Satish Verma, 14 august 2017
I am talking to me
in a muffled tone.
Unhinged, cutting myself.
Murder was shaping. Cheating
oneself. What was the arguement
to concede the religion -
of a no-god? The actuality
of present time? Black magic
was turning human beings into stones.
Amid unrest someone claims
the obscenity of truth.
The torture becomes fearless.
Paired needless stitch the unhealing
wounds. I have left the home
to find the black-hole.
Satish Verma, 13 august 2017
Identity ravaged in snow dust;
now I am writing my name
in water.
It was not my time,
not yours. We play like
saddened kids today -
under wounds of stars.
I beseech the sky to wash
the tainted roses.
Where do I go now, to find
the stolen kisses of moon -
after I was sick of hot sun.
Take away all the blue letters
from my sleeves. I have
dropped the links.
Satish Verma, 12 august 2017
Give me a home for sparrows.
An outcry was rising,
why do you go from aphids to moon.
Midnight and a howling.
I am scared of hungry wolves
roaming in alleys.
Two small mounds and a
split code. There was left nothing
in alphabetical order.
Dry aquarium. Why did the fish
leave for the veins of glass? Lights
were out in search of a dark corner.
The corpse was unbuttoned,
why do you wash your food before eating?
Satish Verma, 11 august 2017
With dolls on your side
of a troubled life; you
go on rocks to receive
an unspoken answer.
The sounds, the echo.
Your father walks in -
and lays down the brick
on your papers.
Were you prepared to save
yourself from the onslaughts
of ladders. The snakes were
ready to bring you down.
Let the cityscape rise on-
the tall spires and snow
fall on the bones of birds
for a salutation.
Satish Verma, 10 august 2017
In my sky your blackbird
a lamp without a light
making a nest of moon
where the fireflies will meet.
A mirror breaks my dream
I paint my graveyard with blood
of a rose which felled a tattoo
from the morning dew.
They make love under a -
cloud in shimmering dark
of vanishing youth; One day someone
will claim the fallen vial.
Satish Verma, 9 august 2017
Water has its own mind.
Becomes a rival
in the crack of a rock.
If the moon cries;
it becomes dew
on the slender grass.
The maiden love,
you will find it on
bed at night.
And when the priest
becomes featureless
it goes in the eyes of a god.
When death smiles,
it fills the glass
you drink it like elixir.
Satish Verma, 8 august 2017
Now comes the visual
separation after the fall of an
enemy. The urbanite
crumble has begun.
The needles in eyes are hurting
the milk. Do you play
a Chinese game?
The depressive psychosis-
will throw the shackles around
you. Honey, you have
a trace of lead inside. I want
a silk covering on the arrows.
Dip a child on street
and you will create a skipper.
Satish Verma, 7 august 2017
Tainted blood
cruising in wrong legs.
You stomp on the golden leaves
of the fallen tree -
who will not go with the
winds.
A pregnant pause.
The storm was raging at the corner.
Put down the light,
put down the light;
hold on the road signs.
There is a reverse calm
inverse silence
between eyes and heart!
Satish Verma, 6 august 2017
A city dies inside me
leaves uncharted
human bite marks.
A stinging match starts
between explicit statements
I move to keep an appointment -
with an angry moon -
who was incontrovertible by
sending the moon rocks at -
climategate. Here goes the
feedback to climbing mountaineers
who will not find any peak -
in the realm of award winning
shoes thrown at the
emperor of empty citadel.
Satish Verma, 5 august 2017
Driving the moment
you swoop on the clock
expanding the grief of
blue mind.
You said,
I want to know the name
of spilled blood on the dirt road
to freedom of thoughts. The noun
was more repugnant than the verb.
The crowd was becoming
restive.
You cannot raise your children
by feeding them with your hands
and making them sleep in your bed.
Where were the books? the scraps
and waste?
You could have identified the code
of forgotten gods.
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
