Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 24 december 2017

Remembering Neil Armstrong

The coal and blackened hands. 
Zero was the cardinal sin. 
After the lunar walk, 
you flinch back in horror. 
 
A gaint leap has ended 
in a coal tar pit. Are you 
sure we have landed 
at a right spot? 
 
Extraterrestrial. An immune 
disorder. Your autism 
was evolving into a 
monster of twisted brain. 
 
Outside your home 
dozens of bodies were found. 
What were you doing 
when genocide started.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 december 2017

Unheading

O my Master! 
I am breaking rank, 
with space and cosmos. 
 
The scorched earth 
wants another moon, 
another sun. 
 
The blue abyss 
invites for a final plunge. 
I may find my stars. 
 
O my pain! 
give me more needles 
more bites. 
 
On a platter 
you carry the severed title 
of my poem.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 22 december 2017

Rolling Stones

Between the sun and moon 
you come to transcend 
the frescoes on the sky 
for a lost chance. 
 
It fuels the anxiety. 
When do I meet you 
in dark to explore the 
lightning rod. 
 
The inside enemy will 
allude to self-immolation. 
Where will end the 
agony of man? 
 
The carnage continues 
unabated. The crowds are thinning. 
Lurking men on fimbriae dump the veils. 
Who will invite them today?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 21 december 2017

Stary Thoughts

To access the mountain, 
are you ready 
to carry the rock? 
 

 
Deep in my heart 
flows the river 
of summer pain. 
 

 
A teardrop in 
a sea of daffodils. 
Who was blind?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 20 december 2017

Honey Trap

The shoes 
will have to come off. 
You have to walk 
barefoot on grass. 
 
Life had become 
unworthy, of death. 
Do you believe 
in killing of a river? 
 
This was age 
of denials. When glib was 
beseeched by truth not to 
speak against dry bed of water. 
 
The flames of battlefield 
suck the glory of coci. 
They were standing 
in a line for the prayers. 
 
Did you know what 
was beyond the sky? 
A loveless world 
where no bird sings.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 19 december 2017

Statements

The yellow metal 
protecting the unborn 
will catapult to outrageous heights. 
 

 
Sky confronts the Mars 
in improvisation. On earth, 
the dead were lying side by side. 
 

 
Ah, the mercy killing 
of oneself. Out of compassion 
or taking a revenge?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 17 december 2017

Tribulations

One-legged thought 
had a solitary confinement. 
Down’s syndrome frightens the catfish. 
 
The bottom dwelling 
body double, wants a compensation 
for jumping up to your lips. 
 
Not impressed, in vitro 
the black moon 
heaps a silver spoon in your mouth. 
 
The body preys on your soul. 
Are you ready to take a dip 
in the smoke coming out of the tunnel? 
 
The hard boiled tale 
of intrauterine device, seals the 
fear of life. there was no birth, no death.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 december 2017

Placed In Orbit

Was very confused. 
I was becoming poorer 
everyday. The depletion was complete. 
Polymorphous? Where do I find 
the affinity with saneness? I 
wanted to quit now, 
drawing the faces of dead. 
 
Farce embers, 
in white fire. Climbing on a 
fence for a fatal jump after 
cavorting with drifting icicles 
of blue eyes. Can you sleep- 
walk in full moon? I am 
ecstatic.White death has become my friend!


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 december 2017

The Fabrics

A steep drowning 
in traffic of curves- 
of legitimate sin. 
 
It was a supergame 
of exotica. Witchcraft 
was playing with light- 
 
years. Are you still 
hosting the life? In 
cracks and crevices of pain? 
 
Very methodical. You were 
devouring the death to 
become immortal. Were 
 
you serious about bount- 
eous harvest? Your alma mater, 
where you wrote your first poem.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 december 2017

A Bitter Fruit

To undo, the rare 
appearance of a god; 
scouring the water, before the 
sun, divides the land. 
 
What was the worth 
of a ritual, around the fallen virtues? 
The salt lake threw up 
the broken genes. 
 
The swirling sand covers 
the boat, stranded on the beach. 
A tempest is waited upon. The 
gestures carry a message. 
 
No authority. 
I do not want to corrupt myself. 
There was a narrow path 
leading to the pink eyes.


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