Satish Verma, 18 january 2019
We are burning―
the boats.
Freckled in the sun.
The river was drying up.
The stupid moon,
will not listen, was
in love with lake. One
day the water
will flow.
Do you believe in
rebirth of a universe―
from the fallen
debris of life?
The dead man will
walk out from the shroud,
to reclaim,
the lost integrity.
Satish Verma, 17 january 2019
Like a bee,
you wanted to land―
on the snapdragon’s,
curved lip.
Light years away―
a mouth gapes open;
you will not,
walk in.
A wrenching search,
for a home, where
you will not find
the violence.
A wax palace, you
are invited to live in.
The dummies, abound,
without backbones.
steve, 16 january 2019
I thought I'd gotten over.. anything I felt for you..
I cried those tears out years ago.. I guess you never knew,
It broke my heart in pieces.. when told that "you were gone"..
And I would "never" see your face.. in the early light of dawn,
I cried just like a baby.. wanting only you..
Only time would ease the pain.. in a world that broke in two,
I couldn't help my feelings.. for from the very start..
The first time that I met you.. is when you stole my heart,
I couldn't let you know .. I couldn't say a word..
Until that night you shared with me.. and the embers that were stirred,
The embers turned to flames.. that raged out of control..
And the bare white hot emotions.. burned right threw my soul,
And though you wouldn't know it.. its not always as it seems..
I still see you when I can.. but only in my dreams.
sg
Satish Verma, 16 january 2019
Why does it happen,
when you collapse in,
on yourself, a black
hole is formed? I don’t
want to enter, the depth
of eternal death!
Would you come with
me to have a look
at the fading sun?
It is beautiful. The
rainbow on street, in-
viting you to cross the colors.
It bleeds the heart, the
irreparable loss of the rival.
You are here, not to come again.
Satish Verma, 15 january 2019
Sky-clad, you are going
to meet the nemesis,
digging the street to―
find the nails. Do not fret.
Nails had burrowed deep in the
flesh of unknown. When you have
nothing to say, what are you
going to say?
My heart misses a beat. Takes
a pause to look at the
spring of songless birds. I watch
myself ruined amid the legless run.
Soon they will be coming to wash
the stones with tears.
Do you smell the pungent smoke
rising from the no name tragedy.
Tonight the gas will not burn
in the kitchen. The beds will
remain unslept.
Satish Verma, 14 january 2019
So near and so far
you live together
sorting through the detritus of life.
*
The erosion
sends back the gravel,
the sand and silt of human script.
*
The violence,
will it end someday? Asks
a child playing with a time bomb.
Satish Verma, 13 january 2019
Law of causality was
seeking answers from the
rites of flowers. Why do a black powder
and glass sharpnels interrupt
the turnover of bliss,
when I held the sacred
lotus in my hand?
Somebody brings moon
at halt. A loud explosion prepares
the earth for penance, where
we have come raising the bar.
Apparently, a carnage
will deluge the street
with the blood of bystanders.
The planet is dead today
in the belly of violence.
You catch me off the guard.
All night I will go for vigil.
Satish Verma, 12 january 2019
Running without legs.
A perfect apparition
of sandhills.
I cannot see far, but
hear the synchronized call,
of peacocks at midnight.
Cannot sleep. The solemn
mystery of dark is broken.
In the cracks, I am
discovering myself.
Was it not an enough reason
to abandon the search
of peace and return to killing―
the gods of clay and find
the sanctity of emptiness,
stripped to gravity?
Satish Verma, 11 january 2019
Revisiting my lust, in
beyond borders;
I want to write your
name in cursive script.
Forked, when I pick up
the undiluted hemlock
from your eyes. How would
you like to become a game changer?
A shirtless moon walks
with me on empty stomach
to scrap the night from
the exuberant trees.
Conversion factor comes
into force, unusing the nector.
I will still say my prayers
to seek nothing.
Satish Verma, 9 january 2019
Moving between the spaces,
you fell short of a small―
sky and you give up the grid,
your secrets.
A sense is lost of direction,
and place. The opaque mind
will not tell even once, where
you are.
Wrestling with your conscience,
and demons, underside of
the palette, you become ready for
a self-potrait.
A drinking spree of moon
after a cease; where were you
going. I ask? Shell-shocked, you
pretend, what you have been.
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