Satish Verma, 17 january 2022
You were at it again.
Ignoring the truth
of lies!
Embodiment suffers
when you break
the sacred threads of perception.
Dried up tears blemishes,
on the voluptuous cheeks of time―
speak another tale,
catching the fire.
In your smashed tree
of verbosity lived
my small poem like a spirit.
Animistic!
You will not write my name
on the sinless rocks before throwing them
in the sea.
And I will watch your face on each
fallen bract of colored bougainvillea.
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Satish Verma, 15 january 2022
The pain physical.
I carve it in my mind, to
set it free― like the leaf going
to meet the ground.
To carry myself, holding
within, the desire to seek liberation
from coming and going.
My unroofed walls, taking
in, the sun, the rains―
the storm― the snow.
And my hurts―
my poesy.
I am confronting myself
for the final count.
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Satish Verma, 14 january 2022
After victim effect
of hibernation,
I was ready to take a call
of a sudden drop.
The strange idea
engulfs me. Transparency
now speaks.
The fallout may compromise
with ash. I will not.
Someone wakes up my conscience.
A near dead goddess lights
up the last lamp.
The dirty sheets for
the crying dolls―
crying dolls.
Like the dumb finger
in frost, wants to―
write your name in blue sky.
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Satish Verma, 13 january 2022
There was no rationale
of jinxed proxy. Let me sort
out the gifts of a no god.
You want to initialize me
in forgetting you. Was it so
simple standing under the rains?
Who were you in
my nest, divorced from the
silence of the aches?
The door will not open now for
the moon to walk in for a tender kiss.
This soil, the grief
the stairs I am going to throw
your malignant civilization.
Start respecting yourself now.
I will come to pick
up my virginity.
You do not know, what was
behind this inertia.
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Satish Verma, 12 january 2022
In a chilly moment
a metaphysical shadow
descends.
I start studying in
granular detail, the substance―
cause and knowing.
The terrible. I become
an executioner; climb down
a tar pit to drown
the skulls of peers.
Everything goes in
circinate mode. A ball
of spines. You bleed,
you ache.
I want to go before
a firing squad, for not
remaining innocent.
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Satish Verma, 10 january 2022
It was a non-beginning.
You were there.
How much do you know
about this aggression, when
the emperor was getting
ready for self-destruction?
The heat of a bullet breaks,
the alien chest. I grab the
soft music of heartache―
and release the waterbirds.Now
the eyes will see the―
dawn of mind, and my little
dust will fly over the blue blood.
A man covers his mouth
with a strip of cloth.
He wants to talk to a laughing Buddha.
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Satish Verma, 9 january 2022
Roping in, as if―
all my defeats, creating―
a tiara for a royal fall.
Being hurled
towards the enormous black hole,
chased by the sun.
Like an old thinker
I was putting myself in a
violent comet's pathway.
Not being a whole religion
why did I worship a walking stone?
How would I communicate
with my destiny?
I was not born a shining star.
An individual becomes,
an androgyne, unsure
to name the gender.
I am going to honour the talent.
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Satish Verma, 8 january 2022
In shadow of moon―
amidst banal, repeated answers,
you take a shot.
Moment of truth―
dissembles, the religion
of fear and kill. I hear
a sea of daffodils
going wild.
After the aching, The vision is lost.
You revert to bind
alleys. Between faith and hope
flickering light waits.
You stir and churn,
breach the obscene party
and go for a god.
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Satish Verma, 7 january 2022
You wanted him alive.
To witness the evolution of
man into beast.
Hounds start yowling,
one after the other―
in dark.
Why do I break the coconut to―
celebrate the death of a god?
It was that simple as
an orchird opens its bizarre labellum
to trap the sun.
A paperweight against
an argument, shatters the window.
The bluebird
refuses to sing.
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Satish Verma, 6 january 2022
On the run,
was a bon viveur―
in amber thoughts.
I start unknowing you―
O invisible. A curse
will follow if you make me
a god.
I plead, standing
on the rubble, I will not learn
to live without the muse.
Sometimes you disappear
unshorn, in the rain forest―
of stunning phrases.
I hold,
the existence of a ghost.
Undying for the sake of
forced acceptance.
That was the art of inevitability.
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