31 October, 2010

INFINITY

Drowning in my blood 
the vampire had 
the lapse of consciousness. 
I embraced the night 
without moon. 

Why does it happen 
day in and day out? 
You allowed the blood sucking 
which was the choice for unanswering 
of unpleasent questions. 

I survive in death 
staining the shirt, 
keeping the footsteps waiting. 
I had kissed a light 
falling on the squirming dark.

Satish Verma

30 October, 2010

SMOKING CANDLE

A plug dismantles a temper 
unveils a pink bullet-hole 
on the fore-head. 

A butterfly flutters and then 
sits on the lips, offers an apology 
for the smile. 

The water blooms in eyes 
cascading to chest 
for measuring the mounts. 

Who mimics the fever 
of a volcano, throwing burning 
ash in the eyes of a sun?

Satish Verma

28 October, 2010

BLEEDING

A stammer bites the tongue 
of hundreds of years. 
Beyond the page lies the blood. 
An outrage of a metaphor, 
a blast in a bowl, 
words are getting mutilated. 
An unquiet love draws the river 
to drown the sacrifices of parched land. 
Sands will bring out the beautiful 
property of a trademark. 

There is no shadow between the cannons 
My feet are not touching the peels.

Satish Verma

26 October, 2010

TALKING SANDS

The beams were ready to collide 
on the bars of hate. The blast 
was coming with adjectives. 
It was immortality of a street which 
was going to survive. 

New herons will come to wade 
in troubled waters. Pure white. But the 
fish had left the shore and gone to hills. 
The long necked birds will find the flaming 
love of sands. 

The stardust was singing, anointed by 
sandal paste to count the uncollected 
flowers of war which were thrown on 
the returning soldiers after the defeat. 
There is the news of repealing the pact.

Satish Verma

24 October, 2010

HAPPENED

He climbs on his being, 
crawls 
like a lizard; 
frightens. 

Sometimes after, 
in a shock 
falls back. 

Runs away 
leaving behind 
a trembling trail.

Satish Verma

21 October, 2010

WHITE HOUSE

It was a rape of a city. Go ahead. 
I still speak the old phrases 
with back pain. 

And let fly the silence 
in beautiful emptiness 
of a swollen heart. 

On pain of anonymity 
I wanted to clear my name 
from tangled fame. 

The after death comfort 
of words when clarity 
moves in the home of a meaning.

Satish Verma

14 October, 2010

CONTEMPORARY

In tottering penetration 
of blue summer 
you become 
silent game. 

I accept my defeat 
from stones 
falling on 
intellect. 

Carbon fear of rosewood 
was rising 
to reintegrate 
illicit love of twilight. 

Testing the waters, before 
a swim in prophecies 
I ask the bank 
to hold the seasoned waves.

Satish Verma

11 October, 2010

ALL I UNREAD

I unwrite a song 
for she, 
a gratis homage. 

Questioning imperils 
the sky, 
clouds would not weep. 

A cover-up comes to quote 
scriptures 
the meaning of deployment. 

Was I feeling smug after 
counting 
the pages of unread death?

Satish Verma

09 October, 2010

TERRACOTTA

With fractured hands 
I lit a pyre 
of small nudes 
with pink globes. 
A moon bleaches me white in a long night. 

A reprieve was needed 
from the scorching sun 
opening a jinx 
of a metaphor. 
The poems will take care of the burning home. 

Of deaths and forecasts 
I would like to see the 
ending of descent 
from the mount of pain 
The ice will tremble in the smoke.

Satish Verma

06 October, 2010

HOSTAGE

Cohabiting: 
my poems make me sad. 

You reflect the times 
my body leaves the wound marks on sand. 

Again I had gone to my tattered home 
to sleep under the moon. 

There was only a small window. 
I would look at the stars whole night – 

to conceive and jump into a lake 
of synthetic fathers and hired wombs. 

The grieving faith now holds you responsible. 
O god, in reverse order, become a man.

Satish Verma

01 October, 2010

A LASSO

Battle remains between 
white and black, 
a synthetic truth 
and a bald faced hornet. 

Aching violence was spreading 
on moon. I was tossing around 
the stars placing the apostrophe 
in the end. 

There was a conflict in pain 
and the pill. It was a prelude to the 
carrier of a gun. Father was degenerating 
in his son’s boots. 

The social split was widening 
in the gulf of posterity. You dress 
as a bride to receive the punishment 
from the hands of arrogance.

Satish Verma