poetry

poetry
Renato N. Mascardo

Renato N. Mascardo, 25 january 2021

if love were a multiple-choice exam

tell me how you prefer this love

like a deep well where light cannot penetrate
where darkness with secrets becomes the norm

like a rivulet rushing down a slope
just to die a rueful death on the dry flat ground below

like an armchair ride that goes nowhere
a stationary rocker lulling you to sleep

tell me how you prefer this love

before you leap across the precipice edge
the instant when there is no return

before you fall head on and free hearted
through a cloud of unknowing
into the maelstrom that is love//

renato
sunday 24 january 2021


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 25 january 2021

Lake Huron On 4th July

Sun breaks
on green lake―
into myriad of white birds,
fluttering their wings.

In wet grass
you sink, inviting the black clouds,
to hear the echoes.

You follow the sunset
in a glass of wine,
to become complete again.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 24 january 2021

Gracefully

A lake walk,
in the forest of limbs.

Like the blind man said,
I can hear the truth.

It was more of a ritual
to sit in intense moonlight
when seagulls were stealing the sky…

And you will belong-
to the darkness, of unknowing-
self.

Knowing the inevitable end,
that will come, uninvited.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 january 2021

Grafting The Lichens

We are going back.
Let it be.
I will never know―
when will you arrive.

In the aloneness,
going blind to the playing
light, you prepare to drink
the darkness of noon.

Becoming dishonest will
not be possible for me.
The times are revengeful,
come back in black to fix the smiles.

Like water hyacinth, the
disquieting worries will grab
you and hound you to the white bones
and turn away.

Where the blood and
nerves went down? It was
no sin to rise and
stand against the sun.

ShareShare Grafting The Lichens


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 22 january 2021

Unknowing The Real

The founder will not find
the copper to cast the history.

It has not begun to hear
the farewell to summer.

Arms were coming out
to end the war, to seal the fractures.

Not my pen, not my tongue
will know the secret deals.

Frontiers are being redrawn,
between the guns and the books.


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Renato N. Mascardo

Renato N. Mascardo, 21 january 2021

awakening

january 20

hope in hibernal
unrepose finally stirred
from its nightmareland
of carnage and frenzied rapture
of trumpery waking up
to a new day at noon//

renato
20 january 2021


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 21 january 2021

Collapsing

He wants to revert
back to mutism.
No thyme―
no secrecy.

The half-baked pursuit
of non-violence,
accepting the violence,
on other way round.

The otherness.
You want to identify yourself
with a new religion.
Terror of anonymity?

A night blooming cereus
wanted to avoid the sun.
And love, must you
play desert?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 20 january 2021

The Enabler

You come to me formless,
to claim your dues―
of whispering poems.

At sharp cliff,
what was your dream―
destiny of taking a long fall?

The rising smoke dissolves
the boundaries, when you
fondle the dark for some pulse.

The final gift arrives
of tears, within reach
of the implosion.

Along the boulevard
a flight of swans―
sails for another lake.

I lift my hand for final salute.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 19 january 2021

Unabated Rage

A poem
borrowed from the roses
sits today on my lips.

Crowded with pricks
at night, words move
around the flickering flames.

Thoughts.
They fly like sparrows
encircling the mind.

The sky falls. Import
of faceless assaults thickens. Red
poppies bloom in wheat fields.

White mushrooms,
come up in summer to complain
against the muted surrender of clouds.


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Renato N. Mascardo

Renato N. Mascardo, 19 january 2021

each little loss

with each little loss

not a portent of total ruin
or a herald of perdition
each minor separation

a note kept in the inbox
too long a reply idling
in the draft box a friendship
going slowly to seed

slow slow
tau proteins accrete
united they stick they
entangle fibrils in the brain
letting go the recollection
of a face perhaps
the remembrance of a smile
slow slow

no need
no urgent need to haste
to bridge the breach so tiny
when you still can hear
the sound of her laugh
savor her humor
marvel at her wit
no need
no urgent need

each day
becomes an inertia
sluggishly entangling grows
a memory peels off
seeds your garden of remembrance
leaving confusion behind
still there is tomorrow
no need to hurry
with each little loss//

renato
monday 18 january 2021 (mlkjr day)


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 18 january 2021

Missed Adventures

The waves
had brought me to you.
Do not be gentle to time.

Lower the songs
into a mass grave,
as the violence spreads.

This time-travel
will take you to panic attacks.
Blackness moves very fast.

Hypoxia.
Photons will take you
to fading sun.

Glitterati,
now hurts. You cannot
haul the gift of reeds.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 17 january 2021

In Quiteude

I walk towards you-
till it hurts.

In moment of nemesis
I set you free,
and deceive me.

You look beyond me
and become blind for the road.
Life starts drifting away from
each other to discover the meaning
of truth.

We may not meet again,
behind the faulted moon,
groping for light.

You always knew-
I was not you. A miniature
vice- religion apart,
had become a river between us.

I won't swim again.
Buddha smiles with alacrity.

ShareShare In Quiteude


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 january 2021

Unhooked From Space

The cat had the feral
look. The home was
burning. Drag of
day to day dying
unceremoniously.

Nowadays the god lives outside
the temple. You don't have patience.
Some zealotry?
A siren song?

I was not in any trinity
of god, man and beast.
On the remote trail you will
find my blood-soaked footprints.

Instead of emptiness
I have filled myself with grief.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 january 2021

Of Heaven Aside

The intimate god,
versus the body of slain faith,
was not ready to bring in the rains.

What quality was the substance
in shadows, while you were
reigniting the inquest?

The space was shrinking
noiselessly. The nest―
was crowded. You would not

place your frame on the wall.
This happened, which
was, not supposed to happen.

The eyes don't blink.
You are looking straight in the
glass of elegy. Why coming and going

of a name should affect the masses?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 january 2021

Do Not Throw The Stones

Living in a wax palace
and deliberately―
firing it.

The beseeching fault
of life. It demands pure
blood.

Self-consciously I
pick up the glossy cowries,
with beautiful patterns
and play my childhood.

How come, the style
remains the same as that
of a butcher or a saint?

The humiliating defeat
in the hands of a dirty character―
becoming a class.

The cradle rocks. A new―
born theme is thrown out.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 january 2021

Of Revenge

Half night of insomnia
half night magma
you never go quiet.

Tremors of blaze
enter the veins.
Moon was crazy.

The graveyard.
First you dig up the hole.
Shot, then you are tossed inside.

A copper in the tank,
you sleep past the belly.
Vessel in vessel, you are dead.

Like a relic, you carry
your head, looking chasing
the cottonwood tree.


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RENATA

RENATA, 12 january 2021

wielka miłość =dramat

przyszedł nie wiadomo skąd
zadziwiająco boski
uzależniła się
zdana na jego łaskę i niełaskę
jak pies na kiełbasę

wprowadza się mówi mam kasę
jakieś zaskórniaki jakiś spadek
mieszka i nie płaci
jest połączeniem boga z diabłem
i najwyrazniej długo trwa czasem
spadanie ze schodów

zalękniona mysz
rozbrojona do granic
szmacona za nic
i nawet zmuszana
do pracy w knajpach
gdzie łapią za dupę
chamy przygłupie

pięść spadła pod oko
kiedyś z grubą warstwą pudru
padło przepraszam
teraz czarne okulary usiłowały
przykryć grozny obrót sprawy

on kocha jak wariat
często komisariat
dołki kopie
lecz ona szalona
znów ze schodów spadła

ktokolwiek wie że spada pięść
reaguj
nie czekaj następnego razu
złe miejsce cztery ściany
mysz ducha wyzionie
a niedżwiedz pijany


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RENATA

RENATA, 12 january 2021

ta trzecia

jego głos jego dotyk
chwile uniesień
całkowite przepołowienie

słodkie usta słodkie kłamstwa
chwile wiary
pustka czekania

mógłby być rozerwany
na dwie części
obietnicy nie spełnił

żona z rakiem gryzie ziemię
niech jej zresztą lekka będzie
on miał teraz być już całkiem tu
a mimo wszystko zwiał
bo jak zawsze ta trzecia oszukana


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RENATA

RENATA, 12 january 2021

historia serca warta

Byłaś serca biciem
wiosną latem życiem
lecz gdy Twoja gwiazda zgasła
pojawiła się Zuzanna

Przyciągnęła serce nitką
do kłębka
choć była zamężna

mąż francuz zazdrosny
śmiercią grozi w desperacji
kochanek się śmieje
wszak to niepoważne

Nad Zuzanną klątwa ciąży
czy to może zabobony
była serca biciem
Harlekinem

ktoś próbuje przewidzieć
echo zbrodni niesłychanej
osiem kul dostał kochanek
i ona się rzuciła ta przyczyna

własnym ciałem zasłoniła
nie przeżyła
mąż poszedł na komisariat
zabiłem człowieka powiada


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 january 2021

Losing Oneself

What would you give
when I ask for nothing?

A mysterious lineage
of the soul. It has no sequence,
no flesh, no body.
I was heading towards the edge.

Did you know the perfect
no home? It has no crumbling walls,
no hurting windows. The gray roof of sky?

The earth, the damaging
winds. An hour of awareness
in wait. You start
exploring jinxed mind,

hearing voices, but no words.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 january 2021

The Blue Lake Burns

When the roaring tiger
was behind the bars, there was
this otherness. So much voiceless
was that, it had wounded me.

Your life had entered my
dome to meet its darkness, my
sky, my moon and the
riot of color begins.

By unbecoming, dying
in every home, to write the
script of desire, you will take
the path, where my marrow went down.

The clocks, on every wall
to remind me the moving time.
Will you wait for the explosion
to stop the trembling hands?

Not giving an answer you shut the door.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 january 2021

The Golden Dust

The other day.
A full moon was walking
on the pavement
like a pedestrian.

I was dumbfounded
at the sight of the imperial walk.
To give a poetical start?

Was it a pin drop visual
with no sound? Only night
was listening to footfalls?

I would not know of,
the journey of ending
or ending of journey.

Like death burning
inside the seed, or a golden
flame becomes a lapping machine?


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RENATA

RENATA, 9 january 2021

zima

Płatek za płatkiem
inny światek
mrozny biały
nierzeczywisty doskonały

Płatek za płatkiem
sypie śnieżny puch
idą w ruch
lasy łąki drzewa
pełne bladych płatków z nieba

jak kasza manna
jak rosa poranna
jak srebrne konfetti
jak w baśni o królowej śniegu

za płatkiem płatek
jak opłatek
wyciągaj sanki
lepimy bałwanki

za płatkiem płatek
i już cała zaspa śniegu
wiatr wieje w biegu
zamiecie wymiecie
śmiecie
zmysły rozbłysły
w umyśle
z rozmysłem

biegnijmy w zimę


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 january 2021

Vagaries

Intimacy in dark
carries the emptiness,
pauses in the way-
under the faint moon.

A homeless bird heads towards
the lake.

Passiflora.
The flowers remind you
of crucifixion.

The human loss was intense.
The fire within, extinguished.
No stone was ready to move.
Do you want the sound to be on?

The firmness now starts
melting. A holy river caresses
the bridge. Shores tremble.


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Renato N. Mascardo

Renato N. Mascardo, 9 january 2021

falling leaves

forty eight

the years since
we parted

you went your way
so did i

between then and
now

things and nothings
happened
and did not

leaves lucent and dark
have touched
our heads and hearts

we’ve seen the glitter
of lights so brief
we’ve felt the touch
of shadows so long

laughs and sobs
our ears have hearkened
our tears have washed

yet we are
you and i
after forty eight
still here//

renato
friday 8 january 2021


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 6 january 2021

Wary Of Tomorrow

A moth love was evolving,
without a flame.
You are going to bang the wall.

It was too early
to sing aubade. Night was
still rolling on the leaves.

A tall tree failed,
to send the message of moon drop.
How will I read my palm now?

At funeral, a crowd
waits for the bride. The groom
jumped off the dam.

No music was left
between the lips. Angst
was palpable in stumps.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 5 january 2021

Flying Woes

The cat was finally
dead.
After a professional cut.

An infant injury
of the cadaver, will not speak

of the dead river, of elegy.

No life-
after the rite of passage.
You are confined in a coffin
buried in ice-
in north and south.

The space shrinks
between the screams.
A syncope overshadows the moon.
The howling starts.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 january 2021

Nobody Was Innocent

You were not facing
the facts to defeat yourself-
with palm leaves wiping
away the stains of moon.
The confessions were not
valid in light. Darkness will
decide the fate of an exhibitionist.
In the game of survival,
onlookers become strangers.
You will not stand on your feet.
Invisible hands clap.
Sometimes we don't talk and look eyeful.
I have nothing to begin today
nothing to finish.
The sea swells up without a storm.


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RENATA

RENATA, 3 january 2021

ofiara-jej sława w jego gaciach

Niejedno dziewczę
zaczyna karierę
od nóg
dociera tam nie jeden
bóg
anioł i zwierzę
mieczem
nacierając na raj

Ofiara bo ładna
bo chce dotrzeć
na szczyt
a roztrzaska się
o kant dupy

Dietę masz księżniczko
tylko białe i kieliszek
a nogi szerzej mocniej
bo pan chce dotrzeć
do głębi oceanu

Ten i ów morderca
rozumu i kobiecego serca
straszy głowę od strony dupy
a w hotelowych łóżkach
na ścianach i suficie
trupem śmierdzi życie


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Renato N. Mascardo

Renato N. Mascardo, 3 january 2021

partying in pestilence

at the next reunion

(for jh bacaling)

at the next reunion
when and where ever such
will be/ shall we claret and
champagne with panache
with abandon at the rave

or shall we be deliberate
at the next reunion
quaffing corona the lager
not the bug to such a precogitated
state of divine tipsiness

that we labialize vowels
gutturize sibilants all with a grin
at the next reunion
while we confabulate shared yesterdays
inebriated tonights hungover tomorrows

so we wait for the fete to come
with bated breath and bateless patience
when we can drink our mugs of corona
the lager not the bug undaunted unmasked
at the next reunion

but if
non compos mentis
sets in before then
all bets are off//

renato
saturday 2 january 2021


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 3 january 2021

Hauntingly

Sometimes the unholy fears
come obliquely-
from the scorpions.

Tongue tastes the salt of spilled
hate. You execute the hooded anxieties,
creating a cadaver pyramid.

Stich-open-stitch. Cobra
in the bush. Awesome colors of eyes
Brown-blue-green.

I am not going to kiss
the chillies. Burning hot lips.
The contours were enticing.
I shut my eyes for a weird encounter.

The floors pulverized. I still
stand in mud, on my own.


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Renato N. Mascardo

Renato N. Mascardo, 2 january 2021

in the absence of light

sensory

two pupils rotate
behind their lids
the two dilate
behind their shutters vainly
in the dark

two nostrils expand
inhaling the aroma
of her neck
the nose tip digs into the musk
in the dark

the pliant tongue slides
across and lingers
on each of her moistened lips
its tip basking in her yielding firmness
in the dark

the pupils finally
no longer stray
remain still at last
content in their imaginings
in the dark//

renato
friday 1 january 2021


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 2 january 2021

Finally Injured

What you did not know
was the resilience
of tulips.

The riots start
in colors, earnestly. A violent
outburst of the theme of surrender
before dawn.

You kiss the irises,
blue, violet and crimson
for nominalism.

The vision emboldens-
the wounds, the slit throats-
to come again for guillotine.

A sliding blade
with promise to kill,
will not move.


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Renato N. Mascardo

Renato N. Mascardo, 1 january 2021

reparations to a bounteous mother

stewpot of memories

(for gene baňez)

like pipe
smoke embedded
in my father’s jacket
your tuitive musing of med
school days

wells in
me the scents and
flavors of the past we
all shared/ the anamnesis of
affairs

long gone/
the piquant and
the bitter we choose to
ignore/ savoring instead the
haut-gout

of past
dalliances
of faded friendships of
minionings that persist through time
that have

become
sweeter and sharp
the umami in the
stewpot of memories/ and
now in

this fagged
transactional
age of truthiness and
quid pro quo you may ask/ the price
that we

owe her
the exchange that
is really fair between
her and us/ the tuition-fee that
we paid

against
all that we got
are getting and will get
back from her plus memories so
priceless//

renato
thursday 31 december 2020


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 1 january 2021

Dedication

Answering your own question,
wrapping the kill-
as manifestation of
God's will.

The old earth
still bears the fruits and
comes face to face with the
ungrateful human being.

Not touching your breast, I will
hear your heart beat
once-over.

Before the rains come,
the rage will sleep with the stones
and reconstruct a-
prehistoric fault.

Apollo wants to leave
Delphi and become a monk.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 31 december 2020

The Soliloquist

Stares down, the grey
moon, fixedly,
in naked aggression…
Fire and brimstone.
I move one step, towards you. In semidarkness
I have lost the address
of peace.

The transgender, stumps
the ghost. There was no noun,
no pronoun, only an abstract
feel. Do you see the
wooly trail beating the dust?

When did you hit the dirt road
not to come back…
What was undone? After
the death of the cuckoo, there was
no wedlock in words.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 30 december 2020

Knife And Boat

Like the banana peel
thrown on the sidewalk, you
come across the life.
And you still go on, in the-
search of moonlight-
without pills.
The drugged sleep.
Unorthodoxly you insult
the sun. And one-liners
go abegging for the listeners.

You are talking to your
peers now, long dead.
Fair amount of water, is
needed to sink.
The river merchant has brought
no fish.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 29 december 2020

Knife And Boat

Like the banana peel
thrown on the sidewalk, you
come across the life.
And you still go on, in the-
search of moonlight-
without pills.
The drugged sleep.
Unorthodoxly you insult
the sun. And one-liners
go abegging for the listeners.

You are talking to your
peers now, long dead.
Fair amount of water, is
needed to sink.
The river merchant has brought
no fish.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 28 december 2020

Fish Ladder

Like a snake
it moves.
My poem.

You are not, what you were
in the night, lightning
the grey moon.

I hear, what you
did not say or did-
not think.

Even dark
forebodings, move like red
ants, from the slit eyes.

I cover the faults
via songbird, which
was calling, desperately,
unwaitingly.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 27 december 2020

No Acrimony

You decline to speak-
to listen-
to see
like a meditating Buddha.

Like a sunflower
with moon seeds,
ready to explode at sunset.

Strangulated-
neck, hanged from a tree
to tell the tale-
that you were violated.

This was the principle of
cosmic order. Poor god
waits for the world
to show the rage.

I wake up the tree.
Leaves fall like unspoken words
from the decaying oak.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 26 december 2020

For Pythia

In suddenness, I will
write a poem for you.

You had stopped at the
outset, like a black moon
opening up perfervidly.

Remote from the oneness
of life, a flame leapt up
to ignite the process of birth-
without perceiving.

Come let's meet at the
navel of the destiny.
I had the penchant of
burning myself.

You, who would never be
visible, I will dust all the mirrors
to find out.

Waiting for the festival to begin.


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Melancthe

Melancthe, 25 december 2020

Words

Hey! handsome
words at the edge
of confusion

put the pen into action
and push this keyboard

Hey! handsome
words at the edge
of confusion

was is Shakespeare or sherry?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 25 december 2020

A Black Speech

Refusing to be
healed.
A wound will stay awake.

Mired in bitter controversy,
the captain said-
the war was not a deliberate act of
atoning for the soul.

That prevents the sun
to come out after a long night.

You walk in the light years,
gaunt and dazed,
in pain of hunger. The words
hang in shame.

A city fails, for
another voice of verse,


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Renato N. Mascardo

Renato N. Mascardo, 24 december 2020

cinquain

nativity in the year of corona

no joy
in this age of
the desolate yet there
is comfort in the isolate
of two//

renato
25 december 2020


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 24 december 2020

The Hymn Of Love

Stoma
opens, ejects the scream.

Oh, my god.
The ink spilled
on the sheet, hiding the code.

The scared veins
of pure honey, wets the lips-
of gills. There is no salt.

The water explodes
bursting the dam. No spine was
worth of robbery.

Golden nuggets
are displayed now. Would you
bargain the uphill?

The nightmares begin again.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 december 2020

See My Hands

Overreaching for chemical signs
and word for word,
you want to move on-
without parents.

This was only a poetic
idea, that no weapon will
be used for execution.

Not offering an apology,
we were dissecting the ethics
of violence and war.

A chilling reminder, you are
going to starve the definitions.
But no clarity was visible.

I am becoming bones
and taut nerves.Only eyes
were looking ahead of the tempest.

Roofs were melting.
You want to hit the sky.


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Renato N. Mascardo

Renato N. Mascardo, 21 december 2020

seclusion

passers

in time
many become
few friendships' circle shrinks
diametered and circumferenced
by strife

boredom
and loss until
fellowships in the end
join solitude in reluctance
as one//

renato
sunday 20 december 2020


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RENATA

RENATA, 18 december 2020

czuła jest noc

Lgnęli do siebie
w pościeli
czując się jak w niebie
chcieli
dalej brnąć
w pocałunków moc
magia dotyku
gdzie skóra drży
TY TY TY

Na czuły szept
emocji jęk
termometr pęka
gorączka jest
dreszcz dreszcz dreszcz


dostaję olśnienia
z Tobą na księżyc
wybieram
się


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 17 december 2020

Forecasting

Understanding-
the sexuality
of clock.

Time moves
the hands, of past,
the present.

The future
belongs to no one.
This poem, cosmos.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 december 2020

Noesis

A near cult glows/ on faces-
for harvesting peace,
saluting each other, without flame.

I have come so far
though you did not want the winds to move.

A new theme was
developing. The first wicket has fallen.
The collective suicide
will follow.

Invoking the sun, you stay in shadows,
without qualms to hear
the swish of swords.

The phenomenalist,
strides confidingly to read your mind.
Heart cries-
Uncontrollably.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 december 2020

But Nothing

No it will not work.
The amalgam of arrival
and departure.
Debunking the theme
of reincarnation, you enter into the body of a poem.

Crowned and faded out,
all the icons were diminishing
in stature.A winter bath
tries to hold the halo-
for sometime, and then disappears
in obscurity.

Where the things go wrong
and connectivity snaps?
The tall people, yes very tall,
crumble under the weight of anonymity.
When you climbed down from
the pedestal, light was dim.

Did you ever receive a blast in face?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 december 2020

This Cosmos

The tall, dense, tree of life
divides the culture, ages.
Will witness-
the gorgeous, ruinous and
hideous days.

How would I claim
the legacy of a deaf and dumb
sky?

The fragile bones of the
earth, break.
Blackberries burn under
the eyes.

The hidden herons
fall involuntarily, when you
trim the tree for a
new moon.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 december 2020

Inundation

Standing on black stones―
in water death,
I let it go, my pride
at the end of bay.

No obituary
no elegy,
will erase the thoughts of coming and going
of moon, when night
starts crying.

The smoke-filled eyes
will speak of the burnt house,
when the sun was
telling the truth.

Setting frozen tulips
at your feet, I bring the
river of tears
to start the day.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 december 2020

Startling Likeness

Yes it is descriptive only,
the unbearable pain of denudation,
like blue heartache.

Touching the extremes, you
become desperate to―
reach the first letter.

The word will form later.
The virtue of knowing―
the unknown was a punishment,
you cannot untie the knots.

You must know the trick of―
the trade. How to come back
alive after touching the skin
of a viper?

No celebration to mark―
the anniversary of the assassin.
Life itself takes the award.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 december 2020

Scars

There was obsession, to wash your
hands again and again.
They swing wildly.

The moods.
Betel leaves, and bad grammar.
Charity untainted.

Divided walls.
A street breaks the steps.
Nails scratching the rosary.

The stranded words,
will not sit on the wide screen.
The damp soil becomes dark.


No gift was needed-
unmaking the wasp's nest.
I bend down to light the lamp.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 december 2020

Evocative Images

A single line,
undefined, hangs
to make your life vulnerable.

The drifting starts.
You fumble for the right-
text,

to convey the urgency
of a moratorium. The
dew on the grass,

was not ready to
accept the rainbow of
false promises.

Flat refusal comes
from the deprived homes.
The poverty has become a sin.

The elegant procession
of the king was throwing
dust in our eyes.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 december 2020

Whirling Dervish

In being and unbeing
I come to you today-
in unconscious state.
Excessively leaning on
cause, it is not heart-
not brain. Just a beat.
Evening is settling
down. Time flew past. Birds
going home. A lone moon
will rise.
Underground thoughts start-
stunning the secrets.
You open the lost book.
In war go the alphabet.
Questions arise. After all-
who was me.
The awakening begins.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 december 2020

What Grammer

The tremors. One day
I would know. The trees are walking.
No miracle. We are-
becoming rootless.

The fear, was palpable.
Nowhere to go. All the roads
were blocked. The king
is being anointed after the bloodbath.

No logical lie was needed
for targeted killing.
Why did you start the
bonfire near the oil wells?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 6 december 2020

Far And Wide

The night poem
crucial
was the breast-feed
the train whistles by

the thugs squirm
no waylaiding now
in the dark hour
till the moon rises

the drag queens
are out to collect
the marbles
would you play the chess?

faithfall will spring
a surprise becoming
god himself
do not tell any prayer-


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 5 december 2020

To Know What We Do Not Know

Though inaudible, I will
hear you- clear and distinct,
offering to be understood.
Destigmatizing the ghost of truth
and be accepted.

The noises still persist
of the parables. Who was the
king without a crown?

Accepting nihilism, I will
ask my inner voice, will
you meet the god?

In anguish I search the answers
to deepest mysteries.

Do not wash the words.
Your hands will pick up
the fallen moon in dirt.

The slanted eyes.
You want to drown in the
crevices of pain.


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RENATA

RENATA, 4 december 2020

ĆMA

ma poczucie wartości równe zero
chce być motylem a jest brzydką heterą
z ogłoszenia wpada na bąki i szerszenie
dbała i starała się a jutro było coraz gorsze

leci leci do światła
chcąc
być najpiękniejsza

jej ikariada trwa
nadal i nadal
dopóki ogień myśli nie strawi
i spocznie we własnym grobie


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 december 2020

Melting Nowhere

Everything was in place,
and I started to find-
the kingpin, door by door.

Wanted to know more about the death,
when you were struck in silence-
of blackness.

Displaying the art of kill. It has
an ancient throw of fangs.
I am ready to catch the blues.

All day the hibiscus has
been bleeding. I will never
disappoint the skin of the pilgrim.

Oh pink eyes. Sometimes
I wonder, why this shade rests
after wedding a celibate.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 3 december 2020

Lynching

Eclectically, do not say anything;
put a bullet in your head
and go to sleep.

I know what was coming
after the ballot. A heap of
abuses, for not maintaining the war.

The presence you can feel,
I am the native of this land― when
hurricane comes, you untie the shoes.

May be, wearing a dark suit,
the bartender comes and pours the
honey in your broken glasses.

The music must not stop. The
black spiders, with paired legs have
synchronized with myriapods.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 2 december 2020

Distant Dangers

Aquilla. Would you
carry the burden
of ungiving?

Transmuted, I
will find you in portrait
of sublime?

And I will see in your eyes
a cosmos, floating in void.

But a primal question
remained unanswered, who were you.

Through the blue sky
and legends of dark, the
constellations squirm.

And I start believing
in God dust.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 1 december 2020

Dilemma Of Ink

The ostrich problem
of catalepsy.
You go into a cocooned
opacity.

I will wait, till you
come out, ready to take a flight
for an oath ceremony.

The land suffers,
the sky weeps.

The shotguns would now decide
the boundaries of speech.

I will walk into the
sea of heads, to find the sunken ship,
to retrieve the faded road map.

I have to face a new testament,
how to remove this poverty
of right words.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 30 november 2020

Living Perilously

You will remember-
what I would not- the
inner darkness of noon.

A bright sun goes
blind for a caged bird. To
dream or not to dream in
the path of unknown.

Any celestial movement-
will bring the halcyon days?
One day the man will change?

This culture, your
ethos were making the
sense datum extinct- a fossil.

Far from the meanings
the body language flies
in wings of wax.

Again an era ends,
the very blood of stones.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 29 november 2020

Wolverines

Night blinks.
Light sits under the door.
I am ready to confront the moon.

Too much brilliance
was there. Would you redesign
the blue sky and paint the new stars?

Poverty was my great strength.
Nothing to lose, when
you were dancing with the shadows.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 28 november 2020

Dismantled

Trembling…
the burning coal has gone to sleep,
before igniting the dry grass.

Eye to eye colliding
turning you into ophelian mess.
Light had gone back to black matter.

It was a frisk season-
in sick society. The hidden plaques
have come out in the blood stream.

You are now backtracking
on the uphill, ready to fall
from the green heights to connect with ground.

For keepsake I will
again unwrite the book
not mentioning the stillbirth of freedom.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 27 november 2020

Infinitude

Be what you are.
As night falls,
I start moon spotting
standing starkly against the pain.

Reaching for you
from you, in-
moonless night.

The relationship of
dream blood, was never
seen but heard.

The pursuit of location
where the eclipse descends like a dot
on truth.

I am going to touch
the surreal constellation
again in your wet eyes.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 26 november 2020

Never Wanting

The weight of the ideology
flattens your upheaved chest.
You speak, what you did not want to say.

A fake hunger and pseudo-demands,
put you on the pathless clouds.
How would you now fly towards the sun?

The polarization was deliberate,
to usurp the authority. Blue jays
have refused to join gangs.

A faded document tells about
your missteps. A bunch
of eunuchs have come to guard the palace.

Black versus black will
not brighten the screen. One third of
generation had the criminal record.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 25 november 2020

The Accidental Fall

My bronzed speech is available,
accepting the defeat of daffodils.
I will not write an elegy.

The postpartum blues are over,
I am coming out of the crib,
like a new born poem.

Floating the paper lanterns, at
night, on flowing river, to send the
message to moon. No more the beach will cry.

The triangular nuts will
speak of the hurricanes, protecting
the hairy seeds.

No resistance was needed
to stop the invading army of black
ants, ready to tear the dummies.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 24 november 2020

Ecce Homo

When silence stays alone
in the hollow of the eyes,
would you come?
In the audacity of
beauty and pain, when
the moon does not rise.
Like beggars the clouds
roam, parting the
sky for a glimpse of a vision.
We will speak like
strangers not looking into the eyes.
Not quite sure-
you blinked. Time to return
back the gifts of ocean
profound and deep.
Pearls, tears and half-angel.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 november 2020

Vengeance

Arithmetic becomes poetry,
when you start counting the stars in Milky Way.

Light will cross
your path. Your own sun
becomes a logic.

You step into a holy bath
to collect all the scripts
of the dark circles.

Where the infinity starts,
you become the center?
of all the conflicts.

A simple way to burn
without throwing light.
How would you raise your finger?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 22 november 2020

The Face In Flames

Salt-of-the lips.
You never know, how it hurts
the bigotry.

It was not the might
of divinity, when you sentence
the child for blasphemy.

I would not kiss the-
stone, where the blood stained
the sun. Grey halo was collapsing.

It was the helplessness
of the river, accepting the guilt
of sunken boat.

Again I recite your name
in sleep. The sting was as cruel
as the tongue.


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RENATA

RENATA, 21 november 2020

zombi

Idą zombi gdzieś na spacer
idą sobie tylko w maskach
idą bo gdzieś muszą iść
Mama tata dzieci miś

i najgorsze jest mniemanie
że to jest normalne
raz dwa trzy
oddy cha my

Wchodzimy do sklepu a tam proszę bardzo
kolorowe maski nie wyrażają zachwytu na twarzach
bierzemy bierzemy bo wszystko się przyda
zanim zobaczę kto jest kto i się wyda

co i ile jemy
schudniemy czy przytyjemy
co to komu szkodzi jesteśmy anonimowi

to nie maskarada
ale krążą w maskach
czy mordercy czy to zbóje
złodzieje czy chuje
co ON tam pod maską knuje
nic nie wyraża ludzka mina
nie wiesz kiedy trafisz na skurwysyna

patrz w oczy tam cała prawda
czy masz PSA przed sobą czy policjanta
czy pouczy w związku czy skopie i da mandat
OBOWIĄZKOWO I Z POLECENIA
staliśmy się zombi bez twarzy i imienia

z chęci normalności
robimy w promocji
SESJĘ
zdjęcia w maseczkach
awangarda czy standard


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 21 november 2020

Never Again

You to whom, I
am lost, the remaining pain
will fetch the grace-
poise and dignity of
ending.

The future lies in-
the halo of the hill, where
the blood was spilled last night.

A black spot on the sun was
enlarging. I spell your name
in a bird song, that croons
tirelessly in timeless dawn.

The moon drenched lake
wails for the boat not to come.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 20 november 2020

Levitating In Solitude

The heartwood had the ingrained
dream map, to reach the
divine shape of a solemn god, who
was guiding the sap.

One day you would go deep
in dark, to find your roots
where tomorrow was conceived.

And in the ruins, you will
find the warmth of
your peers, still walking on the god-particles.

A religion now takes over
the mob, ready to plunge into yellow
sands of dry river.

The hopes and promises,
give you a horizon, far away.
Your want to touch this furnace,
that brings the burning day of solitude.


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eunoia

eunoia, 19 november 2020

COVID (090120)

everyday
I was imagining us
that day when we'll be together
coz this whole waiting thing sucks
I can't hold your hand
I can't touch you
I can't do things for you
I can't make you smile
I can't comfort you
I'm losing hope sometimes
but your love makes me go on

but I found out while I'm imagining
you're doing it to someone else
my world broke apart
do I deserve this pain??
you held her hand
you touched her
you do things for her
you makes her smile
you comfort her
I lost hope
but your lies made me move on....


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eunoia

eunoia, 19 november 2020

Crazy (092020)

I don't wish you karma
I just want you to realize my worth
I don't wish you go back to me
I just want you to do what you want to do
I don't wish it's still me
I just want you to be happy
..even if it's not me


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 19 november 2020

Welcoming New Era

Wearing the red bandanna,
you tried to manipulate the bedrock.
Life had been never the same for me.

The ferry sinks the riding
deity in midstream. In polytheism,
I never had my own god.

O the chemistry of love has
changed. Meatless, my skiny arms,
lift the sage of fallen moon in darkness.

I am not ready to conclude
as yet, my epic of fragmented truth.
We were fighting the wars of lame lies.

Who would spare me to become
immortal in stones? Let us not start the
annihilation of sane shadows in the poem.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 18 november 2020

Stone-Faced

Your interpretation
was a miracle of
unbelieving. I was not
a flesh eater.

Between paradise
and a hut, lies the sky
of colored dreams. You
lean forward to-
pluck the moon.

So stoned, was the
sinister design, that
you walked straight
into the arms of stings.

It has become a
strange saga, when a
moth burns, without
a candle.

A sun nosedives with
a water motif on the lips.


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RENATA

RENATA, 15 november 2020

gra Gerarda

a wtedy gdy już wszystko było
przykuję cię kajdankami
będziesz uległa bez przymrużenia oka
i pęknąłbym ze śmiechu
gdyby ktoś powiedział
że kopniesz mnie tak
że w momencie śmierci
nakryję się jajami
a potem dla bezpańskiego psa
będę Pedigrii Pall

a wtedy zrzucając na karb
twej kobiecej wyobrazni
radz sobie sama z bransoletkami


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pushpatuladhar

pushpatuladhar, 13 november 2020

Breakfast

The Poetry that I never created,
But the seconds of my day
That I adored so much.
Couldn’t grip the moments
Of my day in my fists
As the iceberg of the day
Set into water and spilled over
From the seams of my fists.

After my morning routine,
I’d befall at
The dining table of my kitchen
For my everyday breakfast
With a Mug of Coffee
Or a Cup of Tea
Arising the whole fullness in
The emptiness within me.

The morn spun another page
Of my erstwhile diary
With the deeds of that very day,
Too much absorbed I’d be in
Savoring the flavor in me
So that my time spilled out
Of my clenched fists
Might never be in futile.
*


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pushpatuladhar

pushpatuladhar, 13 november 2020

An Ordained Beauty

Soi Pyei Thasin, the well-known Burmese
Cine artist, Singer and Model
after having ordained as the Buddhist monk.

Sowing my own beauty
Thriving the fruits of wealth
Out of my acting, singing,
dancing and modeling
As my keen performance
Consented the limitless joy
She attained herself accomplished
And blossomed altogether
On edge of the eyes of all her enthusiast.

When my cakkhu-vinnana
Suffer itself the amorous living as it’s -

The wrinkled complexion
Of my immeasurable beauty
The perishable nature
Of my earnest wealth
My pondering muses,
My hoping dances,
My daily kamma and its vipak
anicca, dukkha and anatta

Would I bloom totally for ever
as it is now
In the craving eyes of all her enthusiast?

Anicca is
My arduous beauty,
My deserved wealth
And my every lively affair
Dukkha is my sufferings
What’s meaning of
Me and myself
No. All’s anatta

Thrusting aside as a whole of
My beauty
My wealth
Apart from me, myself and my body
My virgin black hairs
Shaved out of my head
With the sharp razors
Implemented the Paramattha satya.
Clothed in the robes from the sangha
Grasped the bowl for viksha
Only for my matanna aahar or yagu
With the Bramhavihar
At last my dwellings in vihar.

Rinsed out all the dirt and filth
Of greed, hatred and delusion
Grasping the four noble truths
Devoted in morality or shil
Confer in concentration or Samadhi
Soaked in Panna
Cast away the ashrava
Hindering the door of rebirth
With my objective to arahat or nibbana

My adolescent steps
Pursues steadily in order
To the Visuddhamagga
Devoted to ti-sarana
Consecrated to ti-sarana
Surrendered to ti-sarana
*
cakkhu-vinnana - Eyes-consciousness
kamma – Karma or deed (action)
vipak - Results of deed or action
anicca - Impermanence
dukkha – Suffering (Four noble truth)
anatta – not self or without a self
paramattha satya - Ultimate truth
sangha - assembly (Community of Buddhists monks)
viksha – alms
aahar - modest nutriment or
yagu – the liquid rice meal
bramhavihar – immeasurables
(loving kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, equanimity)
shil – Morality
samadhi – Concentration
panna – Wisdom
ashrava - Greed, hatred and delusion
arahat or nibbana
visuddhamagga - Path of purification or
ti-sarana - Triple gems (Buddha, Dharma and Sangha)


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pushpatuladhar

pushpatuladhar, 13 november 2020

The Strokes

Landslide came into my life without notice,
I myself am lost, not in moor,
not in cloudland, not in fog, not in haze,
not in markets, but within my
own polluted sketches.
- Excerpts from my poet friend, Nabin Chitrakar’s poetry “Formless Canvas”

In the circle of time
changing continuously in every seconds
is the poetry –

The poet’s no conscious of
When? How? Where?
crop up as if shaken
all at once by the earthquake
the mind stroke to his poetry in a second.

The spirit of the poetry encountered
the blood corpuscle of half of his body
ceased to streaming, bending into fragility.
The remaining other half
gushed in its veins naturally.

Then the posture of his body
half immovable and
other half movable
being altered instantly in its body
confronted the torture of no limit.

Neither my mind sensed
Nor your mind aware of it.

But it looked baffled
in the tears of
illimitable and immeasurable
hazy in its eyes.
In the mind of the poetry,
the inert part of its body
obstructed the motion,
the sensed part of it
forced to resume its motion,
the result of which yielded
the awful agony and anguish
that savoured syrupy in its tongue
chewed up the immovable
to restore its ability of moving again
in very efforts of the poet.

I’m too confident
Like you do.

The poet will indeed hurl
the sense of immovability
caught in his living.
*


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pushpatuladhar

pushpatuladhar, 13 november 2020

Imagery

The melodic whispers
of the chilly breeze
rupture the seed soiled
to sprout to bloom
totally and clearly.

Squeezing the morning
drip the natural dewdrops
from the roof of my home
rinse your supple body
cleansing all the dirt and filth
blushed steadily
as the gold glittered.

Just linger for a moment
near the meadow of my mind
the frosty and icy sweats
distilled through my arduous fervor
let you feel this much serene
that craft a poetry of its nature
in my mindful mind.

Burning lava erupted
out of the crater of my mind
freezes itself into granite
carving skillfully
my living in its spirit.
*


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pushpatuladhar

pushpatuladhar, 13 november 2020

The Emptiness

Can the emptiness
eavesdrops to its own words
by its ears lucidly –
in the darkness wrapping its room,
in the sound of beating its ear,
in the breathing in and out,
in the sight shimmering its eye,
in the taste arousing its tongue,
in the wrinkling its body by the winds ,
in the kissing bloom by the breeze and
in the leaf falling out of the tree?

Rhyming a moment the song of the morn
set just the morning sluggishly
in the greenery of the clear and clean forests
revealed the soaring pitch concealed in it.
May divulged it either
in the heat of thundering clouds or
in the frost of the freezing storms?

In the disease of alarming itself
by the severe wounds
bemused account at the spot
for a pretty long period
broadening and spanning
that never bringing to light in the eyes
may be already stolen by someone,
Yes ! It’s because the emptiness there.
*


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RENATA

RENATA, 12 november 2020

śmierć rodzi śmierć

mam zamiar tylko go uwieść
powiedziała Lilith z getta
między nim a łóżkiem
szalona żona

a potem jej grób wyskrobał
łono Assi chyba nie całe
bo potem próbowała
przyoblec się w rolę pani
Tedowej Hugesowej

w podziemiach światłowodu
bezkrwiste niebo
nie rodzi gwiazd
piekło otworzyło swe brzydkie usta
a Ty dławiąc krzyk
odchodzisz taka niekochana

przepraszam to tylko romans
który rozhuśtał śmierć


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RENATA

RENATA, 12 november 2020

pewna historia szklanego klosza

Pełen chaosu bezlitosny
świat i czyjeś młode JA
na marginesie książki
w garnku pełnym bigosu
bulgocze
niedomknięty szklany klosz

wyraziste słowa
dla nich za mała głowa
wyrwały się na papier
depresyjne morze
zakorzeniło się w głowie
głęboko jak kwiat

doskonałość w drodze do raju
potykała się brzydko chcąc brzytwą
pociąć cienie upadków
warsztat budził demony
balansując na cienkiej linie
zysków i strat

i zostać i odejść
umrzeć zmartwychwstać
zamknąć korowód
i być na czele
aniele pozwól

kochać i być kochaną
przemienić się w każdą
istotę nieznaną
opisać ich pragnienia
emocje bezosobowo
kultywując każde słowo

Jezu co za przystojny facet
aż to się stało! z wzajemnością
jakby wymyślony z szaleńczego snu
artysta duszy i sztukmistrz poezji
szalona ze szczęścia obłąkanie
wyciągnęła z najdalszych korytarzy


to było dziecinnie proste
zamienił ją na inną
obie winne swojej zagłady
on bawidamek

werdykt wybrzmiał
nie istnieć
pigułka gazu
odgoniła szaleństwo na zawsze

tymczasem

gdy żona szara myszka polna
została zdeptana i upieczona
ona nowa egzotyczna zmysłowa
Lilith zjadła Teda jak kotleta
krwistego
lecz najpierw schrupała
dwóch i pół swoich mężów

ech to grzech a przecież mówią
że to kobiety są winne cudzołóstwa

Assia brylowała zdobywała
hipnotyzowała spojrzeniem
jak sto diabłów Azji
dla samca gotowa na wszystko
odebrać to nic trudnego

fatalna meduza
w swe tłuste usta
wkłada fiuta

obudzona z głębokich nagich kwiatów
nocy w odmętach zaułków i korytarzy
wciąż widzi Sylwię ona dopiero zza grobu
jest silna wciąga jej duszę oddech energię
w otchłań
nabija gazem jak siebie
Assia ulatuje w powietrze
z dorobkiem


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RENATA

RENATA, 12 november 2020

autostopklatka

chcę być twoją dziewczyną
zjeść
ciało twoje poczuć dreszcz
zatopić w oczach
pić słowa
z twoich ust
ubóstwiać

rodzić się i umierać
zdzierać odzież i skórę do kości
chcę z miłości
oszaleć
i dalej dalej dalej
rosnę w siłę
ocean tęsknoty przepłynę

serce słodkie czekoladą
oddam ci u stóp
wypływając z cienia


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louis gander

louis gander, 12 november 2020

A Lonely Poem

THERE ARE so many others that can start a loud stampede
of people running after them so that they all can read
the script of rhymes that fascinate their scrutinizing minds
to entertain emotions - emotions of all kinds.

But I am just a lonely poem buried here inside
a dusty book unsuited and unable to provide
a morsel of excitement to those readers I can't see.
They're browsing here, undoubtedly, on either side of me.

My words are like a dried up rose with bent and broken stem -
and that's why I'm a lonely poem, unlike the rest of them.
It's dark inside this dusty book. Forever, I will stay -
yet wonder, will I ever see the sunny light of day?

Rejected, I'm compelled to cry, but that I can't condone,
because my ink would surely run and I'd still be alone.
So tears I hold. I'm saddened so- and oh, I'd love to shout.
But I'll be stuck here up until this book I'm in's thrown out.

I prayed that you would find my words because God answers prayers.
He knows my good intentions and I know He always cares.
So when my prayers are answered and you read my story rhymes,
I pray that we can just be friends and have some good ol' times.

And though you will not see me smile, please know that I'll be glad.
and pray one day we'll find these times the best we've ever had.
But if, by chance, another poem's your fav'rite one instead,
I pray my words go with you when again I go unread.

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

-------


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louis gander

louis gander, 12 november 2020

From Across the Lake

The cabin built with sturdy logs
(that firmly stood awake)
was nestled snugly in the trees
beside this quiet lake.

A dim and amber light shone out
to greet the lonely eye -
reflecting off this tiny lake
here under cloudy sky.

Through window pane, that sorry lamp -
far off on other side -
had shone from on a tabletop
with unseen chair beside.

And faithful chair supported all
the poet's ev'ry task.
Yet that old chair is empty now,
"but why?" you maybe ask.

You wonder who that poet is
or why he is away.
You wonder if he writes at night
or all throughout the day.

But when he comes, the chair again
will groan under his weight.
And over many months and years,
his work will rhymes create.

Now you might think and may conclude
of him, you didn't hear -
but I know this, you've read his work,
at least this poem here.

A glow begins to pour across
the sky in loving fun..
It reaches out so wide and far
with nearing of the sun.

And that light now reflects off of
a paper holding rhyme -
and calls me from across the lake.
I guess it's about time...

©2015 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

-------


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 november 2020

Victory March

The living dead are going to
ask for the right to be
forgotten in gender dysphoria.

In grimed apparel,
the deities were deported back
to the barn, for housing the antiques.

The future turns blue,
moon-eyed, hooking up the
hopes of running heels.


Is that true that there
will be mass suicide after
the fall of the fort?

The fat lanterns now
don't throw the light. Incense
of burning flesh floats.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 november 2020

The Ephemerality

It was punctuated night.
You sleep into wakefulness.

The space between the shut-eyes
trembles, when you start sweating.

The infant-death of the dream,
incites the borderland. The-

flames rise in a partisan way,
to erase the memories of guilt.

You are in deep grief for the
coiled sperms, from end to end,

they were longer than the body.
Would you like to wake up a jinn?

A digital forgetfulness, you seek
to solve the enigma of life.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 november 2020

Walking In Woods

This spectrum.
No it will not work.
I am not there in the
shade, smoke filled barn, or-
in secular morgue.
Stubble burning was
like legend of war.
How do I shut the
door of diamond moon-
in the kingdom of
weeping night?
An animal in you
will not sleep, claiming the
innocence of baby steps.
A virginal vanity.
Nobody stops you to
display the grains of salt.
Would you listen to the land,
flight of words-
passage of time?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 november 2020

Thinking In Depth

The moment of truth has-
arrived. The earth
has moved the man. It was
accidental verdict. You know,
which cell you will be incarceated now?

My flame-singed eyes, search
the inception of integrity above board.
I am afraid of myself to
admit that societal violence
has come to stay!

Celebrating the birthday of
a self-propelled god, I go
into irreversible retreat. God
bless the wax house, fire was
raging on hills.

The blood cherries, blood on
your shirt, blood rings on your
fingers, and blood in my eyes.


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steve

steve, 6 november 2020

Burning Flame

It cuts just like a knife, every time I hear your name...
And I feel the blood just drain away, as we start to play the game,
You're never going to give to me, the part of you I need...
And I'm never going to let you know, just how much I bleed,
The tears rain down inside my head, and I am washed away...
As this heart is broken once again, by things I couldn't say,
I tried to hide this "burning flame", but I got to close to you...
Now my whole world is burning down, and there's nothing I can do,
Even tears can't douse the flames, as I begin to burn...
And the pain that only lonely brings, is far too strong to turn,
My heart's desire in front of me... and yet a world away...
But I'd give this life to feel your love, if only for a day.


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steve

steve, 6 november 2020

She Lives

Trapped inside myself, there's no place I can hide,
No escape, no salvation, only years of tears I've cried,
You don't know what it does to me, when you come into view...
How it tears me up inside, because I'm in love with you,
Knowing you will never care, or ever touch my skin...
Or ever really get to know, the person that I am,
Trapped and all alone, bottled up for years...
She'll never have her freedom... but she can have her tears,
No one even knows... that she lives at all...
The chains that hold her down, keep her shackled to her walls,
She'll never see the light of day, she'll never be set free...
Though she loves, she'll not be loved, such is destiny.


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steve

steve, 6 november 2020

What Am I Doing?

I can't hear your tortured thoughts, or see what you've been through...
But I can feel your pain from here, through miles of missing you,
I'm sorry if I made you think, somehow I didn't care...
I never meant to bring to you, feelings of despair,
I care so much from my heart, it swells the fear in me...
I'll ask myself "What am I doing?" I clearly cannot see,
I have no right to put on you, what I think I need...
No matter how much pain I feel, no matter what I bleed,
A world away what do I have, that could ever make you see...
All I have to offer you, is all I have of me,


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steve

steve, 6 november 2020

Time

Time has kept me prisoner, with the dreams I have of you...
Keeping me awake each night, with things that I can't do,
Slowing down the hands of time, in the middle of the night...
Minutes turn to hours, as time holds back the light,
It's only in the darkest hour, that time is standing still...
When I miss you most of all, time only you could fill,
Dreams are all I have of you, as time keeps you at bey...
But even time must run it's course, as time just ticks away,
And when the time has finally passed, just maybe we'll both see...
How precious time really is, and what our time could be.


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