21 April, 2010


For an ailing love maker
ending was optional.
Nobody wanted to extend the truth
and hear the distant voices.

Half-waiting to divide the territory,
splinters will unravel the mystery.

A food chain slits the tongue, reaching, not reaching.

In the island of lonliness
somebody has left me midway in eternal twilight.

Amidst the stars
a river forgets the time, and moon
scrapes the sky.

A new pledge may bring back the sun.

Satish Verma


When logic and intuition
stood on edge of time,
sugar was dancing
on the salt lake.

I would not see the torn
book between retreat
and assault.
I was reining in the new moon.

In a night raid, five
peacocks were killed. I was
trying to unseize the cross purpose,
why the compensation was rejected
at burial site.

The burden of guilt
was carried by the flint now.
You take a final plunge
and are lost in the faces
of sad children.

Satish Verma


A quivering mud lamp under the basil
was sending signals for benign inconsistencies
and a covert interceptor
to stop a death to himself.

It was a no moon day
to monopolize the open eyes
and closed lips. Piercing screams
were coming from the empty chairs.

A garland of currency bills or pink snakes
for the leader breaks the music
of averted eyes. A terror attack
starts frisking the souls.

It wakes up a slumbering century
of fossil books. The birth anniversary
of a smoked thesis starts. The masses
start descending like buzzing flies.

Satish Verma


With frugal memory you wanted
to tame the radical spine,
while fright was bending the thighs.
Was it a travesty of the graduated thumb?

The speed of the river had accelerated
in aching land. People gathered to collect
the alms daily. Violence was sending
the severed heads on the road.

What do you think of the failing effect
of tricks of politics? A deep tunnel
opens the wounds of centuries, of hate
and acrimony, the opacity of large lips.

Ultimately you suffer the words,
hairy sexuality and pungent darkness
of the breath of salt hills.I am
reverting back to count again.

Satish Verma


The name calls the name
spraying the moon with red colour.
It touches a nerve, when there is
standoff on the lake.

A blueish eye invades an iron space
between near solids of docks.
The gap was widening and
the thoughts had a dead punctuation.

The fake and madeup story sit
on my breast. I go for the nakedness
of real thing. A mediocre cool burns
the skill of swans. Waves collapse.

That body was not mine. I lived
in many souls. Invisible floats
my grief in embryo of the
unborn child.

Satish Verma


Like a stingray it stung me tonight
the new moon.
A live flame lobbing the sparks.

The seduction had bypassed
the sleezy love
of white egrets.

When are you going
to make a history
by failing to fall?

Can I touch your blue veins
my moon?
They had been aching to step out.

When beast and passion
meet in the blue-faced sky
you start a belly dance.

Satish Verma



It was a mix of demons.
Honour killing
to save the damaged inside.
You were found in lotus position,
hands tied,
buried in a hole.


The twin plants:
god and goddess of procreativity
were shedding trumpet-shaped
pink flowers.
Honey suckle would allow
the honey to be sucked
till the breasts remove the macula.


Moment of lifetime
moves itself against the time
putting the stamens
of crocus
on the forehead of the sinner.

Satish Verma


It was a beautiful day
after the storm.
Fever was rising in branches.
Severed moons on road
started listening to explosive-laden

I went for the jugular.
Why poisoned goats were set free
for the cougars?
Existence was a positive sum,
not the square root of negative numbers.
One poppy head went for the primary.

A hybrid of reality and dreams
I was trying to find my ancestral home
in the epics of wars.
When a day ends, I open the fires
for the night. Time has come
to become blind.

Satish Verma


After bending the oracle, there was
participation in voice of grievers.
The child of sun was dead
in arms of nature.

It moves,
when I thought it was stillborn,
the history of mankind. In the saddest day
today, I believe we remained beasts,

same, when we jumped from the trees.
The end of night, the vast darkness was
never near. Love will leave you here
dying in the bush.

How wrongly a home pre-empts, and
drifts from land to land. Without bullet,
without knife you can bring domestic
violence in the lives of innocent sailors.

Satish Verma


When the debate between
temple versus state was heating up,
death was passing through a green field.

A nervous embrace
of solatium was unstable.
A heap of flip-flops could not

hold steady, little
poems fluttering in the heart.
Was it the will of God?

The stampede was the anathema
of hunger, the curse of a
whore was working.

Instead of food and alms,
a mass burial makes
me insane.

Was it possible that spring
was far behind? When brassica
blooms, will you forget? Is it not true?

Satish Verma


Ceramic memories
and terracotta pain;
the injured crypt ultimately got opened.
At urn burial, the name was absent. A pristine
ritual for a nameless martyr.
The sword within him was not used
and pubescent bomb went unexploded.

You leave a beautiful war
glorified by defusing a land mine
and roadside bomb was dismantled.
Looking for a blue flame you entered the stone
house of death, and left the hurt gift.

The moon will smile again
when you come back as a bright star.
The dead potsherd comes alive
when I dig for your name.

Satish Verma


Step aside.
The white flowing mane
was going to become the adrenaline.
Fear of silence was turning into a green wound.

The dissenting life-blood has vandalized
the moon. There was a provocation
from the black stars. The leopard
was ready to tear open the zoo.

The outreach was a puzzling thing.
Who was responsible for rearing
the panthers in captivity? The tail, the claws,
the teeth were vulnerable.

I was sick of pretentions. Every act
had a motive of loss or gain. Night or day
the sphinx always looms large. You can
walk in, to talk to coffin.

Satish Verma


Between the tremors
falls the face
in a glass of water.
Sometimes false teeth reverberate
through the pages of history; devastation
sinks in. A faun rubs the landscape.

Hatchlings come out when death-music
stops. A miracle tends to quieten the bones.
You should not hate me,
it was the method of ruines, the spirits
hover like vampires. Tell me have you
seen the street walking?

A table sings in a kitchen, the knives
peel off the stars, a moon dips in milk
of morality. The house was in disorder,
but the bougainvilleas were shedding
ceaselessly the colourful leaves.
Summer was coming.

Satish Verma


After shaking
off the fault
the golden thigh ruptured

and I moved into
the aneurism of
a drop.

Realization was the key
to enter the curve
of a moving circle.

The time had come
to take off the jacket
and penetrate a new

body of knowledge.
Budha was me
And I was the tree near waterice

were falling
on a lake.

Satish Verma

sui generis

Looting after the earthquake:
I have wrecked myself
on my own terms.

Bringing down the edifice
of human cult,
the man has come in the
spin of richtor scale.

Why does a crisis tears up the mask
and animal comes out?
An insect will wait for the hidden
dust to settle till dawn.

Along the rim, a glacier
has collided with an iceburg.
Now eyes do not hold water.
It is raining.

Satish Verma


The road breaks here.
Give me something to heal the fractured earth.
Angels are too much for me, the
gash turns inward ripping apart
eternal vigil.

They head into the burning books
and then explode themselves
on wet sands, generating grids, blithely lethal.
Wired blind, the sun weeps.
A green catastrophe tears a huge iceburg.

Post-coitol emptiness. The sweet nothing
stops. He becomes everything, the world
was not. The clouds bleach, moon
strips to bone. The artist goes into
exile to find a fiction.

Satish Verma


You wanted to live
inside a shell
and step outside, in
a bowl of habits, sometimes,
nudging accumulated sins
to offset the aftershocks.
Tsunami is here to stay.

The crowd was swelling
lured by candles on the sea.
Each candle for one living grave
carried by each person on the head,
for the raging waves of life.
In one minute you will become a shadow
of long legs.

Satish Verma


Do not go like a rose,
stay like poinsettia.
Now as a brutal encounter
holy color will descend.

Polygonal wound was too proud
to bleed on the street.
The scarlet morning will bring
night’s blood.

And mystery of love between
outcasts will never smell the hate.
Insane discretion wraps a baby
of a cloud to argue for parents.

Questions are raw like sea
rocks under the hoofs of a
whiny horse. I had found you
sitting in a graveyard.

Satish Verma


There was a silky assault
by a gray cloud over the sickle moon
and I went crazy.

Moon said I will come again
for the glittering makeup
when the curtain are drawn.

Indelible tattoos on my breast
will haunt you whole night.
You must suck the stars meanwhile.

Come March, I will shower the
blue stains on your shirt.
It will remind you the number of nights
you slept with me.

Satish Verma


I need not want to know for it,
a dirty mind of lateral conjugation;
of uncharted hopes. The name
splits the long story.

Everyone had a stain on chest,
color roiling the heart.
Dancing on the cocktail grass,
they started calling the moon by putting up long knives.

Unhearing the whistles in rooms of
lambs, the crosswords engaged the knot
of strongheads who had started
playing diplomacy.

Nothing changed the contours. The wind
was inheriting the scent of a rider, the
trees unheard off. Fastidious, my innocent
mind was looking at the highway.

Satish Verma


A starfish was in my glass.
You blame the moon of brutality
while moondust had misled the ocean.
Darkhole was ejecting the stars.

An animal instinct sparts the bullet
like supernova. Black dwarf crop up
around the light house for airstrike
on a thermonuclear temper.

From nothing to nothingness you are
scared. The questions breathe into centuries.
The soul opens a globe of unrivalled green,
and a child wants to climb a tower of light.

Satish Verma


When you were learning
how to kill,
somebody was beheading my faith.

There was lint in my eyes
and the lathyrism
of numbers.

In raw emotions
you took away everything from me
I was left with an entire whole.

Still I will owe you
a minus zero when fight for numbers
will break out.
Who are those people,
that were sharing the divide?
How much will remain when you divide death?

Satish Verma


Tilted lips on the wet eyes.
Below the lids
was floating an island in a lake.

Latched to a full moon
I was trotting with snowshoes,
trekking with stars.

A volatile virginity
ticking in your heart, spiteful.

And I, lonely as a black hill
seek the silver dew
that moons the green windows.

O malignant night
I was not worthy of death
you bestowed on me.

Satish Verma


What is the thing of poverty,
of frozen pain,
fury under the snow,
between fire and rain?

You come on the surface
to breathe, douse with petrol
and show off a flame. A slum of emotions
burns with rage.

The masses in the garden
play with a fountain. The screams
bloom into a scam. A dead blue peace,
except the tears obscene.

I am in fear. The pillow was used
to choke the enemy.The ripples were
spreading. Wheels were broken. A child
in a womb cries.

Satish Verma


This was an embryonic stimulus
for a sprint.

Knowledge itself has no legs.
Can you run faster than thoughts?

The sniper will take you in the open field.
I had hoped to die in your arms.

The podium was too high for a small man
who wanted to heal the masses.

Drowning in your own thoughts was the best kill.
The bones were always dumb.

Satish Verma


The child was trembling inside you:
walking past an explosion
on the extra edge.
The dash was stabbing.

And without hands
trying to open the crypt
of forefathers.

Things were not happning
as you dreamed of tomorrow.
The moon, too, has become a stranger

Clatter of hoofs
but no rider comes in sight.

Satish Verma


Poetry wound
and a large schism
starts an invasion.

Numbness pours out.
You become nobody;
depart without a farewell.

A crazy word
is lost and a delirious
search is initiated.

Bit by bit
coexistence is found
between the sheets.

Unwrap the gift;
a live grenade
explodes mouthful.

Satish Verma