Nightrayne, 29 may 2013
Strip me down and lay me bare.
Touch me – my body is begging to burn with desire.
Take your time and devour me slowly.
Kindle the flames of lust,
fuel them, let them lick and burn each corner of my being.
Explore me and taste me
let your fingers run wild.
Be selfish and be daring
make me yours,
take me to heights I've never known.
Then leave me wanting more.
Gert Strydom, 29 may 2013
Your icy fingers
try to creep in to the room
through the French windows
and I hear your voice cry
past the corner of the house
and outside you’re many eyes
glimmer bright in the sky
and even though you want to kiss me
with the golden beams that flow
from your fat mouthed moon,
I will wait until you pass bye
and the yellow white sun
returns to the sky
and until then
lie comfortable in bed instead.
Satish Verma, 29 may 2013
Surge in hidden chastity
enters the torch but the enemy
was within.
Brown clouds over the black carbon,
glaciers were melting;
the assault rifle stands alone in snow.
This was not ignorance,
a purposeful denial of white truce
in the jungle of lizards.
I would go where nobody wants
to tread in night. The hanging years
of marriage gone wrong.
O my God, tiger at the door,
demanding a new babe every moon.
The flesh will extract its own blood.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 28 may 2013
The other sex was stapled,
I started unfolding the secret:
what was static and who was silent.
I searched, therefore I was lost
before the end of journey.
The stench of grafting was taking over.
The incendiary recce was carried out
to shut out the voice of the street
in the melting snow.
Lake will find the woods for disquieting
sleep of muse under the blue-lipped moon,
and I will face my night.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 27 may 2013
When later than usual
the sun sneaks out like a sniper,
then I do know that it is winter
while the iciness of the wind
pierces right through the bedding.
Gert Strydom, 27 may 2013
For the last time the night stretched out her cloak,
as she did shake out the stars
to make them cover the whole heaven
and everywhere they were blue and white.
No star did lead any wise men
but when the morning star did appear at last
the baby boy was born
and his people saw him
while the lights burned in the large city
and manmade power
came sparking from tube-lights
when the boy was there in all of his beauty
and his people rejoiced, cried from pure joy,
while sirens screamed far off
and he rested in the arms of his mother
as a newcomer in this age.
Gert Strydom, 27 may 2013
With some red kisses
the wildness sun flowers
while the winter flees
*
At night I show you
small pieces of buckshot that gleam;
shot into the night
*
The wilderness calls
next to the big concrete jungle
where some lights glitter
*
At a small nozzle nest
a red weaver-bird parade;
the large sickle-bush flames.
*
The black tar road steams
whizzing like a great morass
while a green frog croaks.
Satish Verma, 27 may 2013
When moon was found on water
sky came down with unclenched fist,
too proud to accept the defeat.
Footprints of a giant will not leave
the broken landscape, of the virgin garden
where roses died in a row in storm.
There were no absolutes in good and bad
I have started talking to trees to shed
their blooms, winter was coming in blue eyes.
My ship was able to dodge the icebergs
wringing the waves from your face;
lake heaved a sigh of relief in glided death.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 26 may 2013
Tangled clues
with sensuous sparring;
the incense was rising from the blue moon.
It was body's integrity,
a lender was demanding
when lust had become prodigal.
Behind the thin veil, red eyes
stared unblinkingly
at the portrait of a nude zero.
When the light was nodding from a crown
the darkness spat on the feet
which walked on the roses.
A single thorn will not be envious
of the licking fingers.
A dropp of blood will tell the truth.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 25 may 2013
O leviathan,
enter the dark cloud of death
defanging fire,
the mountain wants to shiver.
Sand was slipping from my fists.
I cannot hold the time;
wet eyes
will find another moon.
The milk had dried up in body.
A heart burns like bonfire,
for a heretic. A lone stranger
in a city of wolves.
A bareback beauty sits on the rock
waits for the sea
to bring her the poison. An Aphrodite
will never call for nothing.
Satish Verma
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