Satish Verma, 6 august 2019
Taking refuge behind the
solemn words, you speak loudly.
It rattles you, when you―
hear, it was the world's end.
I have not yet spoken to you
about the happenings, which never happened.
You want to slingshot the
malignancy without your remedy.
Illegible was the writing
on the parchment. I must dig up the ruins.
Matter of instinct, when you start
washing your hands and spitting unendingly.
Satish Verma, 5 august 2019
The red dot was sinking
to smear the lake. It was
in soft focus, the waning light.
You want to bury
the attachment, on the bank.
Let the waves wash away―
the footprints. The
clan was in great distress.
On ventilator, the icon was not dying.
Innocence goes on the block
I will not get a fair deal
from the silence of the stone.
The disk tumbles
into obscurity. Who will
bring peace to the withering art?
Satish Verma, 4 august 2019
When there was a cloudburst―
it was time― I thought
for the soul search.
Again I turn back to―
our complexity, in religion,
caste and lineage.
The prairie was giving―
way, for a volcano to erupt.
Can there be a drive from the back seat?
A prisoner of one's own
follies, you would wait till―
the sky comes down and liberates you.
The illegitimacy bursts
open, when you claim that
no child was left behind.
Satish Verma, 3 august 2019
You are becoming a
frozen leak, the violet
end.
Ultra was not going beyond
the zero. Here the―
journey ends.
Dispersion of light was
increasing, the surface tension
between me and religion.
Again you are deflecting,
taking an oblique route
to find the truth.
Who was the father
of an unborn lie?
I was not expanding any more.
Satish Verma, 2 august 2019
Addictive in shambles, that was
cognitive decline―
amidst wars of life,
with a right to death.
The gold dust falls
from the dead, colliding stars,
after the violence of giants.
You may not need stem cell transplant now.
Like a gamma ray burst― of
cataclysmic events― to start
the creation of verse. Were you
ready to hear the inner voice?
The urge to go up, was very strong
without grit. My burden will
increase if you are―
reluctant to propel yourself.
Satish Verma, 1 august 2019
I accept, my defeat―
in the hands of Ariel.
You start hiding from your
own chrysanthemums.
Trying to merge the agony
with the diminutive flight.
The tale of a big fall from
the height of assimilation―
I will go all the way to
challenge the unknown fear.
The passage was full of
bumps, slowing the pace of kisses.
Satish Verma, 31 july 2019
You should not be present―
everywhere, O God. Pull down,
all the shutters of your temples.
I am mortified, of a
hidden hand, that gives
spurious― sugar coated hymns.
A hometown crowd
assembles at the door of the―
palace to hear the arrival.
What was the natural
descent made of? A cyber attack
was the most desirable thing.
A crypt sets you free―
from the engraved sermons.
All night I will sit on the vigil, for a vision.
The book was blank
for a goodnight deal. I will
not cross any unwritten poem.
Satish Verma, 29 july 2019
Where do you stand―
in the crowd, for the love of a cause―
your feet cannot measure the ache
of the earth, respecting the rhythm
of a lone survivor.
Can you believe in the fall of a titan?
Stranded in accuracy
for a salt lick for
a zipless mouth wide open.
Intuiting,
what the flesh would not say.
And I keep standing by the midriff to see the face.
Satish Verma, 28 july 2019
I walk for a short while―
talking with the moon and
thinking about the zero―
and spirit and water― standing
my ground, I ask the earth―
tell me, whose fear was greater than mine.
If god was blind, then why
so many planets and moons? Is that true
that between good and bad lives a shaman?
There was something
behind the walls. A lot of noises coming―
out, as if nobody was perfect.
The realization itself was hurting.
The day I started sweating,
reaching the icy peaks of understanding.
Satish Verma, 27 july 2019
The winged sex of the
module/wants to stay naked.
Everything backs it up
to become a suicide bomber
on the beach.
A cactus will not bloom tonight.
A shirt was loaned to the
tortured torso without head and limbs.
She was possessed by a
black spirit of a squirrel,
which was killed by a hatchet.
Bit by bit a moth was eaten alive
by the ants. Only the dry wings
were clapping.
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