Satish Verma, 18 may 2019
Talk of politics,
and the auction begins.
Every rock has a price.
The marble will fetch more flesh.
The granite breaks below
your eyes. I limit the tears.
No time left for complaints.
I am ready for the good –bye.
Will you meet me beyond
the space, faraway in void?
No words will follow me
I am going unwritten.
No profile, no editing.
A bloom will pop up, from
below the fallen tree.
Satish Verma, 17 may 2019
The shovel
moves the wet earth
noiselessly.
Your path goes to dark,
in the jungle fire
through Sunset Boulevard.
Father of my father
used to drink a pitcher, of black tea, daily,
to stay alert.
He would tell me,
“Do what you wanted to do.”
The rain will not stop
for sometime. Why don’t
you go to sleep?
The fury of the
flood, will not break
the pride of an oracle.
Satish Verma, 16 may 2019
The nightingale was
very sad. Nobody
was taking a call.
*
A scream would
go unheard, when
the floodgates are opened.
*
The snake will not
change the color. It
will watch the Noah.
kipruto muthemba, 15 may 2019
Am leaving,
my pains and wounds
the way Adam of Eden,
left the garden and its goods,
into the hostile woods,
of this world
older,
unmoved by cute cats,
calmly open to the idea,
that certainty, only exists,
in the sureness of death,
dusks, dawns, meals, love,
are all but ambivalences,
flimsy acquaintances.
now hassling,
and constantly hustling,
to mend my souls’ light
snatched by the angry night
of this world where,
no one ever wins
so am leaving,
to begin, to start living,
to fall, and start loving,
on my own terms,
in my own way.
Satish Verma, 15 may 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.
Satish Verma, 13 may 2019
Living,
in the wounds,
like a gas dragged into
the black hole.
Bedeviling the light.
There are no winners in this war.
Corona will not sit
on any head.
There was ambivalence
in the robust thrust.
The hard x-rays will
burn the thoughts.
Do not go on chasing the
grazed genre. The style
will bring back the questions
which had no answers.
Satish Verma, 11 may 2019
Partly stripped, head shaven
for a royal revelation of eternal scars.
Blood oranges.
You want to practice your knife
on the boneless.
No loaves left for the rainy day.
Do you believe in after life?
White pigeons convulsed
on the hot, searing sands of
the rebel stronghold.
The politics works. Small breasts
with no filling. A gender bias
makes you fit for a Stark effect.
I search the flesh, the eyes
the wisdom.
Satish Verma, 10 may 2019
To live or not
to live like a zero
in the company of numbers.
*
Add the space
to the black hole.
You will find infinity.
*
The question mark
will always twist
the answer in big NO.
Satish Verma, 10 may 2019
To live or not
to live like a zero
in the company of numbers.
*
Add the space
to the black hole.
You will find infinity.
*
The question mark
will always twist
the answer in big NO.
Satish Verma, 9 may 2019
If a gadget turns
you on, and I cannot
listen the voiceless
music, how would
we meet in parasynthesis?
A parakeet lifts the long
tail to climb on―
the grill to watch the
sweep of clouds, whistling
past, when the world
was mud-splattered.
Take my hand and hold
the queer. I was never me
in the maddening crowd.
I listen to only my body.
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