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Satish Verma, 8 lipca 2017
Wings Attached
In slap at your icarian path
the call was not taken
from inside me.
Anxiety in a troupe of clouds
was rising. A deep dissent
within winds surfaces after sunset.
On the footpath comes a noun
in the land of abuses,
taking a vow of silence.
The moon becomes green
in a blue sky to get
the blessings of surging frost.
Knew nothing about the
future flooding of apples.
Falling from the tree.
Satish Verma, 7 lipca 2017
Life Moves On
You make me give up too easily
without a fight. I will not
ask any questions.
The elite mercy you are
endowed with, green eyes,
invite me for a daunting embrace.
It cracked under the chariot
on runway. The wings scattered,
I will not be able to fly now.
One day, I gave you my dagger
to put it my heart.
You had tied my hands for real.
Overreached by words of
mouth, a quill becomes a
pen, waiting about carnage.
Satish Verma, 6 lipca 2017
Pure Steel
Coming near the incarnation of an
unknown, sunflower seeds were cracking.
Trickling down the cleavage of a tormentor
reaching near the edge of poetry.
I ask you to clamp my name, the
gash on the book was bleeding.
Was it discretion of night to decorate
a battered and abused body of a doll?
Naked you cry on the shoulder of the moon.
This was my prophecy, this is my fate.
Satish Verma, 5 lipca 2017
Afterimages
A whisperer with its begging bowl
wants a moon in alms.
A candle burns in panic.
The serpent was sitting in a prayer.
The golden teeth will find the apples
leafless, pleading for a fall.
Stoking the fire, you step on a ghost.
It was a fake, I scream.
Do not tamper the ruins of the tower.
They are going to find the death masks.
Satish Verma, 4 lipca 2017
Snake Charming
The occult was scrounging
in stringent way
to resurrect the past.
No answer. There will never be
an answer. Where questions stand
an answer was not there.
Acquittal in setting sun. Endless
love making had passed
with the moon. We will not-
recreate the bronzed body.
Night, curse and a tale of
purple, pink horse, accepting
a libation for the penile
god. A savior was present
to watch the ceremony of surrender.
The serpent was ready to bite.
Satish Verma, 3 lipca 2017
Recalcitrance
From a homemade
golden pen you went on
exploring,
the young erotica.
It was a moment of
the funeral, plodding
through the extinct memories
of misadventures.
Time had stood still
on the sea of faces.
The great wall of frozen
dreams brings a chill
in blazing sun of enigma.
A bridge becomes a
derived fossil!
Satish Verma, 2 lipca 2017
Tirelessly
Blurring of words
takes place. Lead the light, O Sun;
non-path travelers are playing
an exotic game
in defiance and in delirium
of schizo-affective mind.
Fruits were fudging the flowers.
The parents. Walking alone,
watching the abasement of a
young pilgrim seeking the belief
of walls. The moon wears a death-cap.
It was the return of silky climax.
Do not move. Do not speak. Listen
to voice of stillness. World is becoming
proxy-keeper. The surrogates
were releasing the facts.
Satish Verma, 1 lipca 2017
New Genre
That elusive answer
which ricocheted to land
in a bush, throws you in tizzy.
Are you sure, you want
to hurl more questions?
This was a qualified Higg’s
boson, which bowed out
from the race of God’s creation
to become invisible.
A gecko climbs on the wall
shutting the soul. The huge crowd
was pushing the chariot, addressing
the shadows behind the glass. The
featureless becomes untouchable.
A moon beam glides on the carpet.
Priest will go to sleep.
Satish Verma, 30 czerwca 2017
Lying On A Slab
Belly crawl after a dance.
Carnivores were ready
to jump on flesh.
That underground beauty
still believes in
battle of flowers -
skirting the hills. I am
at loss of words,
to describe the burial -
of a strongman. Misreading
a child god, he still
posits a human clause.
Darkness challenges the rival.
Death for a believer
of a spiteful cult.
Into the hole, a snake hides.
It is miracle, that
you are still reciting.
Satish Verma, 29 czerwca 2017
The Woods Are Burning
Removing the husk
I want you to find the grain;
become yourself.
The space between thoughts
must increase.
I am trying to widen –
the scope of death. Something
was alive in shadows.
The fiction was rising.
Dust and clouds will blast
together. I want to meet
the snowcapped peaks of sadness-
which brings the human-
face of flesh eaters. No bones
were left to fight for.
Satish Verma, 28 czerwca 2017
Engagements
I intuited.
Something had crept into
my room in dark,
and slept on my bed
devastating me.
It was a moonbeam.
There was no animal on the loose.
Activism had empowered the gender base.
One long nightmare started
between innovation and miracle.
Unwritten, I was loth
to understand you.
The abstract sky was
ravishing the moon. I become
visibly upset. Ask you to shut
the door and start reading me.
I had become an epic
of water.
Satish Verma, 27 czerwca 2017
Moony Affair
I take you in my arms. O moon.
Crazed. You have become a muse
of a dervish. I hear the noises. Inside.
Beyond perception. I could have swapped
with you. My rage. My skin. My solitary inside.
Becoming a dagger into your heart jumping.
Never falling you said. The evergreens. I
have again failed.The crops. Standing, on the river.
Not crossing the bridge. To meet the spring.
In meadows. May be. Unsaying. Will
it help to know? The words standing behind
the lips? Will you catch the words?
Floating in air, when I am gone with
the clouds. You will keep on repeating I
was here, in your eyes, in your tears.
Moving away in opposite direction will
you look back when dawn arrives?
I will hold you and kiss on mouth.
Satish Verma, 26 czerwca 2017
Rugged Frontiers
The sun beats mercilessly.
A coastline invites the violence
of the great lake.
A sinking feeling of a boat. The battle
of tides and limbs. You can see
the colors, the dragons
flying. The blasted sky
and blackened clouds. A shriek
sets the lake on fire, as the dusk sets in.
A tribal instinct to burn
the fences, set the horizons
free for a new comet, landing from
unknown space. You want to touch
the lips of a mute, blotted moon.
Fireflies start dotting the night.
You move inward; find a dark
niche to graze the wounds. The hurt
brings the words. You pick up an
axe and start chopping
the dead wood.
Satish Verma, 24 czerwca 2017
The Signs
This music was insane.
Do not pluck the wounded apples
of conjugal extraction.
The volatility was increasing.
Shades of blue were
sharpening. The intrusive moon
will decide the fate of
fossilized fracture. The death
came by the back door.
The rough edges are to
be smothered, after a back
encounter. The saint was ready.
The anxiety overwhelms. You
try to find a small window
to bring in the song bird.
Satish Verma, 23 czerwca 2017
Warming Up
You could feel it.
The fear in that pristine howl
writhing in throat. Something was
wrong with the sunflowers. A genital
cutting had brought the snowdusting
on mutilated emotions.
A premonition warns. We are shining
on wrong side, under dictates of religion.
The cult will take care of mouth. You
will celebrate the breaking up of man.
The bone between the lips.
I am collecting the dirty threads of
loyalty to stitch the amnesia. They were ready to
applause the demise of moon. No more
sheen on the trees, lake and hills.
I am hauling up the skeletion of the republic.
Satish Verma, 22 czerwca 2017
Empty Dreams
After the civil war in temples
a wodden god
with broken nose, was walking
with a stick.
Half-way to home
he wanted to turn back
and meet his shadow
in the lake.
A mountain goat climbs
down the rocks to become
a martyr. Leaps into a dark
stream clinging to the veil.
A blue pine takes a bath
in the summer rain. A
midnight moon will call the spirits
to dance for gamblers.
Satish Verma, 21 czerwca 2017
In Totality
The riot was within.
Not getting along with social
revolution you would lie
on purple patch without seeking
any privy.
Who were the barbarians
which were going to release
the brutal pattern of bloodshed
during sunset on
the lake?
A mistrial will dispatch
the violence and you will drop
dead on the dirt path leading
to bed of roses. A theme will
wait for the signing of the book.
Someone punched you in solar
plexus. You said, I don’t
die daily to live.
Satish Verma, 19 czerwca 2017
Lickety-Split
The silence of the road
intends to pause the observer’s speed.
Unchanged continuity
had a cubic quality.
Presenting yourself to lick salt
before molestation.
The sanctity
stands violated.
The horror thing looms
large, neatly dressed
dancing in your boots.
The path ends at a tree.
You misprint the name
of a tormentor.
Man becomes a beast
in a love triangle.
Satish Verma, 18 czerwca 2017
Earthly Wounds
Anatomy of fear,
is revealed before me.
Like a red flower opens.
A shadowless figure, deathly-white
holds my hand.
You watch the wounded earth
athirst, fumbling to catch the
greens. Vomited blood when her womb
was upturned to release the metal.
Civet will leave the trail on convicted
grass. The iron grip of greedy
windows. The red ant hills were
spewing white eggs. Now rains
were coming.
Unkempt my house waits for
the ending of truth. What I mean
you will not know. The law always finds
a black veil to cover the face.
Satish Verma, 17 czerwca 2017
Humbled
You miss the words and numbers.
The gameplan gets ascention. The
podium was high.
And so was your head.
Swallowed by the winds
unable to reach the end of journey.
Were you not thinking?
Was it a treason to withdraw –
from the frills? In love scare
there were other things to do,
in the storm,
like collecting the thorns.
You step outside the dark and
feel the limbs of light,
altering the script to become
a miracle.
Satish Verma, 16 czerwca 2017
Plummeting
The padded words
perdured the fall of factuality
into the gaping maw of untruth.
The barriers start
crumbling for stilts
but the alley leads to a jungle of tales.
The manipulation walks
on the frozen lake of eyes.
Blue shadows move underneath to-
find the door. You spend
whole life to locate the dock.
The old sea and man drift in dark.
Only a seagull flies
in morning fog to trace
the sun, halted in clouds.
Satish Verma, 15 czerwca 2017
A Love Theme
Dusting a rose
dissecting a heart. There was wilder-
ness in the woods.
I cannot touch you
O, wood sage
you were so ephemeral.
Your hands were
knitting a bright wound in the air.
Where was the moon?
Not a kiss,
the prodigal sun
wants a death wish of a canary.
The snow on the
eyes. I wished I had
met you earlier.
Satish Verma, 14 czerwca 2017
Puzzled
Building your space,
you were dying daily
invading the acoustics.
How the continence
was going to help-
living with scars of explosions?
Mutating into a full-fledged
saintliners, an inner conflict
becomes a profile.
Crawling to a stone
a crayon draws a cell
without incendiary rhetoric?
Decoding an icon
becomes a daily ritual. From
where will come the write?
Satish Verma, 12 czerwca 2017
Smoking The Mirror
Talking to bougainvilleas,
one day I will cut my tongue.
Why the beautiful bracts were
protecting the trivial seeds?
The flowers started clicking
to deliver a white god to a black
temple. Human shield was to
avenge the enemy beyond the infinity.
Below the ashes what were you
trying to find out in dark?
The cancer? It was eating away
the vitals of an orphaned fruit.
The predator had become the
prey, drawing the sheet of
blood on the moon. The birds
were leaving the tree.
Satish Verma, 11 czerwca 2017
Faces
You go for a daily ritual
to water a passion tree;
for greasy palms of petals of
lewd figures.
Always had a goddess
in young days,
now you are trying to find an
erogenous zone in searing heat.
It ia not raining. The impact of
instant romanticism. The past
throws the virtue in vain. Terror
had been benevolent.
The beasts and flowers, endless
friendship of strippers. The holes
are widening in the sky asking
for the blasts to go for ever.
Satish Verma, 10 czerwca 2017
A Torn Page
A hundred pounds bite.
It was a matter of faith
with copperhead.
A maddening silence
dodging the window,
where the moon sits.
The peril will always stay
reneging, of the big space
for next victim.
Quaint feeling persists.
Of shearing the clouds
to knit a bright Venus.
The eventual escape.
To be the name
on a bloodied sword.
Satish Verma, 9 czerwca 2017
Muzzling
Listening to a gleaming
word whole life
and finding its meaning at
the fag end.
And you are in thrall
to a sinful pleasure.
The yearnings
of a small Pteris,
which drinks arsenic daily
to rescue a withering smile.
A poem sings to me
under a lantern, when a
storm was raging to roil
the blue birds of imploring peaks.
It looks into your eyes
to find the answer
of complete shutdown
of cotton feel.
Satish Verma, 8 czerwca 2017
Entranced
It was a broken lamp,
the orphean tragedy.
You were found sexless
in a naked bowl.
Making love on hay
the moon crashed/on moonstones.
Memory of shells tossed on bed
of roses/was still alive.
The divine leaf falls/opens the
scars of plums. Immoral,
a white tiger pounces on a
rimless scream.
Covered with crocus you break
the brown hills. Through touch
I meet you in dark. My green hands
hold you in folded palms like a firefly.
Satish Verma, 7 czerwca 2017
Elevating
It was not your body,
but blood was on the wall.
Inhale the stench of the day.
Grim scene, the multiple kisses
of marrow and flesh. You were
not drawing him, inviting-
him tonight for a date,
but the fetch was on the wall.
From, to turn. Put a starfish
in my bowl, to play. There was
a guest waiting at the door. Will
not abuse your lock and key.
Crawling, groping, darkness descends.
But there was a light on the wall.
Satish Verma, 6 czerwca 2017
Hepatica
Black livers?
Are you really desperate
after a vision? Miasma
rising?
A disheveled sky was
calculating. Tide was turning
back carrying the
tremors of shores.
Was that true, you faith
thinning? I see myself
getting ready for slanting moon
eating seeds of death.
It tears through
the veils of abstract. Are you
looking back at paralyzed
sun who has swallowed a stabile?
Ostatnie komentarze:
9 lipca 2025
violetta
Tak, tylko winko bezalkoholowe:)
9 lipca 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
wisi, to był ten sam gagatek, chyba się opamiętał,
8 lipca 2025
jak ma na imie?
8 lipca 2025
jeden z nas
8 lipca 2025
nie da się
8 lipca 2025
Czego, piwa?:)
8 lipca 2025
Halki nie są aż takie cienkie:)
8 lipca 2025
No co ty:) nie akceptuję:)
8 lipca 2025
te diety są przerażające, gdzie zrozumienie
8 lipca 2025
wow. miałem kiedyś białą myszkę była wesoła
8 lipca 2025
i to jest piwołanie poety
8 lipca 2025
motyle moga nas opuścić i wtedy trzeba przejsc
11 lipca 2025
Arsis
10 lipca 2025
wiesiek
10 lipca 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
9 lipca 2025
Toya
9 lipca 2025
wiesiek
9 lipca 2025
Yaro
9 lipca 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
8 lipca 2025
wiesiek
8 lipca 2025
sam53
8 lipca 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta