Satish Verma, 4 july 2020
Oh, templed god, why did
you snare the palmer?
The importance of being
the autonomous? I am trying to
stay away from me to keep
a watch on you.
The itinerant sorcerer had
become a legate of gold trade.
The flesh is for sale, the
small mouth with big hunger.
A fledging of scar has become
a bleed. The synopsis was out.
I am going to ask some question
from the bo tree today.
Satish Verma, 4 july 2020
Oh, templed god, why did
you snare the palmer?
The importance of being
the autonomous? I am trying to
stay away from me to keep
a watch on you.
The itinerant sorcerer had
become a legate of gold trade.
The flesh is for sale, the
small mouth with big hunger.
A fledging of scar has become
a bleed. The synopsis was out.
I am going to ask some question
from the bo tree today.
Satish Verma, 4 july 2020
Oh, templed god, why did
you snare the palmer?
The importance of being
the autonomous? I am trying to
stay away from me to keep
a watch on you.
The itinerant sorcerer had
become a legate of gold trade.
The flesh is for sale, the
small mouth with big hunger.
A fledging of scar has become
a bleed. The synopsis was out.
I am going to ask some question
from the bo tree today.
Satish Verma, 3 july 2020
Let it go, do not touch it.
You had been negating the bare truth.
I was part of you
once at the shore of tragedy.
Life was treacherous
and I was free to laugh.
Come September and I will be chasing
the fireflies again.
How time takes revenge
from the innocent commitments?
You start returning to your roots
and I was still surfeiting
on the secret fidelity.
Where was the need to be tied down
to god? Nobody was honest to forsake
the fear of nameless nemesis.
The myth of rock still haunts.
Water still boils under the clay.
Petals fly in dark alleys
and I cannot find the door.
Satish Verma, 2 july 2020
The shades of dawn
under the waning moon
reflect on your face.
The lace trembles-
when you watch the Venus
disrobing in dark.
Confession made.
You wash your feet in
Milky Way.
Satish Verma, 1 july 2020
Becoming fiercly personal
with no physical contact,
the crescent moon
ultimately occults the Venus.
The grazer now turns into
fugitive. Was not the knower,
was not the known.
No past, no future, you
move with your eyes down
to deny the assault, the flirtation.
Your silence was
unthinkable. I will bring home
the dead. Light is gone. The
slapper sleeps.
In emotional agony I
start prowling for the body.
Satish Verma, 30 june 2020
What happens when
you stop thinking?
Reaching near the god
or becoming a stone?
It was not enough even,
when you go in coma.
A shrine of dazzling failures.
The animosity, the politics
of violence.I cannot remain
untouched.Wounds would
never heal.
All fever.I am not alive.
of the marvels of religion.
I ask you to go away.This
Friday another Christ will die.
Becoming whole.Was it
possible today amidst the
unbecoming of human beings?
Satish Verma, 29 june 2020
Pupil was on parole.
You abandon the inexhaustible
patience with increasing distance.
Everything was fading
when you look back.
The things, always return.
Like you did not carry a bundle
of postcards written
by your father, while emptying
the house.
His carved signature is still
printed in my brain.
Now my grand daughter saves
the e mails sent by me. The woes
of a pilgrim. A neutral passage
with no feel. Some day a glitch
will wipe out the treasure.
We have changed the costumes.
The inside has raw palisades.
Satish Verma, 28 june 2020
A city burns.
The child carries the father
on his head.
The museum of skulls.
Nudes had blue veins
and scars on thighs.
The names were inherited.
Gettysburg water
refuses to mend the bones.
Ah, daisies are throwing
up the seeds in despair.
Civilization has come very far.
Progeny of death
were searching the mother
of all sins.
Satish Verma, 27 june 2020
A streak of sin was
always there, when I looked
at you in brief encounters.
Cathartic.
I would not kiss the
eyes of a viper.
The giver was insane.
A bane of togetherness.You
were getting pheromones all the time.
Parenting was difficult.
Now as the holy month starts.
You were always near the moon.
In golden sunset,
I will prepare my elegy.
The flames were always green.
With the relapse of grief,
drums sounded loud.
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