Satish Verma, 13 october 2014
They slaughtered the icon in captivity
as an act of mercy.
To know the secret of madness
why people were falling on knees?
Outside a small narrative will give
creased excuses. The spilled blood
always instigates to drink from the fountain head
of sweet revenge.
A promise has to be fulfilled.
Death has seen the door,
it will come again.
On this day the maniacs, bipolars and schizophreniacs
will celebrate the independence day
and show their trophies of dried skulls.
Now the time has come.
Everybody wants to commit suicide
to become a saint.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 12 october 2014
Why you think of reversing the wheels
when life has stopped moving?
The time has fled from your hands
and settled on the body of death.
You are not intact and whole inside.
Where the path betrayed us?
Broken windows let in the dirt, smut and
heat.
The winter will be harsh, barren and cold
One by one swallows have departed.
The pain in neck does not go
an astringent blast overpowers
you become giddy, stagger for a while
and then become blind.
Your tragedy is mine, we suffer
for the sake of light.
Satish Verma
Yehoshua ben Peleh Shim'onai, 11 october 2014
(1/31/12 - 2/5/12)
She and You: how can I ever compare?
Or can I ever replace You with her?
For my heart sings softly when she is there
But my soul shouts praises when You are near.
For the presence of her makes me so weak;
She makes me as one on the ship: seasick
But her voice, though sweet, can't make me a wick
Nor can consume me like a burning stick.
But You, my Belov'd God, make my knees fall
And bow me low with the voice of Your call
For with Your majesty cries out my soul;
My heart sings loudly, 'Holy, Lord of All! '
O how I am delighted by her face
But she can't turn my heart filled with Your grace;
Yes, I loved her, but she can't take the space
Of my mind, outpouring with the Lord's praise!
Satish Verma, 11 october 2014
I look at a slice of sky and weather
from the window of my sick room
tethered to the bed by depression.
Time has come. Somebody will lay me open.
Must I suffer with deep holes in buried mind
where tears have drenched the folds?
Everyday I burned my fingers in a
blast solely to test the truth, and for
reading the verse, rubbed my eyes with a
dream.
An imperfect wave struck at the legs,
wavered me for a minute and then washed away.
Sitting within tragedy rise a song, I
understand its fugitive moans, watch
the face, I am not a martyr but
an ubiquitous being.
Satish Verma
Tasha Young, 10 october 2014
Every day I try to be what everyone else wants to see fitting in just to win the acceptance of my peers.
Dressing up in disguise putting on a face that's not mine trapped in a mess of lies burying the truth inside.
Putting on a show playing a scripted role in this unknown world lost in without a role so out of control.
Sadden by the thought of me pretending to be something I'm not wishing that I could turn back the clock to a place where I could be notice me for me.
Dreaming for me to change the way people see me for something I'm not wanting to be wishing for people to finally see me for the person who I truly am underneath I'm just me… Just me.
I despise what lays deep inside its no surprise the fakeness that presides ignoring what I truly what not only for me but everyone who feels the same as me.
Wanting to so badly to be me no longer demanding for people expecting me to follow their lead no longer a drone like machine.
Setting examples, never giving up always persistent following the path that is meant for us a future that's waiting for us.
Completely ready to be who I am it's time to make the world understood to except me for what I am no longer afraid to take a stand.
No longer keeping the truth hidden within prepared to show what is real, what I am no more fakeness I'm to real for them the world better prepare I'm breaking down the door and rushing in for who I truly am underneath…oh-ho ya underneath I'm just being me… just wait and see.
The judgment of others and the rumors they believe the delusions they see so fake and so unseemly deceived.
Convulsively pressuring others to do their deeds no matter the damage they cause and how people are treat Just as long they remain the king's and queen's.
Systematically conceited translucent masks persuasive defense just pretending to be your friend.
I'm so done with all of it
Gert Strydom, 10 october 2014
At night the fragrances of jasmine
and lavender
comes in through the window
along with the love songs of the doves,
the moon hangs golden yellow
like a sunflower
and in the distance cars pass
and there are the noises
of ambulance and police sirens,
the hooting of a train
but you do lay hot and cosy against me
and the outside world passes us.
Gert Strydom, 10 october 2014
When as a child you asked about the right road to take,
asked why everyone have got to carry a cross
I had to show you that we are His followers,
had to taught you to trust and not to complain
and only in His words I could find the right direction
while the lights of this world were blinding you
and already enemies were present,
forces working together to destroy humanity
but still you wanted to see a star, see a sign
and I wanted you to follow Him out of free will
and you took your own way,
did later realise that we do not deserve His love
and stripped from your self-conceit you did realise
that the Lord walks in advance to straighten things.
Satish Verma, 10 october 2014
When the sun dips on the horizon,
I will invite the yellow moon.
Time raises the mist,
profiles become grey,
vibrating in trance,
limbs colliding in way.
When the love’s violence escorts you to death
red eyes will melt and an avalanche
will drown the landmark.
We were kith and kin,
now strangers in motion of earth,
meet only speeding towards dark.
When the life will miss the sorrow
I will invite the yellow moon.
Satish Verma
Ailill, 10 october 2014
Expecting experience
to match up to dreams
I echo my expectations
always seeking to be
who I am
like an origami boat
tossed and turned
down the flow of a stream
broken dreams lying around
keep me in a trance
disengaged from the dance
of the eternal now
see me as I wish to be seen
an image self created
self perpetuated in longing
for a cup
half empty,
never full
Lo, 9 october 2014
Fear is a beautiful thing
Eloquently placed in my life to tempt me
However I divert it
It always comes back to haunt me
Fear doesn't have a name
It doesn't pick and choose who to blame
Rather it aims in every direction
Catching any kind of prey
The ones who overcome it
Are the few who will prevail
Fear is a beautiful thing
I will never stay impaled
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