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	Satish Verma
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Satish Verma, 23 października 2012

SUBDUED LAUGHTER

The chemistry of hate
changes in a thorn’s shade.
I start digging out the past
for a blind sun,
for a qualified rejection.

He was stranded in a death-row:
the civilians were killed.
Was a meditating Buddha with
a bomb, doing his routine job
of annihilation?

I am surprised of a god walking
in the graveyard to find his own
son lying asunder six feet deep
below the burden of kisses from
the vanishing mankind.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 22 października 2012

RANDOM BIRTH

A unique, irreverent intruder:
in my dying dreams,
of a domain beyond the gifts.
The corridor was full of
specters in boiling air.
The DNA will not cover the naked strands
of desires.

Put out to sea, my boat
in cloud cluster, I will meet
the eye of cyclone in its full furry.
The tempest was the moment of truth
to know the self. One night I will
become a palm tree wearing the
mask of history.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 21 października 2012

A LASSO

Battle remains between
white and black,
a synthetic truth
and a bald faced hornet.

Aching violence was spreading
on moon. I was tossing around
the stars placing the apostrophe
in the end.

There was a conflict in pain
and the pill. It was a prelude to the
carrier of a gun. Father was degenerating
in his son’s boots.

The social split was widening
in the gulf of posterity. You dress
as a bride to receive the punishment
from the hands of arrogance.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 20 października 2012

HOSTAGE

Cohabiting:
my poems make me sad.

You reflect the times
my body leaves the wound marks on sand.

Again I had gone to my tattered home
to sleep under the moon.

There was only a small window.
I would look at the stars whole night –

to conceive and jump into a lake
of synthetic fathers and hired wombs.

The grieving faith now holds you responsible.
O god, in reverse order, become a man.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 19 października 2012

TERRACOTTA

With fractured hands
I lit a pyre
of small nudes
with pink globes.
A moon bleaches me white in a long night.

A reprieve was needed
from the scorching sun
opening a jinx
of a metaphor.
The poems will take care of the burning home.

Of deaths and forecasts
I would like to see the
ending of descent
from the mount of pain
The ice will tremble in the smoke.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 18 października 2012

ALL I UNREAD

I unwrite a song
for she,
a gratis homage.

Questioning imperils
the sky,
clouds would not weep.

A cover-up comes to quote
scriptures
the meaning of deployment.

Was I feeling smug after
counting
the pages of unread death?

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 17 października 2012

CONTEMPORARY

In tottering penetration
of blue summer
you become
silent game.

I accept my defeat
from stones
falling on
intellect.

Carbon fear of rosewood
was rising
to reintegrate
illicit love of twilight.

Testing the waters, before
a swim in prophecies
I ask the bank
to hold the seasoned waves.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 16 października 2012

WHITE HOUSE

It was a rape of a city. Go ahead.
I still speak the old phrases
with back pain.

And let fly the silence
in beautiful emptiness
of a swollen heart.

On pain of anonymity
I wanted to clear my name
from tangled fame.

The after death comfort
of words when clarity
moves in the home of a meaning.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 15 października 2012

HAPPENED

He climbs on his being,
crawls
like a lizard;
frightens.

Sometimes after,
in a shock
falls back.

Runs away
leaving behind
a trembling trail.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 14 października 2012

TALKING SANDS

The beams were ready to collide
on the bars of hate. The blast
was coming with adjectives.
It was immortality of a street which
was going to survive.

New herons will come to wade
in troubled waters. Pure white. But the
fish had left the shore and gone to hills.
The long necked birds will find the flaming
love of sands.

The stardust was singing, anointed by
sandal paste to count the uncollected
flowers of war which were thrown on
the returning soldiers after the defeat.
There is the news of repealing the pact.

Satish Verma