poetry

poetry
Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 july 2020

Deeply Upset

The dark borders
were shifting, rejecting
the inner voices.

The echoes bring apocalypse
with costs. I hear
the silent prayers.

de jure? I want
to letter the unknown fears
of the epilogue.

The whistling pain of the
words, brings
the blood flowers.

Aghast, at the cupidity,
of man, where shall
I start the charity?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 6 july 2020

Death Was Growing

This was profanity.
A dead club moss resurrects,
when you sprinkle the water over
dried wrinkled leaves.

From darkness to light
you break the bowl of an angel
and the invisible spills out.

Brother in terror -
of mixed turbans.You smell
the burning flesh all around.

Speed of light from superflares
was not colossal, than the blast of man.
Look, it is still dark here..

Now climb the holy
hills, rising like the breasts
of weeping earth, to collect
the daisies for final call.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 5 july 2020

Impromptu

You can legitimate
the loot. There will be no
spineless resistance.

The skull cap only covers
the baldness hiding
the keratinized skin.

The lust shines
like pearls on your upper lip.
Beehive.

Poking the rabbit
before it jumps, you will
remember the ducks have no ears.

Ah, the learned
professor, he has started
teaching the full lips.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 july 2020

This Living Death

Oh, templed god, why did
you snare the palmer?

The importance of being
the autonomous? I am trying to
stay away from me to keep
a watch on you.

The itinerant sorcerer had
become a legate of gold trade.

The flesh is for sale, the
small mouth with big hunger.

A fledging of scar has become
a bleed. The synopsis was out.

I am going to ask some question
from the bo tree today.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 july 2020

This Living Death

Oh, templed god, why did
you snare the palmer?

The importance of being
the autonomous? I am trying to
stay away from me to keep
a watch on you.

The itinerant sorcerer had
become a legate of gold trade.

The flesh is for sale, the
small mouth with big hunger.

A fledging of scar has become
a bleed. The synopsis was out.

I am going to ask some question
from the bo tree today.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 july 2020

This Living Death

Oh, templed god, why did
you snare the palmer?

The importance of being
the autonomous? I am trying to
stay away from me to keep
a watch on you.

The itinerant sorcerer had
become a legate of gold trade.

The flesh is for sale, the
small mouth with big hunger.

A fledging of scar has become
a bleed. The synopsis was out.

I am going to ask some question
from the bo tree today.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 3 july 2020

Sisyphus

Let it go, do not touch it.
You had been negating the bare truth.
I was part of you
once at the shore of tragedy.
Life was treacherous
and I was free to laugh.

Come September and I will be chasing
the fireflies again.

How time takes revenge
from the innocent commitments?
You start returning to your roots
and I was still surfeiting
on the secret fidelity.

Where was the need to be tied down
to god? Nobody was honest to forsake
the fear of nameless nemesis.

The myth of rock still haunts.
Water still boils under the clay.
Petals fly in dark alleys
and I cannot find the door.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 2 july 2020

Loftiness

The shades of dawn
under the waning moon
reflect on your face.

The lace trembles-
when you watch the Venus
disrobing in dark.

Confession made.
You wash your feet in
Milky Way.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 1 july 2020

Not Prurient

Becoming fiercly personal
with no physical contact,
the crescent moon
ultimately occults the Venus.

The grazer now turns into
fugitive. Was not the knower,
was not the known.

No past, no future, you
move with your eyes down
to deny the assault, the flirtation.

Your silence was
unthinkable. I will bring home
the dead. Light is gone. The
slapper sleeps.

In emotional agony I
start prowling for the body.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 30 june 2020

My Ignorance

What happens when
you stop thinking?
Reaching near the god
or becoming a stone?

It was not enough even,
when you go in coma.
A shrine of dazzling failures.

The animosity, the politics
of violence.I cannot remain
untouched.Wounds would
never heal.

All fever.I am not alive.
of the marvels of religion.
I ask you to go away.This
Friday another Christ will die.

Becoming whole.Was it
possible today amidst the
unbecoming of human beings?


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