniuses.
Grace and dignity fell short of sinners.
The prince of blackness strode
on the white souls.

I could not have been a witness
of paradox.
Lacked in the old books
I still wait on the highway
for a sun to climb the hill.

Satish Verma