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