Satish Verma, 17 march 2017
In a moon city
will you distill
the darkness for a hallucinatory effect?
Without wearing anything?
Polarizing the sex
with the leaky pomegranates,
vying for control of towers.
Will it be unrespectful,
moon hitting the sun, when
it was departing?
It was a lucrative business
to trade envies with luck
or qualities. I feel connecting
with the violence of brown pillars.
Playing with smoke
you start undressing in epithets.
A bumblebee
raises the sights on rooftops.
Joe Breunig, 16 march 2017
Between circular arguments
and confirmation bias, critics
debate the fallacies of Faith,
themselves unable to connect
to Yahweh via the divine spark
that has drawn us closer to Him;
each individual has been given
a unique measure of Faith; yet,
desire dictates the development
of our personal growth in Christ.
The Scriptures remain available
to those wishing to receive the
fullness of God’s Love or those
wanting to dispute His authority.
Now people choose to search only
for information that support…
their preconceptions; after all,
we’ve the choice of Death or Life.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Rom 12:3; 2 Cor 10:15; Eph 4:13;
Deu 30:19
It should be noted that many people studied The Word of God with the
original intent of disproving its many truths, only to become saved to
their own surprise. A fact that is ignored by the mainstream media.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Satish Verma, 16 march 2017
A chilled moon was standing
between the lovers
and night was cruising around
to extract the blood
of a hangman.
You want to go back and talk
to old house for selling the dreams
again. When the body ends,
the hunger lives in another eye. Let
me break the cycle and become
fodder of a thought.
Layer up layer aching in
half-sleep brings the frozen rain
falling from icy peaks. You bring
cherries for moon who wants more.
Give me a window to have
a glimpse of still life.
Satish Verma, 13 march 2017
Crossing the burning barriers,
you take a fatal jump.
Brazenly, but giving little away.
Long shadows of ethnic clouds
were eroding the sun. Feeling the
wet lips you rub you sweaty
palms in vain.
Haunted, you would like to
kill the ghosts. You pull a silken
cord. A silver urn upturns the
ashes of your past.
Each truth walks without legs.
You are still incomplete. The
self-portrait will never hang
on the wall.
Satish Verma, 12 march 2017
The show must go on.
Under a sable cloud.
I am on the vast stage
to perform.
Tall cacti and harsh
dunes will not find
a sweet acacia.
When I am hungry
I would like to write something
very personal on a yellow paper.
The potter’s wheel will not
move today.
The potter had turned into clay.
Satish Verma, 11 march 2017
A gasping confession
of a pubescent fault.
Why did you enter the bed
of a molten lava?
Wisdom was in silent eyes
not on the lips of a blackened rose.
The water was white and cool
the sun was red and hot.
A mirror will never tell the truth.
Bleached was the face of moon.
One night I will be killed
in the hands of a benevolent foe.
Satish Verma, 10 march 2017
Take my body for sail,
my wings to fly.
I am trying to find out
the meaning of a drop.
The point man was taking aim.
There was no culpability.
I asked, what was the need to
know the verdict of a rape?
The bed always suffers. The secret
of a muse overturns a disaster.
In insane sky a beleaguered moon
was taking a shower.
Unmasked, the desire turns to
fire and ignites the palace.
It was not enough to meet death
with empty hands.
Joe Breunig, 9 march 2017
If you’re not being stretched,
then could it be that you’re…
suffering an ungodly attitude
of your own Life’s complacency?
When looking around, do you see
the discrimination, intolerance,
injustice, hatred, poverty and
other societal ills affecting us?
Is God’s Love evident in actions
of everyday living, so Salvation
is really sought, by those, you…
hope to spiritually influence?
Can others even tell, that Christ’s
essence, upon your life has been…
sacredly and divinely etched?
Author notes
Inspired by:
Zeph 1:12; Luke 12:15-31 and
The world needs Christians who don't tolerate the complacency of their
own lives. ―Francis Chan
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Satish Verma, 9 march 2017
The crisis starts boiling
about the invisible foes.
The contraptions hope to recapture
the moods.
Harsh, arrogant and ritualistic.
In the stark nudity of silence
a wooden Buddha lies on the
floor crying.
“ I am not happy, I am not happy.
Why were you still a virgin? ”
White butterflies will not sit
on jasmines to lose their script.
There was a black moon to chase
the fugitive. There will be no midnight
sun. Between lips and cups
the grey fox had lighted a lamp.
Satish Verma, 8 march 2017
It does not work;
the manipulation of the fast.
The genomic fugitive
nurtures a home of light, windswept pyre.
Under the prophet
a gloom unloosens the absolute.
Now as you weave
a pattern of lies, the page hits.
The book is thrown into
fire. The words swim, break the grief
of naked sun. There
is flooding of wombs. Who will conceive a god?
Between you and me,
a river flows. I become voiceless.
You cannot build a bridge.
The spinning curve outlines the shore.
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