Satish Verma, 19 maja 2013
Do you envision a creeping fear
climbing the minaret
to reach the moon?
A debate has started
between believers and non-believers.
Why not he who lives
in eternal emptiness climbs down
and settles the dispute of hymns
in the scortching heat of words.
I just want you to read
the script and don't say, a sky
has wept
dropp by dropp on the nakedness
of human beings
who could not cover their shadows.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 20 maja 2013
For honour killing
twilight adulates an abstract faith.
Tainted?
Now that mouth was shut
and butterfly was pinned,
will you grow the marigolds?
The empty book was not breathing
in a crowd of words.
The bitter meaning had flown away.
The mountain will cry now
in the absence of birds.
Trees were shedding their leaves.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 21 maja 2013
a pervasive bareness
walks like an honest lie
on the road to truth the bone white marble
god oversees the planet green's woes
a climate change of heart its manipulations
its intrigues
something remains unsaid when i look back
i think again before i disappear between
bread and god whosover is stronger
than me i remained unchained distrusting
the rules laid down by hoaxes now i
am not me
i am not a god i am not a thought only
innocence of an unopened bud.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 22 maja 2013
Only the love-birds will know
it was time of inquisition.
There was a lot of prodding in
the neighbourhood.
A voice without sound
was resenting with guilt-virginity
and the bell tolls
for a zero hour.
The entrusted trust was
still moving off the transparency.
Was it not a weird night?
The newly hatched babies,
jutting out their necks
from their clay homes were
to know the roots of verbs.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 23 maja 2013
Intended to violate
the omnipresent,
stillness unzips the inviolate
truth.
You walk through a legend:
To test the chastity
you need to dip your hand
in a very hot oil.
A sleepless summer night
descends on the hill
violins in dark
lie mutilated.
Hidden tracks will not tell
from where came the pattern
of enemies entering
the bloodied moon.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 24 maja 2013
Untie the knot, patriarch,
the broken kiss was
intimidating.
The backhoe picks up the
devil, it was within you
when you were casting stone
at the fear.
The pagan was covered
with leaves
raw and pailful;
belief in a thought
was not working,
think, man think.
The system,
the birth of rebirth of sorrow
was the tragedy.
The shaper,
I am, still wandering
to find the words.
* After reading the massacare of 57 people in southern island of Mindanao, Philippines on 23rd Nov 09
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 25 maja 2013
O leviathan,
enter the dark cloud of death
defanging fire,
the mountain wants to shiver.
Sand was slipping from my fists.
I cannot hold the time;
wet eyes
will find another moon.
The milk had dried up in body.
A heart burns like bonfire,
for a heretic. A lone stranger
in a city of wolves.
A bareback beauty sits on the rock
waits for the sea
to bring her the poison. An Aphrodite
will never call for nothing.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 26 maja 2013
Tangled clues
with sensuous sparring;
the incense was rising from the blue moon.
It was body's integrity,
a lender was demanding
when lust had become prodigal.
Behind the thin veil, red eyes
stared unblinkingly
at the portrait of a nude zero.
When the light was nodding from a crown
the darkness spat on the feet
which walked on the roses.
A single thorn will not be envious
of the licking fingers.
A dropp of blood will tell the truth.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 27 maja 2013
When moon was found on water
sky came down with unclenched fist,
too proud to accept the defeat.
Footprints of a giant will not leave
the broken landscape, of the virgin garden
where roses died in a row in storm.
There were no absolutes in good and bad
I have started talking to trees to shed
their blooms, winter was coming in blue eyes.
My ship was able to dodge the icebergs
wringing the waves from your face;
lake heaved a sigh of relief in glided death.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 28 maja 2013
The other sex was stapled,
I started unfolding the secret:
what was static and who was silent.
I searched, therefore I was lost
before the end of journey.
The stench of grafting was taking over.
The incendiary recce was carried out
to shut out the voice of the street
in the melting snow.
Lake will find the woods for disquieting
sleep of muse under the blue-lipped moon,
and I will face my night.
Satish Verma
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