poetry

poetry
Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 march 2021

Thousand Truths

Ah, this was the comfort of
defiance. You can
expunge the consonance.

You are not proving anything
except to play devious game,
with fossils. The lunacy
will hide you.

A thoughtless state comes
to exit. There is absolute stillness
in the busy bee suspended
in moonlight.

No awards. No flogging. What
you can give without seeking
any space? You cannot
eat your own progeny.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 march 2021

Breaking The Golden Leash

Float seamlessly in dark.
Come in my arms,
like a cloud―
like a moon.

The cult will live
on for eternity to
meet the challenger.

The objector had
the flatfoot. Will walk
overdressed.

In eerie silence―
an agile titan was going
to vilify himself.

Conscientiously I
wanted to feel you once
in my verses.

No virtue, no sin
was needed to come to
the lips of an abyss.


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RENATA

RENATA, 14 march 2021

nic o mnie nie wiesz

rozpaczliwie pragnąc miłości
tulę poduszkę aż do braku
krwi stapiającej się w wosk
pod spodem wczorajszego dnia

JA i TY niedomówienia niepewność
naszprycowanych miodem kłamstw
JA i TY taka porcelanowa kruchość
przeistacza się w wieczne MY

zapadamy się jakby ziemia była płaska
wzloty Dedala upadek Ikara
unieść się odfrunąć i runąć
przepraszam kochanie przepraszam
za te całe wspólne lata powstał dom
bez oddechu w rocznicę
gdzie ściera się początek z końcem


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RENATA

RENATA, 14 march 2021

niepewność

scałujesz pocałunkiem zacałujesz
fałsz kant obłudę
wystające nitki wątpliwej
jakości wątków z kącików ust

pożądania godny biust
i błysk w oku
w twoim kroku
najlepiej ogrzać myśli

cokolwiek zrobisz nie stracę
błyskawic przeszywających mózg
mógł sporadycznie na falach
odbierać łączność z Otellem
co powodowało wzrost tempa
temperatury między dwoma
pałeczkami szczęścia

zaglądając w rozgwiazdy
już wiesz że tylko z nią
na te połoniny wrzosowiska
dzikie krainy burz i miodu
zachłannie chcesz
by ciągle siedziała na twoim
kutasie unosząc płową grzywę włosów
rozrywany świat na kawałki

magia mydli oczy
a ty cipkę wystawiasz
długo żyję w niepewności
czy ktoś oprócz mnie
konia tam wstawia

głos słodki sugeruje
tylko do ciebie coś czuję
ale po co z innym esemesujesz
tak jakbyś chciała
zostawić furtkę na zapas

następne jutra sklejone
spermą lat lubieżnych
ekskluzywne pokazy
miłosnych praktyk
wyostrzają apetyt bardziej
niż słynna owa
zupa pomidorowa


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 march 2021

Without Envy

This command was
unpunishable.
I will not accept the defeat
from life.

You were mending the shoes,
of god. My vase had
broken. This is my burden,
I carry the body of a poem.

Waterfalls. I stand in
midstream. Throw my walking stick
in flowing stream. Will heal
the dead legs of a thought.

The belly is full of crickets.
No light. The unending muffled
trill. The pebbles fall in nightmares.
I seek the ending of blue marks.

The air fills the lungs with your prayers for me.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 march 2021

Blood Feud

In moonscape, a flower
remedy, enters the white
smoke of your eyes. An open―
house shuts.

The coal writes its name on
blue skin. We were slaves of our
own deeds. I want to go back to
my ancestors, to learn the clock.

Unheard the suicide of
a viper, eating its own venom.
The fat people will come in line―
to pay homage.

White caps and black caps in
thick silence, drink the empty glasses,
cutting the meat of the books―
and reading again the sky.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 march 2021

Asking Yourself

Exploring yourself―
with an ornate dagger,
to find the missing link.

My integrity was at
stake. From where did―
you start?

Bring the steel from
the sea, and loneliness
from the storm.

The beige sunset
would dare to go ahead
of the red moon.

Will you threaten a
small reply? The lips were
in the state of siege.

I will meet you
one day at distant dangers.
How far you will go with me?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 march 2021

Out Of Way

I do not know,
If it was a religious assault―
to meet god,
face to face―
when my poem was burning.

One tooth broken―
I cannot speak properly. But
my eyes will show my angst,
my unretrieved light
from a tunnel.

Who will find the sun, when
night was sick? And grievers
had gone to dig up a grave?

There was a meaningless pain,
in waiting. The poem was dead.

Day you are in, day you
are out. It was a beauty
to hear nothing.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 march 2021

Coming Out In Dark

Starting a crush,
on the baby face moon.
Only half-sinned
by staying quiet.

Think straight.
If you don't spell out,
you will snap―
like the fallen blue angel.

Falling in arms. Space
was small. Ars poetica―
faulted. You feel―
luggage was heavy.

For a griever, it was
a long walk. In trance a
city lifts your pyre.
You refuse to burn alive.

Calling names in sleep.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 march 2021

Yourselves

A circle,
will not become complete,
without a center.

The peripheries
cannot be defined.

Why should we
become prisoners
of small gods?

The hope―
is a gift of unknown.

Take it.


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