Satish Verma, 4 october 2015
Till the end story
hope was not visible
to others.
Lie neutral truth
and road side innocence
died under the sun.
End in view was shifting
from error to error.
Statements squeezed between departures.
Steaming cup of patience
dazzled the penniless.
I was sick of hypocrisy.
At the end of my forest
dawn of my child
was peeling a rainbow.
Pedlars of worn out boats
were standing at the shores.
Two little feet were crossing the sea.
Satish Verma, 3 october 2015
In the ending, there was beginning of fear
of unknown.
The pain of malignity,
evil punctuation of
a serene landscape.
Life moved from one landmark
to another in alien waste.
I shuddered in a patch of sun.
The impulse was very strong to find out the answer
I was violated by many questions.
Words could not tell,
migrated back to their scriptures.
Time altered the names
of fear & death.
Waiting grew into self-knowledge.
Like pleated oxygen mask
life gave me a bump.
Saddened, I played the mutation game.
Failed, tried again, left the body to watch
the death of the self.
Beyond the mind, away from sorrow
and grief of world.
Satish Verma, 3 october 2015
The symbols delivered the hunger
and desire cleaved the hearts.
Fragile peace for collective
anguish was not a substitute.
Moment to moment
truth revealed your hand.
In desperation I searched
for destiny, not path.
Inadequately I clothed my fate.
Did not believe in organised mirrors.
Less than a peak,
I climbed to happiness.
No idols, no idolatory
my passivity took applause,
hungry thoughts
indulged in deep search.
The imperishable freedom,
a road to absolute
oneness was so close,
you faltered.
The transcription of internal peace went crazy.
Poorly lit blood in veins circulated in circles.
The hunt had failed.
Satish Verma, 2 october 2015
In the ending, there was beginning of fear
of unknown.
The pain of malignity,
evil punctuation of
a serene landscape.
Life moved from one landmark
to another in alien waste.
I shuddered in a patch of sun.
The impulse was very strong to find out the answer
I was violated by many questions.
Words could not tell,
migrated back to their scriptures.
Time altered the names
of fear & death.
Waiting grew into self-knowledge.
Like pleated oxygen mask
life gave me a bump.
Saddened, I played the mutation game.
Failed, tried again, left the body to watch
the death of the self.
Beyond the mind, away from sorrow
and grief of world.
Joe Breunig, 1 october 2015
Make a point of being courageous and strong;
today is another day from our blessed Lord.
Stand against the evil that you witness now,
as a mature apostle with Him… in one accord.
We have nothing to fear from our detractors,
who partake of the unfruitful works of darkness.
With the indwelling of God’s Spirit, we are
protected and covered with His righteousness.
We’ve been called to expose sin in the world,
even though the wicked hope that we don’t bother;
by tackling difficult subjects of human behavior,
we choose to honor Jehovah, the Holy Father!
In Him, we move and experience His Presence;
out of our brokenness shines the Light of Christ;
we desire that everyone should not be afraid
and obtain Salvation’s gift of… everlasting Life.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Deu 31:6; Eph 5:11; Acts 17:28
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Satish Verma, 1 october 2015
You said you were grief,
the marbled tears will not flow.
Was it not much softer
to accept the life
as a design of death?
You needed the continuity of the sorrow.
Why were you seeking the ending?
The visible effect was mirage,
the guilt of genocide.
We emptied our tatoos
on the road,
driving the emotions to insanity
Everything moved towards
the precipice, rejecting the sky.
Sorrow was part of joy, my adversary.
I wished to separate
the fear from the cells.
The pain of perennial setbacks chipped away the ladders.
I stood there at the level
of death, demanding rocks.
Satish Verma, 30 september 2015
The brain will not cease.
Agitation explores
the hypocrisy of paths.
My myths burned, I spinned and tipped
over the inverted truths.
Again I skip the swamps.
Body becomes a frozen lake.
Take off the mask now, tree is flowering
solitary shade is beginning to enlarge.
It is arrival time.
For you it is difficult geometry.
The stolen dreams collapse at your door.
Exhausted, you are grateful to defeatism.
The moth eaten rags cover the polarities of words.
Faceless fear is ready to strike.
Your eyes are filled
with civilized tears.
The weaning from wings was difficult.
Life demanded one thing,
death another.
Bunny Crunch, 30 september 2015
Everything is temporary
And to me, that’s kind of scary
It’s intense psychology
So don’t give me your theology
It can be a fatal psychological disorder
So it’s really not funny when you call me a hoarder
With all these struggles I can’t cope
And for control I only hope
I need an escape
No matter what the form or shape
When you lose so much and your betrayers can’t replace
Tell me again that I need in my empty crowded room more space
When these shadows I’m too weak to face
You tell me it’s my fault I’m losing my race
In my burdens I am drowning
That’s why I have collections in their aging that are browning
I want the happiness of childhood
So lay off the mocking if you could
I grew up too fast
That’s why I cling to mementos from my past
You may not understand my fears
But it doesn’t mean my age-old carpet has never dried my tears
Maybe rejection has just been too much
And that’s why I have all this candy and such
Maybe what haunts me is the absence of love
And that’s why I cling to this empty glove
The hand that I’m holding may be never there
But I keep it to think that someone with me it will wear
Instead of sneering and yelling, try being there for me
Then maybe a light in this darkness I’ll see
Maybe these boxes and things growing old
Are the only lifeline I can hope to hold
This is the one thing I can do
To avoid being slaughtered by the new
I want a shield from this hurt
That’s why I keep every single shirt
Don’t call me selfish for trying to hide
From the day that in the midst of us a man slowly died
I’m sure if you saw him have that stroke
You too would make yourself go broke
After all, an expensive mask
Is healthier than a suicide flask
When you mock my heart that I’ve shared with you
Tell me, what else can I possibly do?
I’d rather be alone than taken and unloved
And unhealthy by yet another’s words be dubbed
If you don’t love the worst parts of me
If like me good in me you can’t see
Be like the rest and from me walk away
And leave me with no light to face alone my darkest day
ratienka, 29 september 2015
głupieję owinięta samotnością
chwile dotknięte pamięcią
uwierają
jakbym godzinami klęczała
na grochu
nie pamiętam momentu
wstania
twoje imię faluje na firankach
a wszystko co było
rozmywa się z dniami
przeciekającymi przez palce
otwieram co dzień drzwi
ale zamiast ciebie
pustka
nie naszej jesieni
wrzesień 2015r.
Satish Verma, 29 september 2015
Stage was set for the god of death
to alight in vertical scoot.
Then a wall of fear was raised
to outrage the door of saviour.
The receptors were removed from brain,
rejecting the manhood
to join the queue of media barons.
Truncated lord becomes unbuttoned;
truth condition wavering.
Not again the ride through fire
Me and you are untying
the nuggets of tomorrow.
Death and dew will decide the venue of the event.
Go on beating the microthin
smile on the face of the moon.
Clouds are rising without me.
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
