Satish Verma, 1 kwietnia 2023
Sitting on a white
rose, the miniature god
writes the lines of life.
Inside animal implodes.
The dark blue blood has a
weird relationship
with broken limbs.
Dismembered,
I don't want to die again.
The bright Ariel claims
for the rebirth.
Was there a promise
to repair the flesh torn
out from the bones
of faith?
It is too much dark
here, I don't see your face.
Satish Verma, 31 marca 2023
I am, because
you are not there.
In cold blood
you slice the moon
and drink the tears.
The forest path
opens for the shot
tigress. She will
survive.
A mysterious hand
picks up my name to
write a wounded
poem.
There was no war
between the gatherers
of blood-soaked shirts.
Will you come back
bone, flesh, heart?
Satish Verma, 30 marca 2023
At life closing,
were you in peace
with your slips?
The weariness brings
a curse. You start
shredding.
Like a newfound
fossil egg, you kiss
the lost poem.
A dependent
wound stops hurting.
I bring a stoned version.
The moon and the
resurrected dream,
throw long shadows on lake.
My boat goes in flames.
Satish Verma, 29 marca 2023
Your theme will
not endure the momentous
push. Stars are falling
one by one.
In row of skulls
time stands still, to revise
the angle of moon. Now
the words haunt. We are
in peace.
Will you embrace
the religion of trespassing
against rituals? You were
the creator, you were the destroyer.
Venus sleeps naked.
Talking of self, we
forget the nature of
vicious vipers. Can you play
with the flames of past?
Which of the god was not
a love child?
Satish Verma, 28 marca 2023
Do not unveil the
wound of errors.
Let me in―
in your green eyes, where
the goddess weeps.
The terror changes
the polarity. You were in chains,
fighting the demons of sea.
Unlike moon, a star
plunges in valley of tears.
Who will measure
the depth of fall, from the
edge of life? Time has the
wings of golden eagle. It
flies on the peaks of thoughts.
And the merciless
gray of dementia wipes
out the words.
Satish Verma, 27 marca 2023
Cannot undo, the
headless leap of faith.
It was not the answer.
A thousand moon
I will wait for the calamity, when
you come back with empty hands.
Playing Mozart,
I discover myself in the
jungle of antlers.
The grief survives
eternally. I arrange all
the words to spell correctly,
a white death.
The black tree
stumbles on pale moon.
The angel will not
open the door.
Satish Verma, 26 marca 2023
Mauve detachment;
I wanted a short placenta.
The dust wants
to eat me. My legs give―
away, when sun goes
blind.
I will offer you
my dreams to nestle
in paws of destiny.
Don't walk on the
hot sands. They are going
to roast my poems.
I smell your pines
I drink your cones
Lake was inviting
the boat.
Satish Verma, 25 marca 2023
A hard drink of
heartache, and you blink.
It was very difficult
to understand blues.
In black sky
you whimper and ask
only for the love to happen between
the sweaty hands.
The stings have
a job to do. They breed the
wasps amidst us. So your
signs bleed.
The night terrors
return. I touch the toxic
insignia. Such pure flesh
will kiss the poem.
Satish Verma, 21 marca 2023
You had big
violence in your bones.
I suffered. Dream merchants
were ready to violate.
Benevolence descended
to know the depth of anger
in the eyes of the primate.
Why skin had gone thick?
The trapped scream
of the buds waits in lul
before the storm. Roses were
going to explode on the altar.
Bride comes slowly.
She had a date with
the thinking god. There would be
no consumption.
Satish Verma, 20 marca 2023
You were dressed up
to burn. Tears had memory
pure as gold.
The ache of standing
in flames of tongue, to wash
the hands and underbelly.
Where would you
find the green words ready
to weave the silk?
that was my poverty
to mine the glass and mercury.
There was no inside,
no outside.
Give me the fever
as hot as moon, when you
harvest the sun beams.
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