kipruto muthemba, 14 june 2019
suddenly a knock,
with soothing intentions
snatches my attention,
from the movies’ detention
to you, standing at my door
deep in the night, i think it was four
breath-taking in your baggy sweat-pant
breathlessly to my feet, erect i rise
ready to devour you to sunrise
so i pull you to me sensually
until am one with you sensuously
so close, i heard the music in your heart
and remembered that you are an art
looking at me, breaking me apart
into parts lost in your beautiful eyes
and the warmth of your faerie touch
stupefied and mightily aroused
i kiss your wet lips, and you taste like heaven
i caress your neck, and am all seven risen
clothes stealthily fall like they harm
but the sounds of the morning alarm
rudely kills our wild night
Satish Verma, 14 june 2019
A freak hailstorm of
proposition, makes you―
deaf and mute. The sex
orientation― will not remain the same.
It was not pink― it was not
blue. A thunder breaks the
roof― of calligraphy. A
beautiful face― goes manic.
About the harvesting― I
would say ― it was all
humbug. You can wear a gem
in your eyes― and still not go stone blind.
The prayer will have a
summer wedding. All the―
lavenders will bring all the
blues and all the mauves.
Satish Verma, 13 june 2019
I do not remain happy
with noises of wisdom.
Time was running out on me
to know myself.
No sensory cognizance. I
touch you with my invisible
hands, stroking the hair
to dislodge the moon.
Ashes lay strewn. River
was overflowing from the
banks of limbs. I will not
come near the unfathomable
depth of a chasm, between
good and bad. Out of the bed
of roses a snake uncoils.
Praise the dark. It in night.
Satish Verma, 12 june 2019
I do not remain happy
with noises of wisdom.
Time was running out on me
to know myself.
No sensory cognizance. I
touch you with my invisible
hands, stroking the hair
to dislodge the moon.
Ashes lay strewn. River
was overflowing from the
banks of limbs. I will not
come near the unfathomable
depth of a chasm, between
good and bad. Out of the bed
of roses a snake uncoils.
Praise the dark. It in night.
Satish Verma, 10 june 2019
Shedding the knowledge
I was aware of emptiness,
that will allow me
to watch from afar―
the message coming from
the locked doors.
Getting nearer the gorge
you want to look at your spitting image―
in water. I hinge an old frame
to find me in baby face. Did you
see your future visits to
cauldron of life?
You never wanted to become
a god of wayfarers. A tinge
of stupidity was evident to renew
your faults to remain human.
Satish Verma, 9 june 2019
After the blast, the
morning gets wise, and
does not spill the sun.
And the dead will not
come back to celebrate
the dark after the rage.
There, on the white peaks,
the splattered blood will
draw the face of assassin.
Do not enter the dome of
seething screams. The priest
hangs by the bell.
O, my brother, why we
have become coldblooded after
thousand years of pilgrimage?
Satish Verma, 8 june 2019
In black midnight,
the white moon, like a nun
sits stonely.
The sliding moon is toxic
and you are not ready to
die for the theme.
The high priests will
weave the faux mantras to
invoke the goddess of wealth.
The debt pervades in every
relief. I survive the ignominy
of not touching a yogi.
And you, little brown bread,
will not feed the thousands
who come clamouring for a bite.
Satish Verma, 7 june 2019
It tumbles down. The real.
Heels start hurting.
Once upon a night, there
was a red moon, which used to hang
on your head and I
would watch something beyond.
No outburst of profanity
will take place, when you were
dissecting a triangle―
of rainbows. I will not
assemble the waist of a tall tree
after the fruit fall.
Gone with the snow, my
temple, my god. I am now
waiting for the looters of rings.
Jonathan Davidoff Behavio, 6 june 2019
U can sleep like a baby
I like to see you when you closing your eyes
So quiet you starting dreaming.
I above your breath touching your hairs,
So smooth and soft.
You are so perfect I thing...
When you lie to me again,
When you know I dont dream,
Giving me shit another time and fuck me over.
And I love to hear this silence,
No lies and no hate.
Touching your skin, kissing your chick.
To far to your soul, to close to my faith.
Satish Verma, 6 june 2019
There was a road to landslips.
Why would the mountain break
for consanguinity?
You had spurned the hovering
clouds altering the means
of communication―
by adopting the lightning
for jousting with new gods.
As the thin cobweb flies before the eyes―
I go for insomnia to talk
with invisible in dark. In
moment’s lapse I become grey.
A life’s learning makes a
fool of me, hurting myself
in moonlight. The
abandonment brings fear
of me. I am ready to go
to a sheepeater carnivore and lie still.
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