Latest items:
Satish Verma, 21 december 2017
Stary Thoughts
To access the mountain,
are you ready
to carry the rock?
*
Deep in my heart
flows the river
of summer pain.
*
A teardrop in
a sea of daffodils.
Who was blind?
Satish Verma, 4 february 2018
Logistics
Midnight encounter.
In moon, on sand.
Why you were igniting a sheltered home
of wounded pride?
The blood spills
over the sea, in boat.
You were unrelenting, against traction
violence of unhappenings.
The blackness blooms.
A man will cross midstream,
writing on water the name of a lamb
who refuses to surrender.
I sit between the
kisses of dragonflies.
An empty paper nest waits for the wandering
wasps to come back with stings.
Satish Verma, 7 december 2012
MANIA
Keep the paper blank,
do not write anything new.
Words were abducted earlier also
Let the truth speak from the folds
of dying clocks.
Fauns were searching the human
abodes for fake currency of truth. There
was no method in their method. Do you
find a pride in their attacks? A strange
militia had joined hands with sleep mafia.
My soul colours the half-black berries.
The sum will not eat them.
Father was beaten in war of tricks
I still follow the laws of kindness
in filling the extended empty cups.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 14 april 2012
Cocktail
Beings of erotica were
at the gates of heaven.
Shell-shocked, the city was becoming political
but people were absconding.
It was global warming
for obscenity. The remoteness
was collapsing and moons
had come in my arms.
Smoking the serrated leaves
and glandular hairs, hurling
yourself on the pathway to estasy
to forgive and to forget.
The blue mercury was
ascending. Anti-depressants were
not working. You don’t own the
phrases. Words were becoming surrogate
for thoughts. We embrace the fall.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 12 december 2012
*DEPRESSION
There was thunder in the hut
teeth clattered under the ground.
Handcuffed you walk in inequality
to qualify for hanging till dead.
I may not tell myself
what was happening to me.
Moving in opposite direction
the bird was able to catch the smell.
My stance was always making a stroke
in the canvas of a tormentor
abbreviated in a muscular arm
starting violences of sleep.
Corralled in doorframes, keeping
the lights off, this was the nemesis
for asking for the change. Haungered, the
human being, absorbed by the
absence of chains which were not
coming in sight.
*On the fate of Kanu Sanyal, founder of naxalite movement, who hanged himself to death on 23th March 2010.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 19 january 2013
THE BELIEVERS
Inheriting the dust of street
something of a lofty ideal
in politics of poverty, I want to get back
to my native moon.There are
too much wounds here.
My green blessings came from the dark.
Sun was altering the geometry of crops.
Genes were manipulated and the
debate was running on fiction.
Down the drain went the hybrids.
To glow or not to glow was the big question
and the hunger was discovering the cause.
Suicides had toppled the numbers
and clouds had become colorful.
God knows when the ceremony will end.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 13 december 2012
WORDLESS SILENCE
Yes, your name was sliced off
from the impasse. I will stand with you
to track the continental drift. How little
I knew about you and the prosthetic words.
Again and again I return to ruins, and
the dust and crumbling absence. Eyes
will speak for the wordless silence now.
Who will tell the truth for the murdered
thought? The cognitive silence? You don’t
want to see the light. The soul sits outside
the body. Pollution hits the mind. The words
eat the emptiness of facts and lies. A vertical
descent of speech.I should not have
listened to cries.
A memory moves in zigzag manner, accepts
the odyssey of man’s failing gods.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 22 april 2012
PARTY
In search of peace
he burnt down his books,
living precariously,
as colors were shifting.
After the disengagement
there was anger and chaos.
In the swirl of mudslides
the mountains stood erect & high.
Caste, color and creed
on coffee table,
for a birthday party of democracy.
A drone fell on the crowd.
The maniac depression divides
the butterflies into pathless lies.
The grass was blue
and sky was red.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 23 april 2012
MEMORY WALK
Wanted to visit old lanes
for a mocking bird.
A luminous proxy wanted to play a game.
Treachery flees from
the trees and settles
on the white wings of flying swans.
No logarithm will stop
to watch the invisible
numbers going for infinity.
Tomorrow I go back to my
school, to wear my fallen mask.
The world was very obtuse to watch a setting sun.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 18 october 2012
ALL I UNREAD
I unwrite a song
for she,
a gratis homage.
Questioning imperils
the sky,
clouds would not weep.
A cover-up comes to quote
scriptures
the meaning of deployment.
Was I feeling smug after
counting
the pages of unread death?
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 9 june 2012
SMALL WINDOWS
This road trip to moon will not end
through the shards of shattered,
small prints of sleep.
A ravaged nest lived behind tomorrow
in necklace of past apologies.
Hanging by fan was ending of today.
We talked of dirty nights and bright glasses
in the strange land of gobblers. The
greed was the keyward.
I was not ready to comb the promises.
Power of poverty and deprivation
has brought together the broken hearts.
Let’s kill the syllables after inferno
dousing the truth of life. Who knows
when we will meet in darkness.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 24 august 2012
AMBUSHED
To wean away a tigermoth
from a bell jar
for a journey of faith
against ebony of illusion.
The caterpillar has restrained
the roof,
of future accidents
to coming of age.
You do not know
the speed
of nakedness
on silvery path.
Where,
the ending comes?
You know
we only watch the heels of forerunners.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 31 march 2012
Wearing Away
I have again become empty
by undoing
a disturbing thought.
Unsexing
the sputtering stillness
of a Robin.
Tender bruises
on the pink heart.
A bird was flying away.
Little tears
come down from the swollen
river in spate.
Pain lingers
as you want an answer
from an eroding dune.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 26 august 2012
EVERLASTING
A name breaks on the tip
of a pen.
Like a wildflower after a
violet end.
The yellow stripes will
enter the past,
retracing the path
of failures.
I pick up a broken thread
to weave a shade of blue flag
to open under the weight
of a guilt.
A cluster of doorknobs.
I retrieve my future
to lock the death
in erotica.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 6 april 2012
Occupation
Leaving the stains behind
I am moving to a new home
O mother
to wear the sun.
The black moon
had been stalking me for years
O mother
for a pink romance lifting the clouds.
Though, I will not come back
ever, in the valley of skins
O mother
yet I will remember your beloved night.
Nebulous was the transit
to sleep without beds.
O mother
How long these protests will continue?
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 28 january 2013
IN CHAINS
Listening,
to inner voice,
peeling off the hurts,
hammered memories.
You dropp the answer
and throw back the question.
Something was totally amiss
Absence overtakes the presence.
The shadow was more frightening.
No movement,
A lull before a flash,
then explosion. The limbs will fly.
The ending of thought
or beginning of emptiness?
A green death starts thinking.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 8 april 2012
Soaked In Blood
They had surrounded the tank;
collars on the legs.
You were tracking the revolution.
The process melts the crosses
in flowing blood.
Everybody was carrying a rose.
The bruises were spreading
on table.
King was drinking wine.
Unwritten law.
Death will sleep on street
with burning pyres.
Don’t throw the blankets
on red eyes.
Moon will stay whole night.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 14 november 2012
TORCHES
It was a big trauma.
Granary went overboard,
my boat was torpedoed.
No romance was left now.
At the burial of the moon
aliens were arriving.
You do not want to call it a genocide.
The massacre of millions, of children
and women. The civil war was inside you,
not in the homes of innocents. A god
falls on the rail-tracks to commit
suicide. His severed limbs I would not see.
I want to close the window,
as the white dove was carrying
dead leaves for a mass grave.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 26 january 2013
BLAMELESS?
Rebirth of an anxiety,
of an abstract thought,
takes on the impossible of something
left between false and true.
Out of spite some body was betraying the life.
A bodiless lie becomes an imposter
beats the truth and walks away.
You, dumbfounded, discover a malignancy
in the roots of a crying tree.
The soil bacteria were taking over the grains.
The price of the sick crop, the insects,
the greed of the state, where the normal
man will go. The comets and the crabs
are circling the island. Scratch the prophecy,
and every man was turning against himself.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 11 april 2012
FLUTING
Time unleashed from ferrum
becomes pain
like a palm moon.
A tableau vivant was gliding
on the road.
It was a night of rage.
A frozen scene
undulates the history of fire
in the eyes of a flute.
Who was breaking
the clouds
wading in reeds?
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 16 july 2012
FREAKING OUT
Before the spill there was
soaring. And then anti-g.
I readied myself
for the ultimate fall.
This was the poetry of submission
sharing the pain of disillusionment.
Who was pretending of liberation
in a see-through heart?
This was the time when
you run amok
under pheromones of dead clones:
the drowned dreams.
Pelting stones at moon
we were made for each other.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 26 april 2012
The Ritual
Nihilist:
Being observed,
makes you feel undressed, naked.
A linear, ramp rage
rises.
Pieces of time
fall in your mouth. You start behaving
erratically. Hawthorne effect?
You know how sharp, stout
are the stings?
Testicles shrink.
The unrelenting zero burns the fat.
The emptiness was howling.
Time was dying,
and dying was time.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 28 april 2012
ON THE EDGE
I recognized the vitriol.
There was blood on your hands.
The invisible was burning in dark.
This was the black moon
and this was the alienation.
An animal climbs on your shoulders.
It goes on and on.
Was it the night to undress
and show your wounds to dreams?
The lake has left the shores -
and flesh eats grass
in absence of cold truth.
I meet the moans of quaking
stars.petals know the music
of death in fragrance.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 21 october 2012
A LASSO
Battle remains between
white and black,
a synthetic truth
and a bald faced hornet.
Aching violence was spreading
on moon. I was tossing around
the stars placing the apostrophe
in the end.
There was a conflict in pain
and the pill. It was a prelude to the
carrier of a gun. Father was degenerating
in his son’s boots.
The social split was widening
in the gulf of posterity. You dress
as a bride to receive the punishment
from the hands of arrogance.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 13 may 2012
My Diary
Unthinkable.
Lithograph of a malaise.
I cannot talk.
Will you abandon the thought
and care about
the drowning dawn?
The bandaged ego
of the book
threatens the reader.
Come and solve
the puzzle
of poetry.
Everything was quiet
except
the pulsating heart.
I will. I will not scream.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 4 august 2012
THE PRESENCE
The hawk was landing.
Squinting at the urgent need
of slaughter and hope –
among the frightened hunger
of truth, of running feet
in the tall grass.
A world apart in
seeking the reality of
dying for earthly love.
I was not sure of
the manifesto of bricks and
stones falling on evergreen kisses.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 27 july 2012
BLOOD DRAPED
It was coming up, the politics
like dirty sex
in tall Parthenium grass.
The panther was hiding on a steppingstone
watching the hot, field hockey
played with skulls of peers.
Mauled, the peach skin was
entertaining sunlight in
the metaphoric village.
Prisoners of false ceilings,
we sing the anthem with
the crowd of wolves.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 17 may 2012
Acrimony
In longest night
of pitch-dark space
you disappear like an arrow.
No star brightens your face.
Rumor was cruising like a bat on streets
to capture the gullible victim
on winter solstice.
The snow was falling like
sorcery.
A little anxiety to taste the
dried out grapes
and listen to the hunger
mouthless.
You draw the lake
on a canvas
and then jump into it
with visible nakedness.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 18 may 2012
A SICKENED CRAFT
Waiting for a chaste bread, whole
life under the moon,
to speak off the inconsistency of
happiness,
with a monologue
of a needle in eyes
for a madness of sublime verse.
Canoeing in a frozen lake
for a stranded rose,
you stop at a bosky bank.
A weeping willow greets
the lost son.
A school bag measures the knowledge
of surrounding hills, who had
plucked out the stars
from the sky.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 19 may 2012
Dissection
It was haemolysed
the homeless night.
Flagellation will bring out the truth.
The bloody kerchief
was thrown on a crowd.
A new comet was sighted.
Dust and ice were
near the tears.
Sun was rising.
Something fell
in the lake. Death was going
to be celebrated.
Flesh has emptied
the juices. Now
bones will laugh.
Satish Verma
Latest comments:
16 may 2024
jeśli tylko
słońce w płynie..
15 may 2024
Weronika
Za jeszcze jeden rejs!
14 may 2024
violetta
Mam takie oko :)
14 may 2024
Jaga
Zwierzęta upodobniły się do koloru otoczenia
14 may 2024
To naturalny suchy i pustynny klimat. I tam są
14 may 2024
Klimat taki, że nie był i raczej nie będzie,
12 may 2024
Melancthe
Kajzerki są przereklamowane ;)
11 may 2024
kb
wielki wypas - był albo może będzie. kto wie...
11 may 2024
sama prawda z tym myśleniem i psoceniem ale
11 may 2024
zastanowiło mnie czy owe cenienie kajzerek wynika
11 may 2024
skomponowane kolorystycznie..
11 may 2024
To co te kozy dziobią i dlaczego? Co na to aktywiści?
16 may 2024
Satish Verma
15 may 2024
wiesiek
15 may 2024
Jaga
15 may 2024
Satish Verma
14 may 2024
Satish Verma
13 may 2024
Satish Verma
11 may 2024
Satish Verma
10 may 2024
Jaga
10 may 2024
Satish Verma
9 may 2024
wiesiek