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	Satish Verma
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Satish Verma, 13 października 2012

BLEEDING

A stammer bites the tongue
of hundreds of years.
Beyond the page lies the blood.
An outrage of a metaphor,
a blast in a bowl,
words are getting mutilated.
An unquiet love draws the river
to drown the sacrifices of parched land.
Sands will bring out the beautiful
property of a trademark.

There is no shadow between the cannons
My feet are not touching the peels.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 12 października 2012

SMOKING CANDLE

A plug dismantles a temper
unveils a pink bullet-hole
on the fore-head.

A butterfly flutters and then
sits on the lips, offers an apology
for the smile.

The water blooms in eyes
cascading to chest
for measuring the mounts.

Who mimics the fever
of a volcano, throwing burning
ash in the eyes of a sun?

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 11 października 2012

POSTSCRIPT

The space shrinks
when moon breaks the black night.
An aching flotilla does not
reach home. The wait ends
in your poems.

Clutching at floating truths
you help to save the words
of predicament. Ultimately
a temple walks free
without a god.

The whiteness of false teeth
has a regular visitor
of a bright smile.
But the tender eyes were telling
a different story.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 10 października 2012

DAMNED

Discarded, on a heap of broken
ceramics, a rotten tooth wants an
award, for biting the snake.
Who was pulling the strings?

The temper of a black moon
beguiles the sun. The green-pathway
was hidden under the rock.
Who was holding the baby?

I am again bewitched by my own
failures. Searching my legs under
the bush, my wodden self cries.
Who was asking the question?

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 8 października 2012

THE DEAD DREAM

It was a clouded heart.
I was fidgeting with fate and
there was no otherway, no way.
I did not want to keep him waiting either, but
I must be ready to receive the guest.

Thief of pain was coming in the blizzard
for a murky deal. I refuse to fall apart.
The epitaph was incomplete and Emperor
was demanding his due of golden sleep. Was it
the worth of a new born. Sky was overcast.

Taking the thought to its fossil home. Stings were
sharp and the next stop was ocean. Water
of funeral way. Still the sweet lips would
haunt for the honey. Gone, the wax palace
was gone, no body was going to light it.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 7 października 2012

PURE MURDER

The spill of sheen
after deep throat explosion.

Not as special
as the day appeared.

Afraid of complete annihilation?
Was it possible?

Untenable?
Living in a cavern full of bats?

A key slept in a lock
unmoving the golden doors.

Beyond the control,
lies disaster.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 6 października 2012

BIRTHDAY

Shot in the face an insider
tells the story of withdrawl
of the vision thing.

Crooked hands lift the
frozen lake to drimk
the elixir of death.

Lonely home inspires
the dark bird to land
on the window of mountain walls.

Should have left this day
untouched by lips.
I am counting the bridges.

Age will tell the bones
to bend like strings
for a velvety song.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 5 października 2012

SCRUTINY

It spurs the hope
in absent voice for a deaf ear.
You will wash the ancestor’s prism
for a natural death of a fault.

Through me I skim the frozen
lake of tears.

Maybe I will watch the tree
for some sanity to produce
the blossoms -

in the starved faith of a
wanderer who will not speak
for himself.

All life he was trying to explain
without words,
the enormous efforts he was
putting to lay down his hands
on truth.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 4 października 2012

WALKING WILDERNESS

It crashed like a chandelier
my dream.
Becoming wet, into unhealing existence.
I was expecting a landfall
by burst of flames.

Grieving for a lost generation,
a meaningless exit from the stage
of bites and suffering.
Can you reverse this idea
of rebirth in the land of nobodies?

That prison inside will not release
the doves and I was expanding
in the vaulted dome of violence
to discover the wait of a happening
to arriv

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 3 października 2012

SCARS OF LIFE

Want to shed the knowledge
far from the strings
and becoming myself again.

Can you catch the time
slipped from your hands
when you were chasing the tiger?

Phrases were still burning
like white phosphorus
on my forehead.

Where do I take
the burden of centuries wasted
in unnatural drums?

It was inside you, the violence
of world, yet you want to survive
without scars.

Satish Verma