Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 january 2019

Obligatory

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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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 january 2019

New Features

Eating each other, 
the survival instinct takes you 
to the coal-pit. 
 

 
Seeking the closure 
of gold mine. The jellyfish 
has lost the stinging tentacles. 
 

 
The beehive was in 
turbulence. Golden honey was 
going up for sale in famine.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 january 2019

Unending Marathon

Like a large, black, 
stag beetle, you give a sermon 
on living. You don’t believe 
in death. 
 
Ready to jump from the 
cliff, how did you reach there? 
Slipping through the 
cracks of a marathon! 
 
Amid fear and anxiety 
hitting the raw line of finish 
with tranced frenzy. 
 
After glass and long kisses, 
did you eat the prickly pears ? 
On the way to salvation, you 
were giving very― 
uncharitable commentary 
at the terminus.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 5 january 2019

Bareland

It plays tricks. 
Rattles the animal, inside you. 
Back to back, you start giving names. 
It had happened― 
 
under his watch. Opuntia. 
It spreads like a cobra head. 
 
Prickly fruits. Represents death and bones. 
 
How the people believe you, 
when I am thirsty, 
I wanted blood. 
 
The skin becomes black. Stones 
shine in sun. You extend 
the hand to touch the mirage. 
 
No water. The black bucks 
turn around. Somebody shoots 
them between the eyes.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 january 2019

Disturbed Age

The odor brings the 
neo-violence, along the fault line. 
 
Standing on the road. 
 
You, 
do not want to go right, or left. 
 
Chemoreceptors will warn about 
the incoming quake. 
They will crush the blooms, the 
corrupt winds. 
 
The landscape was changing. 
The unlikeness, when you come 
back from woods. 
 
You do not mean anything. 
Words don’t convey the full meaning. 
The thoughts will find a poem.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 3 january 2019

Thinking Off •••

I walk through the slush 
of moral grief. 
Here lies my mortal poem. 
 
A prodigal menace. 
You will not breathe in, the 
golden grass, once more. 
Lingering beside the past, the 
savage today. I pick up 
the silence of the tomb. 
 
Lateral conjugation. You 
come from the otherside to 
breach the wall, bear the 
pluralism- 
 
and become none. The under- 
belly, the yellow blood? 
Will you hold my hand 
to cross the meaning?


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Renato N. Mascardo

Renato N. Mascardo, 1 january 2019

recension

every
decision that
we make we always think
we ought to rethink not leaving
what is well enough
alone//


renato
monday 31 december 2018


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Renato N. Mascardo

Renato N. Mascardo, 1 january 2019

heartstrings

before
poets troped the word
anatomists knew the
aortic and pulmonary
vessels

hollow
cables holding
down the fort we call
our heart//

renato
monday 31 december 2018


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 31 december 2018

Revised Version

A damp moon 
staggers across the sky. 
I will find my balance now. 
 

Meditating on 
the words and meaning, 
I read your face. 
 

Quasi-intelligent, 
half-man, half-beast, 
the new species.
 


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 29 december 2018

In Trepidation

It was in reach for, 
a chilling sensation. 
A flame of the moon. 
 
The world shrinks. 
You become ready 
for the direst consequences. 
 
You deserve to be hurt 
in the arms of truancy, 
without a trace of remorse. 
 
The wounded breast. 
It wanted to disappear― 
and come back in dark. 
 
Frozen, the repeat hymn. 
It lives in my heart. 
How can I forget you, 
O, my tormentor!


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