Satish Verma, 16 march 2019
The póetique listening
to the reason, as foggy
as the past, untelling the
future of midnight onslaughts.
The rain of emptiness, was
playing havoc with the
fiery cross. No orchestrated
withdrawl, I am―
preparing myself for the
supersonic cruise missiles of
vendetta. Golden heart,
you will carve out and eat.
The bluebirds. They had left
unannounced. This summer
the snowy peaks will melt,
for a lone tree.
Satish Verma, 15 march 2019
Treading gently, trying
to feel close to the heat of
the cardinal sins, why
you were not able to take off
your eyes from the
macabre slaughter?
The unknowable instinct.
You abhore, but still want
to see the execution. They
were blindfolded and
were shot at the
back of head.
Decimated. You hold the
globes, making peace
with the wrongdoer.He
will not alter his ego
and why you were afraid to
react?
Satish Verma, 14 march 2019
Like a meteorite streaking
through the sky, iron
and nickel, for a proxy collision
with hidden destiny.
It was the post trauma
syndrome, after the great
divide of breast, lifting
the nipples.
The lofty peak crumbles.
There will be the scare
around, to grow the poppies
on the mounds again.
Are you ready now
for emasculation? The
legacy will, on its own, pass
onto alternative sins.
Satish Verma, 13 march 2019
The trail in mind, you had
a problem, before the coming of Him.
A quest, a a question, became
landmarks of the journey
in jungle of humanity.
The compatibility lost, you
have stopped looking at the
things with inward eye.
Is it necessary to give a title to every anguish?
The crisis throws up some detritus
of past, from where you had
taken up the wrong road.
The fixing magnifies your
scars. Do not go deep
in the veins.
I am your face.
I am your name.
Satish Verma, 12 march 2019
Sleepwalking in unlit
night, grabbing the
moon, for a bite.
Very difficult to chew
the contradictions, to relieve
the heartache.
Endless drumming of
woodpecker to mark territory.
A war begins for insects.
It was the Adam’s instinct.
I will not fall on
the burning coals.
In a dewdrop you will
see a miniature tree,
shaping out for the sun.
Satish Verma, 11 march 2019
A fuzzy fear descends.
You become ensconced―
in the smell of a
paranoia.
The saltcutter will forego
the idiosyncrasy
and start collecting the oil
from the dome.
A stain on the shirt
spreads, covers
the heart in distress.
Codas were waiting.
Do not burn the book.
Go in a lily pond for a ―
script. The different shades
of flesh will be revealed.
The divine sin will ask
for a retribution for ―
the withdrawl syndrome.
Satish Verma, 10 march 2019
The plunging line was―
going deeper, cutting close to
the bone. I was preparing
myself to be martyred
alive.
Prod me viciously, my
love, I want to die in your arms before
the dawn. It should be
too good to be true
for you.
Waterbirds. They are ready
to take a flight. Petal
by petal, sun will send you
the message. I am going to fade away
in moonlight.
Water hyacinth had the death secret.
Knife me gently. I will
meet my Apollo in dark.
Satish Verma, 9 march 2019
Encountering a dislocated self,
here it goes, the “I”,
flicking out the name
which will reach nowhere.
The foreword will not
disclose the contents of
the book. It was reading
only a footnote.
I place a searing moon
on your plate. You can take
a slice of it and gulp
your agony.
The arrival does not finish
the journey. There are far―
away worlds beyond
your fantasies.
Satish Verma, 8 march 2019
Talking points at ground zero
trap the heat. The tyranny
knows no bounds.
Trauma of awaiting liberation
was intense. No truth was
ready to accept the bends.
I feel cheated when,
the dark gives a sermon about
the hidden dawn.
The hair burn in unmade
bed, taking a cue from
the beast, who will not sleep.
Where do the white stars
go, when the sun rises? I
will ask the crying lake.
Satish Verma, 7 march 2019
When clouds were
drawing graffiti on sky,
where were you?
Untamed manners
in a profound grief
brings back the black buck.
The buck stops here,
fallen on the golden ax.
Get me the lantern.
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