Satish Verma, 26 july 2017
Blue poppies were poised
to meet the regret of thighs,
mother of sins.
No flesh now covers the eyes.
A candle burns a green
thumb. A silver bowl breaks,
spilling the milk of nudes. Liars will tell
the story of honour killing.
We were tired of listening
to ravens taking a flight.
No one had seen the corpse.
Only black bones will tell the truth.
Have you seen the holocaust?
It was inside my pen! my write!
Satish Verma, 25 july 2017
The night calling. I start
the search for survivors.
A loquacious day shuns
the clouds.
A black hole. I move in circles.
A star was going down in an
abyss. To think, was a taboo subject.
A naivete' towards perceiving.
You can keep your eyes open
and not discern any frame.
A hand will not find another
hand in neighbourhood.
There was less sexism without
the chair. The paradox was no -
body wanted to discuss the
markers of malignancy.
The house was up for the sale
deleted from the manuscript.
Satish Verma, 24 july 2017
Can your words find the color
and smell of a manslaughter
in an unholy stampede?
Head bowed, the handcuffed activism
walks on the street. Now pops
up the moon from forficated clouds.
A decoy was sitting on a tree
with a stunning gaze
to watch the lewd behavior ―
of a mirror engaged with a
self-portrait. Alphabetically
the breast milk spills ―
before you arrive without
mouth. A celebration
starts today for an unborn.
Satish Verma, 23 july 2017
Can you see the smoke
coming from
the brick kiln?
The finches
were jumping into firepit
one by one.
To enlarge―
the space between groping
and assault.
There was no need
to start an uproar
about pungent―
black forest of silences.
A face is suspended in midair.
That simply was not there.
Satish Verma, 22 july 2017
Bending the forked-stick to find
underground water ―
and immortality of thirst.
Lips were fragile. There were
no dew drops on the upper lip.
It tasted like a frozen moon.
Clouds had sucked the childhood.
No one picks up the fireflies
from dark bushes.
Tasered by stings, the moonlight
hangs by the window.
I watch you undressing.
After the blizzard, a rocking chair
waits. Hypothermia. The musical
return of the mute did not take place.
Satish Verma, 21 july 2017
Romancing Neptune
had an
amorous wish.
The body is water.
Take it,
split it,
and then become a doormat.
Blocking the fiesta,
a ghost brings in
storm, in a glass.
Will you drink the moon
in night?
The street now walks in,
taking a call to kill the shades,
of wrinkles. You forgot
your name and move
gingerly from post to post
lightening the lamps.
Satish Verma, 19 july 2017
All night November,
I was searching the vulnerable
lips after loosing you.
Now fingerless hands
were moving the sun-dial
away from light.
The shroud was heavy,
I would not breathe.
Give me a blue moon before dawn.
You cannot engage in
sudden withdrawl. I will
come back for a kiss.
The paper that leaves a wound,
I will not sign for the bread.
My hands had stopped trembling.
Satish Verma, 18 july 2017
Can you enlarge the moment,
when the time stopped and
you were trying to get a
glimpse of beyond?
You become a no-moment, a
no-truth, in a sauteed
orgasm.
And someone plucks a death
from your poems to
resuscitate you, draped
in tears.
The track record will show,
you were only yourself,
and never became a riddle.
Let go of me. It was only
a happening, undoing the
play, held in dark. As I
cross the door, you become invisible.
Satish Verma, 16 july 2017
A midnight craft
dumps the moon
on a heap of deceits.
I ask my sap to turn back for truism.
It was a question of spacing
between the bodies
in scapegoats;
coming for slaughter.
A scale measures the depth
of defeats. The hands
were busy in mending the
walls of psychiatric ward.
Have you ever tasted a white
poison, sweet in taste?
When you grow old, you will
look like your father.
The name which was absent
in calendar, was found everywhere.
Satish Verma, 15 july 2017
As if pruning was not enough.
After severance from the peak,
the ladder was becoming
aloof and murky.
Acid burn on the day
of breaking confidentiality.
An imperfect mirror was
wiping out the cloud, all night.
You are going to take on the
starless sky. A moon was
left out in the stillness of black sheen.
You are now poking at the globes.
Give me a pen to lift the
remorse. I was desperate to become
human. Death was looking at me
with great amusement.
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