31 December, 2012


Sitting between the knees,
I am being bathed by intense anxiety
and fear of harsh light.

A canopy of doubts
confronts the dignity versus anarchy
for a watchman
who will not dare open-

the vault of truth. A fatal
ire of imagination puts him
to dire need of salvation.

Was I moving from the wrong
side of history in my zodiac
to change the drooping eyelids?

Death opens my door for a shortwhile
and then walks away
after watching the transparencies.

The masks come and masks go.
Cracks do not disappear.
Either you destroy me,

or my inside will have
a singingbird,
closing the golden window.

The hardening of atereies.
Tension was rising
around the absence.

Who was the arbitrator
between dog and lamb?
The weather was ripening black currants.

Satish Verma

30 December, 2012


In culture of counterfeits
a snip of intelligent gene
brings the pink tears
for the brown eyes.

A virgin goes for a spade
in the naked sun.
Let me think of polymorphism.
Can there be an answer-

for oblique questions?
Can this tottering frame live?
Life can still stalk the death
and stand for the body in the sack?

Fielding the enquiry about race -
gap, you said the walls
are crumbling. I read the message

As a whole, the glory lives.
Is that true?

The gentle rain falls on
the emaciated Buddha.
Stand out from the controversy.
A foam-born goddess will
counterpoise the questions.

The grievers are sitting
in a circle for the dying moon.
The charred breast of earth
sends the flames.

Who has closed the window
of morning glory? My blackened
words are traveling fast
to reach the stars. I am
held in a shadow.

Satish Verma

29 December, 2012


When the sun goes down bleeding
beyond the hills yonder,
I will meet you under
the acacias.

As a souvenir I will keep
your lips in my books for history.
As a gift I will give you
my tears.

This desert of hate has bleached
my fingers, bone white.
I cannot write a monologue
of death in waning light.

I wake to sleep in blasts.
My palms hold out the great silence.

Satish Verma

28 December, 2012


Knowing too much
was painful.

Shedding the fear, we were
disappearing in each other.

The rioting has spread
between deathless principles.

Unborn was
the sadistic attack-

sleeping on roses. There
was hidden sex in the pricks.

I made love with
the bones-

I will not borrow
the colors of moon

Satish Verma

27 December, 2012


Spooked by a two headed snake,
a double of a living person squirms.
A moral crisis comes out
of a cage.

The private space is violated
and bloodbath of robins start-
to understand the unrest.
Antimatter will keep the mystery alive.

A distorted truth falls in your lap
like a figurine asking your pardon.
The dogma lies in mess. Chronology
moves forward for future dates.

This is not unusual. A wounded
lion has a sanguinity
of exactitude, lying on
a stretcher.

Satish Verma

26 December, 2012

A Big Idea?

The moral dilemma was
less than truth.

Downgrading the-
branded witch.
Vaccine was spawning new virus.

O Buddha, why did you
started looking beautiful
and began sitting in a living room?

Trailing the smoke
I was going to find the-
burning home.

What were those intimate-
words of unthinkable
dirty secrets?

Satish Verma

25 December, 2012


Drunk with pride
the streets are bursting
in self-indulgence.
Who was calling the shots?

Do you know the words
between intermissions, carry a secret-
till the brazen scoop
finds the hidden meaning.

It was grave
very grave truice, unmaking love
between the estranged lovers-
when clouds were seducing the moon.

You don't belong to this
crowd of renegades. Ants
will take away the
divorced dreams.

Fissile belly
has started showing signs
of reckoning. A gloom has settled,
gyrating in a sunken garden
for the hung corpses.

Never cruel were the times before
when blind needles were unstitching
the lips of frozen faces. I refuse
to start a prayer
till the grass covers a silent tomb.

Last night it had rained
on the private flesh. It was
full of semen. You do not
belong to this world
of pregnant pause.

Satish Verma

24 December, 2012

Armless Enemies

In your domain
walking with men of straw
to immolate myself.

If power was sacred
why you did not stop
the reversing of gender role?

Oh, there was water on Mars
streaking like the tears
on your face.

The apes were coming.
There was elation and suspicion.
The vortex of existence needs surgery.

Unlikeness calls for
introspection. I am asking
god to pray for me.

Satish Verma

23 December, 2012

Silver Trails

By the moon
I drink you again.
The night is trembling;
ruffles the colossal tears.

The terrible ache of the
illegitimate mercy. I am
not accepting any poem
half-dead under my pen.

The invisible force, bribing
the tears was a grace
uncalled for. I am going to forget
the date of my cessation.

It was a false peace of the womb.
There was no banality
in sending the message.
Death has no other name.

Satish Verma

22 December, 2012


When I was arranging daffodils
you send in tanks.

The sky was overcast.
When I was talking to clouds
Fireballs are delivered.

That signals the specific gravity
is shifting to knobs.
The artist was going
to disappear.

I think of faithfulls.
How beautifully they talk of
two moons.

I had decided to quit
when you send in a hymn.

Satish Verma

21 December, 2012


Leave something for me to imagine.
A skeleton in a pond
leaps to the moon.

In an air bubble
lies the history of a suspended
name, wasted away on water.

A war is declared on the
family of words, not spoken
to anguish of man.

I thought of my sun
averting a disaster. The sprouts
will not come out of the earth.

An enquiry into the nature of
immanence, leads to starvation.
The body of truth turns into a snake.

The revolution within, shows
a false victory. You start again
from the ugly fingers.

Satish Verma

19 December, 2012


The secular love:
you are contaminated
between skin and prayer.

Back from the odyssey
finding a crop-circle
in bridal chamber.

Rival was an alien
with a flat stomach
thinking black.

The thieving sperms
had a glorious end,
unentered in grass.

Your body was churning out
a religion.
I will find out my own god.

Satish Verma

18 December, 2012


Like a butterfly pinned
in a collage, fluttering.
Death makes a deal.

I was appalled
standing on the edge
watching the withering body.

The lake drowns me.
Seagulls were waiting
for a renaissance.

It is not even midsummer.
The planting of the kiss
remains incomplete.

No sex was involved
in baring midriff.
Moon ignites the legs.

Satish Verma

17 December, 2012


Nothing was beholden.
Colony counts were perfect.
You were never guaranteed and exit.

I am stalked by lips
of a black tulip holding
a moonbeam.

The world moves
wearing a shell of emptiness
in a cosmos, inviolable.

beyond the bluffing.
More beliefs and many withdrawls.

You will not kill me?
Half-way to soothing words
of ecstasy.

Satish Verma

16 December, 2012


A monster from a tree
jumps and runs around the bushes
to mate.

A blank statement
is issued. The system groans
and collective pshyche fails.

A stark silence
for the food for thoughts.
I sit down to meditate-

to find the bloody answer
for white death. The dirty
work to sweep the floor.

It smells like an
amputated leg.
Do we need to draw a circle around the bomb?

With a lie on your lips,
are you going to negotiate
with violence?

Satish Verma

15 December, 2012

I Begin To Think

Abdicating the shadows;
I return back to dig up the buried-
moon from the ruins of poetry.

It benumbs.
No response was coming from
cajoling the black secrets-
of time-cast.

A storm was raging in a pack
of emptiness. Like a dead fly
between the pages of skulls.
I couldn't find the exact words.

The religion of wish-lists.
Can you find the end of desires?
From thought to thought-
was there any vision?

Satish Verma

14 December, 2012


I met a talking moon
on the road of death.
What easily comes, goes easily with winds.
I was counting the ribs of
my dying child. He went into the
woods to fight the unknown wars
of hunger.

Bunker: it went into flames
sailing into brilliance of space.
I am going to inherit the black grains
of molten day. How I will confront
the night tainted with bonfires
of sunken eyes?

God particles in tiny fists spreading
the spun cotton, intitating a
revolution of thoughts. A bumpy
argument. The icon denies the guilt
of mass killing. I want
to remain unsung.

Satish Verma

13 December, 2012


The path disappears
under the foot.
Gently I lay down the book
and start reading the blank page.

Stainless thoughts.I strip to root.
A stunning revelation
about a tinned dialogue.

Blue hydrangeas
were telling something.
It was time to become insane
on the street.

The lust,
the sex
creeps into the sect. Religion was a proxy
to kill, to achieve a stop.

going nowhere.

Satish Verma

12 December, 2012


Come and meet me in chamber of death
where the tempest comes every night.

I start disrobing the anger
to find the eye of the moon.

Where do I get that ink that
writes an unwritten poem on water
of eyes when the ship was
burning after a rare landing.

Come and meet me in sleep of an infant.

It was time to start a dialogue
with golden death sitting on the
greed of man. The lips were extracting
the other honey from frozen moon.

Come and meet me in merciless sun.

Satish Verma

10 December, 2012

The Fall

You were starving the words
to commit the waves of hunger.
What I wanted was a patch of shade
under an olive grove.

No intrusion. It was a miscarriage
of justice. We were searching the -
missing links between the years
of misunderstandings.

We sell our gods and move on
unquietly to understand the-
lament of middle of the road, when
sun was nestling in the clouds.

It was Fall. Fall of vanity, fall of
integrity. Fall, fall-
my pride, my tears. The season
was changing.

Satish Verma

09 December, 2012

Song Of Unquiet Spirit

Staples were traveling on the
epiderm, thanking the wounds.
The dust, the eternal ugliness
were growling.

Riveting drama:
a royal swanking for a macabre
heist. A bizarre charisma
overtakes the cozy lips.

I was green,
and I was a cloud
where the sunflowers meet
beneath the sun.

Blind poppies assert themselves
unfurling a flag of milky sap.
The wasps were going-
to become stingless.

Satish Verma

08 December, 2012


Lips of clay tend to bleed
my kisses.
And the distant moon treads
softly on the spent passion.

A private crimson
blunts the whiteness of moon.
The birds-
step out from the fog.

Last moments -
of the bell to announce
the schizophrenic flesh
sailing like snowflakes.

A primordial fear -
was destroying the profile of man.
Here it goes-
the spiritual enigma.

A blast
of stunned silence:
I am collecting pebbles
from the trees.

Satish Verma

07 December, 2012


Like each dropp of your humbleness
engulfing my urbanite woes;
the graffiti emerges in tender grace
to resurrect a windmill.

My spirit, the abode of small birds
carrying the sunset on its back
was returning home for the final-
sleep in the lap of twilight.

When autumn comes and crippled,
brown leaves start falling, I will
set the birds free in the winds
to find their new master.

The nest will weep for the broken song.
In space between the eyes, lies the negation
which will not accept the peace of a
grave. I will follow the wilderness-
of thoughts again.

Satish Verma

06 December, 2012


A sorcerer moon was rising
amidst grizzly clouds.
A lurid willingness of night
to surrender was evident-
skimming the stars.

A pact was inked between an
antiheroine and a renegade.
An apostate-
will find the refuge in serenades.

The feline grace jars the sexism
by sitting on the fence.
A blue ocean will churn out
the urn of lethal poison.

That flame. Can you kill
the wolf? The tricks of
child-molesting were
on the big screen.

Satish Verma

05 December, 2012


Some apologies for the anatomy.
Stain -
has shifted to moon.
No fragrance, no color, no dewfall.
Night has been spooked.

Disconnected - I will meet the
transparent truth about the lies
of a prose. Sick earth will receive
the dismembered verse in locked embrace
of bloody limbs.

Raw diamonds-
will teach to play with sex
in the house of terror. When -
you forget the space between
the clouds and thighs.

Between good and bad
I bleed.

Satish Verma

03 December, 2012


In the exodus of emotions
I try to flee human fears
in earth hour.

The sky will not be civil to me.
You had become a dark flame
like port wine.

Who was changing
the skin like a snake?
I was busy cupping a hemangioma

on the face of a moon.
Tucked between the breasts
a dream fumbles with a cyclone.

One more city dies
in my head. The streets
are walking back.

Satish Verma

02 December, 2012


He wants-
to sort through the voices
he used to hear-
in his head,

to understand the vexed past.
He will make his bent arm
a bow and shoot
a moon between the doors.

Walk with a snake in grass
and feed his children.
Irreverence becomes an import
from the strangers.

When you were burning
inside, what was the need for the family
of periwinkles
to condole with jingles.

A timer device
explodes on your face.
A human bomb unfathers
a class of hibiscus.

Satish Verma

29 November, 2012

Drifting Pain

I am in retreat, for a music
of visitation,
playing with the words.

Mission failed,
the upheaval starts in the islands
of void, to find out
who was unglazed.

Folding the protuberance
in a pilfered fidelity, the shards
had no input in violence.

Mistrial. A half-mad moon
crashes on grass. The fireflies
resume the journey
to darkness.

The fangs were out
in green charm, in fierce silence
of the exhumed vault.

Satish Verma

28 November, 2012


And you explore me-
to the limits of enchantment.
As I was-
dying in a nonfiction.

Half brothers-
were moving like pincers
to catch a pen
like a little solidier.

Sad little god was telling
I do,
I am moving in non-existent darkness
for a sundial.

A lobster-
was trying to climb on
an ancient throne.
He wanted to become a neoking.
And throw his weight for the kittens
and unborn dogs.

Satish Verma

27 November, 2012

That Is

Let be it.
The little bowl abandoning
the unreachable pink-light.
was searching a geometric center
of a smoking hub.

of a bonefire was leaping
towards a topless tumbler.
The midriff
will spell a disaster.

A nomadic-
sleepwalker had become incandescent,
starts a prayer
for a condemned enemy.

My body was a river.
on the impacted rocks of violence.
Was non-violence still relevant
in turbulent times?

Give me some unreason today.

Satish Verma

26 November, 2012


The sizzling legs wait for
an infinitesimal pause
to learn on approaching zero.

I am not cultish:
the egg has walked out
on a dwarf mother.

The dead horse was rising
after eating dirt. Naked
flame will decide for –

the rights of a man in a
hot night. Deferred a perfect
landing on cherries. The

colors were fighting
for the supremacy of
twisted necks.

Satish Verma

25 November, 2012


Interlude cheats:
the mind fails to understand.
refutes the salt.

You know:
the self-knowledge takes you to a tormentor
for intimate relationship. A dirty hand
scrapes the script.

A sudden flight, you do not want
to face the sun.
I pick up a book
and hide my face.

Parkinson’s dilemma:
The psychic persona
was shaking or tremors in thought.
Now unclasping.

Satish Verma

24 November, 2012

Stray Colors

Now burns the stillness of thoughts.
Be my enemy.
Ants are running out
of the eye.
I am collecting the ashes from
the burning ghats.
The steps to the lake are disappearing
in the blood of moon.
The dogs-
are carrying away a half-burnt leg.
It stinks
the whole river, all night
all day.
Don’t shut the window
I am crying.

Tin man was walking on the sea
of words.
He did not want to utter F………out.
The hirsute triangle
pops up, every time
you close your eyes.
All night he was dreaming
he had become inert, like a corpse.
Can you start a salvage chemo?
So that I can levitate in emptiness
and meet
my arithmetic
midway like cherry blossom
falling, yet not falling.
You will never understand me.
I was waiting for the night
beyond the sky
beyond the stars.

The stigma
the style.
No pollen wants to land on your cherry
Stainless shirt waves a white flag
to stop the war.
I am not a cherry picker
in a moonlit night
undressing the smile.
It is for you, the next life
a little wee
if I don’t come back
from the sea of carnage
pure as a fish.

Satish Verma

23 November, 2012


After scarring, the big gap
confronts a mascot.
The caster is telling a lie.

Under shock and anger
you start cursing the renegade truth.

Black windows now perceive the light.

Nobody wants to catch the dust now,
falling from the stars.

War of words comes to disarming of
wailing hands.
I reconcile with the setting sun.

Back and forth, back and forth
the unabashed, moves a bridal moon.

Satish Verma

22 November, 2012


Deep inside
there was a simian jealousy.
The opaque words will raise
a burnt-out storm –
returning the whole family
of white flowers to the moon.

The falling
inside the bowl
before the snake could strike
interrupting the dead soldiers
of unknown war-

A stunning invasion
of the spoons in summer months,
when sweat was expensive than
truth and a sentence
was lost between the punctuations.

Yet I was going to recite a poem.

Satish Verma

21 November, 2012


talk to your restive soul,
elementally abstract.

Home –
was minimal comfort,
for the flying birds.

to explode today
on your face.

You were eying
the bride,
in turbulent sky.

Who had
brought the moon
at Agave’s feet?

Satish Verma

20 November, 2012


A vigil for scrolls:
who writes the history now?

Actors are barbaric now –
playing the malicious music of
There is no threat now from intimate-

Be drunk on my breast –
in lunar landscape, wearing no shoes.
Buddha has lost his libido.
Can you fix the bed of black

A sick mind now writes-
a transgender prose.

Satish Verma

19 November, 2012


The snarled monogamy
needs a firework.
A solitary moon walks on a lake

The marriage
between the planet and moon
was falling apart.
In amphora lies the secret

of a jeweled crown. Cynical
berries were searching
a quartz to find the truth of the bush
where the colors were mixed.

There is no further news of
half-crazy stars who became
pretty girls to start trading
their shines.

Satish Verma

18 November, 2012


A chocolaty moon was rising.
I have lost my riverbed.
Accuser has become accused.

The hangman has shifted
the ground while glistening
in moonlight. Oxymoronic?

Eponym exited the lips of a drone fly.
A flotilla of tears
dies in an eye of a storm.

An audacity of a drifter
to stop the promiscuous honors
of strangers in death.

Only night-bloomers will watch
the sunrise in eternal lonliness.
The roots will always stay in dark.

Satish Verma

17 November, 2012


A red clock and the dwarf
will not meet on the wall.
Time slips out in virginal shyness.

On the verge of collapse was
an ossified civil group
after emotive conception fails.

Unambiguously an azure
sky measures the human steps
in somnambulant thoughts.

You throw a bound kid
in a water tank, after postpartum blues
and walk away with a halter.

Who will grab the fractured
age, during the fire dance?
A mirror lies flat after announcing the award.

Satish Verma

16 November, 2012


Half-mooned I have left the envy.
The basic instinct of lesser love
for my failing god.

Come to me, my cloaked enemy,
a sweet lover of pain
in the milky hours.

Mother of seeds was far away
and you wanted to suck on the
pollen from the wings of honeybees.

Soft and cruel, I cannot leave you
nor I can abandon the post.
The war cry was coming nearer.

Was it a virginal drink to –
placate the lips of a flame?
Time will never know the ultimate.

Satish Verma

15 November, 2012

Singing Darkness

In hirsute adolescence
a narcissist climbs
the breast and becomes
a graveyard of moons.

Talking of marginality,
a hole in the chest
ejects a secret of peachy skin
when wind was selling sex.

Most corrupt was me
always telling truth about the
warm eggs of chaotic legs
who will not climb down the street.

Satish Verma

14 November, 2012


Floating on a river of fire
sitting in a cooking vessel
you were invoking the rain god.

Your hollow words had holiness
of unmeaning.
The sky opens the third eye.

Are you going to offer your
tongue to a footwear
of a proxy blood?

As a hymn to goddess of wealth,
sugar is thrown out of window
and yellow rice dances before a mirror.

And here I bleed silently
for the shooting star*
who could not conceive.

*A kind of primrose whose purple flowere have
backward curving petals hanging down. The
flowers move skyward on slender stems
turning their face upward after fertilization.

Satish Verma

12 November, 2012


Rains will not come to my land.
Bisexuality starts a slut walk.
Blackbucks were hungry.

The stray dogs were barking
at moon. Into the night goes
the snake without any truth.

Nearly over the scooped –
protection of virginity
against the dazzling hirsutism.

Lost fortune of the flaunted
Buddha. I have no legs
to bow down before the pale god.

This is the sex: there are
strawberries. Have a pick
of comets, bleeding.

Satish Verma

11 November, 2012


in love with vermilion
floating on optics

you learn in moments of insult
or insults in moment of learning

fishless bones
still he smels of withering pain
on black satin

you don’t want to suffer
with asterisks
disfigurs the essence

i will boil the moon
to find the separateness
between scent and grief

i am done
the poem is over
death has walked away

Satish Verma

10 November, 2012

A Cricket Invades The Night

in a rumpled,
black city
homes are sliced in half
the equality demands
the rights of people

sometimes you love a
he will be able to wed, albeit
shyly, with the physical
cleaning the love’s deficit

how far the waiting will go
skirting the mist
it was there
in you
in me
a rapist
a serial killer

Satish Verma

09 November, 2012

Listening To Rwanda Genocide

In your azure eyes
I was teaching myself:
how to drown. What a nodal
agency to receive the award.

The ailing moon
will not come to my rescue.
The seized cloud had failed
to cry –

embarrassing the sidewalks. An
unfathomable legend.
A bloated name becomes the
mother of rapes.

At stake were all the crutches.
The tribal stain had a stark
reality. The basic instinct,
walks home to stand on the mount of bones.

Satish Verma

08 November, 2012

Eternal Drift

A hidden lump was revealed
in annual ritual.
You flung open the gates-

to take away the regal pain.
Was it a reprisal
for a purple nail?

Withdrawl was threatening.
In the line of fire
comes the guilt.

The suicide in the goddess
womb? Celebrate if
you pull out.

Floating on the drifting
threat. The welts will sing
the erotica.

Satish Verma

07 November, 2012


There was no need of a sharp knife
in Calvaria.
Night was fighting with the moon.

From a concealed canvas
I could find, galloping,
black horses were gone.

A duplicate key does not work
now. The lock had been
replaced on the door.

Stairs were climbing on my
stale body. The snowy peaks
will not melt in sun.

Disrobing the blue skin,
under a blue sky for blue moon:
unstoppable laughter.

Satish Verma

06 November, 2012


Perpetual stasis
in blank stares.
Who was yawning to moon?

Balmy night will unlock
the secrets of graphic images.
Life casts a spell on you.

Like a round worm
in search of a ceramic cow.
Let me mix the money with fame.

The unfelt pleasure
of a crooked script –
in twilight zone. Every person

was wearing a cloud. Deftly
you break the urn of ashes
to find the stolen eyes.

Satish Verma

04 November, 2012

In Transit

A blind spot
was clinging on to earth.
Point of entry had
an eye against eye.

obsidian falls
unshaved. The guilt
of dawn was palpable.
A nimbus surrounds the pain.

A microdrone takes on
the spider. Diffusion of
hydrogen sulfide starts.
Don’t break the window.

Through my love, I touch
you on face with ashen fingers.
I step out from the hawk’s talons
into the prophecy.

Satish Verma

03 November, 2012

Father’s Day

Lashing out at invisible enemies
you focus on virtue test –

putting the ethics into incarceration,
when you ask to dip the hand

in boiling oil. Epiphany, a magnus
tells, gives a sensual arousal.

Without you I was fighting
graffiti on no-name lips.

The green eyes were watching. A
terse detergent suicide.O my

architect, what game you are playing
with a child who refuses to become a father.

Satish Verma

02 November, 2012


In a haunting trove -;
there was a synthetic insanity.
I asked the moon
to scan the chest.

Fever was rising.
You eject your eyes in a bowl
of silver to read the
lines of money.

A stark effect overwhelms
the spectrum, like the components
of a booty, to be digested
for deep flaws of society.

I should, if I could
rip open the zipped mouth
of black death to count the
teeth of shrunk questions.

After all it was democracy.

Satish Verma

01 November, 2012


The accretion of a perfect squall
when claws were out-

scavenging novelties. A lewd
paranoia slains a farewell

in a trench. The chamber has
vomited a mound of gold blinding a shell.

The combs did not straighten
the puff. The old man was very lonely.

I would stop hunting the stings
of a bare-chested moon.

I recuse myself from judging the paperboat
which wanted to cross the ocean.

Satish Verma

31 October, 2012


A killer moon
in a mating dance.

Smothered by kisses
frugal night
seethes with anger.

In synchronized,
house of limbs -;
the pink underside.

lost the way
between light and dark.

Of sunflowers
and a nude
lies a tale.

Satish Verma

30 October, 2012

Lunar Eclipse

Turn the corner
and you will find, some dark figures
huddled together under the rains
of words. In a fractured
embrace. One chunk of floating
pain falls on you. The assassin
had come quietly.

A song was knifed today.

Turn off the lights. A smeared
moon will rise tonight in earth’s
shadow. Now hashish eaters were
coming, now hashish eaters.
Unnoticed, disconnected,
stinging. From olive to bleeding heads,
poetry to prey.

The koel will not sing tonight.

Satish Verma

29 October, 2012

Searing Heat

An ascetic dies in a shoe
spilling blood.
A surreal moon
wants to investigate –

a sectarian divide of
fraudulent sky.
And you want to be buried
under rose petals –

courting controversies
to clean the polluted river.
A lifeboat was needed
to take you for a quiz –

singing national anthem.
You were sharpening
your nails.

Satish Verma

28 October, 2012


It was not dark
in a killing field.
A primitivism has prevailed
upon an intimate hate crime
for brand mnemonics.

A bronzed moon
will come out tonight.
The glances were missing
and you -
cannot see properly.

The blue bird
was nesting in a pink cloud,
when you were -,
less than half. Killed
but not raped.

Who rattles the montage?
Let the etiolation speak.
Blood was scarped off,
but the ornamental stealing
goes on.

Satish Verma

27 October, 2012


A frame
lifts the skirt of a portrait
and throws her genitalia
on your face.
A twin blast has taken place.

Why did you stand for
The fables will miss you
and blue horse
will not return home.

The naked feet
will roam on grass, when
shoes will ask;
what is the miracle?
It happens once a while.

Reified the colors into pink
thighs – for every word,
stood undressed.
Now the table waits for you.

Satish Verma

26 October, 2012

Death In Exile

He had pulled in many springs
but failed to find a heaven.
Asked not to look away. In

absences he tried to enter
the wounds again. An aboriginal
pain flies over my shoulder.

A spiritual failure of mankind?
Counting unctuously the birds nesting
on an invisible tree.

This narration has no vocabulary.
Only oily sounds of original
lunacy. You want to cover

an empty canvas. A self-portrait
was abandoned after
the cloudburst of slogans.

Satish Verma

25 October, 2012


Throw a nude at him and
he will make it a weapon-
to rape a moon.
Becomes a study to flaunt
the dipping sun.

Not mature enough to
follow the hanging valley.
Going nowhere. The black
sky was immaculately

This is the destiny of charred
words. Untouchable now like
a violence from a dew drop. I
will not wipe out the dust
from the bleary eyes of the young spring.

No complaints. I have hundred
of failures to know
that I have not reached.

Satish Verma

24 October, 2012


Do not take a vow of silence.
Death will find its home.

The circus has taken over
the needles.Who will stitch

the wounds of earth. A man
walks into sunset carrying

a bowl of tears. The sit-in
was going to resist a poem

of life. Would you unrobe
your identity in public one day?

Always I am punctuated at night
by a yellow moon standing

in my window. A nude goddess
is going to mourn the death of a thought.

Satish Verma

23 October, 2012

Blistering Attack

A peacock becomes non-violent
keeping the warheads
in his tail. In bird hour
who wants to blink?

The chicken runs amok.
Lying motionless was
painful for being slaughtered.
Subversion was more acceptable-

than falling in love. The bare
chest shows a gored scar.
They have started a dance
to entice a herd of pachyderms.

Bleeding? No. They have
cobbled an army of bedbugs
to start a violent protest
against the moon.

Satish Verma

22 October, 2012


Consensual drop.
White bougainvilleas
were falling
on green eyes,
as I climb the sun.

Not a loss.
The seeds will carry
an image of a fallen
hero on the hairy chest
of a spilled sperm-

into the rippled lake
of a crowd chanting the enemy’s
death. The heritage
of corrupt state will bury
the memorial of a honeycomb.

Do you hear a meltdown
of an ululating monk?
A piercing trill comes from
a scalp scooping the wardrobe
of a dethroned king.

Satish Verma

21 October, 2012

Praying Hurriedly

You were trampeling on a wasp,
when sprouts
were generating Escherichia.

Dirt. Romping around. How many
corpses were there? Why can’t you
tell the exact figure?

Under the carpet the shoes will
help. The need to jump from
the rostrum? Was it not a banal show?

The giggling girls threw a
cordon around the sheep. The
trembling flesh. Somebody walked

away with the chopped head.
Weeping. No the severed head
was laughing.

It was an open book.
How to make the beds on street,
and then lie naked.

Satish Verma

20 October, 2012

Taking On

It was a fast
against truth, in support
of unbidden body
which took the history lesson.

A star is born
out of midnight accident.
Darkness deems dark
in siege of self-restraint.

An embattled self
seeks a counting. The money
speaks in absence, to clear
the debt of tears.

No longer
the eyes will look at
the marriage of trans-blue veins
in legs of seedless dreams.

Satish Verma

19 October, 2012

Olive Branch

Anti-howling receives the
deserter. There was a mass
breast-beating without
any noise.

The pugnacious jaw
drops. Shows a frail
sensitivity to tormented
values –

of invisible mirrors, shutting
down the wolf’s face. An
ancient spider jumps
on your bronzed ego.

A transsexual walks on
the ramp to defend her territory.
Cucumbers would jump to
conceive the obnoxious yawning.

Satish Verma

18 October, 2012

Live Baits

An autopsy was being conducted
with brutality
to silence the rising dialogue,

pulling out the lethal crunch
of scripted history.
You want the kiss of a parting grain.

A secondhand face crops
up in a newspaper. Are you ashamed
of curtains? They have covered

all the skeletons. The tangerines,
why do I remember them
like juicy lips in dark.

We are going to bungle together,
decked up to receive the body
of a honed player.

Satish Verma

17 October, 2012


Were you ready for a virginity test
to cross the umbrella of harpoons.
A chilled moon

will welcome you after slaying
the hot sun in the valley
of gods. A schism scoops

ignominy. Seeing the lights
which were not there. Almost
sexy, the sky pretends to unrobe.

No weeping. A Caucasian brings
red grapes for a naming
ceremony of black password,

searing the age of complicity.
A rocket propelled grenade
is going to blast a whisper.

Satish Verma

16 October, 2012


Arrive with me in untainted
light. Between two threats:
life and death. Falling from
mantle, there was no surrender.

Bone-deep, I will ask you a
question. What life has given
to you and what death
has taken from you?

Read more in my eyes. You will
find the ravines of hunger. For
truth. No organic pain. Only thirst.
For a very violent rush of rains.

Ink-stained moon was willing
to cede the moonlight, even dew
to wipe out the nightmares of
your scrapped ego.

Satish Verma

15 October, 2012


It was a complete disaster. 
I will listen to moon tonight, while 
writing your name 
on bikini top, 

holding the pigeons. The 
birds had abandoned the 
walnut tree in haste. Between 
them can you see a butchered 

image of little god, who 
broke the cold chain of flirting 
and sat on a rosette of 
tears blocking the sun? 

Was it true that death always 
sits on our shoulders like an 
owl undocking the life for piercing 
contentious lips?

Satish Verma

14 October, 2012


Wind prowled. 
You had a hornet’s sting 
buried half in your hand. 

Anaphylactic shock. 
Translates into night of terror. 
You hesitate to smile. 

Midnight blues. 
You cannot count the stars. 
Pesky. Stories spread about moon’s pink thighs. 

An ode to the death’s kiss. 
You were sleeping in the 
sole embrace of pain. 

The denizen breaks the rule. 
Moves into the sea 
for courtship with depth.

Satish Verma

13 October, 2012


Was I sane?
Like poetry infiltrating,
when you were eating grass?
And money was walking free.

The hollow eyes
had the moral authority
to expunge the fidelity from the
book. Are the blue needles

hurting you, I was asking moon?
Moon’s stony eyes started
watering. Strangers in bed, the
trust had a different taste, another smell.

Words were loaded, they were
going to start beheading a tender song.

Satish Verma

12 October, 2012


It was a summer night. 
A windswept moonbeam 
plummeted. Sexualizing 

an indigo flesh. A butcher 
was seducing 
a spider, in company of 

a holy book. Sunbathing in 
mass grave of skulls. The eyes 
peeking out of the caps. 

You want to pluck the blue 
berries from 
volcano mounts. The key player 

will burn your script. Body 
of milk died on snow. The 
moth was coming out of cocoon.

Satish Verma

11 October, 2012


Hauled up 
the breast suture. 
You were following the milk route, 

epitomizing the fall. From the 
golden clouds. Wanting to 
swim in blue veins, 

you were drowned. The fire 
has spurted the blood. A carbon 
copy of exit strategy 

in your hands, you unreel 
the chains of libido in failed 
state of limbs. 

The cartel has littered 
the street with gentle greens, 
to buy the lips. Spurned 

lover commits a suicide.

Satish Verma

10 October, 2012


Immersion in a regal 
carnage. Ash colored dawn 
was gang-raped. 

A bullet-ridden sexism 
shuts out the fame. 
Starts a chilling confession. 

O, my orion 
I adore your ruffled 
stance. Do not make a kill. 

Sunflower, why your 
seeds were participating 
in bonfire of a moon? 

They came for a sexual 
encounter. But found a prism 
exacting a gun.

Satish Verma

09 October, 2012

Courting Fidelity

It was 
a graceful exit 
with audacious idiocity. 
A cyclops was going 
for a dress disaster. 

of flesh, mars the beauty. 
Cheating starts 
between the pails of tears. 
I start hitting the planet. 

Let the bride 
sleep in fog. A volcano 
was going to shed 
the sperms on your 

Satish Verma

08 October, 2012


Like swapping your face for 
a tormentor. Stop the rains. 
I am going home, after 
a hard choice of peace 

in sunlight. Give me back my 
memory. I want to take a 
flight. Scanning the midnight 
sun on blue lake. 

Stairs are climbing on me. 
Stay with me. I am falling 
on your purple doves 
eating blood oranges. 

I am sad inside the stitched 
eye.clouds are breaking the 
light. I will not come 
for therapy from lies.

Satish Verma

07 October, 2012


Tousling the opulence was 
not modesty. 
Who will adore the clan? 

I am not yet ‘me’, 
the refuge of elevated moon. 
The heat and dust of nascent money 

was burning like a loud prayer 
in dark sun. Perfection tends 
to terrify the stings. 

A mogul of arts outlines the 
script of drowning a desert storm, 
when two flames went to bed. 

Do not pick up the nails for 
the coffin of a martyr. 
They are going to make a dirty bomb.

Satish Verma

06 October, 2012

Bare Tongue

It was 
a killing line. 
Walking on razor wire, 
when toes would not leave the sky 
and heels will not touch the ground. 

Myths and legends 
were becoming a witchcraft. 
Are you ready to eschew the classical script 
and write a new fable, about 
a life size robot, 

who will speak for millions 
and put his signature on the wall 
of a dying moon for the sake of blue clouds? 
The caldron is empty. No body was 
throwing any baby in it. 

Stay still. 
The bold instincts will come back with vengeance.

Satish Verma

05 October, 2012

Doom’s Day

The rapture 
was on prowl 
to get the believers. 

You knew 
what you should not have known 
about the baby blue. 

experiences an impulsive 
violence, beyond the dead. 

Bionic hands 
to capture the moment of 
swapping uremia with swastika. 

A lake 
ravishes the moon. 
No body will sleep tonight. 

Who was behind 
the divination? 
Allies were born enemies.

Satish Verma

04 October, 2012


It is. 
An explosive denial 
of an infinite firmness 
of round orbs. 

Why were you taking 
off your shirt 
to show the scars? 
it stirs a sequestered allegation. 

The glare was on my days 
and your nights. 
The suicide bomber was 
a kid, you know. 

When a poem leaves you, 
how far would you go to kill 
a blue jay 
for the golden cage?

Satish Verma

03 October, 2012


A siege had an agenda 
for a suicide match. 
Treat him with dignity. 

A proxy face of a serial 
adultery. The collateral damage 
will not be undone. 

The aggressor denies the scrutiny. 
You will find some upheaved 
boats in his hideout. 

There cannot be any deniability 
for a long legged journey 
towards the hot coals. 

The battle for the lost glory 
has begun between two moons. 
one in sky, other in uprising.

Satish Verma

01 October, 2012

Drift Wood

This politics of poverty 
erupts again, 
entrapped in arcane script. 
A code of words will find 
the fault lines. 

Coerced to wait in a 
black book, you start forgetting 
the rules of game. It hits you 
when you were writing 
a poem. 

At the end of the arguments 
a lynx eyed moon walks 
on the lake of tears, constructing 
a dam of bread, for 
a broken promise.

Satish Verma

30 September, 2012


There was a soul-searching 
after a negative assassination 
tearing my past, my future. 

Beneath the burden 
lies the mountain of bail-outs. 
You don’t feel whole 
in shadows of countings. 

The borders were breached 
for lavish darkness 
alive under the full moon. 

Was it a flight risk in a swan 
lake, when you were 
taking a dive to pluck the 
erupting fire of indictment.

Satish Verma

29 September, 2012


Would not wear 
the seasoned face. 
Eye for eye 
blasting the truth. 

The path becomes the tunnel. 
in pain of speech 
at the expense of ethics. 

Under the fingernails 
they start interbreeding 
the ideas, crimnalizing the 
upright past. 

A vultured darkness descends 
on the raped bed. 
The great seduction of moon 
had triumphed.

Satish Verma

28 September, 2012


Boots in air 
an elite brain hangs out 
from the tall tears. 

It does not search an exit. 
Time moves out 
with a murder in eyes. 

Leading a spartan life 
in a lair, in tune 
with absolutely zilch. 

A sexy mouth mimes 
for a glittering tree. 
Parakeets were coming in swarms. 

Can you believe, he was 
in a hit list 
of a gliding moon?

Satish Verma

27 September, 2012


A livid moon had started 
a body count for undoing a book. 
The base thinks it has arrived. 

The death zones were unconnected 
by quality of crime waves. People 
have started sitting under green trees. 

A social outcast silently reaches 
the script. It was imperative that 
two-edged sowrd should become sectarian. 

The dew, the baked blood and the blades, 
wait for the lifting of sorrow. 
The fire would crack the code of death. 

Do not bribe the stained linen 
and dyed hair. The permafrost will 
swallow the petrified feet.

Satish Verma

26 September, 2012


You were half-crazy 
saving little buds 
brutalized by storm 
in a yawning night. 

The ugly silver of a fringe 
group becomes intentionally 
a hate cult, developing 
an epicenter for stripping 

to devastate a religion. The 
ghosts are walking in the 
corridors of mirrored crimes. 
There is a creeping sadness in the golden lock. 

The blood craft brings obscene 
inheritance. You hide the script of 
murder in a wheel chair. Things have 
not remained things. There is smoke all around.

Satish Verma

24 September, 2012


It was night sin 
of domesticity. Dyed, I am loading 
the white secret of pain 
in the hollow of a mayhem. 

Till every blunder takes a 
downward flight striping the outsized 
image of a kill. His flames are 
now singeing the eyebrows of angels. 

His foes have entered the compound. 
The black was alluringly looped in 
a stream of blood. Death did not 
wait for a ceremony. 

Lips forgetting the golden sheep, 
tongue apologies for the wronged earth.

Satish Verma

23 September, 2012


After the moon 
it was an unkempt night. 

I wanted to kill the narrative 
and recast the frozen history. 

A dirt road leads to a new trajectory now, 
splattered with blood. 

A double tongued thought brings 
the ire of screaming horror. 

Strapped for knowledge, he believed 
in resurrection of a black hole. 

The pain, it hurts terrible. 
Emblematic was the bending of candles.

Satish Verma

22 September, 2012


The hawk was always hatching 
a pacer, 
to spin the surveillance, 

tampering the tracks of violence. 
The haul was heavy. Moon and fishes 
went on to spread the dragnet 

striking gold from the liquid 
denials. The sovereignity was 
violated of a virgin god. 

The rule of drinking was sidelined. 
Kiss will survive after the death opens 
the back door of a globe. 

Dreams are exhausted. There will 
be no comeback of a star player 
in the game of bloody manipulations.

Satish Verma

21 September, 2012

Tall Claims

You become a chair. 
A dream sits in you 
for a graphic detail of 
pelvis. A trophy? 

Was it undecorous to present 
a cadaver walking on the earth? 
A serial killer wants a plaque 
on his grave after the verdict. 

Saber-rattling has started, 
unplucking the lovers of game. 
A peltate shield in hushed silence 
covers the undressing. 

The prisoner of words tempers with 
a mask to become a bruise.

Satish Verma

20 September, 2012


The doubters will cross the coals 
after the raid. 
Apology will not be in attendance. 

Sitting on the throne of 
cold blooded assassination, do you think 
justice demands the revenge? 

Whom you are killing, the body 
or the spirit? Heads will roll 
after debriefing. 

O my god, politics always 
enters the fray, when you are preparing 
a carpet of roses. 

Against the black moon 
a fast unto death 
by a virile sunblind?

Satish Verma

19 September, 2012


It was a fake time, 
moon will not rise. 

Words were afloat 
on junk dna. 

A stonefaced pseudonym 
dies point-blank. 

The surprise, the speed 
was not on our radar. 

The ravenous siblings 
now asleep on walls. 

Naive or disingenuous. 
A sitting Buddha will decide.

Satish Verma

17 September, 2012

A Killing

Buried at sea 
the dead man lives, as if a blood 
in a reliquary. 

Remains of a day 
were very volatile.The backlash 
will start with a kiss of moon. 

By the lack of a sin 
you meet an ambush 
lying in wait. 

The severed hand will 
hold the sunrise. 
Who will write the epitaph? 

A stunning breast, over your 
reflection, the red rains 
come for celebration.

Satish Verma

16 September, 2012


A golden bullet will bite 
the adolescence for the sake of 
prudence. Inebriated 
everybody wanted to go in a state of bliss. 

It was a targeted killing 
of a dream. Redolent of a prophet 
who will not answer the call 
of a burning dune. 

The holy moonless night will wash 
the sins of a city today. I am not 
going to meet the death tonight. 
I am the eye and I am the nude. 

Like truth on the other side of 
exhibits. Pure beak was ready 
to eat a virgin lie. Again we are 
sitting to solve the mystery of adultery.

Satish Verma

15 September, 2012


When night will not speak 
and shoes will float on the water; 
legs of truth will not move. 

Latched to absence 
unreasons held the hands of time. 
I stopped believing in myself. 

The genome had come in a bottle. 
when the virgin son was killed in a raid. 
The mausoleum will not accept the shroud. 

The priest will pay the moon, 
for the price of the nightly stings. 
Now the death will kill the clouds of bees. 

And the green door shuts the house 
of light. Moonlight has gone missing. 
We will have to find the lips of dark.

Satish Verma

14 September, 2012

Tornado Tornado

The buff flaunts his elements 
in a dissenting voice. 
Don’t go into the lake. 
There were no survivors. 

Stop kissing the moon 
all night. Clouds were moving 
away for the coronation 
of the sun. 

The windowpane was broken. 
Somebody has jumped into 
the audience for a 
golden drink. 

It was my abstract thought 
to donate my grief to 
unrelenting god who was always 
sending a twister with daffodils.

Satish Verma

13 September, 2012


Freezing was not required 
for the casket. It only contained 
a shroud. 

The schism had scored a 
victory. Bystanders will find 
a dark matter 

between the words. The god was 
very lonely today. The black wounds 
start crying. 

A white cloud climbs the eagle’s 
span. A golden moon walks like 
a big tear. 

A surge of greed will take over 
the yellow throne. Someone puts 
it, a spiritual horror.

Satish Verma

12 September, 2012


The descent starts 
with a dance, of tears and fire. 
A culture of lids 
lowers the salt, the silver, 
the gems. 
Antithesis to cremate 
a golden ascent. 

The night long vigil had a 
naked puff. 
It will roll now in stasis. 
The ash will take over the tongue 
for a big lie. Faith healers stand 
in a row. The empty hands 
were getting a burial. 

The toeless path will ride the 
wheels now. Beyond the blue sky 
there is no death.

Satish Verma