Satish Verma, 7 czerwca 2020
Call me avenger,
after the punch line had-
damaged the hidden ghost.
I want you to
let me go now after the sunset.
My odyssey has not ended.
You are not
what you were, once
upon a time.
The seven colors
are wearing the dark dresses.
Trading has become the hallmark
of light.Let me write my name
without alphabets.
The echoes come back
to pick the mundane sounds.
The celestial music will not be played again.
Satish Verma, 6 czerwca 2020
Would you live without your
shell, one day? A chasm
was growing between us. I
was feeling very aloof.
Intruding on your private
grief, sometimes I will
see the blue veins ascending
the marbeled thighs.
Beehive and death, sets
us apart. Beyond the age
a sun sinks in crimson glory.
To bring peace on the spikes of grass.
The dreams were disappearing.
The house sits knee deep
in thoughts. I will be collecting the
knobs fallen from the doors.
Satish Verma, 5 czerwca 2020
Performing to a script
you divide me like a fish.
From dirt a face rises.
One flew over the sea
to count the red islands
where the rocks hanged the dry skulls.
Why did you kill the panthers
by feeding them the toxic menu?
Sugar was never my cup.
It was not the question
of bread and butter:
we were talking of clean air.
The ashes will rule now.
Satish Verma, 4 czerwca 2020
Celebrating the death.
Neither physical, nor nostalgic-
I adore the finish,
in place of wages.
Not cerebral.It was
my pledge to remain a husk
after the carnage.
In manthanal I will preserve
the memories of hairless moon-
my nomadic friend.
Like a woodpecker to mark my
territory, I want to stay
alone in my grief.
March and dahlias.Sometimes
I stand before them and,
talk about ephemerality of the beauty.
When would you come
to say goodbye?
Satish Verma, 2 czerwca 2020
After the full moon
I will collect roses
from your ashes.
The essay will not-
be written, about,
how did I love you.
The silent shriek
was left alone
in the valley.
Satish Verma, 1 czerwca 2020
I know the flesh heals
but not the ethos.
Though I was not the doer
yet I did't fail in my journey
through dark.
It was a fait accompli.
Knelt in prayer, I was branded
with hot iron.
Why am I shaking
like Titanic? Your long arm
did not save me from the shining
iceberg of simple knowledge.
Do we go together in the sea?
The dark music was very
enticing.Brick by brick we had
made the levee.Now the river of rage
has broken the embankment.
You want to climb
from the abyss.A death wish
overtakes the hills.
Satish Verma, 31 maja 2020
Valentine?
What do you want
to read?
Between sex and
surrogacy?
No monikers.
Pure frankenstein!
O, naïve culpabilibity,
do not sleep on my arm.
Unmoving, the suffix
disappears.
I am still holding
the question mark.
Satish Verma, 30 maja 2020
Escaped soul
was pronounced dead, after
becoming rich. You start
peeling of the skin of neo-poverty.
Hunger equates you with god.
It hurts your tarnished honesty. The
image of half-man, half-tiger.
The veneer coming off very soon.
The pepper spray was well
planned for steady hands to
make you spring-blind. Your pockets are
full of fireflies.
The poetry effect was negligible,
when you start praying for snowstorm.
Satish Verma, 29 maja 2020
This was the art of killing.
From the dizzying
heights you throw the
vesicants.
Now you need the gliomas
to finish the job.
At wrong time, I was
raising the bizarre questions.
Why the wealth brings-
the change of life?
A wandering pain
caves in, where the moon
looks sick in its paleness.
The massive lies, deep
in dirty tricks after the traffic
of voices.In blank space
I plant my poem.
Satish Verma, 28 maja 2020
Not impassible.
Buried in snow, I
will bring back my moon.
There was no divination.
I still stand on my legs.
I will not talk about shadows
or any haloes. An urge to find
unknown. Touching the feet?
No I don't submit to body.
No rewards. No citation.
I will walk alone in the jungle
of prying eyes, in my
visible bones.
The flame-test. The truthless
blames, and a naked god.
I have come faraway from my childhood.
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