Satish Verma, 17 lutego 2022
As it appears―
as if nothing stops you and
the spring will ask the direction.
Like a bipolar, I will swing
between moon and sun.
It may not sit true with me
like a lethal drop in an empty cup!
I don't know, what I think
in dual state of mind. Time stretches.
As if involuntarily my―
hands start shaking.
Not yet. It was my wound.
I have to carry my ship down
the river. In hour of ending
would you come to write―
the ascending pain?
Perfection incomplete. There is
voiceless silence.
Satish Verma, 16 lutego 2022
Part of me― like a morpheme,
you are leaving.
Now I will stand without legs.
The slain shadow moves
from face to face. I
have yet to complete my chapter.
I know what you have to offer.
But I wanted more of
your intimate thoughts about life and death.
You have frequent mood swings.
Sometimes you wanted to go insane
in this clever and wise world.
I trace the terrain of the
inaccessible mount, where one day
you will find broken hull.
Satish Verma, 15 lutego 2022
Looking in your hazel
eyes, I was thinking.
I don't need
second coming. I want
you once for all.
After assassination
of a live truth, I will wear
a cap without an emblem.
I was moving away from the crowd,
after burning the dead.
Why it was so loud?
It was a gratuity? After the
bloodbath, do you still need a bank?
My God, I am tired
of you. Seeds were scattered
for the love birds. I don't find the
moon break.
No about-face
I was still proceeding
towards the lake of tears.
Satish Verma, 14 lutego 2022
Blood side by side.
Your risqué humor
ejects the foul nerves.
No religion was my
mother. My prayers were meant
for undying.
The vital fluid boils
without sun.
Pythagoras comes back
to retrieve the numbers.
The mystical figures have failed.
Not afraid of fear.
clenching my fist, one day,
I have to meet my other self.
Satish Verma, 12 lutego 2022
The weight of charity
sits on my shoulder.
I call for healing
on my terms.
We will divide the
funeral rites for undead―
nourshing survivor's massive,
sin. My path to truth opens.
Chasing a butterfly for
redemption, stuns me.
You were born of your―
own seed.
The guilt ultimately
overtakes. You initiate
unloading the vowels. Words
start flying without wings.
Satish Verma, 10 lutego 2022
Poster poems appear
again with all frozen insignias.
I was trying to find a good
remedy, for insomnia.
You wash your moon― shined
face, like a swan gliding
on lips. There was no surgery.
A cuckoo has gone
dumb. Wants a Victorian era
of silver coins.
And the underbelly
lies bare for the spiders
to ride the whistling pains.
Time stoppers were
ready to light the pyres. They
was no other home for death.
You kill the mini ants
running on the mirror. Were
you seeking revenge?
Satish Verma, 9 lutego 2022
With unease, I follow
the terror on terrace.
The moon was sauntering on the spiky grill.
Fugitive words. I wanted
to take them home. It was
a tipping pain.
That was a brazen assault
in my privacy. Leave me
alone with my roses―
I wanted to talk to them
for a while, before I climb
the rainbow to become artless.
The muse sometimes leaves
me behind. The body gives in,
fighting off the daydreams.
Satish Verma, 8 lutego 2022
Like a hedgehog you raise
your spines.
I bleed unbitten.
The sharp polarization
starts a brutal war―
on changing genetics.
The editing of human
behavior with a streak of desire,
goes for lip therapy.
Unimpressed I remain,
after the chlorine attack.
You cannot burn the spirit.
Your tactis anger―
the sparrows. They are migrating
to marry another summer.
Satish Verma, 7 lutego 2022
The sexless hiccoughs
have started,
in the valley of death planet.
Sovereignty of pure
kiss, in garden of moons― will
feel threatened.
Cannot wipe out
the darkness. The hooded
fear splits the white heels of running sun.
I jump over the sharp blades
of swaying Passiflora, where
pouting lips spread the dark berries.
The paper boats will
not touch the bottom of lake.
You can collect the relies on red beach.
Not you, not me
will prove the virginity
of truth.
Satish Verma, 6 lutego 2022
Time eats the winter, to―
rebuild the fallen ally
of solar storms.
You refused to accept
the incense of disdain, while
carrying the lover in your muse.
Like dandelion's seeds
with downy tufts, your eyes laugh.
Lips pursed, you do not want to go insane.
The need to break was
very strong. I lose myself in a pause.
should shift for another niche.
There was a conspiracy.
Moon was going for a walk―
with another suitor.
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