Satish Verma, 24 february 2022
You walk into a trap.
The self-search must start
after the accident in hearth.
The fire has failed―
to ignite the thruth.
No more questions would
come. The shrine will receive
all the answers.
The system wants to know
what went wrong to
identify the protégé of crisis?
You know mimosa. It behaves
like a sensitive person. Touch it and
its leaflets fold together like
greetings and bend down asking
to exit.
The violence erupts. A god has no say.
Satish Verma, 23 february 2022
‘Twas your ghost
to secure the promise,
that you would not commit
yourself to the story.
An island sin
confronts the sea
of tears. Was it an
emotional kill?
Did you hear the
sound of moon? It has
come down in the space
where we used to cross the arms.
That was my raw poem.
I had mentioned your solemn
departure. I don't believe
in blaspheme. God would know.
Fever for no misdemeanor.
We walk away on our
different paths.
Satish Verma, 22 february 2022
The pain cycle
celebrates the pitfall,
dedicates to the eternal flame
of catharsis.
Syllables were ready to
burn word by word,
orchestrated for a
random repeat.
Like blue veins opening
in dark without spilling the―
blood. But no answers
were coming to compliment you.
Image of self in mirror
sometimes frightens. Now
you begin living without―
body, metaphysically.
A bonfire starts.
Satish Verma, 21 february 2022
An executioner
gazes up into your eyes,
hotting up the gazella.
I am not an asylum seeker.
Was it an insult
to the animal, if I follow a sane path?
From my side of earth,
using different names, unflinchingly
I will speak for the bloody truth.
I never miss a tiger,
even with white coat and
brown eyes. Yellow stripes bring stasis.
Death arranges
the table. You pick up your dish.
O God, I wanted to be like you.
A stunning silence,
again pushes me towards you.
You always grin.
Satish Verma, 20 february 2022
Unhinged
in final descent.
A distrust starts
the speechless howling.
The veiled threat
to lock the door
and see the other world.
II
Unmarried― the pears
will not ripen.
Sense of persecution
haunts.
The doves fly away
you wrote your name on the wings.
Satish Verma, 19 february 2022
Visible
of invisible blues―
the hesitancy
to shut the door.
I speak for
myself in haze
reaching heights
and deep sea.
The mother in
child weeps;
when we will
meet father?
Insufficiency
brings the split.
Satish Verma, 18 february 2022
Dressed to assassinate,
not having much hope.
Were you really―
serious for me?
Like en face
a star giggles, between
quivering small moons.
The night is drunk. You
hear a long hoot, from
enfant terrible, to scare away
the kiss of inevitable.
What a bliss to live
in the black heart of the moment,
when the sun unwraps
the flame.
Complete annihilation
of million desires. You
become the walking death
of unknown.
Satish Verma, 17 february 2022
As it appears―
as if nothing stops you and
the spring will ask the direction.
Like a bipolar, I will swing
between moon and sun.
It may not sit true with me
like a lethal drop in an empty cup!
I don't know, what I think
in dual state of mind. Time stretches.
As if involuntarily my―
hands start shaking.
Not yet. It was my wound.
I have to carry my ship down
the river. In hour of ending
would you come to write―
the ascending pain?
Perfection incomplete. There is
voiceless silence.
Satish Verma, 16 february 2022
Part of me― like a morpheme,
you are leaving.
Now I will stand without legs.
The slain shadow moves
from face to face. I
have yet to complete my chapter.
I know what you have to offer.
But I wanted more of
your intimate thoughts about life and death.
You have frequent mood swings.
Sometimes you wanted to go insane
in this clever and wise world.
I trace the terrain of the
inaccessible mount, where one day
you will find broken hull.
Satish Verma, 15 february 2022
Looking in your hazel
eyes, I was thinking.
I don't need
second coming. I want
you once for all.
After assassination
of a live truth, I will wear
a cap without an emblem.
I was moving away from the crowd,
after burning the dead.
Why it was so loud?
It was a gratuity? After the
bloodbath, do you still need a bank?
My God, I am tired
of you. Seeds were scattered
for the love birds. I don't find the
moon break.
No about-face
I was still proceeding
towards the lake of tears.
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