Satish Verma, 22 czerwca 2021
Would you bear the cost
of peace, if there was
no war, no country, no
personal gods?
We are not talking about―
a retropain of recent past.
It was there when we―
started walking, and
discovered a superhuman being.
The crowd swells every day, and
a new religion crops up
every now and then.
There was no fatal crash.
It makes you rich overnight.
The money grows―
from the barrel of the gun.
I refuse to celebrate the victory.
Satish Verma, 21 czerwca 2021
Your algorithm
has failed.
There were colossal mistakes.
It brings back
the memories of
counting on the fingers.
A moon, a river
and a night, had
fallen in love for ever.
Why not a langur
should now be
declared a person?
Satish Verma, 20 czerwca 2021
You shut to it―
the window, on watching
a row of walking stones
without feet.
Pouting,
scowling―
in a mile of tears.
(A pink lotus spills
the colors on water)
Let me talk
to my wilderness. The
script was incomplete
in shadows of greyhounds.
You crawl on the grass to find a four-leaf clover.
Satish Verma, 19 czerwca 2021
My logic
was not a part of belief.
The answer you proffered is
not, what it was
supposed to be.
The question sits like a
butterfly on my chest.
It was a sham exercise
to wipe out the dirt from the eyes.
Life, death and the
unknowing are the failures
of man.
I am ready to repatriate
my end from the noose, for
not accepting the award.
Satish Verma, 18 czerwca 2021
Reigniting blood moon,
I have come to
seek my abdication.
After a long haul of
dark clouds, I come face to
face with my failures.
My experiments with faith
and disbeliefs did not help
to understand the mysterious self.
Now the significant hurts have
become my strength, accepting
the challenge of changed winds.
I meet you O god―
midway, one day to
settle the scores.
Satish Verma, 17 czerwca 2021
Sperms and legacy.
You scream for the justice
for the space between words
and sentences.
I don't want to be separated
from my half-eaten moon.
Without a dance
your anklets have broken into songs.
Someone commands me―
to sacrifice my pen.
Hallucinatory- be seduced for the sake of fashion.
In anguish I watch
the terror was becoming a religion.
Do you hear the voices
coming from the crypts?
Satish Verma, 16 czerwca 2021
You always said, violence
was in you. Everything was dying
around.
There was a tacit understanding―
enacted,
interceding with―
a lasso. The baked silence
always stares at you.
I have no praise,
no condemnation for anyone.
Inevitably you suck the moon,
your thumb,
your blood.
A poem falls on the ground
to breathe again.
Satish Verma, 14 czerwca 2021
Unceremoniously―
you blow off the earthen lamp
after the night vigil.
Still stranger
to dark, you start self-destruction
in holy violence.
Was there any life
before death? You encounter
the crucified truth.
Now you wear the blue lake
to meet the moon―
in a forlorn sky.
I let you see
the falling star. It's heat
had savaged me.
Satish Verma, 13 czerwca 2021
Like a lingering doubt,
the moon stood on the maple tree―
for a relationship.
For my sake don't take a
downside, my liberalism
will suffer.
Killed in your own house
by lightning, have you
ever heard of self-immolation?
Let's make it simple.
Take it from the giver,
what he never had― and
don't ask the price.
Your eyes again befell
a giant. How would you live
without the fireflies?
Satish Verma, 12 czerwca 2021
The city was going to
fall. An earthquake?
A flood? No it is war.
Money making and
crime. Two things are
left in my coffer.
Man made had
become better thing than
god made.
Mars sends another
image, of this side―
of the man's earth.
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