Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 24 may 2022



Reprimanding Self

You must act now,
to deceive yourself. Laugh,
when you want to cry
in blue silence.

Getting ready to choke on
the unspoken words―
of committing a sin of speaking
the truth.

Unaltered ego of lynx eyes
goes through the walls of double-blinds.
The drugs were fake and
faith was dead.

With whom you want to
share the brickbats? The cheats
will ride the colossus and
the new moon will rise red.


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Marek Gajowniczek

Marek Gajowniczek, 23 may 2022



Nie wywołuj wilka z lasu

Nie wywołuj wilka z lasu,
a wojny z Donbasu.
Szkoda ludzi, miast i czasu.
Został rakiet zasób.
.
Niemiec schował Leopardy.
Francuz chce pokoju.
Opór twardy w czas pogardy
nie wymaga boju.
.
Nie ustanie odstraszanie.
Świat chce nowej Jałty.
Skupia sie na Oceanie -
zlekceważy Bałtyk.
.
Nie wywołuj! Nie ponaglaj!
Ofiara jest duża!
Skończ tę propagandę z magla
o roli Przedmurza!


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Marek Gajowniczek

Marek Gajowniczek, 23 may 2022



Chata za wsią

Poklepano się po pleckach oraz po zapleczu,
a kraj w przyjacielskich gestach żadnej groźby nie czuł.
Nie nastąpił żaden przełom ani przesilenie.
Ci, co się trzymają razem, chcą zostać na scenie.
.
Poznał świat wojny zastępcze.Bój pod wspólną flagą,
a ciężar trwałych poręczeń urastał przewagą.
Wojna siły wyczerpuje. Większy więcej może.
Czas osłabia obie strony. Sąsiad dopomoże.
.
Świat pewnie wytrzyma presję i nie ugnie nogi.
Spektakl wyjdzie poza scenę na nieznane drogi.
Może będzie więcej obaw i napiętych nerwów
o to, jaką zachowamy możliwość manewrów.
.
Przestrzeń strefy buforowej znacznie się poszerzy.
Może wojnę w niej powstrzymać ktoś, kto pragnie przeżyć!
Wielcy wolą jeszcze czekać, nie przyspieszać biegu.
Nasza chata już nie z kraja, lecz na samym brzegu!


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 may 2022



Great Leap

The stones will speak for
river bed― a perfect home
for drowned principles.

Like shrew you enter
the belly of jewels to talk
to a bronze Buddha.

He stands in vigil,
your godhead, after the thieves
plundered the frames.

The small hands pointing
the pistols at the heads of
ancient fathers.


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Marek Gajowniczek

Marek Gajowniczek, 22 may 2022



Po słowie w Kijowie

Nasze wsparcie jest szczere,
lecz wychodzi przed szereg,
jaki naszą stanowił obronę.
Czy podąży za nami powiązany paktami?
Czy w potrzebie wesprze naszą stronę?
.
Bez zbytniej euforii
bierzmy lekcję historii.
Czy zdołamy obronić się sami?
Trzeba na oczy przejrzeć
i lepiej się obejrzeć,
Kogo mamy za swymi plecami?!!
.
Wiatr historii w porywach
odsłania - nie ukrywa
wrogich Polsce unijnych wyroków,
a z podziału jest dumna
opozycji Kolumna -
polityką ostrożnych kroków.
.
Bez wątpienie są ważne
wystąpienia odważne!
Niech się w walce przebija nasz głos!
Lecz na znów białej karcie
trzeba przyznać otwarcie,
ża nasz los chcemy rzucić na stos!


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 22 may 2022



Winter Sleep

The dust to dust phase
in between, you
did't want a self-destruction
to resurrect a dying myth.

Only God knows. Why
there was only the body language
to explain the miracle.

You wake up a frog
from hibernation. There was
no drought. Plenty of rains.
No nightmares. One has to change
the climate shift.

A muted denial stays
in throat. You wanted to say
the whole truth about life,
which never was uttered.

Scoliosis tilts the water
balance. You cannot carry the
vessels on head. Doubts
would play on the script.

Author had promised to live again.


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Marek Gajowniczek

Marek Gajowniczek, 21 may 2022



To był maj...

To był maj, śpiewała Saska Kępa
"Czerwoną Kalinę".
To był maj, słyszano o postępach
w boju o Ukrainę.
.
Rejestrowano gościnę w urzędach.
Uciekinierom osychały łzy
i szybko Zachód uczył się na błędach,
za jakie zwykle płaciliśmy my.
.
Oj! Dziadku mowią mi
To chyba ci się śni.
Na Youtub nie ma prawdy krzty.
Jest informacja przesiewana
co dzień do wieczora od rana.
Cenura czuwa. Głupiś ty!
.
To był maj, wierzyć się bardzo chciało.
Kwitły kasztany, pachniał bez
i wielu śmiało szło na całość.
Mniejsza, co było... Jest jak jest!
.
W sukces piosenki wierzyła publika,
a ostatecznie zaszczytem był finał
i satysfakcję miał pewien krytykant:
"Ważny jest koniec - nie jak się zaczyna!"
.
Ta wojna pozornie jest nasza
i lepiej żeby została za miedzą!
Lecz nie ucichnie głośnych mediów straszak -
bębenek tych, co zawsze więcej wiedzą.
.
Siły są pewnie na wszysko gotowe
i nie czekają udziału seniora,
gdy lada moment coś im może spaść na głowę!
Oj! Głupiś ty! Tabletkę wziąć pora!
.
Czarnowidztwo - to nie to!
Może także Polskę r o z w e s e l i m o?


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Marek Gajowniczek

Marek Gajowniczek, 21 may 2022



Dziennikarskie lwy salonu

Świat lwów salonowych
zabity deskami,
sezon weekendowy
chciałby spędzić z nami.
.
Dokłada do piecka
odgrzewany temat,
jak pomoc niemiecka,
co jest i jej nie ma.
.
Mieli byśmy razem
walczyć - my i oni?
Przed takim rozkazem
niech nas Pan Bóg broni!
.
Bo też i w Narodzie
entuzjazmu nie ma,
więc wałkują co dzień
o zgodzie dylemat.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 21 may 2022



After The Execution

Just wanted to be
myself today, ripped after
the apocalypse―

of stainless bodies.
You pull down the era of
earthen lamps from ruins.

Give me a wrapped
guilt. I am a boat in water
without wooden oars.

Black eyes stitched
to dolls. They were going to
wed the white gods.

A knife's cult invokes
the barren cave. You had planted
the severed heads.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 20 may 2022



Lapsed Memories

Can you foresee the
future, the unstable peak, the
ground's underneath tremble?

A lonely moon sits on
the palm― watching the risqué
world go to long sleep.

I am nowhere in
this crazy― maddening race of
musical chairs.

Unsure, I meet the
blue eyes of the lake, ready to
jump into my leaky boat.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 18 may 2022



Where Three Rivers Meet

Homeless, you
remained on the
wrong side of moon.

Trying to steal
yourself from light.

Now money speaks,
undoing Fabian formula.

Why one should exit
from the cabal of choosers?
Your infirmity will
sink you in wet sands.

When salvias were blooming,
you wanted to become
an accomplice of a sage.
Killing without crime.

Sometimes you fill
your life with meaningless words.
A trivia of hurting others.


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Marek Gajowniczek

Marek Gajowniczek, 17 may 2022



Bez morału

Szykowały mnie na wojnę
przez trzy czwarte wieku
doniesienia niespokojne -
nurt głównego ścieku.
.
Planowano i ćwiczono
ataki jądrowe.
Jedyną były obroną
salwy odwetowe.
.
Sojusznicy - przeciwnicy
wzajemnie się bali.
Nie liczył się głos ulicy
i nerwy ze stali.
.
Grzały się linie gorące
wielkiej polityki.
Przykładano palce drżące
w czerwone guziki.
.
Wszystko strachem się kończyło
i porozumieniem,
bo tych bomb już by starczyło
by odpalić Ziemię!
.
Świat nie poszedł jednak dalej -
po rozum do głowy.
Mocarstwa odurzył szalej
wojen hybrydowych.
.
Musiała się taka zdarzyć,
co przesłania inne
i możemy się oparzyć
dmuchając na zimne.
.
Tylko słowo nam zostało
niewiele znaczące
i stąd prognoz opieszałość
z początkiem i końcem.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 may 2022



Renewal Of Faith

At middle of nowhere
I don't want to believe
in your truth.

In white robes
a crowd, like mushrooms
of same genes, raising their
heads, after paying obeisance to
mother's mausoleum.

It was still a face
of terror, my trampled
future in our nemesis.

Was it a divine curse?
I remain, who I was. Unscathed
unharmed, after you left
before the knif's plunge.

The alternate damage was
mine. I will bear the asp's
bite in my glory.

Closing the door of
crypt was not my choice.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 may 2022



Indebted

Hips and the rose hips.
You bite your tongue. Desire
has many connotations.

You always feared
of a free fall. I rise. The
war will continue.

I permit myself
to talk to the waning moon.
The clocks stop taday.


A train whistles by.
The river trembles violently
under the bridge.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 may 2022



Weird Dreams

Will ask hibiscus―
in twilight, to let moth
live its one night.

*

The bougainvillea
leaves, falling one by one,
always frighten you.

*

Bends like a bow,
the sickle moon, to pick up
its child in water.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 may 2022



Repealing The Command

Like sheltered, as in fist,
the firefly―
my poem shudders
in your cavernous eyes.

You will not bend down,
to pick up the dropped
coin of moon.

A benign lump
refuses to melt for a
speckled beam of light.

The charred bones
of the burnt-out church,
wait for the second coming.

There was no
curtain drop. Everything
will happen before the weeping grass.

The father and son,
were both guilty― of killing
the mother moth.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 may 2022



Fantasies

Leaving a bloody trail―
moon jumps into lake in hurry.
Sun knocking on doors.

Existing without
the soul, was a fatal mix
of lips and hamlock.

You write your name
on the decapitated moon
declaring a war.

Fireflies now dip
the sparks in your eyes, which
will become blue poems.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 may 2022



The Grand Finale

Your night eats the―
umbel of light with curved lips.
What was the ethics―
of this getty image?

Your responses are weak. You
walk in, on unsteady path.
Will not lift the rock from the chest
unlike Sisyphus.

You roll down on lilacs
gnawing at my pain― nibbling
away at my poem. There
is no gender, there was no god.

The spilled milk of moon
now washes the face of night.
I become you in the embrace
of unlimited death.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 may 2022



No Departures

A massive black hole
devoures the devdasi.
The temple becomes
a cadaver court.

Some say it was
less punishment for the sins
of the pulsar.

The dancing baby
in the womb of rubble
of prayers does not want
to come out.

It was a price of
dying intact.

The incense of screaming
roses blooms. How much
heavy was the wreath?

Overnight the image
was replaced. There was
no spinning wheel. Only
a water cistern.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 may 2022



Silent Complaints

To remain normal―
how difficult it was. To undo
what had not been done.

A pinch of salt was
needed to taste your skin.
Belief will come later.

My unearthly lover, the
moon was becoming physical
sending me a lipless song.

Once upon a pain,
I had asked you to be, what
you were― my rival.

The uncanny fear, wins
over the whispers― when it
appears stark naked.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 5 may 2022



In Burial Home

Not for me,
this politics of living
for sexless alchemy.

You take on―
the pen's broken nib,
writing blood soaked birth
of an illegitimate avatar.

The spin was fatal.
Unfazed a bizarre tone,
announces a miss call. You
are pronounced dead.

You will swim now
in veil. Eyes looking deep
in water where light does not reach.
The mission of salvaging a
heritage fails.

Dog winter.
Sun hides behind the thin survivors.
There was no will,
no suicide pact.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 may 2022



Moment Of Hubris

Discarding―
the past, systematically,
you reach the core,
of undoing.

A curse hangs―
over the empty cup.
Now you can fill it
with tears.

Space shrinks.
Eternal memory of
losing your faith―
brings in the damaged truths.

Stick and carrot―
both survive.
It was not, it was,
the liberation.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 3 may 2022



Green Fire

When I need something.
I will ask you.
But I was never going― to need anything.

From where this―
armoury comes, trying to
influence the vowels, from
the clenched teeth?

When I hold your hand,
you start trembling.
There was mist and
there were walls.

Are we drifting apart―
in search of moons?
Flesh for flesh, bone for bone? You
swim fast, I track on the land.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 2 may 2022



Who Answers?

Time
was the great avenger.
It takes you away
into war,
with swan words.

My baby poem
cries. Lost in a crowd of swindlers.
Not finding the home of truth.

Was it a rarified
phenomenon, that it was
a dark nebula,
that gave birth to the sun?

Are you free to
agree with me, with my existence?

The conclusion was
beyond the judgment of insane people.

Are you going to harm yourself
by accepting the fireball questions?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 1 may 2022



A Window Speaks

Shadows―
were lengthening.

I start mending myself.
Speechless―
you commence telling in signs.

Grass flattened. Glass―
in water. The body floats.
The game was over.

A new chapter opens without a book.

Another spurt of poetry.
I will never forgive me.
Fear becomes my guide.

The sound of decapitation
resonates. I lift the pen
and kill myself.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 30 april 2022



Inconsistency

Depression―
was deep blue.

In zero-reflux, I was
intimately involved―
with your pride. The conflict
was rising.

Human mind
like shutting off the sex,
was making a bibliography.

Purity of link will
describe a yellow hollyhock,
waiting to be crushed.

It becomes a burden
when I spend on you― my poems.
Chemotherapy had failed.


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Jack Strange

Jack Strange, 29 april 2022



The Not So Great Gatsby

He, too, saw the promise of a distant light,
but unlike him, he renounced the gold hat,
and unlike her, she did not renounce him.
His parties were simpler, but she was content
with what he could offer: a romantic
readiness, just like his; a gift for hope
for a life together; a capacity
for wonder at the promise of a dream.
Even now he remembered the sad thing
that happened to them -- the deprivation
and the foul dust that floated in their wakes.
But through the smoke he peered into her eyes,
and saw the light there, green as ever,
and knew they’d turn out all right at the end.


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Jack Strange

Jack Strange, 29 april 2022



Cleaner`

A house is never cleaner
than when unoccupied --

with tables, couches, beds
removed and all inside
accessible to brush,
broom, mop, and vacuum
cleaner.

No resident
had known a cleaner
room.


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Jack Strange

Jack Strange, 29 april 2022



Witness

Every morning at six-thirty I sit
at that table by the window and drink
my coffee. No, I’m retired. As you see,
I can see that corner, and most days the kids
go there to wait for the bus to take them
to the high school. Usually, it’s two boys
and a girl. No, I don’t know them or their names,
but I’d recognize them. So, they stand there
talking and smoking -- whether cigarettes
or something else I don’t know, but sometimes
they shared it. And I’m thinking the boys shared
the girl too, because one day, one’s kissing her,
the next day, he doesn’t show and she’s kissing
the other. That was yesterday. Then today,
the first boy walks up and bang! bang! -- he shoots
them both, the girl and the boy, point blank
in the head, like Pacino in Scarface. Yes,
I’ll testify. But please catch the little
bastard before he finds out I’m a witness
and pops me too.


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Jack Strange

Jack Strange, 29 april 2022



I Breathe You

To say “I love you” is equivalent
to saying I breathe air.

Such sustenance
as I derive from oxygen devolves
so liberally, so reflexively upon me,
yet were I deprived of atmosphere,
the words “I breathe” would not avail to fill
my lungs with what they need, nor would the words
“I am a fish” convert my lungs to gills.

Ethereal by nature, not by choice,
I’m bound to love you notwithstanding my voice.


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