Satish Verma, 15 may 2019
It tumbles down. The real.
Heels start hurting.
Once upon a night, there
was a red moon, which used to hang
on your head and I
would watch something beyond.
No outburst of profanity
will take place, when you were
dissecting a triangle―
of rainbows. I will not
assemble the waist of a tall tree
after the fruit fall.
Gone with the snow, my
temple, my god. I am now
waiting for the looters of rings.
Satish Verma, 13 may 2019
Living,
in the wounds,
like a gas dragged into
the black hole.
Bedeviling the light.
There are no winners in this war.
Corona will not sit
on any head.
There was ambivalence
in the robust thrust.
The hard x-rays will
burn the thoughts.
Do not go on chasing the
grazed genre. The style
will bring back the questions
which had no answers.
Satish Verma, 11 may 2019
Partly stripped, head shaven
for a royal revelation of eternal scars.
Blood oranges.
You want to practice your knife
on the boneless.
No loaves left for the rainy day.
Do you believe in after life?
White pigeons convulsed
on the hot, searing sands of
the rebel stronghold.
The politics works. Small breasts
with no filling. A gender bias
makes you fit for a Stark effect.
I search the flesh, the eyes
the wisdom.
Satish Verma, 10 may 2019
To live or not
to live like a zero
in the company of numbers.
*
Add the space
to the black hole.
You will find infinity.
*
The question mark
will always twist
the answer in big NO.
Satish Verma, 10 may 2019
To live or not
to live like a zero
in the company of numbers.
*
Add the space
to the black hole.
You will find infinity.
*
The question mark
will always twist
the answer in big NO.
Satish Verma, 9 may 2019
If a gadget turns
you on, and I cannot
listen the voiceless
music, how would
we meet in parasynthesis?
A parakeet lifts the long
tail to climb on―
the grill to watch the
sweep of clouds, whistling
past, when the world
was mud-splattered.
Take my hand and hold
the queer. I was never me
in the maddening crowd.
I listen to only my body.
Satish Verma, 8 may 2019
Patenting the human genes;
fence-sitters
will ask for the god.
You will not reveal
your preferences, though
natural selection propels
you to young veins. A
self-denial comes into
play. The jade was million
years old. Taking a cue
from the fathers, a
monkey runs on the water.
Making trouble was
easier than to erect a
home for the extinct to live.
Satish Verma, 7 may 2019
The opaque civility
takes a big toll. The fledglings
were dying in the duck pond.
*
I want to steal the moon
tonight for a ritual
and bring it on my lake.
*
A wet floor always
mirrors the voices floating
on the low roof of my rainbow.
Satish Verma, 6 may 2019
A fact of time. The
relationship
has a price.
There was a deep
moral crisis, when I said,
stay poor.
Money makes you
dishonest. Why don’t
you start giving away?
The secular thing.
Were you tolerant
of my protests?
Ethics were changing.
Why should not I be
a very sad man?
Satish Verma, 5 may 2019
There was too much, violence in the
house. I walk through the pathways―
of divided family. As if waylaid
by the thugs. I am stranded bereft of―
all my achievements, fixating at withdrawl.
The menu
alters.
I go
hungry.
The toothache persists. Life is
still.The vision seethes without wings.
Pulsating silence.
There is no voice.
Like mannequins, we dance
without geniality. The master
is nowhere. Who was pulling
the strings?
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