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