Satish Verma, 8 may 2019
Patenting the human genes;
fence-sitters
will ask for the god.
You will not reveal
your preferences, though
natural selection propels
you to young veins. A
self-denial comes into
play. The jade was million
years old. Taking a cue
from the fathers, a
monkey runs on the water.
Making trouble was
easier than to erect a
home for the extinct to live.
Satish Verma, 7 may 2019
The opaque civility
takes a big toll. The fledglings
were dying in the duck pond.
*
I want to steal the moon
tonight for a ritual
and bring it on my lake.
*
A wet floor always
mirrors the voices floating
on the low roof of my rainbow.
Satish Verma, 6 may 2019
A fact of time. The
relationship
has a price.
There was a deep
moral crisis, when I said,
stay poor.
Money makes you
dishonest. Why don’t
you start giving away?
The secular thing.
Were you tolerant
of my protests?
Ethics were changing.
Why should not I be
a very sad man?
Satish Verma, 5 may 2019
There was too much, violence in the
house. I walk through the pathways―
of divided family. As if waylaid
by the thugs. I am stranded bereft of―
all my achievements, fixating at withdrawl.
The menu
alters.
I go
hungry.
The toothache persists. Life is
still.The vision seethes without wings.
Pulsating silence.
There is no voice.
Like mannequins, we dance
without geniality. The master
is nowhere. Who was pulling
the strings?
Satish Verma, 4 may 2019
Nurturing,
a leaker on the prowl,
to become glamorous
killer.
The parting,
of ways in a jungle of
principles, life takes
a full turn,
sharply. The ascension
of dark matter,
believes: it’s time has come
to engulf the world.
Realization,
comes very late in acute
labour pains, throwing
up the agenda.
Taking a call
of inevitable, the
dignity holds on to
the fringes of peace.
Satish Verma, 3 may 2019
Some things are not said,
uncoupling the cut glass.
Flowers will not come
from the new moon.
You collect the hundred
loops from your hair,
and part the heat. An
ancestor turns in his grave.
Collect the grapes, fallen
plums from my garden.
I am not sure, how long the
spring stays. You were
not ready for the
rocks, for sure.
I am scraping the song
written for a tree.
Cannot decipher the sap.
Satish Verma, 2 may 2019
A double helix
uncoils. There was a
beheading in Saudi.
You ask for the
ecstasy in spaceship
singing the oddity.
It was in the proximity
of a brick kiln, that you
wanted to take a sunbath.
It was not private, not
intimate. You had spread
the profanities in bazaar.
How many shots, would
you collect from the,
sinned city of big names?
Satish Verma, 1 may 2019
Abetting the suicide of
a bystander, your impacted
diamond, downs the hips.
What had you done to
me? I will not hold you responsible
for the ache.
There was the aging moon,
still lingering in the―
crack of dawn.
I don’t close the door.
Will wait for the big question
from the exotic death―
of dark matter, which
defied the relationship
of unique absurdities.
Satish Verma, 30 april 2019
To repel the slice of
hope, the patriarch
falls midway.
Pushed to the end of
leaf, a moth is propelled
in the mouth of deeps.
The boat starts sinking
in the age of doubts
and dementia. You
will need to manage
your fires. A hollow
rustling of slogans will,
not repeal the canorous
sounds coming from the
orgy. Life takes a turn.
It asks for an insane man
to change the world.
Satish Verma, 29 april 2019
This was an interesting dialogue
going on,
between me and a ghost. It was
telling me that I love you
because you are not a virgin.
Was it a good thing, someone
asks? The game was fair
but the players were dishonest.
The bared chest, with scars
and raw wounds, tells everything
about blue wars.
The words float on water,
like dragonflies. Do you think
it was impossible to convey
the agony by phraseology of metaphors?
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