Gert Strydom, 18 september 2014
I wonder if all men long for a girl
who has some stay,
acts at time as a harpy, whore and mate;
as she portray
a woman of utmost consequence,
every day
an angel in her own beauty and wit,
and truly blessed is she that has it.
Satish Verma, 18 september 2014
Tonight a dark force enters my room
I will play with planets to decide
the course of my destiny.
A future has been tied to my past.
Such pain, strange exorcism, the evil spirit
stains the bed.
When I squeeze the eyes
fog deepens.
It hides the treasure of subtle creation.
Every thing is turning into black energy
I stop thinking.
A pretention of kindness, and monumental grace play
to stop the suicide after loss of
standing harvest.
The hope has been abducted
for a ransom of a child.
There is rape of a classical painting.
Corridors of power resound with promises
styles smashed, seeds thrown
randomly on the land of guilt.
We will wait for the showers to come.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 17 september 2014
Walking on dead leaves covering the grass
to and fro, to and fro in solitude, hiding
behind the mask, pithy face, ideas rebounding,
a loaded eloquence, opening a diaglogue with self,
quietly bleeding inside. You are hearing
the sounds of winged carnivores who had been
devouring your brain cells. The time is ending,
death has no relevance, no respect for the survival,
insulting the existence, anguish overtaking
the joy of new born, lifted by a fog.
We are reciting the hymns now, lighting the lamps
to see the stains on the walls. The bronzed
sculpture refuses to come down from the pedestal,
afraid to go to a warehouse, to the lonliness.
A shadow moves away from the light, makes its own
length and buries in unconsolable sadness.
Pure eyes in which float the tears of million people.
Dying lips will always narrate a tale of abandonment,
will not be able to say adieu.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 17 september 2014
From Adam man is surrounded by dust
and each one of us returns to the ground
as if there is a secret crumbling in each cell
we play half blindfolded
until the last sunrise
and so man’s time is counted in insignificance.
From Adam man is surrounded by dust
and each one returns to the ground
while the days come and go much too fast,
we do discover love and are wounded
and time makes us whole and healthy again
and like this is the story of each human being.
From Adam man is surrounded by dust
and each one of us returns to the ground
Gert Strydom, 17 september 2014
Her red inflamed eyes looks bloody
against her pink white scabby face
and almost colourless white hair frizz on her head
with a vein beating nervously against her cheek.
The glance in her eyes goes almost everywhere
but still teeth gleam pearl white in her mouth
and on a old leather leading strap
an impudent dog jerks
as if it wants to jump right in front of my car,
as if it wants to escape from her and life
and where she is passing I hear her sing cheerfully
as if her body is not holding her back
and when I look past the surface
I see in her heart the great longing.
Gert Strydom, 16 september 2014
(after William Blake)
In each city street there are people
who continually come and go
on their way to work, trampling with tired feet
and in some of them the spirits are low
as late in the afternoon they return home,
as slaves to a life that is by destiny set
and just here and there they find something wholesome
but some curse, drink and bet
and so life goes on
with drug peddlers that are selling their wares
and prostitutes patrolling up and down until the crowds are gone
and now and then people offer prayers
and I wonder what God on this earth see,
while people live in iniquity?
[Reference: “London” by William Blake]
Gert Strydom, 16 september 2014
(after William Blake)
I walk the street, impoverished people
do catch my eye,
marks of hardship and woe are on their faces,
whores wander by,
(some once decent women forced to sin),
a baby’s cry
sounds very helpless and I have pity,
there is some great heartache that I see.
[Reference: “London” by William Blake.]
Satish Verma, 16 september 2014
A scented moon caves in
on a tree top
and solitude withers up in a seminal cloud,
It is good to be friendless sometimes.
Me and homecoming become synonymous.
We are ruined by familiar paths.
The mist deepens.
Not reaching anywhere.
I come out in dark to find the stars.
What will you do if the soul sneaks out of a body?
The wind starts a dirty dance.
A tall cedar scowls.
It starts raining,
fabulous as tears on an immaculate face.
Pull up the veil.
It separates the truth.
Do not filter the pain.
We may find a god.
Satish Verma
raj thampi, 15 september 2014
like a mad fire,
through rain drenched skin
spreading with thousands hands
feeling, absorbing, caressing
heights and shallows
mounds and valleys
the eternity pouring within
the pinnacle of thirst
longing to taste
longing to feel
the dark secrets
moulding...
A book open
lazy eyes reading
pages after pages
layers of clothes
waking up wisdom
enthralling suspense
fingers hurrying to
turn them rapidly
story untold
maintained technique
dry mouth and throat
shimmer of eyes
Hunger of a fugitive
given up table manners
his teeth everywhere
marking their trails
his fingers in motion
torn table cloths
visible white skin
he bury his face
against the secret flow
He shivers
touching the place of union
swallowing him, again and again
his stubborn reluctance
failing to accept his lost self
he bury himself
deeper and deeper
one dark nipple held between his lips
he races against her moans
A rain is forming somewhere
outside their windows
Jasmins turn away their faces
embarrassed by the cooing love
she wraps her legs around his neck
inviting him to feast on her tropical flows
she wraps her arms around his neck
her legs dragging him closer
taking his desert rain
pouring deeper inside
rain outside and inside
raj thampi, 15 september 2014
"Can" as in pepsi can
Ha Ha
Is my gift caught inside a
Tin can, a laugher loud
It is what will irk your consciousness
Reminding you how hollow you are
And I will still haha, within my silence
While you struggle between corrections
Ha ha
Move away your covering finger
Let the can echo my laugher
Within your fool’s paradise
Where mirrors lying, most beautiful-
My queen of idiocy
Ha ha
Away from your sword
Within my own castles(construction in progress)
I will shout my laughers as I want
Until then I am visible
Hidden inside a horse of Trojan
Like another snow white mirror
Ha ha
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