Satish Verma, 10 march 2022
I have become disconnected.
Talking of pose, while shooting
in back, several questions
arise of a staged drama―
missing the lethal word,
releasing the venom.
Poetry of politics becomes evident.
You may spurn the actors,
but the pretence overwhelms.
For testing the secret of depth,
you go down in water
unarmed.
You pull a stretcher, now―
unwrapped. The cremains sink
in the sea― of tears,
unsettling the designed pebbles,
the needles. The tapestry starts burning.
Satish Verma, 9 march 2022
Barebones, they come
in droves, to drink blood moon
praying in catacombs.
A summer night sets
over the hills with black eyes. The
cleavers have some jobs to be done.
In perfection, the bodies
should be laid― along with red woods.
The autistic moon will find its lover.
Aborted dawn, the clouds
had covered the womb. The
terrible sun had been roped in.
Earth weeps. There was
no peace.A ghost town rumbles
on. I cannot crack the code.
Satish Verma, 8 march 2022
I had not asked for
all of you,
walking your path
above the clouds.
Do you think, it was
end of beginning?
The republic of sagebrushes has
nothing to say. Incense stops drifting
in desert of crumbs.
You start talking
to your esteem self for the rigged factuality.
I don't want back,
your virginity of first tears.
Underneath lies the stunned poetry
of the bruises.
There were ruthless secrets
inside your lids.
I will not wait for the moon
to go red.
The swastika wants to justify
the chimneys?
Satish Verma, 7 march 2022
Dismantling―
my temple, brick by brick―
skin to skin,
eye to eye,
before the ascension.
The living legend is
dead. I cannot hear the burial
rites. Walls are rising.
The ashes are strewn
on the eyes of moon. Ages ago I
used to smile. Not now.
Accept me, with all
my non-gifts, dead songs and
wailing prayers.
My hands lift the terror
from the sand, palm leaves
crafting a virgin peace.
Satish Verma, 5 march 2022
Kiss me hard―
defending your poverty.
It was a flawless depression.
Do not need any sand-storm
to cover the jutting bones.
Time was full of tragedies.
Did you ever hear of―
the fences in a divided house?
The prayers without words?
Drunk in a moonless―
night, of the unheard voices,
you stumble on Ars Poetics.
More wreaths for the
forgotten lover of letters.
Life moves on.
Satish Verma, 4 march 2022
I paint the day
for you, for the last rites
of sun.
Embracing the dark
to dissolve the boundaries.
I will question, something
else, not about the stoned moon.
The other side of the
thin hijab, was a humiliated truth.
Facts were always knifed.
Something moves
harshly to break the silence.
A pink self betrays the denial.
How mandatory it
was to keep on gooding
the blue flames!
There is no family
of the bohemian.
RENATA, 3 march 2022
słów brakuje po stronie świata
u każdego na klapie Ukraińska flaga
pomagają malutcy i wielcy świata
diabeł czyni zło ale przyjdzie zapłata
I nie ma czerwonych maków pod Ukrainą
tam łuna wojennej pożogi tam też cywile giną
nie tylko żołnierz bo jego cel to obrona
lecz zwykła ludność dzieci ,matki ,żony
łzy smutku trwogi strachu i żalu
pomagamy dużo a jednak zbyt mało
dotkliwe sankcje dla oligarchów
Putin się śmieje i prowadzi operację
ciche modlitwy -czyż nie ma Boga?
pod stopą ludzką leży i poty ludzkie spija
ziemia zaludniona ziemia czyjaś
nie ma prawa jedno państwo drugie zabijać
Boże dopomóż
bo wszyscy jesteśmy Ukrainą
03-03 -22
RENATA, 3 march 2022
A słowo się rzekło
by rozpętać piekło
poleciało słowo rozkazem
ziemią i niebem przemieniając
domy szkoły szpitale
w gruz gruz gruz
leciało z ust do ust
śmiało bo dysponowało
potęgą wrodzonej agresji
chłonęło je tysiące uszu
a słowo kazało wyciągać broń
zabić JEGO lub SIEBIE
bo słowo chce ZIEMI
wyszło z parszywych ust
i schować się nie chce
za to SŁOWO powinna głowa zlecieć
Satish Verma, 3 march 2022
Unceremoniously―
you blow off the earthen lamp
after the night vigil.
Still stranger
to dark, you start self-destruction
in holy violence.
Was there any life
before death? You encounter
the crucified truth.
Now you wear the blue lake
to meet the moon―
in a forlorn sky.
I let you see
the falling star. It's heat
had savaged me.
Satish Verma, 2 march 2022
Can you get the seizing
without an encounter,
like rapture of the deep?
It was me who was lost
in one sultry night,
when jasmine bloomed.
In night blindness, the
trembling soul, landed
on the blue lakes.
You would not look
at me, without alphabets―
in siege.
In contrast we meet―
to hurt each other.
Falling in love after smouldering.
The soot will chase us till the end.
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