Satish Verma, 4 august 2017
Dismantling the vista
for a missing link.
A moon rises behind the ruins.
I see only the water
and a sunken ship in shallow bed.
The wings have carried away the wind.
A beautiful sin to become
polyamorist worshipping many goddesses
dying everyday.
The blood draws a line
around the chaste bed, where
half-brothers will kill each other.
I tie the knot with hanging
fountain of virtual image.
There will be no consummation tonight.
Satish Verma, 3 august 2017
Sun tears into
clouds. Between oaks
climbs a rainbow.
Drenched, I scoop
the eyes in a trance
whispering rain.
Widening moon
like a talisman in -
a shriveled hand.
Satish Verma, 2 august 2017
Under the frame
lurking from a sun point
I will track the death
on mountain.
Unafraid, a wild animal
had killed the lambs
in a row, resting in homestead.
The ladders were squealing.
Dizzily you realize, that-
you don't belong to yourself.
After eating fire all along,
the birds had migrated; -
beneath the skin; now pigments
were changing the color. You
become selfish. Start removing
your name from the martyr's list.
Satish Verma, 1 august 2017
Plurality of the sin
slids across the sludge
of cheating -
on the cohabitation of virtue.
Encountering myself in mirror,
under the spell of repetition?
Discovering yourself -
can you predict your end?
Inheriting the long night -
I cannot act for me. The flesh
seeks the curved breast of
unspoken grief. I wouldn't become ruthless -
to smell the gift of parting kiss,
tossing the landscape aside.
Satish Verma, 31 july 2017
A gem cutter
takes a pause
and finds the hate of a locked house.
The words scream
and hurl a propensity for violence
becoming an aphorism.
A pithy precipitation
was delayed. The seeds in desert
will not be able to catch the light.
I am still lonely
making peace with rain of arrows
coming from nowhere.
Satish Verma, 30 july 2017
Do you know the pain
of somebody on the road,
freezing alone? In Asperger syndrome?
You do not want to talk
about the forest of words; -
though a small window opens
to the hazy mountain in dense fog.
The shadow lengthens,
when you stand against the sun.
a stupid thing, being a
proud owner of an evening moon.
Where does the small island
of narration lead you? A
temple of nobody's god?
I am frightened now.
Satish Verma, 28 july 2017
The dew on your -
lashes. Did the moon kiss
you in sleep?
In dream, you -
walk towards a tall tree,
near the lake.
Full moon will ask -
what was your death wish.
It were only you.
Satish Verma, 27 july 2017
The dead sea
and the naked soul.
You are not worthy
of forgiveness. The smell
of sweaty soles
tells it all.
You dust the window
to read the green moon
and turn off the forest
of dark faces.
It is critical time
to collect the body
after falling from gray
humor of beliefs.
Satish Verma, 26 july 2017
Blue poppies were poised
to meet the regret of thighs,
mother of sins.
No flesh now covers the eyes.
A candle burns a green
thumb. A silver bowl breaks,
spilling the milk of nudes. Liars will tell
the story of honour killing.
We were tired of listening
to ravens taking a flight.
No one had seen the corpse.
Only black bones will tell the truth.
Have you seen the holocaust?
It was inside my pen! my write!
Satish Verma, 25 july 2017
The night calling. I start
the search for survivors.
A loquacious day shuns
the clouds.
A black hole. I move in circles.
A star was going down in an
abyss. To think, was a taboo subject.
A naivete' towards perceiving.
You can keep your eyes open
and not discern any frame.
A hand will not find another
hand in neighbourhood.
There was less sexism without
the chair. The paradox was no -
body wanted to discuss the
markers of malignancy.
The house was up for the sale
deleted from the manuscript.
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