Satish Verma, 8 february 2017
Enemy was within;
invisible,
biting into iris.
Sea was asking,
would you like to sign
on my waves?
I was carrying
the relics. Body wants
to take revenge.
Lifting a kiss
from your lips.
O my death,
I am
living again;
changing the clothes.
A swarm of honey bees
was decending,
near a volcano.
Satish Verma, 7 february 2017
How can you unsee an etched wound?
The name will tell the moon.
An empty sky now calls for
the rains.
What was it-
the ceremonial farewell?
A dependable pain now starts
pulling out the sharpnels from the body.
You may call it
meaningless. My poem now
moves between the stings. Somebody
was going for a merciless kill.
Satish Verma, 6 february 2017
Does it stir you,
a body bag?
Journey of million years
stops here,
decoding the numbers.
A humming bird
inflight catches a dilemma
before the sun sets on the
whirring wings.
The moon will never be the same.
Hanging by a thread
a suicide bomber memorializes
the unhealing land.
Who will cry
when he is gone?
Satish Verma, 5 february 2017
What a long friendship with
moon!
I refuse to accept the blast.
Papa is dead, he said and
latched on to circularity.
I don't seek the interbreeding
with terror.
It was me in reverse mode
of cryptomania.
Too stoic; stop. I think
I am wrong; stop. And a serenade
for the lady luck. This life
was too much for me; stop.
Androgynous.
The female body wants to eat
maleness, by almond eyes.
The old man was walking barefoot
with a paintbrush.
Satish Verma, 4 february 2017
A hoot at midnight
goes challenging the deaf.
You strip to bones.
The dawn persists:
Will the sun on the sea
kill the dreams?
Do you see the gap
between the clouds?
I am going to make a heap of
all the interstitial escapes.
Flesheaters were scrawling on
the cheeks. A revolution of
wheels has failed.
A baby dies in womb
without A leap into future.
The father carries the burden
of chimneys.
A godless moon laughs
at the stupid earth,
which was talking about stars.
Satish Verma, 2 february 2017
It was more than
I could take.
The phallic paranoia.
Can I come out of
your body and kneel
before death?
Less than dark
I dream of the nipples
spurting out venom.
A pumice raft
of the crowd, sailing
on the waves of narcissism.
Invisible sharks
on high seas
open the lambs for salt.
Can you eat your
words please?
There is nothing left on the plate.
Satish Verma, 1 february 2017
Have not crossed the street
in many years
to greet you.
A slice of moon
leaves footprints in blood.
Maintaining the perfection
you start giving names to trees.
Paraplegia:
you start dismanteling the life
in search of romance with death
for immersing the dreams.
Take hold of my arms
I want to invent your portrait
in sands of nocturne.
Drink the milk of silence.
It is dark, but soothing.
Go to sleep.
Satish Verma, 30 january 2017
Stone by stone you kill me.
Petal by petal I die -
holding a scalpel
to unwrite my name.
Violence
erupts among words.
A temple breaks.
O goddess! don't cry beyond silence.
The infant's milk
spills in darkness.
Antiquity raises a wall
around the mother.
I am vanishing now,
freezing my assets.
Satish Verma, 29 january 2017
Sloping down in gold pursuit
of a bruised city,
sons of nameless fathers
were changing the generic mandate.
I am becoming fluvial
going on a muted odyssey
to find unmarked graves.
Slaughtering
your own lines, in praise of end-
which came very soon;
before the windows altered the moon.
Genes spilled on the road
recalling the wounded
son whose lexicon took him
to war with the meanings.
Satish Verma, 28 january 2017
Trotting along; fighting death -
with delaying techniques.
Chemo had failed.
Weeping Ashoka, how do I
name you differently?
I may not see you again.
I am hurt, very badly.
Absolutely rooted, firmly
in autumn. My leaves were falling.
Pushing back the interface
between smiles and tears;
the trespasser goes to moon.
It was traditional,
garlanding the poet-
who had killed his muse.
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