Poetry

Satish Verma


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10 january 2022

In Sadness

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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