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	Satish Verma
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Satish Verma, 1 kwietnia 2013

UNTILL I ARRIVE

Stunning yourself,
after setting ablaze,
circumbulating the tied down god in center,
you start a death dance

for the wasted limbs. How far the
self-immolation was justified
for the young pond of hyacinths?
And as I moved away from this stupidity,

the rains arrived to fill the streams;
glaciers decided not to melt away.
Time stopped me in my tracks to hold
my pen firmly and open the craft page.

Here the street now burns to make
sufferings taller than rewards. You
lie still in the sea of blue pains, waiting
to set fire to strawberries.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 31 marca 2013

WORDS OF NEVER BEING

In unaligned loneliness,
tonight, a liquefied moon
will fill up my glass, and my shadow
will sit beside me and we will drink the pain.

Lets’s settle in twilight of stars
and think not of violence of crawling
and inflicting damages to each other; I will never be
myself again during the random dark.

The end of punishment or punishment
of ending were drawing very near,
dotting the landscape. All the budhas
are assembling to wash our sins.

Give me some bones to fix the knees,
I have lost my golden throne in
the dazzle of wounds, the flames
are lifting the red sky.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 29 marca 2013

WHO WAS FAITHFUL?

That yellow moon haunts me again
and overleaps my sleep.
I do not dare to walk in the graves
of your eyes. The palace
has broken.

Mere suffering was not sufficient.
You have to wince with pain
for a crucified secret,
dying for a graced truth.

Snatch me a tear from
the blind eyes.My precious rags
will make a sacred thread to wrap
you on your arm.

The bruised innocence does not matter
now.You walk like a prince in every dark
page of history. Light follows the
sounds of body.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 28 marca 2013

I CANNOT WEEP

Those vicious strikes.
Beaten by sticks,
a panther dies on moon
in midstop.

Standing on a bomb
digging a tunnel
you pay obeisance to
the god of war.

This sweet revenge
for your forefathers?
Who could not walk straight
in the bastard crowd.

Spilling the sperms
O pimp of faith,
why are you selling
your poverty?

The heap of limbs
on the breast of a mother.
A hand of a child was cut
in every womb.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 27 marca 2013

IN THE NAME OF ………

Watching the wilting dividers,
wanted to declock the time
in timeless death:
though life must move on.
After amputation, body waits to be lifted,
negating the bed.
Now it was time, which would you like,
nouns that hurt?
Or verbs that heal?

After stepping down
from my self
said the star, I have become
a black moon. Three bombs went off
within three minutes. Was it a Mendelson’s
syndrome after general anaesthesia?
The chemical god wanted to distemper
a flock of sheep. God
save the earth.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 26 marca 2013

LIBERATION

When I flew into a storm
my words collided with thunder
and stars fell on ashes of dead.
I wanted to scream. Seeking a freeze
on past.Future was stretching its arms.
A calling.Erratic explosions?

The ruins were becoming worthy
of worship.Hunger exudes the trapped
smell. You light an earthen lamp for
split masks, the face will never be known.

Only there were two concrete eyes
darting without thoughts, telling without sound.
There is no water, only million suns.

tish Verma

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Satish Verma, 25 marca 2013

FAIRY TALE

The unwed moon
rowing like a swan on blue lake
after making love to silence.

Dignified shadows
walk on black beach
gathering white heels.

Only lunatics will sing
in shapeless lines.
Who cares for a sequence?

The milk of love
after the kids, in night
the moon was drinking nonstop.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 24 marca 2013

CONFERRED GUILT

A felled tear reflects the rainbow.
I wait for the night.
Moon had promised an audience.

Yes, I will sit beside the moon,
will tell the woes of earth, uncomplaining:
the heat, the dust, the life needles

and expressionless faces of trembling
angels. The heroes were disrobing and
attacking the pyramids of undoing.

I sweat and reel in chilly mornings.
A primitive instinct takes over the
nightmare. The spoons become the swords.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 23 marca 2013

FOR THE CLOTTING

seething yet silent in land of outrage:
strictures of life,
my eyes will not see the setting sun;

this was the blind spot
before the battle starts
and spine turns into ramrod in hot sun –

to speak the version of domestic grief
without lips because the death does not come alone,
she has a company

of corpses swelling the earth but she also
plays piano with two fingers only
pouring out milk and venom

for a long journey, we start unprepared
I will not fall asleep

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 22 marca 2013

MOLTEN ANGER

And, it tore through dumb claim;
the fakes had commingled with
the truth. Nowhere my soul
found peace.

One by one shadows were losing
their skeletons. The tarnished face
was forced to recant its nose
and shrank into hole.

Blood grievously turned grey
and skin tanned blue in fierce withdrawl.

He tracked naked in squall
of abuse leaving the eyes for blind rubbers
and bald wolves.Legs tweet, the child
is coming back home.

Satish Verma