Satish Verma, 24 august 2016
The camellias.
Catch the witch on the pole:
A spring was here.
Sweep the road.
The exhibitionist
will put up a show.
Monsoon tours
the landscape amidst blows
from the rooftops.
Satish Verma, 23 august 2016
A golden bullet will bite
the adolescence for the sake of
prudence. Inebriated
everybody wanted to go in a state of bliss.
It was a targeted killing
of a dream. Redolent of a prophet
who will not answer the call
of a burning dune.
The holy moonless night will wash
the sins of a city today. I am not
going to meet the death tonight.
I am the eye and I am the nude.
Like truth on the other side of
exhibits. Pure beak was ready
to eat a virgin lie. Again we are
sitting to solve the mystery of adultery.
Satish Verma, 22 august 2016
A golden bullet will bite
the adolescence for the sake of
prudence. Inebriated
everybody wanted to go in a state of bliss.
It was a targeted killing
of a dream. Redolent of a prophet
who will not answer the call
of a burning dune.
The holy moonless night will wash
the sins of a city today. I am not
going to meet the death tonight.
I am the eye and I am the nude.
Like truth on the other side of
exhibits. Pure beak was ready
to eat a virgin lie. Again we are
sitting to solve the mystery of adultery.
Satish Verma, 21 august 2016
When night will not speak
and shoes will float on the water;
legs of truth will not move.
Latched to absence
unreasons held the hands of time.
I stopped believing in myself.
The genome had come in a bottle.
when the virgin son was killed in a raid.
The mausoleum will not accept the shroud.
The priest will pay the moon,
for the price of the nightly stings.
Now the death will kill the clouds of bees.
And the green door shuts the house
of light. Moonlight has gone missing.
We will have to find the lips of dark.
Joe Breunig, 20 august 2016
Three hundred sixty-five times,
we’re been instructed to not be
afraid; therefore, we’re to live
fearlessly with the revelation
knowledge of Who, God really is.
Troubles occur in Faith’s climb,
when the human ego fails to walk
within the Godly principles of
Love, Peace and Discernment; all
deal with unwanted issues, that
pop up unexpectedly. Accountability
remains; we’re liable to take stock
and be responsible for our actions;
as we have reverential fear of Him,
He finds pleasure in us, when we
exhibit Hope in His steadfast Love.
We’ll be able to live fearlessly,
when our Faith gains… its traction.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Isa 41:10; Psa 33:18, 35:27, 147:11
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
Satish Verma, 20 august 2016
The buff flaunts his elements
in a dissenting voice.
Don’t go into the lake.
There were no survivors.
Stop kissing the moon
all night. Clouds were moving
away for the coronation
of the sun.
The windowpane was broken.
Somebody has jumped into
the audience for a
golden drink.
It was my abstract thought
to donate my grief to
unrelenting god who was always
sending a twister with daffodils.
Satish Verma, 19 august 2016
Freezing was not required
for the casket. It only contained
a shroud.
The schism had scored a
victory. Bystanders will find
a dark matter
between the words. The god was
very lonely today. The black wounds
start crying.
A white cloud climbs the eagle’s
span. A golden moon walks like
a big tear.
A surge of greed will take over
the yellow throne. Someone puts
it, a spiritual horror.
Satish Verma, 18 august 2016
The descent starts
with a dance, of tears and fire.
A culture of lids
lowers the salt, the silver,
the gems.
Antithesis to cremate
a golden ascent.
The night long vigil had a
naked puff.
It will roll now in stasis.
The ash will take over the tongue
for a big lie. Faith healers stand
in a row. The empty hands
were getting a burial.
The toeless path will ride the
wheels now. Beyond the blue sky
there is no death.
Satish Verma, 16 august 2016
Drowned in unclogged arteries:
thoughts.
I am going to release a swarm
of bees. It was your dark hour.
A father sits outside your body to collect the stings.
A restive finger
on a blue gun invites the ghosts
to witness a burial of a fractured faith.
Thieves were waiting in wings.
A silent intimacy becomes invisible.
Sit back and comb the house
before it catches fire.
The earth spins in your eyes when you
pay the debt of a river;
when we were kneading the mountain.
Satish Verma, 14 august 2016
Looking around for a loop of light,
a captive throws out his
trove of litter and ask for a
right to be killed.
This was question hour
of your conscience. Who would
now act as on executioner?
Anybody who has not stolen a glance?
You are standing alone with
the rats.The hips were exploding.
Owls will assemble later on
to mourn the death of a native giant.
Under a yellow moon I had met him
once. He had promised to talk about
sexual encounters with nameless
ghosts under the waterfalls.
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