RENATA, 12 april 2020
zostań w domu trąbią trąbią wokół
zmienia się świat i my wystajemy
w oknach tak głodni powietrza
parku śpiewu ptaków i dalekich podróży
wychodzimy na balkony śpiewać
blus odkupienia choć bóg wie
łakomstwo w dzień namiętność po zmierzchu
Ona jest żądna naszych płuc
i adrenaliny jest anonimowa
może wpełzać pod skórę automatycznie
szukać i przebierać groteskowo
naszych ust nieprzytomnych wina
porobiła obozy w garnkach gotuje
miłość i nienawiść skażeni chowamy się
a ona pluje unosząc nas do innych galaktyk
zostań w domu bo inaczej agresja
policja jest wprost niebezpieczna
zespoły napięć rosną i mandaty
czyżby to przedsionek końca świata
rosnie liczba trupów chorych i bezrobotnych
ona jest egzekutorem spraw typowo przewlekłych
cząstka prawdy miesza się z zapachem śmierci
widzisz ją wokół w dobie głodu w roku szczura
gdy wiara się załamuje a my kochamy
pędzimy myślami tęsknimy marzymy
żeby doczekać świtu pełną piersią odetchnąć
pomysłami zasypujemy się co będzie dalej
bo teraz cały świat to cztery ściany
Satish Verma, 12 april 2020
The orifice was absent
from the face.
The hatred will unite the enemies.
You won't speak
in the debate, how to
murder the humanity.
Old affections are made
anew.You can score the
highest tears
Armless, you move
the clock in-
opposite direction.
The stigma still remains
after the flight.
I am going back home.
Satish Verma, 11 april 2020
Seasoned,
a red hibiscus
will ask for a white name―
in winter. Like drinking
night, under the moon
for a torn meniscus.
How far was the skyline?
The snow wants to reach
the ultimate blue.
Water cries for a
beautiful weep for the sun.
Satish Verma, 10 april 2020
What you would not give,
age opens
and eats you.
Finally, the fly ash
was liberated. It carries the
memories of burns, in furnace
that was life.
No android will fight
the proxy war of flesh. The cinnamon―
body will write the elegy
on sandstone.
The bronzed face, now
reflects the pain of earth.
Let the hymns stitch the life
without needles.
Satish Verma, 9 april 2020
Life plays the tricks.
You become a meteor-
a streak of light, in the almond eyes
of a god.
I don; t like the grey areas.
Can you become fearless
and confess the guilt of drinking
the mercury? Blisters had
appeared on your face red and blue.
Was it a pure fault?
Mother earth smiles.When buried
alive thirty below the mound of lies
you remained alive.
Dehydrated, you speak
the truth and spill out the
false teeth.Your mind separates
from the heart and blood stains emerge.
Satish Verma, 8 april 2020
Scouring, the unmarked
silences―
for the invisible executions.
My name was
on top, for exclusion
from the list.
Now you can read the
applicant's account
under the sun's fault.
A thrill of terror
runs through the buds.
A celebration will stop the words.
There was no other
way, to know the pink of
a dying rose.
Satish Verma, 4 april 2020
Not reaching somewhere,
I was not today,
what I was.
You seek a hand
for a handshake, and I watch
the dirt gathering
on the nails.
Sky does not give you
an award.The soot
collects on the windows.
The blue skulls dance
to defy the earth.No forehead
was formed.How would you
read the destiny?
I swear, I did not fathered
the deity in a-
monotheist gathering.
A black hijab covers
the moon.
Satish Verma, 3 april 2020
In the dust
from the dust. I will see your
face daily,
in between the spaces
in between the hunger―
against the wall, where you were
asked to stand erect
before...
The clock was moving without
hands. I will hear only the
tick, in dark, like the regular
heartbeats.
Ultimately the space wins. We start
moving apart. The distance increases.
Echo becomes dull and
then acoustics fail.
Only the specks now speak.
Each spot was a name
was somebody, was a living being.
Satish Verma, 1 april 2020
In a moment
of panic-
you write a poem
to catch the truth.
The aplomb and glitter
of money's ride
shatters.
And the stones sing.
A star breaks away from
the galaxy.
I harbor your face
like a bee's sting.
I watch,
watch the ills of hunters.
Why you want to commit
the sin on a particular
day?
Orange planets, as of blood
and fire, seek another sun to light
the dark crevices
of doubts and fears.
Satish Verma, 31 march 2020
Moon was mixing the colors.
The black hole does not exist.
I was hearing about the quantum,
something was amiss.
Purple grapes had turned black.
I am trying to understand
the damages. A discreet thought hole
permits the escape of energy.
Imagination was at risk.
Can you hold on to life,
without a shock?
Somewhere you go back
to a concentration camp to collect the ashes.
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