Poetry

Becoming something from anything
was a great bliss of paradigm.
I take a dip in anonymity.

You will never know
where you start a rough patch
on the road?

A prehistoric site could not outlive
the humiliation of proximity to hate.
Violence chewed the dust.

My knees give way to anguish of morality:
horror of captivity of dawn.
The eyes are going to collapse in endless night.

Tapping of kernel in hard shell of truth bothers me,
like a mountain dew under the stone.
I will destroy the anxiety of grass.

Death of desire may take place
Fragrance still devastates the moon.


Satish Verma