Satish Verma, 5 october 2019
Your hands tremble,
when you accept―
the cup of hemlock.
Not like Socrates,
who described the ascending bane
paralyzingly.
Art of letting it go―
was inherent. Exogamy.
The root population grows.
I have come to take
your hand, O death,
out of caste.
You tell me,
it was out of turn,
to stitch the black wound.
The howling was persistent―
Moon was not yet sighted.
Satish Verma, 4 october 2019
Writing your own elegy in a
blocked artery―
for a syntactic analysis.
How do I know
that dolphin will remember
my name,
my address?
It swims silently.
No ranting.
Eating nothing― anorexia.
Standing under a tree,
tying the thread round the trunk,
you want to move against
the time.
Only a question
remains unanswered.
From where the journey begins?
Satish Verma, 3 october 2019
Imperfect mating.
I am lurching forward―
in a chaotic
non-existence.
There was no divinity
in your sinless sprinkling.
A timeless death was
the only riposte to ephemeral queries.
A lif-size God stands
sentinel outside the museum.
Only the mortal were
etched on the walls.
A pygmy cycas has bloomed
after a decade. I have come back
home to collect―
my belongings of last life.
Satish Verma, 2 october 2019
Your comatose
countenance:
punctuates a coronal spurt.
Life will never
forget this insult and return
your freak awards.
The moon cancels
a lake meeting. You cannot
celebrate the arrival of night.
Helplessly, I scrap
the terror threat, though
your memory was severed in an ambush.
At ground zero,
a young couple starts a sit-in
against the raining sermons.
Satish Verma, 1 october 2019
A wax house you were
gifted to live in sun.
No comments. As if the chess
game now starts. You do not know
how to move a checkmate
Always a looser. You do not
want to win this game― of
betting the cemetery― where your
ancestors were buried. No―
body has come to claim the remains.
Unkissed, the seeds will wait
to become antiqued, till a
historian finds a shovel. A
state of mind, you were very poor.
I will not cry for the fall's colors.
Satish Verma, 30 september 2019
I become again a fakir,
but not on alms.
A giver wants nothing
after a knife thrust.
Take away as many as
you can, my thoughts, my limbs.
There is no language
of charity, in the black hole.
You are the one, who
does not need any ladder.
Sitting on the beach, watching
the waves collapsing.
One day you will move
away from the walkway.
Satish Verma, 29 september 2019
After land slips it was
most surreal scene. Cadaveric
donations had started.
The author of death would
ask for a showdown. Blood
for blood and bone for bone.
The loneliness erupts again
like a volcano. The new moon
will weep for outdoors.
A mermaid breaks the
rules. Starts wearing the
makeup and becomes robed.
Fishing in aquarium was
prohibited. An absurd
proposition of the glass.
Satish Verma, 28 september 2019
The primal urge to undo―
your hair. I am going
crazy.
It ends at beginning.
A rite of passage to nakedness
of soul, when you have
nothing to hide.
The master cell, has flipped
over, after you squeezed
its belly. The tasteless sphagnum
was out.
The hunger stands at your door.
Wants the bread of pride.
Will you stop the clock
and go for timeless?
I had lighted the incense
sticks. One for you and
one for God.
Satish Verma, 27 september 2019
To shut the methane,
you sent―
the barbs. The brutal
assault against the thimbles.
I will not send the
edict for withdrawl.
Even the river
was thirsty.
The freaks were
jumping on the fence.
An interrupted moon
was wary of them.
I will draw a
sand painting to heal
the man on the
beach.
The air smells
like an egg. As you
run, the mist
fills your eyes.
Satish Verma, 26 september 2019
Move on. O city, you
were not worth of
living any more,
sleeping on your tusks.
I will not assume
any other new name―
when the hurricane
finally arrives.
It will not go. You
can keep scratching
for whole life.
Your psoriatic scalp.
The attempt to
commit suicide was
worthless. Nobody
will write a note.
I will not invite
the white moon to―
break the fast,
after the bloodbath.
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