Poetry

Satish Verma


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5 september 2020

Self-Infliction

This was a perception defict
when only a suicide could stop you.
From where to where we
Have come in traumatized stake.
Black tongues always ruled. No
rite of passage, where money changers
speak. How will you cover yourself now?

Feminized, the dance of wolves.
Do not throw the chunks of flesh
in arena- for hubris will
bring the nemesis.

The flint makes a pledge.
When the red rains come and
overwhelm the innocent earth,
we will make the tools again.






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