Glenn McCrary, 9 september 2012
Dirt is what she does.
She injects and she ingests and she retreats.
She sears and she is branding the boulevards.
We’ll reap what we never desired.
Satish Verma, 9 september 2012
On wrong side of truth
a prophecy burns.
A conflict of your own choosing
when more was less.
Do you need some divine
intervention in resolving
human questions?
The innocence of a sunflower
will not blame the moon
for dark night.
To watch a huge fig tree
coming out of a tiny
seed to give shelter
to hundreds of passersby.
Are you overwhelmed
by the promise of unproven
auguries?
Satish Verma
Michel Galiana, 9 september 2012
Early that Sunday I rose, had my repast for the day (twice)
had my repast for the day,
And to my yard I went
Oié tra la la la dira la dira
And to my yard I went
There among its bowers to stray.
A nightingale I heard. In the bush she sang an air.
Her sweet chant caused my heart to lie full lowly in its lair.
- O, young man, young man, tell me, Say, is your mind in pain?
Neither my mind, nor my soul! Neither of them is in pain!
But woe is me for my youth
Oié tra la la la dira la dira
But woe is me for my youth
And all my time spent in vain.
For youth is like a rose, best thing in this lesser world
Old age is sure to cause the fair rose soon to wilt.
Youth, akin to the rose, you'll never last for long!
Once your grace is disclosed, with the wind it is gone along!
When a proud bachelor I was, happy, lucky, free of care,
The money in my pocket, never would stay for long there.
But woe betide me when I made up my mind to wed!
My youth would not endure it, soon away from me it fled.
Farewell my youth that by pleasure-seeking was always led!
If like a wren I had wings, if I had wings like a wren,
I would chase after it, soon it would be back to my den.
- A nightingale if you were, that's a thing I can teach,
Never would you capture it, it's far and out of your reach!
(Translation of a Breton song titled "Farewell to youth")
Tribhawan Kaul, 8 september 2012
Silence
she
does not
break.
Pretence
I do not
shed.
Love
becomes
casualty.
Mind
goes blank.
Heart
remains
unread.
---------------------x--------------
All rights reserved/Tribhawan Kaul
Satish Verma, 8 september 2012
Cutting across the food wars
against adamant century
do you think we will become extinct in this
uncool climate?
The dying windows do not throw any light.
I fear in dark alone.
The earthworms are nibbling
at history of mankind.
wearing the ash of dead rivers.
Between the same words
god disappears
and what is left is the image of broken
violins.
Why don’t you set the birds free
and break the cage of knowledge?
The searing heat of arguments
will find the golden silence.
Satish Verma
Glenn McCrary, 7 september 2012
Is the occultist aware she’s daring,
That she carries the shadiest orifice?
No.
She just defecates and scars remain.
Akin to the likes of an unmarketable comedian:
passion on one side, narcissism on the other.
‘Twas unforeseen.
Enemies working together,
Exchanging callous banknotes.
No one had foreseen this.
Eventually, she’ll cripple
from depositing and withdrawing.
But no one knows.
No one can ever know.
Satish Verma, 7 september 2012
Blood was in season,
on your hands.
A staged encounter
mauling the clouds.
Into a hare, you put the lead
with a roar of gun
and sun wants his share.
Beneath the honours
lies the guilt
of a ravaged moon.
I will not walk again
on the bristles of power.
Uncanny love lies in state.
Satish Verma
Glenn McCrary, 7 september 2012
Rancorous, lethargic, avaricious, psychotic,
Enthusiastic, mystified, serene
Does a planet?
A galaxy?
A multiverse incorporates
Secrecy, security, nine or more parallel universes
Eyes are awake
Glenn McCrary, 7 september 2012
Wake up, her magnetism is perpendicular
Concentrate, renunciation isn’t an option
She coveted her beauty to be paramount
It may not lie adjacent, or acute, closed nor open
Yay, Nay, or,
A night, a century, dissolves from her
Shedding a seventh layer
Shedding the eighth
The understanding of such linear artistry proves to be facile
An acquittal, forthcoming
New art, new liberty
The acquittals continue to waltz
Like multiple grooves shaped by the sand
Into apples and cherries
Kahlia Mazacalletti, 6 september 2012
You lived your life as if it were always Christmas Day; your birthday
With your paper mache' mask on
Always making me wonder if you were really my friend
You decorated everything and took advantage when you had no advantage at all
Your pyramid and tomb waiting for you, your eyes like Cleopatra
For your eternal resting place
You fooled us all
How was I to know your tears were not even wet?
The roses blooming in your yard were stagnet like your life
Did you enjoy stringing me along in the clothesline of life?
I cried for, I bled from my heart; my holidays saddened by your exit
My godchildren crying in despair and noone to soothe the pain
Where are we to go; how far must we walk in our worn out shoes?
I will always miss you, you helped me through this blizzard of life
But now, you have taken yours, I am still crying for you after so many years
My best friend committed suicide in November 2002.
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