Satish Verma, 31 sierpnia 2024
In unconscious you,
it was defeat of reason,
I am trying to define life.
A bodyless thought
gives birth to misconceptions
I count your fingers daily.
Why did you show
me your hand wearing a
mash to hide the kill.
Satish Verma, 30 sierpnia 2024
You tell me, why did you
hold my hand to climb
the purple hill of flames.
On your lips, I had
planted the kiss, not to burn
the shroud of the goddess.
Why life was so cruel
that whenever I lighted the
candle, hurricane reached.
Satish Verma, 29 sierpnia 2024
When moon tries to
cover the sin, who was fallible
in the ring of fire?
The centuries ask, whence
we failed ourselves, when
god was watching.
Who created the
memory of stone,
infallible from the mount of truth.
Satish Verma, 28 sierpnia 2024
The night at noon.
Will you come to light the lamp?
I am trying to write me out.
The surrealism bashing
continues. I am searching your
trapped face in dirty water.
Why are you sad
after knowing what was
unknown to all the stars?
Satish Verma, 26 sierpnia 2024
Why the sky cries
red for the clouds? Sun has
not come to burn me.
I never got enough
from you. The pain comes
between truths of life.
The anniversary comes
and goes I stand at beach
to see my ship wreck.
Satish Verma, 25 sierpnia 2024
Night descends in your
eyes. Planet wants to enter the
footfalls of moon.
You drink my song
from lipless heart. What was
the range of bullet?
An altered ego writes
again the history of Buddha,
who was still unknown.
Satish Verma, 24 sierpnia 2024
Unpoisoned you,
the day sun died. Who
will rise now from dust?
What will happen,
if I remained uncollected
by you. Lips will not move.
It was a majentic
call. You manipulate the moon
to become my lover.
Satish Verma, 23 sierpnia 2024
Between you and me
stands a winter solstice.
Light the candle, it is very dark.
Let the maniacal thought
remain pregnant with surrealism.
I will go north, you south.
The curves again rule.
The temple trembles. We go
our own ways to meet god.
Satish Verma, 22 sierpnia 2024
The dead man speaks.
What was the truth? Partly
guilty I will show my birthmark.
Moon always left
the memories in snow, when
I was talking to sun.
You were not born
in a day. It took centuries.
Give me time and space.
Satish Verma, 21 sierpnia 2024
Lying on bed of
thorns, you revoke the curse
of moon to remain amputee.
This was signature
therapy to become secular.
You rub the side of flame.
My dissent was
natural. Cannot speak any lie.
Will listen to my ethos.
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