30 July, 2011


Hoisting the bisexuality 
on a figurine, 
I crawl back to anxiety. 

The primitive instinct 
was taking over the stitches 
on a snake. 

What do you want from 
a moon for the drooling 
mouth of a seashell? 

Braiding the breasts 
against gravity, 
earth wants to defy the duality.

Satish Verma

29 July, 2011


On your face the shadow of a transparent wound 
bungles the capricious climate 
of the death of a thought which you could not 
carry very far. 

And that was all when I asked you some questions 
about life. You started opening a beehive 
of kills and subcutaneous pains. 

How do you spell the happiness in beliefs and 
starvation to achieve the resolution or incredible? 
The mistrust between the cause and effect was 
surfacing, though there was plenty 

of solitude between the trees and cuckoo’s 
calls.A crazy spell of silence in prayers 
when we were very upset about our gods.

Satish Verma

20 July, 2011


After a long time, I heard them again: 
Bequeathing the pilgrim sun to palm trees; 
poised to open sexuality. 

Ah, the purple lips of a downing 
cloud sets the sky on a chase 
for a lost love of the blazing 
moon in the starless night. 

A recent pluck of a sharp grace folds 
the lingerie, you open the fist to let 
the explosion fly away. 
This was the start of a crimson romance.

Satish Verma

13 July, 2011


Goose-stepping on a soul song 
you set the sky ablaze, 
and I was not ready to welcome you. 

I was hungry and I was thirsty 
but could not find the road. 
Back and forth, back and forth 

walking with the toad. You can guess 
my predicament when I said 
that, I am, not I would 

assult on the chaste fruit 
of the moon, growing on the 
tall tree of September.

Satish Verma

08 July, 2011


The sludge overtakes the sane 
euphoria.A barefoot caravan 
of cloud becomes edgy. 

The hills have gone green. 
The cascading falls 
tend to mount on the scattered stones. 

Suddenly I go berserk and start 
hitting the stars moon by moon, 
when night had betrayed the lover. 

The collected grief of the lyrics 
will answer for the blood 
which hunger spread on the lips.

Satish Verma

02 July, 2011


The hawk was landing. 
Squinting at the urgent need 
of slaughter and hope – 

among the frightened hunger 
of truth, of running feet 
in the tall grass. 

A world apart in 
seeking the reality of 
dying for earthly love. 

I was not sure of 
the manifesto of bricks and 
stones falling on evergreen kisses.

Satish Verma