Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 3 november 2016

Haltering

A red clock and the dwarf 
will not meet on the wall. 
Time slips out in virginal shyness. 
 
On the verge of collapse was 
an ossified civil group 
after emotive conception fails. 
 
Unambiguously an azure 
sky measures the human steps 
in somnambulant thoughts. 
 
You throw a bound kid 
in a water tank, after postpartum blues 
and walk away with a halter. 
 
Who will grab the fractured 
age, during the fire dance? 
A mirror lies flat after announcing the award.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 2 november 2016

Flirting

Half-mooned I have left the envy. 
The basic instinct of lesser love 
for my failing god. 


Come to me, my cloaked enemy, 
a sweet lover of pain 
in the milky hours. 


Mother of seeds was far away 
and you wanted to suck on the 
pollen from the wings of honeybees. 


Soft and cruel, I cannot leave you 
nor I can abandon the post. 
The war cry was coming nearer. 


Was it a virginal drink to – 
placate the lips of a flame? 
Time will never know the ultimate.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 1 november 2016

Singing Darkness

In hirsute adolescence 
a narcissist climbs 
the breast and becomes 
a graveyard of moons. 
 
Talking of marginality, 
a hole in the chest 
ejects a secret of peachy skin 
when wind was selling sex. 
 
Most corrupt was me 
always telling truth about the 
warm eggs of chaotic legs 
who will not climb down the street.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 31 october 2016

Striped Nothings

Floating on a river of fire 
sitting in a cooking vessel 
you were invoking the rain god. 
 
Your hollow words had holiness 
of unmeaning. 
The sky opens the third eye. 
 
Are you going to offer your 
tongue to a footwear 
of a proxy blood? 
 
As a hymn to goddess of wealth, 
sugar is thrown out of window 
and yellow rice dances before a mirror. 
 
And here I bleed silently 
for the shooting star* 
who could not conceive. 
 
*A kind of primrose whose purple flowere have 
backward curving petals hanging down. The 
flowers move skyward on slender stems 
turning their face upward after fertilization.
 


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 30 october 2016

Very Disturbing

Rains will not come to my land. 
Bisexuality starts a slut walk. 
Blackbucks were hungry. 
 
The stray dogs were barking 
at moon. Into the night goes 
the snake without any truth. 
 
Nearly over the scooped – 
protection of virginity 
against the dazzling hirsutism. 
 
Lost fortune of the flaunted 
Buddha. I have no legs 
to bow down before the pale god. 
 
This is the sex: there are 
strawberries. Have a pick 
of comets, bleeding.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 29 october 2016

Unphrasing

in love with vermilion 
floating on optics 
 
you learn in moments of insult 
or insults in moment of learning 
 
fishless bones 
still he smels of withering pain 
on black satin 
 
you don’t want to suffer 
with asterisks 
annotation 
disfigurs the essence 
 
i will boil the moon 
to find the separateness 
between scent and grief 
 
i am done 
the poem is over 
death has walked away


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 28 october 2016

A Cricket Invades The Night

in a rumpled, 
black city 
homes are sliced in half 
the equality demands 
the rights of people 
 
sometimes you love a 
tormentor 
he will be able to wed, albeit 
shyly, with the physical 
cleaning the love’s deficit 
 
how far the waiting will go 
skirting the mist 
it was there 
in you 
in me 
a rapist 
a serial killer


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Joe Breunig

Joe Breunig, 27 october 2016

Poem: Facing Adversity

One of the many secrets,
for facing Life’s adversity
is a change of perspective;
adjusting the lens, we see
 
things from a Heavenly view-
whereby old problems are seen
as new opportunities, teeming
brightly, unsullied by routines
 
of dull, antiquated thinking.
Address all challenges head on,
without any semblance of fear;
employing some spiritual brawn
 
ensures that final solutions
can be found and implemented;
real satisfaction comes, when
by God, you’re complimented.
 
 
 
Author Notes
 
Inspired by:
Eph 1:18; Matt 25:21  and
 
"It is one thing to face adversity but it is totally another thing to turn our adversity in to an eternal opportunity to become who God has planned us to be in Christ Jesus through it all. God never takes us through a tunnel that doesn't have a exit, so the one most important thing we have to do through the ordeal we face is to look in to the face of the Lord and trust Him that He will bring us out at the right time. Remember, that those who look in to God's face will become bright and rest in Him like as a baby, because they will understand that it is for their eternal good that God has taken them through such temporal tunnel experiences that bring eternal dividend. You can never learn to trust God more and more deeply, unless you pass through the dark tunnel experiences of life! So let go of yourself and let God take control." —Abraham Israel
 
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

 
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
 


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Joe Breunig

Joe Breunig, 27 october 2016

Poem: Tranquility

Tranquility can’t be obtained
from external sources; ultimate
peace must come from within…
one’s own soul; when trained
 
by the local Church, ideals
of Truth’s tenets are taught;
they’re meant to elevate our
thinking, whereby what’s real
 
or true… becomes much clearer.
Life is simplified as false steps
are avoided; self-confidence grows
with Faith’s maturity; when nearer
 
to Jehovah, our Life is enhanced!
For His peace surpasses all human
understanding, where tranquility
dwells; when Faith has advanced,
 
you’ll find tranquility… more often!
 
 
 
Author Notes
 
Inspired by:
Phil 4:6-7
 
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
 
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
 


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 27 october 2016

Listening To Rwanda Genocide

In your azure eyes 
I was teaching myself: 
how to drown. What a nodal 
agency to receive the award. 
 
The ailing moon 
will not come to my rescue. 
The seized cloud had failed 
to cry – 
 
embarrassing the sidewalks. An 
unfathomable legend. 
A bloated name becomes the 
mother of rapes. 
 
At stake were all the crutches. 
The tribal stain had a stark 
reality. The basic instinct, 
walks home to stand on the mount of bones.


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