Satish Verma, 26 february 2014
The stem cells coaxed to become
a kidney or a trachea failed to
ask the Himalayas, why were not,
they gathering the ice for glaciers!
Some sexual jealousy?
The naked darkness will nurse
the roses to rest on the barrel
of a gun. Civil war will start any day.
Colored man, the tattoos will not
tell the truth of the body. Blood
was always crying to give up
the fight. Why half-brothers were
destroying each other?
No squirrel will climb on the trees.
Nuts have gone. The winds have dispersed
sine die. A prayer is rising from the lips of earth.
Satish Verma
Greg, 25 february 2014
At a certain point
The light grows so dim
Before and after turn to grey
Dismay arrives
On the lips of those who speak
So strong in their word
Link to the aftermath
The shitty fucking poetry
The unrelenting bullshit
Of artistic constipation
I can’t write anymore
My soul has grown weak
And every time the morning blooms
The phone rings
To sweep me off my feet
I’m dying inside
But nobody cares
Because I can’t express it
In artistic divinity
As the poets of great
Who harnessed Spirit
Could
But I promise you
At least my heart’s broken
Please listen
For I have no purpose left
But maybe to resonate
With a passer by
Who will never stop to speak
But in a passing glance
Will share a tear
For the life that has erupted
In petty flatulence
The residuals of nothing
Crust upon my eyes
And leave me blind
To find nothing but fading lies
Hidden behind eyes
That wish to look
Complex and deep
But really are dirt cheap
And made of fraudulent shit
I am so so sad
But I know that no one cares
Please just let me fade away
Crying hollow screams
Resonating in the valleys
And mountains
Teeming with life
madster roberts, 25 february 2014
those hands which once felt like home
seems to the the same hands
casting the stones,
i wish i could offer my help,
but your heart is cold
all wickedness has taken its tole
and slowly she breaks
her heart no longer has what it takes
to strive through the night
fragile to touch, sensitive
to words, a broken frame
held up by a nail
no longer eligible
a picture that deserves a thousand takes
a thousand glances no chance for mistake
let me mend your heart
heal your crimson touch
ignite your spark
that was once lost
amount of lust, passion and love
Gert Strydom, 25 february 2014
Maybe life goes like this
that somebody brings the world to a halt
for only you
when you do trust someone with your love
and then the pregnant night gets a knew meaning
when in each yearning in moments that are unknown,
new of new love and the experience stays with you
in this new joint seclusion
when you do believe that love is sincere and intimate
with more meaning than what you have experienced up to now,
when there is much more than just pity
in a kind of bliss that you can never really forget
and maybe when trust and integrity touches you
love becomes resolute.
Gert Strydom, 25 february 2014
(for Daleen)
Birthdays come and birthdays go
and yet there is something of the magic
of what life really is
caught in simple moments just like these
and the true length of life we do not know
or if we will be happy and healthy or be sick,
if important things we will experience or miss
while the rosy blossom of life does glow
upon your soft cheek
and your golden eyes do shine
with a deep perplexing happiness
and yet our lives we do not to destiny throw
but do for deeper meaning seek
for something lasting and divine
and the beauty that only a husband in love can behold
comes in moments of mere bliss
when something special lingers in each kiss
and I wish that every other day be blessed like this
that love will burn as bright when we are old
that even times of turmoil and sadness
will be turned around to gladness,
to the perfection of a eternal spring
and that life will have greatness in everything.
Greg, 24 february 2014
As moments wait
And years turn to hours
The rebel showers
Shout high above the river-pains
Together with love
Right and wrong emerge
As half-castrated recoils
Into the face of fear
Like shadows of the mystic
I emerge as a force
Not worth fighting for
And hoping to be put to rest
So that my soul may find ease
In oneness with the river of time
The shores are cold
And the more I step away from the cold splash of the water
The more rigid the air gets
The faster life passes by
In the most tormenting of grinds
Gears that shift
The war machine that rides inside
As a manifestly made
Black hole
Upon this leisure
My time-I do abide
Obedience has come to me
For once I see
The light of faith that resigns me
Not to the shore
Not to a wave
But to the river itself
For if I am-caught in a reason
In an objective, grasping glance
I will suffocate on the open air
Of possibility
And if not
Then a vial conditional
So I must submerge myself in the river;
As that which has no option
I remain free
From the constraints
Ney the utter unbearable torment
Of being-among beings
With no essential relation
To the being, that beings essentially are
As a spattering on canvas
That can never touch art
I gasp at air
Being slowly ripped apart
By the rampage of intellectualism
That rummages my soul
Holding love to the glow
Of an iridescent candle
And devolving into meager thoughts
Of that which lies Beyond
Tarantulas come gripping up
From inside of me
The hyper-dimensional resting space
Of space itself
That emerges in a form of undeniable blackness
-A reflection of my own
Dejection runs through my veins
Castration foments in my mouth
To lay barren the sentiments too holy too speak
The repugnant poet
Masturbatory exploiter of experience
As such I stand before you- ashamed
Greg, 24 february 2014
The dead rise from the ashes
To play lyrical assassination
With souls that bury;
Deep in fields
The relentless growth
The relentless growth
As we look out to the fields
The flowers bloom
And souls do too
Gazing a far
In a hollow swoon
To love the angel
And death the martyr
The repugnant imitation
Of celestial order
Himself- Castigated liturgy
Momentary eclipses of the sun
To make the light less bright
And we can all have fun
Without the cancer
But my poetry has turned stagnant
Perhaps it has become mine?
Another empty hollow chore
Just another waste of time
The pressure was built for oh so long
To sweep across the streets
And be mauled by all the dust
To lay strewn across the asphalt
Demolished by an oncoming car
But fuck; If I was to be revealed
The soul-crushing aftermath
Will lie dormant
The river rises to greet the swell
And an abomination of the rats arise
Hatred grows deep within
As love is turned to steam-driven trains
And potholes, letting out gasps of vapor
Harshness arising as black soot
As the trains come-lookers greet their way
Good-bye mother
Good-bye father
I have lost my way
To never be found
The night has consumed me in its cold comfort
…To never be consumed
Gert Strydom, 24 february 2014
Far in the distance a church bell rings
while the early Sunday morning is lingering
and the moments between you and me stretch out
with the bliss that no words do know
when you cover my body and face with kisses
and the world fades away, stops for moments
even the thoughts that constantly remain in the mind
when we know the depth of true love
when you are fragile, brittle
and far past wonderful.
Gert Strydom, 24 february 2014
You are wonderful and sometimes full of mystery
and at times I do not understand you completely
but your smile, your laughter and the things that you do say
are treasures that no money can buy
and I do not want you any different.
Satish Verma, 24 february 2014
A severed hand on my shoulder
wrenches it off.
You sit on a toadstool
to measure the depth of grass.
A raven scans the earth:
nothing was left to eat.
The hungry urchins had
already punctured the garbage can.
A live show of committing suicide
will take place tonight.
To become silent in roaring noises
was the outcome of a dive.
A terrorist in pilgrim’s pouch walks past
a bomb. The wires reach in the schism
of a faith. Again you cry in your skin
for sake of a forgotten god.
Satish Verma
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