Gino

Gino, 18 february 2016

Knowing Unknown is sacred v1

Element by element
the tiniest points
of all been, ruled by Unknown
— and Unknown knowing
just easily peace defines.

Dance of logical pieces
the atoms combined
pure energy, pure being
biting the Structure
giving a birth to new one.

My words are  g r a p h e m e s
just nothing more than symbols...
meaning some p h o n e m e s
building my speech - element
by element. Elements.

Foolish wolves, non-souls
Vain cats, grey human hearts
Every piece as dead element
uniting living ivy

[...]

« Thou art a mechanical,
biologically artificial process.
Or a mechanical, biologically artificial process that combines everything which is ready for that orderly chaos and meaning a thing? »

« Why would anything be so complex and somewhat logical?
Is there any pride? Fun? Or maybe someone's waiting for an end?
Or is it endless?»


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 18 february 2016

Spastic Legs

We did not concede, 
textured life was absurd 
tried to struggle against misfortune; were thrown out. 
To find a new definition, 
of the restless syndrome, 
without cause and ending, 
the untouchable of the underworld, 
were screaming terribly. 
 
Conflict widens in the face of existence 
the fall was inevitable. 
Incessant goading on the spastic legs, 
brought out the god of sorrows, 
endurance was not the answer. 
Danger was always lurking in the corner. 
 
Strange sounds and frigthening, 
sights are discernible 
the tremors are felt in deep crevices. 
You want to touch all the poles. 
run away from giants, 
smash the hypocrite; 
and see your face in a dark mirror.


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Karen Adams

Karen Adams, 17 february 2016

Być kobietą

Być kobietą
Wcale nie jest takie proste
Palić za sobą wszystkie mosty
Wkraczać jako dziecko
W świat dorosłych
Być kobietą
Wciąż wertować kalendarze
I wykreślać grubą kreską
Najpiękniejsze z naszych marzeń
Być kobietą
Wcale nie jest takie proste
Mając w sercu zimę
Wciąż udając wiosnę

To be a woman
It is not that simple at all
Burn all bridges behind you
Enter as a child
Into the world of adults
To be a woman
Still flipping through calendars
And draw a thick line
The most beautiful of our dreams
To be a woman
It is not that simple at all
With winter in my heart
Still pretending to be spring


number of comments: 2 | rating: 3 | detail

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 17 february 2016

Genesis

The sludge rattles as you tilt on one side 
heat and dust swirl around you. 
The sun baked age drifts. 
The book of life with greasy stains, 
preserves a part of your history. 
The earth moves on. 
 
Suffering to filthy chatter, 
this city was not your choice. 
What were you doing, 
with your innocent thoughts, 
under naked aggression? 
Confessions were not sufficient. 
Seeking you were not, 
then why you were counting the coins? 
 
The last person defeats the death. 
Deaf and dumb go in a tizzy. 
The bipolars are puzzled. 
Is that the answer to a revenge? 
No body knows the genesis. 
The fog deepens. 
Clouds climb up the sky.
 


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 february 2016

Namaste

Back and forth 
back and forth 
culture whores 
were removing the skin tags 
from armpits. 
The private plateaus spurting 
lemon grass juice. 
 
Between kind questions 
and cruel answers 
I watch the heat rlsing. 
 
Scanning the leukemic beach 
the sex drenched hour 
squirms with pubic pain. 
 
Two round hills - 
firm breasts tucked under white clouds 
were weary of lip slaves. 
 
Namaste sunset 
I was waiting for you.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 february 2016

The Ending

No ending of the story. The loose thread hangs. 
Journey again starts at the termination. 
The smell is something of enigma. 
I am again dissecting the body of a stale corpse. 
 
Fever is rising with jokes Thin sheet covers 
the ugly face with blisters. 
A disconcerned person burns the phosphorus. 
 
The darkness creates the ghosts of history, 
two thousand years of knowledge. 
Still the niceties of culture are to e observed 
and firework started 
to celebrate the end of an era.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 february 2016

Moon Rise

Like burning coals on the tongue 
the words smoulder the ardour. 
I cannot pursue a thought of untruth 
for sake of remainin alive. 
 
The water hole is dry, we turn back 
from poetry and greens, 
heading towards onother cul-de-sac. 
A fear mocks at the face. 
About being a human failure preparing 
to admit the defeat. 
Despair will decide the path! 
 
I always adored a struggle for reality 
calmly choosing the self-denial. 
Secretly I weave a memory of moon rise 
in pitch darkness.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 february 2016

Fear

It was fear and anguish. 
You were talking about evil. Returning 
evil to evildoer. I touch your psyche. 
I am not happy. Some thing is burning inside. 
Dehumanizing the death? Betraying the muse of god? 
 
The ending fo hidden mist and sick bedrooms, 
I am counting the parameters. There is a moral pride 
in humane slaughter and annexing the smile. 
 
Sun is again coming under eclipse. Light is 
growing fainter. I am again afraid of darkness. 
Night of shadows and running midgets. They 
prolong the agony. I turn towards the earth 
for the impromptu music of life.
 


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 february 2016

Wayward Son

Silent go the dead 
on the moon, 
to know the secret of its smile. 
 
Did we know the ending of leads? 
The dream within the thoughts? 
Silent moves the trembling hand 
to print its signature on the heart. 
 
what is so tragic about life? 
The memory of bruises or attachment? 
We always talked about cleanliness 
of language, of lending beauty to words, 
when hate and anger brought on the 
ugly nuances. 
 
Somebody revises the text, 
Tongue tastes the skin, 
I start counting my failures 
and my books. 
 
Silent stands the mother 
for the wayward son.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 february 2016

Suspended Execution

Self-searching was most difficult for me 
one by one the years had gone by. 
Remaining taciturn I move inwardly, 
try to read the verdict on the wall, 
a suspended execution. 
I slowly become blind. 
 
A terrible blankness, 
infiltrates into mind, 
my hands tremble. 
Cannot write the unwritten code, 
civilized way of accepting the retreat. 
The flawless life was a dream, 
I wake up in anger, counting the failures. 
 
How painful it is to realize 
your revered one are becoming smaller than you. 
Death does not swallow the pride 
what is to forego and what not? 
From moment to moment, 
I squeeze the frightening truth.


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