poetry

poetry
Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 17 december 2017

Tribulations

One-legged thought 
had a solitary confinement. 
Down’s syndrome frightens the catfish. 
 
The bottom dwelling 
body double, wants a compensation 
for jumping up to your lips. 
 
Not impressed, in vitro 
the black moon 
heaps a silver spoon in your mouth. 
 
The body preys on your soul. 
Are you ready to take a dip 
in the smoke coming out of the tunnel? 
 
The hard boiled tale 
of intrauterine device, seals the 
fear of life. there was no birth, no death.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 december 2017

Placed In Orbit

Was very confused. 
I was becoming poorer 
everyday. The depletion was complete. 
Polymorphous? Where do I find 
the affinity with saneness? I 
wanted to quit now, 
drawing the faces of dead. 
 
Farce embers, 
in white fire. Climbing on a 
fence for a fatal jump after 
cavorting with drifting icicles 
of blue eyes. Can you sleep- 
walk in full moon? I am 
ecstatic.White death has become my friend!


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 december 2017

The Fabrics

A steep drowning 
in traffic of curves- 
of legitimate sin. 
 
It was a supergame 
of exotica. Witchcraft 
was playing with light- 
 
years. Are you still 
hosting the life? In 
cracks and crevices of pain? 
 
Very methodical. You were 
devouring the death to 
become immortal. Were 
 
you serious about bount- 
eous harvest? Your alma mater, 
where you wrote your first poem.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 december 2017

A Bitter Fruit

To undo, the rare 
appearance of a god; 
scouring the water, before the 
sun, divides the land. 
 
What was the worth 
of a ritual, around the fallen virtues? 
The salt lake threw up 
the broken genes. 
 
The swirling sand covers 
the boat, stranded on the beach. 
A tempest is waited upon. The 
gestures carry a message. 
 
No authority. 
I do not want to corrupt myself. 
There was a narrow path 
leading to the pink eyes.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 december 2017

Explicitly

The pixels refuse to leave 
the screen. There was a 
defiance, unheard so far. 
 
Will not misspeak about 
the rape! Was it not a murder 
of the white goddess in light? 
 
Are you going to shut a 
pink flame, smouldering 
in the vicious grip of greed? 
 
The skinny-dip in boiling 
cauldron of hate? What 
was left now of humor? 
 
Walking on the lake water 
retrieving your youth? Was 
it worth your grand wasted life?


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Fidel_Bravo

Fidel_Bravo, 10 december 2017

Haiku 7


Music in the night
souls awake to sounds
of brute reality


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Fidel_Bravo

Fidel_Bravo, 10 december 2017

Distance

FOR MERVE

Distance
The wall between you and me
The left-overs of a far away love
The lust that never comes to town

Distance
Like a picture on a torn canvas
The language never understood
The hand reaching out for nobody
The cell in the last circle of hell

Distance might mean that fish
Gasping for air in that dying pool
The lizard watching the remains
Of the desert turning green in the rain

Distance
Your body and mine dissolving into the water
Of the many messages we have sent
Water of love, lust and yearning
Begging for the light of truth

Santiago
February,2001


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 december 2017

A Phalange

Your stretched nerves 
move, like a reptile 
in a dance; 
for the evolution of sexuality. 
 
The exodus was a stunt 
playing with fire. 
I will hide nothing. 
I was a cloud within a dot. 
 
Unknowing the fall, I 
seek, the failure, to climb 
again on strange words 
to find the underlying meaning of pain. 
 
You begin exploring 
the hills after the unexplained 
apartheid, after the bloodbath 
of the golden peacocks.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 december 2017

Muddy Depth

In between the scars 
where was the frame? 
With artichoke, you were 
dismentaling the ethos. 
 
Giving a suspended 
death sentence to cadence 
of love. You know what 
you did not know, about life. 
 
Hauntingly ethical? You 
do not want to become a sensual 
father, releasing sperms in 
petri dishes. The eggs will find 
 
their mates. It was a dark 
conspiracy to overthrow the 
hierarchy of calculus. Do 
not remove the asterisks.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 december 2017

Upstaging

Death by rains. 
No exclamation 
was needed. 
 

 
O, moon; - 
I will join you soon, 
hotted up by sun. 
 

 
Parenthesis. 
I am reading again 
my lost poem.


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