Satish Verma, 26 april 2020
It was not ending, not beginning
this fracas,
to search the exit.
Where to go where to.
The window
has jumped out
from the moon. what was
your ultimate? What was?
The cold-blooded
creepy object
discharging the virulent
flames virulent.
Migratory ink
always lands on the
paper, would not
move the words would not.
Janusz Józef Adamczyk, 26 april 2020
is the matter
and the antymatter
is the Ghost of the Life
and the Gost of the Death
is the consciousness
and of the First and of the Second
and is the soul
as the chanse for the man
Janusz Józef Adamczyk
Świdnik, Poland
25.04.2020
Satish Verma, 25 april 2020
The water breaks.
Do you hear the voices?
I will ask my half self.
The pretension sends
neuroimages.
I am going home to read my horoscope.
Words grieve. I
have done a dream.
Silence sins.
Satish Verma, 24 april 2020
Coming back with
nipples and fangs, all
the black visions.
Those lunging at the
helpless prey, a hundred arms,
pythonic- to squeeze
the life out of
the rising voice.
You were my trust,
my secret, then why this
curse,
of your signs, your signature,
your face?
You were me, I was you.
We were not different, I open
my chest to receive the bullets
the stone, the stick.
The words.They swim
like dolphins, whistling
crossing the horizons
reaching beyond the colored dresses.
Satish Verma, 23 april 2020
Your hands
start a fire―
thinking beyond the rainbow.
The next hearing
will encompass the unheard sins
of islands.
In spot, you open
the lock and let in the strange voices,
wearing the hidden masks
of untold flaws.
The system starts crumbling
and you wash your feet
in tumbling water
of unsound river, held in abeyance.
No house was left
without ashes.
Satish Verma, 22 april 2020
In tattered clothes.
I would see my returned privation.
I will make the holes bigger,
so that light seeps in,
on my blackened chest.
The lovers will not meet
today, out, in open;
on moonward path.
The charred remains―
of the rope are visible.
The soaked blanket, to sleep in,
has become infernal.
What are you drinking now?
No other passage,
no exit, even the kiss of death?
RENATA, 21 april 2020
presja twojego głosu
i ton pana wszechwłądnego
sprawiają że jestem nikim
trzęsącą się galaretą
popatrz do niczego się nie nadajesz
stawiasz kroki w chmurach
nikt ciebie nie slucha
flegmatyczka nieporadna nieskładna
zabija brak pewności siebie
wzbudza poczucie winy
to własny mąż nikt inny
bez ciebie wreszcze kimś jestem
steve, 21 april 2020
I guess I never thought about... all the reasons why...
Or the circumstance created.. that can make good people lie,
I couldn't see beyond my walls... I could only see my needs...
But the truth is that we all hurt and everybody bleeds,
Life is more than living... it's learning as you go...
It's taking someone by the hand... and teaching what you know,
It's about growing far beyond... what we think we understand...
And letting go finite thoughts... that have always held back man,
It's learning how to speak the truth... and learning to forgive...
Knowing that we're all the same... with just one life to live,
It's learning to be humble... to share with those in need...
To always stand for "what is right"... and never to concede,
To know that you are not alone... our needs are all the same...
Your my brother, she's my sister... we just have different names,
There is always strength in numbers... so when despair comes into view...
Just know that when united... there's nothing we can't do...
Satish Verma, 21 april 2020
Beyond the gaze there is a time zone
of rumored agitation,
when you cannot sleep.
You open your eyes quietly to complain.
The caretaker has prepared the shroud.
Smoke is rising on the hills.
Nobody walks with you.It is a
lone journey, where centuries throw the dust
on your hallowed gifts.
The pyramid of signs, symbols, signatures,
disappear in penultimate flare.
Time to leave the waiting room.
The resurrection will take place now;
of fear, of despair, of foot steps in dark.
I will hear them, holding my breath.
Landscape will change into valley of tears.
RENATA, 20 april 2020
wieczna i ponad czas młoda
milość da z siebie wszystkie siły
miły
kochała coraz mocniej i mocniej
i słońce jaśniej świeciło
to była miłość pełna łaski
i poświęceń liczyła każdą minutę
z nim nic więcej bez oczekiwań na potem
miła
niekochał lecz pozwalał przychodzić
brał jej ciało i obiecywał wszak wojna
była wtedy zamknięty w czterech ścianach
iluzji pragnął tylko wolności potem
uciekał wciąż w poszukiwaniu straconego czasu
miły
płakało z bólu serce i żalu wielkiego
kamieniało na głaz choć innny dał miłość
utulił i zmroził ciebie i braki dotyku
bez wątpienia okazja czyni złodzieja
znów oddała się na skinienie palca
dawnemu kochankowi teraz żonatemu
pozbawiła się świętego nudnego spokoju
za kilka szatańskich chwil za dotyk twój
syn nigdy ojca nie poznał bo droga się rozeszła
rozmyłeś się w powietrzu bym mogła
zobaczyć obraz starca cząstka prawdy
pobiła się z cząstką miłości
miła
kiedyś byłaś jak te trzy żony
i tony kochanek ciągle w pogoni
nie wiem co szczęście w zamęcie
patrzę na świat oczami uwięzionego
młodzieńca i łykam i łykam tę wolność
z litrami wina gangster na starość
jak ojciec chrzestny pusty dzban
i twoje oczy patrzą w dal
zdecydowane zakochane
ulokowałaś miłość niewłaściwie
tak cierniście
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
