Satish Verma, 14 november 2013
wanted to send a call to me
sitting in a flowing traffic of life, a sinister,
sadistic happiness to see the disasters
coming home, in triangle of death,
for visitation of a nihilistic visual, the wedding
of taxidermal violence, at scope of frugal
clay, moulding the age of anxiety
because there were enough girls to be raped
and hunger was disconnecting the tribes
in camps, the bunkers were safe haven
for daunting, unremembered prodigal sons;
the vultures were dying daily,
you were outcast, a sleepwalker in dark,
confronting the boundaries of labiate palms
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 14 november 2013
wanted to send a call to me
sitting in a flowing traffic of life, a sinister,
sadistic happiness to see the disasters
coming home, in triangle of death,
for visitation of a nihilistic visual, the wedding
of taxidermal violence, at scope of frugal
clay, moulding the age of anxiety
because there were enough girls to be raped
and hunger was disconnecting the tribes
in camps, the bunkers were safe haven
for daunting, unremembered prodigal sons;
the vultures were dying daily,
you were outcast, a sleepwalker in dark,
confronting the boundaries of labiate palms
Satish Verma
Renato N. Mascardo, 13 november 2013
like yellow butterflies
turning over tip to twig
leaves are cartwheeling down
towards winter //
renato
wednesday 14 november 2013
Gert Strydom, 13 november 2013
When my darling comes to me
in the street jacarandas are flowering
and I can smell jasmine and gardenia on the wind,
when with her body for moments see astounds me,
and red candles burn romantically in the window,
a table is laid out with snacks and champagne,
while se covers my face with kisses
with the glance in here eyes gleaming.
Gert Strydom, 13 november 2013
(after Alfred, Lord Tennyson)
Wild and happy without any regret
are tears of joy,
that flows without any kind of despair,
without a ploy,
comes heartfelt but are indeed somewhat strange,
does not annoy
and does come flowing with each special thing,
when at times you do cry my dear darling.
As deeply astounding as the first love,
or body bliss
that is remembered after some time
a single long kiss
does convey a own intimate meaning
of what life is,
coming unexpected from your soft lips,
caries a true message along with hips.
[Reference: “Tears, Idle Tears” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.]
Satish Verma, 13 november 2013
perversity behind the orbs tilts,
scatters the fragile cohesion, a spectre
looms on the wrinkled face of an old tree,
the bee-eaters have flown away;
annual rings on wooden panels were defying the age
of smile on the mouth of bright doors
petitioning to the naked beams of body;
infusion of totality for antimutagens
of nude spiders weaving a lethal design:
the tender fall of deathless night on
forgetfull; I am ready to reach the bottom
of fear, bring out the poison for celebration,
unveiling the apes of tomorrow on the
black prints of dragonflies stumbling out
from golden words
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 12 november 2013
Suddenly the day fades to twilight,
the bright blue sky become dull
and you and I become spectators
while down the street the wind blows dust
when the sun sets in magic colours,
when we see the colours of the night
and we hear doves coo on the roof,
see stars stretching out into eternity
and there is innocence in your eyes
that becomes big like those of a child
and suddenly I have an inability
to find the right words
while silence brings a own language
when the sun sets beyond the hillocks.
Gert Strydom, 12 november 2013
In mere moments the blue sky
is wrapped in the black blanket of the night
and I feel your hand searching mine like a small animal,
while the sunset paints her colours
glorious on the canvass of the night,
and in the distance lights are twinkling suddenly,
the night is full of starts that are white, blue and glittering
and your lips burn on mine like a fire
while that moment becomes the most precious to us both.
Satish Verma, 12 november 2013
A tribal instinct stops the nemesis:
Spraying the blood-soaked, small
foot prints on my chest;
unlocking, I accept
myself.
why contained anger
of awesome ache over the periphery?
Through the atrophied, black limbs -
an elite infusion of trespassing knowledge?
The green adolescence was waiting in chains.
The hoarseness as from a cyanosed throat
after the sips of hemlock, the brave ascending
of a gaint stroke on the cheeks of death;
the dust will sing a farewell
to a river of tears!
End was not me on the chainsaw
a chamomile will wipe the blemishes of the Grail.
Satish Verma
Bob Gotti, 11 november 2013
As The Body, we give to others, to be a comfort to our brothers,
All believers in the Body of Christ, give to others to change lives,
Giving to those, who do believe, to help all who’ve yet to receive,
Christ, who leads in our giving, who supplies our needs for living.
We give according to principles, of God, as His plan God fulfills,
Sowing and reaping for Christ, as our Lord works through our life,
As Christ reaps our sown seeds, God takes care of our all needs,
This, as we give from the heart, blessings to us, Christ will impart.
All believers can give abundantly, as we live our lives confidently,
In the abundance of God above, as He provides us endless love,
While taking care of all our needs, while in our life His Spirit leads,
To live our lives in God’s ways, led by God’s Spirit all of our days.
Christ, being rich, became poor, to change our lives, forevermore,
Giving all believers a new worth, this, to live out our lives on earth,
As we now give to others friend, for this earthly life is not our end,
While we reflect upon Calvary, in Christ, we now focus on Eternity.
For our Savior had given Himself, to grant believers eternal wealth,
So we should give generously, as thoughtfully we give sacrificially,
With our example that of Jesus Christ, to live out this temporal life;
Our giving, a tiny part of the story, of our Lord God’s Eternal Glory.
(Copyright ©11/2013 Bob Gotti)
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