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