Satish Verma, 19 june 2021
My logic
was not a part of belief.
The answer you proffered is
not, what it was
supposed to be.
The question sits like a
butterfly on my chest.
It was a sham exercise
to wipe out the dirt from the eyes.
Life, death and the
unknowing are the failures
of man.
I am ready to repatriate
my end from the noose, for
not accepting the award.
Renato N. Mascardo, 18 june 2021
the leavings of a past
the maw
of this monster
remained wide open was
ready to gulp down the morsels
of my
recall
a chipped coffee
stained mug a squeaky chair
an old vcr that almost
always
worked a
half full or half
empty jar of royal
blue quink ink that my thirsty pens
would miss
among
the debris and
treasures that ended down
the gullet of the thirty yard
beast as
brandon
the young dumpster
handler pushed the rear gate
shut with a clang draped its top with
a net
trapping
all inside for their
final journey to the
the gehenna of things in the
belly
of the metal
behemoth leaving me
with my memories behind and
forlorn//
renato
friday 18 june 2021
Satish Verma, 18 june 2021
Reigniting blood moon,
I have come to
seek my abdication.
After a long haul of
dark clouds, I come face to
face with my failures.
My experiments with faith
and disbeliefs did not help
to understand the mysterious self.
Now the significant hurts have
become my strength, accepting
the challenge of changed winds.
I meet you O god―
midway, one day to
settle the scores.
Satish Verma, 17 june 2021
Sperms and legacy.
You scream for the justice
for the space between words
and sentences.
I don't want to be separated
from my half-eaten moon.
Without a dance
your anklets have broken into songs.
Someone commands me―
to sacrifice my pen.
Hallucinatory- be seduced for the sake of fashion.
In anguish I watch
the terror was becoming a religion.
Do you hear the voices
coming from the crypts?
Satish Verma, 16 june 2021
You always said, violence
was in you. Everything was dying
around.
There was a tacit understanding―
enacted,
interceding with―
a lasso. The baked silence
always stares at you.
I have no praise,
no condemnation for anyone.
Inevitably you suck the moon,
your thumb,
your blood.
A poem falls on the ground
to breathe again.
Wiadomsky, 14 june 2021
shards of you
like sticky notes
attached to every
single piece of me
I fold them into
paper airplanes
instead of writing
letters in my head
I'll just wait here
among broken dreams
scattered around
one more eternity
for your never
Satish Verma, 14 june 2021
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, 13 june 2021
Like a lingering doubt,
the moon stood on the maple tree―
for a relationship.
For my sake don't take a
downside, my liberalism
will suffer.
Killed in your own house
by lightning, have you
ever heard of self-immolation?
Let's make it simple.
Take it from the giver,
what he never had― and
don't ask the price.
Your eyes again befell
a giant. How would you live
without the fireflies?
Satish Verma, 12 june 2021
The city was going to
fall. An earthquake?
A flood? No it is war.
Money making and
crime. Two things are
left in my coffer.
Man made had
become better thing than
god made.
Mars sends another
image, of this side―
of the man's earth.
Satish Verma, 11 june 2021
Autumn moon―
in full grace. I have
come out to say hello.
*
Everything was in
order. A stunned silence.
The cuckoo gives a long call.
*
Long ago, such
was the night. I
wrote my first poem.
*
My innocence,
intact― I still feel
my stupidity.
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