Satish Verma, 19 march 2022
The philanderer―
an anti-man, comes for regaining
moral conscience. I
pledge my peels.
Ocimum was not ready
to marry a giant tree.
This war will never be over.
The skin, the deep voice
within, were wakeful in dark. There
was no hope to revive the naked soul.
The sea and the whale.
Competing for death-dance.
Blue sky kills the stars.
Now I will become mute,
watching the jewel-thief…
taking away the golden calf.
Satish Verma, 18 march 2022
Stargazing
under a new sky.
Buried in the sands
of time,
to locate the gate of moon.
Nothing else moves
in my thoughts, except
a Venus fly-trap.
Your hinged, slanted
eyes, capturing my words.
Then your maze bleeds
in the spotless dawn
of baby year.
Between a mortal
and a saint.
I hang my mirror
to prove the divinity of the dust
of god.
Satish Verma, 17 march 2022
The brown dust―
floats, while reading
poetry.
It was my first―
love with the dancing words
in the jungle of departures.
The genocide of―
reliefs. I erect a shrine
for the slaughter of unknown.
Innocently, I utter―
your name in dark, that
lights up the aubade.
Strange things happen.
I stand where the roads don't cross
parting the emptiness.
The deadpan. Another city falls.
Satish Verma, 16 march 2022
Can you define this relationship?
In a tumultuous city
I was missing…
But in this absence I become whole.
A chemical clock becomes awry.
Night was my poem
I was writing for the moon
and throwing a handful of dust
to meet the dust.
Black flamingo will not
eat tonight. Wading through the
water, its will broken,
searching the pink eyes.
How do I catch you when
you have flown away?
Satish Verma, 15 march 2022
Trending like a
dog walker, the disheveled
moon, comes out
from the cocoon, to welcome
the new year.
This was a flash point
of pure sulphur,
to steal the kisses in rose valley
of violence.
And you stand at crossbones
to kill, or get killed.
The leader climbs down
to sin, to predate
the celebration of womb's disaster.
Earth trembles
in anticipation. A merciless
shreak comes out from the
man-of-war.
Satish Verma, 14 march 2022
Something― you wanted to
say, which you would not.
Planet breaks― disheveled, weeping
being― unbeing.
Sometimes you play a game
of trembling legs―
waiting to run away
from your anguished inside.
The last hour of night
blinks. A baby sun about
to be born, and you find yourself
unprepared.
The black letters, on yellow
pages, under the streetlight
dance. A fat dream burns.
A book bleeds.
Satish Verma, 12 march 2022
Not finding a path
to truth,
going beyond the gods. You
will not listen to my pleas―
still frozen in unthruths.
Death opens the―
holy darkness. I am aware of
the bluffs and black voodoos,
insertion of pins.
Moon-bitten, chasing
the blood cherries, you reach
for the yogi cult in trance.
Every night becomes green.
The sacred knife, cuts
the knot, sort of a hinge.
A celebration starts
throwing stones
on each other.
Satish Verma, 11 march 2022
A lengthy day
to count an arch of colored dreams
in a long queue.
You start sinking
inch by inch, in a deep
obsession of vengeance.
Afraid to leave
the darkness. Cannot see
in the bright glare of sun.
The fall of liberty.
To tell the name of venoms.
How the man has become
a poisonous creep.
An insult to the poet,
singer and artist. Who was
responsible for changing the guards?
Tomorrow was far off.
I am still struggling with today.
Satish Verma, 10 march 2022
I have become disconnected.
Talking of pose, while shooting
in back, several questions
arise of a staged drama―
missing the lethal word,
releasing the venom.
Poetry of politics becomes evident.
You may spurn the actors,
but the pretence overwhelms.
For testing the secret of depth,
you go down in water
unarmed.
You pull a stretcher, now―
unwrapped. The cremains sink
in the sea― of tears,
unsettling the designed pebbles,
the needles. The tapestry starts burning.
Satish Verma, 9 march 2022
Barebones, they come
in droves, to drink blood moon
praying in catacombs.
A summer night sets
over the hills with black eyes. The
cleavers have some jobs to be done.
In perfection, the bodies
should be laid― along with red woods.
The autistic moon will find its lover.
Aborted dawn, the clouds
had covered the womb. The
terrible sun had been roped in.
Earth weeps. There was
no peace.A ghost town rumbles
on. I cannot crack the code.
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