Gert Strydom, 20 november 2014
To some people death comes serene
but I have seen it coming
with great fear and pain
as a unknown something
wiping clean life’s scene
shattering the lives of those still living
again and again
and yet to some it comes silently as a sleep
while in its dark mysterious phantom some does weep
as still nearer and still nearer it does creep
as a end to things and to life
or a interlude to a new beginning
of that which lies unknown.
Satish Verma, 20 november 2014
When insects were crawling
dreams had contradictions,
a sudden dropp in temperature
brought the quantum touch.
Ending of the grief
or grief of ending
rejected every intact truth
and death was trailing behind the candle.
Fear and agony were following
the footfalls of night
Blindness was weaving a broken moon.
The time will not be answerable for any plight.
Corners of childhood brighten up
for sweet nothings
I adore the fallen god,
he was inhaling the earth.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 19 november 2014
The ultimate question:
what is love,
why does it exist
and why sometimes not?
Or was it life?
It all depends on how you look at things:
by the heart or scientifically.
Gert Strydom, 18 november 2014
The garden of my heart
is empty when you are gone
and its as if every plant
that I have in it does perish
and although
I do give great care to everything
something essential is missing
and I bring everything to inside
and wait like a winter
on a new beginning
and it is as if the sun is away
and as if the frost
does extend deadly cold fingers
while you are missing.
Satish Verma, 18 november 2014
I do not want to become
plaintiff or defendant.
Untethered, I will punish myself
for metaphysical nuances.
Sometimes a silence talks to grieving sky
about a fake truth.
The tears will never stop now.
Give me my freedom to cry,
to exhume the body of justice
and bury my future in memories
I do not sell the dreams.
Eyes tell it all.
History repeats itself
when message dies on legs!
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 17 november 2014
The women sing
David has defeated Goliath of Gath
and the Philistines flee
when David is king
as they are scared that he is going to obliterate them
and David and his Israelite army is formidable
as a omnipotent God is guarding him
with whom at times he deliberates
and God says to David: “you cannot build my temple
as on your hands there is blood”
and ten thousand men fall before him,
ten thousand men and many more
but David has got remorse over his ways
and stays trusting the decrees of God.
Satish Verma, 17 november 2014
To become or not to become a renegade,
or to die or not to die for a semi-god?
These were some of the questions
thrown at an incomplete script.
What elevated you to a celebrity?
Your hump or deep wrinkled groans?
Age is abating, abattoir is empty.
Exile from the past is over.
When you intend to comeback to childhood
and become a simple star?
Behind the mask lies the embrace of death
I am afraid the flames will engulf,
the genius of pathways.
Everything will turn into obsolete gossip.
A patch of sunlight becomes a costly exposure
bones are entwined in eternal cuddle.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 16 november 2014
Are you genuine, I ask?
Your face, a stone wall,
I had been bruising my psyche against it.
I have no strength to bury myself alive,
in the mass grave of lies.
An ancient fear
descends from the hill.
Wants to marry a tree.
Or worship the terror
of a diaspora.
The vultures are dying every day,
We were talking of pregnancy,
desire and death.
The sparrows are gone.
Heat is rising.
I am starting the countdown.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 15 november 2014
Pardon my mask
I will put you on pedestal to torment me,
because you were necessary
for my existence.
When I prepare finally my death wish
you can smile.
Your eyes are looking through my head,
I know,
you were hurt from my moon face.
I will wash your feet with my tears now.
Exhausted, nameless in a crowd
I was counting my see-through triumphs
all piled up as burned out bones.
To live without meaning is very painful.
Everything is abused for self gratification.
Over a black sky, against the mountains
the old silence becomes teeth of a dead faith.
Satish Verma
E. de la Garza, 14 november 2014
Single words audible in the din, bear one moment into the next
In cords of slack memories privately threaded or strung or woven,
Colored by the when and the where of the light and hunger and
Aching for warm scents of belonging to the world no matter what
Eyes create in each ten pound universe shackled to this cauldron
Of roiling myths and the fleeting stench of birth, knowing what is
Believed is the only knowing, not the shouts or the calm voice or
Any words to justify the illusion of now-- and seductive eyes and
Countless paintings locked behind them-- keening for the fleshly
Morsels, livid or rotting, to join the damned in joy and hope and
Love-- an endless montage of believing that the mote we live on
Is somehow better for the fist shown to or the back turned to the
Night-- and cleaving to each other and legacy, clutching trinkets,
Grasping for war and faith and treasure to say, I am victorious.
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