31 December, 2013


The father and child
Will not talk to
Each other.
There was a dispute.
Who was father?


Sometimes I wake up
In a dream, looking up
In your eyes.
Was it dark or moonlight?


Why you need to nurse
A pain? We will jump
In a river of inferno,
And drown together!

Satish Verma

30 December, 2013


When it is a moonless
Night, you
Start repeating yourself
Like a parakeet.


Give me a call, when
You are distressed, I
Will come as a cloud
To read your eyes.


A rain drop
On the tip of
A thorn.
Are you crying?

Satish Verma

29 December, 2013


When the rage
will not find an exit.
Would you come to
share my grief?


We left our bones,
our souls behind;
to remind the word;
it was a booby-trap.


There was a gun debate
all the times. To kill
or not to kill the
fantasies in infancy.

Satish Verma

27 December, 2013


Answers remain elusive.
Stains were on shirt:
You went on wiping-
away the mirror.

biologically, he wanted
to get it changed.
The pecking order.

You were trying to
move away,
from yourself. Death
was the missing link.

Was it indecent
to start the self-inventory?
You start dancing
on the inaudible music.

Satish Verma

26 December, 2013


near a waterfall?
Why did you leave your footwear
on the bank?

A women
turns into a snake.
Would you call
a snake charmer?

the moon was not sighted.
How can I start
my drink of elixir?

Satish Verma

23 December, 2013

A Short Journey

Death after:
In a decisive moment,
you abduct a

Of insular world,
to explore
the ethereal beauty
of nothingness.

Melting like a big
chunk of glacier,
watching the civility
of a nude.

You will never
forget me. My alchemy
the golden nuggets.

Satish Verma

22 December, 2013


My palm,
collects the dark energy.
Reversing the code, I
am not going for a big crunch!

Who wants to reclaim
the thunder from the spent
cloud? A pristine pure,
hot and wetted moon,

will never decide the fate.
Tonight I am going to drift
intentionally towards the
antigravity. Your eyes are

going to become epicenter
of a quake. A desire had
hundred moons. The galaxy
was vast and deep. The

world was still revolving
around the phallic symbols,
altering the walking pace
of the ruins.

Satish Verma

21 December, 2013


Eels apart-
would you like to greet
the squid?

from the mud
of quotes?

Epic was being
written, for the sake of the
sunken ship.

There was no pretext.
It was a brazen
assault on the delta.

The clash, the skirmish
will never end.
I am going to meet

the needless,
who had refused
to stitch the wounds.

Satish Verma

20 December, 2013


Exfoliated, I come to you,
to scratch the blighted
palace of the body, where
a god lived once.

Dervish, when did you stop
whirling? The tomb is gone,
the shroud tattered. I am
collecting the withered roses.

It rips open, the black fruit
showing the bleeding stone.
How did I believe, the tiniest
particle will create the universe.

The tree was felled scattering
the seeds. An unsure hand,
pulls on the leash and sets
the entrapped animal free.

Satish Verma

19 December, 2013


Holding the thread,
I catch you in midstream.
A moon was watching.


The summer sends
the salt. You start licking
the red beans.


Let me fold
your hands. I am planting
the wild kisses.

*Again for Gustav Klimt.

Satish Verma

18 December, 2013

On The Annıversary Of Gustav Klimt

I had started the fight.

I asked you to stay away
to interpret my integrity
of slaying the desire.

The sand will send the horse
back to home
without the rider.

A genuine poem will find
the coarse beach where the
body had left the bloody patch.

Should we ask the waves
not to cross our path
carrying a carcass of a dead fish?

Your profile was making
an arch for a perfect kiss
for the sake of a mirror.

Satish Verma

17 December, 2013


The kiss of a flame,
after the perfect


The geometry
ignites the ice.
It falls, fiery particles.


The space shrinks.
Glided slope.
How can you stop?

Satish Verma

16 December, 2013


Ah, coexisting. The
infinite, with a small
blue bird.


In moonlight
I was waiting
for the cloud.


Remembering your
full lips.
Almost tripped.

Satish Verma

15 December, 2013


Do not maneuver the
golden night.
Moon will rise in
defiance of dew.


This world will
not say a word.
The dialogue of moonlight
with sand will continue.


I throw a stick in
the river. I am going
back to my ancient
fear of Karma. 

Satish Verma

09 December, 2013

Unpouring Grief

Between you and me
there was no sound.
In oneness, I reached
your peaks.

It was a naked bloom
of jasmines. I smell the
duality. Would you come
for a rendezvous?

Pure as a glacier fall,
the silver-dark of moonless
night, I was waiting
for the ripples.

The bells, blue bells, start
echoing the cries. It was
not a kill. The invisible
was executed.

Satish Verma

08 December, 2013


Bleeding the sea
For brown seaweeds.
I was trading the tides.

Talking me blind;
Kissing on my face,
O moon, you were reading
the dark earth.

To awaken me.
I prick my fingers to collect
The fractured thoughts.
The ospreys were expected-

To land for laying eggs.
I will seed the clouds,
To bring in rains, to
Wash the stains.

Satish Verma

07 December, 2013

Becomıng Oneself

I was searching the self,
in truth of life.

It leaves many
questions, unanswered.
There was import-

of risqué. The generated
heat would kill
ordinary answers.

You can tear up,
a mountain to release
the particles,

although invisible.
You stretch out your hands
to collect black currants.

For a kick-start
you start shouting.
I am the truth!

Satish Verma

03 December, 2013


You want to cover
the great distance,
between you and lost innocence.

The imploded silence
will speak of
great murders.

I was going down-
the stairs,
to dig out the skeletons-

from the latched, oak
chest. The empty drawers
had the imprints of fallen ancestors.

Soon the eyes will
swell, with salt of
a frozen sea.

Satish Verma

02 December, 2013

Heart Of The Matter

A man,
in the shadow of a child,
walks, for the sake of

The Great Bustard,
was on the brink of
extinction. Somebody
was not an achiever.

an inborn god in thighs,
for running faster than light,
weightless, faceless.

Dust will take,
dust for the dark matter
sequencing a disaster.
The animal within roars.

Satish Verma

30 November, 2013


The particles,
spreading a weird cult.
You were colliding with moons

It was a bird call
under a gilded, cold, dark
sky. The desire was immense
than the meet.

You just wanted to feel
the hurt; flaunting an
erosion. A coherently large
body. Is that a mass-

of goddammed invisible?
It was my harvested pain,
the lost virginity of a
spot. The exit war starts

for a gentle colossus.

Satish Verma

29 November, 2013

Virtuous or Vicious

No words,
no thoughts,
remained unkissed, unwed
by a shapeless white death.
Still under the spell,
I squatter before the moon,
peeling off, to receive
the ultimate.

I am trying,
to find the roots,
of unknown.
Breaking protocol, for a
moron liability, unclouding
the dark sky. It was homecoming
of a Michelangelo to repeat
the performance.

I want to write
a dirty poem

Satish Verma

28 November, 2013

In Private

A bruise-
opens up again.
Why you did not know,
how to stop, in the blue night,
under the shadow of
god particles?

A glimpse-
of the naked form;
the size, the shape,
unsettles the script, the committed
dogma. Why you were still
unvisible, O glory?

of the beliefs.
Life becomes a peddeler.
I don’t want to go to any bazaar
now. A poem is good enough
to move on.

Satish Verma

27 November, 2013

False Boundaries

I again went for the goldfish.

One day I took you, in the
night sky, rubbing on the
sea, under an ebony moon.

The roasted munching in
fabricated letters for
the orgiastic drill.

Why one always becomes
sadistic in self- torture,
the drifting among tombs-

of broken words, in our
maligned ink? The clear
path suddenly becomes invisible.

I again hear the sobbing of
a trembling ghost of past.

Satish Verma

False Boundaries

I again went for the goldfish.

One day I took you, in the
night sky, rubbing on the
sea, under an ebony moon.

The roasted munching in
fabricated letters for
the orgiastic drill.

Why one always becomes
sadistic in self- torture,
the drifting among tombs-

of broken words, in our
maligned ink? The clear
path suddenly becomes invisible.

I again hear the sobbing of
a trembling ghost of past.

Satish Verma

26 November, 2013


It went through me
the hot day;
vaulting back.
at night.
To hustle the poetry things.

Weary of the luminous
dials. I want to
think in dark.


The bookcase was empty.
Croaking words
had departed for
greener pastures.

Hold on.
I am coming to
defuse the grenades.

Satish Verma

25 November, 2013

Mnı Poems

The maligned,
bloody moon,
will never show
the darkside.

human nature,
a theorem,


The fiction
was incomplete.
The end,
was unending.

the punctuation.


amnesic stance.
I wanted to stitch
The fragmented past.

The tainted
weeds, will not
allow the phrase
to complete.


Was there any
need to catch
the essence of physical?

The words were
sufficient to hurt
the unborn.

Satish Verma

24 November, 2013

Splitting the night

Pillage started,
when there were anti-answers.
The trapped light-

wanted to be
from brutalism.

When you were
nearly drowned,
in the multitude of questions,

joining the palms,
you collect the moments
of solitude.

You drop a key
in the ocean.
Its imprint swims

to the other side of shore.
You felt lonely
stars said, it is time for us to leave.

Satish Verma

23 November, 2013

Paper Thin

Tearing up,
the revised versions.
Wall was rising.

like the unconceived

Half-eaten space,
the man wants to
hide the holiness.

The final leap,
for the hips, the lips
for the dive.

The bloodied
paperweight, which smasthed
the skull of a bald deity.

The arguments, that
kill the path, a
gift of sky.

Satish Verma

22 November, 2013

Buying Time

Nibbling at a piece of moon
I lost the zero line
of my violence
mapping the lone

The waning light
flaunting the peaks
for docking
the missile
in dark.

The body of water,
prior to the tempest,
will invite the brown
creator to pull
the ropes.

The past reappears,
shows presence.
I search word anchors
to reach

Satish Verma

21 November, 2013


The window was closing.
Whole life went by,
to understand oneself,
trying to find the true meanings of words,
using myself as a bait.

To read or not to read the unwritten,
blank page. A dot
a dash, a comma, parenthesis.
They were trying to find
the signature pains.

A green rust starts burying
the crumbling wall. The cognitive
climb gets a setback. Suddenly
the peeling off starts, of makeup.
You stand naked.

Satish Verma

20 November, 2013

Dust Will Laugh

Romancing Neptune
had an
amorous wish.
The body is water.
Take it,
split it,
and then become a doormat.

Blocking the fiesta,
a ghost brings in
storm, in a glass.
Will you drink the moon
in night?

The street now walks in,
taking a call to kill the shades,
of wrinkles. You forgot
your name and move
gingerly from post to post
lightening the lamps.

Satish Verma

18 November, 2013


Can you enlarge the moment,
when the time stopped and
you were trying to get a
glimpse of beyond?

You become a no-moment, a
no-truth, in a sauteed

And someone plucks a death
from your poems to
resuscitate you, draped
in tears.

The track record will show,
you were only yourself,
and never became a riddle.

Let go of me. It was only
a happening, undoing the
play, held in dark. As I
cross the door, you become invisible.

Satish Verma

17 November, 2013


The dichotomy was complete.
I walk in your tears
to move away.

The night smelt like a
burnt-out doll, and I was
quaking inside like a peony lip.

The sunk baby. You stay
uncovered in half-sleep.
The drag of the noose around-

your neck was evident. I
want to squeeze the pods.
Why did not the pollen meet-

the stigma? The needles are
coming out of the eyes. A prose
is gone. The poem walks in.

Satish Verma

16 November, 2013

Life Moves On

You make me give up too easily
without a fight. I will not
ask any questions.

The elite mercy you are
endowed with, green eyes,
invite me for a daunting embrace.

It cracked under the chariot
on runway. The wings scattered,
I will not be able to fly now.

One day, I gave you my dagger
to put it my heart.
You had tied my hands for real.

Overreached by words of
mouth, a quill becomes a
pen, waiting about carnage.

Satish Verma

15 November, 2013


From a homemade
golden pen you went on
the young erotica.
It was a moment of
the funeral, plodding
through the extinct memories
of misadventures.
Time had stood still
on the sea of faces.
The great wall of frozen
dreams brings a chill
in blazing sun of enigma.

A bridge becomes a
derived fossil!

Satish Verma

14 November, 2013

New Genre

That elusive answer
which ricocheted to land
in a bush, throws you in tizzy.
Are you sure, you want
to hurl more questions?

This was a qualified Higg’s
boson, which bowed out
from the race of God’s creation
to become invisible.

A gecko climbs on the wall
shutting the soul. The huge crowd
was pushing the chariot, addressing
the shadows behind the glass. The
featureless becomes untouchable.

A moon beam glides on the carpet.
Priest will go to sleep.

Satish Verma

13 November, 2013

The Woods Are Burning

Removing the husk
I want you to find the grain;
become yourself.

The space between thoughts
must increase.
I am trying to widen -

the scope of death. Something
was alive in shadows.
The fiction was rising.

Dust and clouds will blast
together. I want to meet
the snowcapped peaks of sadness-

which brings the human-
face of flesh eaters. No bones
were left to fight for.

Satish Verma

12 November, 2013

Rugged Frontiers

The sun beats mercilessly.
A coastline invites the violence
of the great lake.

A sinking feeling of a boat. The battle
of tides and limbs. You can see
the colors, the dragons
flying. The blasted sky
and blackened clouds. A shriek
sets the lake on fire, as the dusk sets in.

A tribal instinct to burn
the fences, set the horizons
free for a new comet, landing from
unknown space. You want to touch
the lips of a mute, blotted moon.

Fireflies start dotting the night.
You move inward; find a dark
niche to graze the wounds. The hurt
brings the words. You pick up an
axe and start chopping
the dead wood.

Satish Verma

The Signs

This music was insane.
Do not pluck the wounded apples
of conjugal extraction.

The volatility was increasing.
Shades of blue were
sharpening. The intrusive moon

will decide the fate of
fossilized fracture. The death
came by the back door.

The rough edges are to
be smothered, after a back
encounter. The saint was ready.

The anxiety overwhelms. You
try to find a small window
to bring in the song bird.

Satish Verma

10 November, 2013

Empty Dreams

After the civil war in temples
a wodden god
with broken nose, was walking
with a stick.

Half-way to home
he wanted to turn back
and meet his shadow
in the lake.

A mountain goat climbs
down the rocks to become
a martyr. Leaps into a dark
stream clinging to the veil.

A blue pine takes a bath
in the summer rain. A
midnight moon will call the spirits
to dance for gamblers.

Satish Verma

09 November, 2013

In Totality

The riot was within.
Not getting along with social
revolution you would lie
on purple patch without seeking
any privy.

Who were the barbarians
which were going to release
the brutal pattern of bloodshed
during sunset on
the lake?

A mistrial will dispatch
the violence and you will drop
dead on the dirt path leading
to bed of roses. A theme will
wait for the signing of the book.

Someone punched you in solar
plexus. You said, I don't
die daily to live.

Satish Verma

08 November, 2013


The silence of the road
intends to pause the observer's speed.
Unchanged continuity
had a cubic quality.

Presenting yourself to lick salt
before molestation.
The sanctity
stands violated.

The horror thing looms
large, neatly dressed
dancing in your boots.
The path ends at a tree.

You misprint the name
of a tormentor.
Man becomes a beast
in a love triangle.

Satish Verma

07 November, 2013


You miss the words and numbers.
The gameplan gets ascention. The
podium was high.
And so was your head.

Swallowed by the winds
unable to reach the end of journey.
Were you not thinking?
Was it a treason to withdraw –

from the frills? In love scare
there were other things to do,
in the storm,
like collecting the thorns.

You step outside the dark and
feel the limbs of light,
altering the script to become
a miracle.

Satish Verma

06 November, 2013


The padded words
perdured the fall of factuality
into the gaping maw of untruth.

The barriers start
crumbling for stilts
but the alley leads to a jungle of tales.

The manipulation walks
on the frozen lake of eyes.
Blue shadows move underneath to-

find the door. You spend
whole life to locate the dock.
The old sea and man drift in dark.

Only a seagull flies
in morning fog to trace
the sun, halted in clouds.

Satish Verma

05 November, 2013


Dusting a rose
dissecting a heart. There was wilder-
ness in the woods.

I cannot touch you
O, wood sage
you were so ephemeral.

Your hands were
knitting a bright wound in the air.
Where was the moon?

Not a kiss,
the prodigal sun
wants a death wish of a canary.

The snow on the
eyes. I wished I had
met you earlier.

Satish Verma

04 November, 2013


Building your space,
you were dying daily
invading the acoustics.

How the continence
was going to help-
living with scars of explosions?

Mutating into a full-fledged
saintliners, an inner conflict
becomes a profile.

Crawling to a stone
a crayon draws a cell
without incendiary rhetoric?

Decoding an icon
becomes a daily ritual. From
where will come the write?

Satish Verma

03 November, 2013

Smoking The Mirror

Talking to bougainvilleas,
one day I will cut my tongue.
Why the beautiful bracts were
protecting the trivial seeds?

The flowers started clicking
to deliver a white god to a black
temple. Human shield was to
avenge the enemy beyond the infinity.

Below the ashes what were you
trying to find out in dark?
The cancer? It was eating away
the vitals of an orphaned fruit.

The predator had become the
prey, drawing the sheet of
blood on the moon. The birds
were leaving the tree.

Satish Verma

02 November, 2013


A hundred pounds bite.
It was a matter of faith
with copperhead.

A maddening silence
dodging the window,
where the moon sits.

The peril will always stay
reneging, of the big space
for next victim.

Quaint feeling persists.
Of shearing the clouds
to knit a bright Venus.

The eventual escape.
To be the name
on a bloodied sword.

Satish Verma

01 November, 2013


Listening to a gleaming
word whole life
and finding its meaning at
the fag end.
And you are in thrall
to a sinful pleasure.

The yearnings
of a small Pteris,
which drinks arsenic daily
to rescue a withering smile.

A poem sings to me
under a lantern, when a
storm was raging to roil
the blue birds of imploring peaks.

It looks into your eyes
to find the answer
of complete shutdown
of cotton feel.

Satish Verma

31 October, 2013


It was not your body,
but blood was on the wall.

Inhale the stench of the day.
Grim scene, the multiple kisses
of marrow and flesh. You were
not drawing him, inviting-

him tonight for a date,
but the fetch was on the wall.

From, to turn. Put a starfish
in my bowl, to play. There was
a guest waiting at the door. Will
not abuse your lock and key.

Crawling, groping, darkness descends.
But there was a light on the wall.

Satish Verma

29 October, 2013

The Iron Gate

Do not remember the names.
Somebody is waiting in the wings.

It is very dark here. The drums
will break the mother's heart.

The death will not accept the
dew on the grass. She wants tears;

The Buddha is taking a turn
in his sleep. Why is he so restless?

O, my father, I am watching the
fields turning into piles of ash.

Cannot shut the eyes for a jiffy.
Will you write something for the god?

Satish Verma

28 October, 2013


Why did your hand
become the fist?
You were thinking about the indignities
heaped upon the lake,
when you were retrieving a song
of freedom from the depth of questions.

There was no capitulation.
You went on opening the congealed-
blobs of blood to know
the keynote of violence.

The sectarian hate.
It outlives the love of brotherhood.
You want to go back to, from where
the jungle starts. It had swept
away the snow-white young

Footprints of some movement.
Can you see that?

Satish Verma

27 October, 2013

At Precipice

There was soft
purring. Inviting but malicious,
when you entered the cave.

A bittersweet encounter.
Quantified. A new dna print
after a cyber attack.

Another turn of the Venus.
The whole world
has never been the same.

Anatomy of violence
was shaping the
future bytes noires.

Stupid thing, our roots
still commingled with dust
searching the stone-deaf god.

Satish Verma

26 October, 2013


The arch
in the targeted killing
was the bet when you
lost your virginity.

A slow dance
at the cold river of flesh,
with genitalia wiped off.
I was constructing-

your genome
from you saliva. Prayer
was a form of begging
before an unpardonable sin.

The gradient
parting the hills will
find another arena
to start the game.

Satish Verma

25 October, 2013


Picking a lock you break
a bloodline. A stargazer
maps the astrological signs
and connects with the
moon in oviduct:

There were no foeticide qualms,
in rappelling to shamanic healing.
It was not a deference for any
deity. A ritual
gives you
name, gives
you fame.

Wearing a wooden sandal which
keeps you electrified with
divinity. This is ambulatory.
You move on the green earth
squashing the grass,
beating the

Satish Verma

24 October, 2013


Traversing atopia
I am touching your belly button,
to find the remains
of ancient connectivity.

Was that good-
asking for a nasal approach
to the golden incense
of a sleeping Buddha?

The faith crumbles at
the feet of a groping figure.
A falcon tears away the pink
globe, drinking the falling nectar.

Unzipped, a Venus now opens
the secret of a murder. The
dismembered parts were strewn
around over the surface of moon.

Satish Verma

23 October, 2013


Holding the thought before it
is born. Let the void become
pregenant first-
and it starts raining.

It was a serene melting
point, when I accepted the price
of giving away. I will not
take any mantra, any hand.

A perfect blending with
unknown; to put back the
sea in a bowl. Even the cloud
will enter into a blade of grass.

No faith. No ritual. I believe
in roving dust, which makes
the stars, the blaze, and
the brilliant light.

Satish Verma

22 October, 2013


Talking of morality abuse
and implanting of false truth,
words stammer.

A fiery birth after
the mist. I intend to collect
the dark energy of beyond.

A pillow dance waits
for the inevitable death.
Only one eye will see the moon.

You bend back,
open the eyes thirstily.
Let Venus unwrap the breast-

and start swimming
in gunmetal sky for the final
journey of delinquent mind.

Satish Verma

21 October, 2013


In transit of soul,
when you were under siege,
you got a new number for afterlife
wearing a white robe-

and could see right through
your past picking up the
lips from the despair
of ancient dream.

Will you catch the honeydew
dripping from the eternal tree
of life? Have you seen night-
blooming flames gouging-

the intrigues from the black
walls? There has been a deepening
sense of despair. The venus is
ready to unrobe in full glare of sun.

Satish Verma

19 October, 2013


It was middle noon
on the deserted street.
Nobody will come out
to greet the sun.

You will lift the fallen leaves
to soften the blow,
corrupting the morality
crouching in the shadow.

A slumber was needed
to get the head shaven.
Touching the dust,
the heat, the winds.

Dig a sinking hole
deep in the heart.
It will suck all your tears
all your salt.

Satish Verma

18 October, 2013


you rip the smile off,
from the face of a sleeping Buddha.

It was time
to start digging a weeping
hole in the grave of an ancient-
god who would not wake up
after you found blood on the knife.

What was your mandate
after finding the turmoil
in the tunnel for light?

The life sentence passed on
to vultures will give the
corpse a chance to live.

On one side were the angles
developing the spatial memory.
On other side you were
sitting in a cage.

Satish Verma

17 October, 2013


It was like homecoming of
timber rattle snake.
A bit jarring.

Signs were acquitted,
when the summer becomes
sensuous at dusk.

I start collecting the colors
from sky. The night was
moving behind the moon-

like a concubine, in black
skirt. Amidst the gray clouds
a green man was laughing.

The death's translation
was simple. Nobody will
attend the funeral of sun.

Satish Verma

16 October, 2013


A fast in hurry. you
pretend that you
were dead.

The legend survives,
putting the land's blood
in the grass roots.

The tremors had started
in the blue flame. A lunatic
calls for the moon to explain.

The tides were not coming?
Watching hopelessly;
the decline of sinkers.

A watershed of humility.
The river has left the
body of water.

Satish Verma

15 October, 2013


It was getting dark.
The silence starts speaking
to me in a whisper
for the sake of secrecy.

Right now,
the violence will start
between the summer night
and a brilliant moon.
I sit in a corner
to watch the milk spilling.

And then, after couple of hours
an anonymous call from
a cuckoo in distress. Somewhere
a dry twig snaps off. Something
is tossed in air. A shadow pokes
at moon to return the favour.

The dawn, drops the veil!

Satish Verma

14 October, 2013


Sitting on the hill,
nestled against the moon,
talking to stars.

You love a woodpecker.
What a stupid thing.
A panther dies of thirst.

A tall fern unfurls
the frond, to catch
a crested iguana.

In deep blue water
seventeen summers
drowned, in one go.

A sapsucker goes
on, making holes,
in my psyche.

A tree will wait
for the summer to end.
Then it will tow the rain.

Satish Verma

13 October, 2013


Fixing the dignity
like a fabulous sarcophagus
you are unsparing in your generosity.

You left one window open
for the saint of wax
to let in the light.

Keeping him alive for -
a fake functionality
to run the community.

There was a long queue
of people to offer the wooden roses
before the wound heals.

Who was eternal in this
vanishing universe? Do-
not stop me of if I start bleeding.

Satish Verma

12 October, 2013


A repressed scream.
Someone breaks the head.
I was hitting the wall.

The rape hurts.
Withers away the dam.
River was changing the course.

It was very pompous;
the benign torture. No
more I belong to this world.

And the dilapidated
houseboat floats on the lake
to collect the immersed-

bones of ancesters. A
door opens. The poem prints
the pain of centuries.

Satish Verma

11 October, 2013


Do not give credence
to mundanity. An iconic
black night was getting ready
to welcome Venus.

A storm was raging inside,
vandalizing the secrets of the house,
uprooting the doors and windows.
The whole life was at stake.

Shrinking the head of foes,
you start eating the live insects.
But the truth was escaping
from your lips.

My poem drop the seeds,
for the unborn children of violence.
I dedicate a book for the other me,
as I near the crossroads of uncertainty.

Satish Verma

10 October, 2013


Those migratory storks,
will not come
this year.
The lake was burning.

The secret kill
of the wringer
was metastasizing.
Make the tether-

small for the macabre
end. I am not yet
frozen. The stalker

will not leave the
flame. Outside a tribute
was ready for
an uprooted tree.

My shadow moves ahead
to catch a cage bird,
in the parrot green sky.

Satish Verma

09 October, 2013


Trending the nude prints,
life had been dismissive,
plucking the gray hairs from brows.

Manipulating the dopamine
the body's odour
wafted through the cluttering limbs.

Charcoal underlines the
need of a wounded dove.
What else one needs from grain and water.

The tears will sew the lids
one day. I don't want
to churn the sea again.

The dogfish comes on the
shores for a rebuttal.
It had never led a dog's life.

Satish Verma

08 October, 2013

Unsinking In Depth

You are not
on my page.
No more in my abstract sleep.

will not be declared-
in the realm of dark dreams.

There was
one tear at a time.
No battle cry.

Trampling on
the old reminiscences,
a tiger jumps on the author-

of mangrove.
The aerial roots have
stopped breathing.

Your lungs become
a flute. A war song frightens
the death.

Satish Verma

07 October, 2013


on the celestial pole,
did you come
for a lethal kiss?

in vacuity,
do you find some depth
in the black hole?

The wheels
move on stolen track
of an epic. You come back
to a dead sea-

for a swim. What looked pink
was not a flamingo
with a bent bill
held upside down.

Satish Verma

06 October, 2013

In retrospect

In a moon city
will you distill
the darkness for a hallucinatory effect?
Without wearing anything?

Polarizing the sex
with the leaky pomegranates,
vying for control of towers.
Will it be unrespectful,
moon hitting the sun, when
it was departing?

It was a lucrative business
to trade envies with luck
or qualities. I feel connecting
with the violence of brown pillars.

Playing with smoke
you start undressing in epithets.
A bumblebee
raises the sights on rooftops.

Satish Verma

05 October, 2013

Throwing Down The Gauntlet

Crossing the burning barriers,
you take a fatal jump.
Brazenly, but giving little away.

Long shadows of ethnic clouds
were eroding the sun. Feeling the
wet lips you rub you sweaty
palms in vain.

Haunted, you would like to
kill the ghosts. You pull a silken
cord. A silver urn upturns the
ashes of your past.

Each truth walks without legs.
You are still incomplete. The
self-portrait will never hang
on the wall.

Satish Verma

04 October, 2013


The show must go on.
Under a sable cloud.
I am on the vast stage
to perform.

Tall cacti and harsh
dunes will not find
a sweet acacia.

When I am hungry
I would like to write something
very personal on a yellow paper.

The potter's wheel will not
move today.
The potter had turned into clay.

Satish Verma

03 October, 2013


A gasping confession
of a pubescent fault.

Why did you enter the bed
of a molten lava?

Wisdom was in silent eyes
not on the lips of a blackened rose.

The water was white and cool
the sun was red and hot.

A mirror will never tell the truth.
Bleached was the face of moon.

One night I will be killed
in the hands of a benevolent foe.

Satish Verma


A gasping confession
of a pubescent fault.

Why did you enter the bed
of a molten lava?

Wisdom was in silent eyes
not on the lips of a blackened rose.

The water was white and cool
the sun was red and hot.

A mirror will never tell the truth.
Bleached was the face of moon.

One night I will be killed
in the hands of a benevolent foe.

Satish Verma


A gasping confession
of a pubescent fault.

Why did you enter the bed
of a molten lava?

Wisdom was in silent eyes
not on the lips of a blackened rose.

The water was white and cool
the sun was red and hot.

A mirror will never tell the truth.
Bleached was the face of moon.

One night I will be killed
in the hands of a benevolent foe.

Satish Verma

02 October, 2013


The crisis starts boiling
about the invisible foes.
The contraptions hope to recapture
the moods.

Harsh, arrogant and ritualistic.
In the stark nudity of silence
a wooden Buddha lies on the
floor crying.

" I am not happy, I am not happy.
Why were you still a virgin? "
White butterflies will not sit
on jasmines to lose their script.

There was a black moon to chase
the fugitive. There will be no midnight
sun. Between lips and cups
the grey fox had lighted a lamp.

Satish Verma

01 October, 2013


It in now dark.
Talking of exposed genitalia
I go into a terrible shock.

A compulsive deceit
takes hold of the attention.
The candle burns me inside.

Between eyes
a *chakra uncoils, like a Naja.
Strikes! You are stricken-

with a bulbar palsy.
No haemorrhage. A purple venom
spreads in the whole nativism.

Voices move in half-lit corridor.
The doors do not lead to rooms.
All exits disappear.

A chandelier crashes. You
are awakened from a deep slumber.
A poem is born.

Satish Verma

30 September, 2013


There was a big question. Why
one was not raped.
It hits the gate of heaven.

The moon has not risen.
I become a victim of an elegy
before my demise.

Thus I am back to square one,
when I had not fallen in love
and you were still in errancy.

Pleading for levitation in tender
zone.It was the blackbird
which was not ready to swallow a moon.

Scaling the peaks without climbing.
I am going to bring down the milk
of an artist, who would not
paint a goddess.

Satish Verma

29 September, 2013


I asked the suicide bomber, 
"why you want to throw yourself
to your death
scattering arms and legs? "

A beautiful moon
then, rammed into a golden lake
to find the secret age of
a wee god.

I felt the colossal waste
and said, look within first
and then cross the river
of arguments.

Like a diamond ring
I wear the truth of morning sun.
My heart will ask, what was
the role of night in draping
the stars around the deceiver.

Satish Verma

28 September, 2013


You will not abandon me,
but kill me gently
reciting a hymn.

As if the speech was slurred,
after the encounter.
Time. It was not yours, not mine.

Punctuated again in
less moon,
I am searching the frozen lake.

Unuttered gratitude. I
will not submit the ultimate.
Barrier reef was rising.

I sit alone
down the lane.
Waiting for the sunset.

Satish Verma


You will not abandon me,
but kill me gently
reciting a hymn.

As if the speech was slurred,
after the encounter.
Time. It was not yours, not mine.

Punctuated again in
less moon,
I am searching the frozen lake.

Unuttered gratitude. I
will not submit the ultimate.
Barrier reef was rising.

I sit alone
down the lane.
Waiting for the sunset.

Satish Verma

27 September, 2013

Pale Confession

How can you talk to the moon
when the trees were watching?
It was her last sojourn
before boarding the illegal
traffic of clouds.

Pallbearers were always ready
to do something
religious like carrying
a god to the temple. I was not
sure it was midnight syndrome
of apoplexy.

Deep into the blue eyes
lies the inconceivable page
of unprinted book of a
failed attempt to harness
the darkness for a connection to unknown.

Satish Verma

26 September, 2013


They were decapitated
in winter.
To send forth again, fresh,
the green twigs of summer.
Trees of roadside.

My friends, I used to talk
to them in my morning walk.

Once I sat under
a wishing tree for a divine feel.
There were lots of colored threads
tied round the massive trunk.
I wanted to arrive in the neighbourhood
of absurd escapes of a
fake religion.

My footfalls on stairs were becoming
louder, lugging the wasted life.
It was time now.
To understand the deep shadows
of unanswered questions.

Satish Verma

25 September, 2013


Changing thoughts
were creating chaos in frenzy,
unabashed, following the stricken
prey, to reclaim
the violence of a stalker.

Was there any law of jungle?
Or rule of law in the midstream
of a formless prosthesis,
gaping void, throwing up
a primordial fear.

Becoming tired of looking at
the wastes around. No mystery
was left in life. How often you
will sit on the pyre to ignite the high
priests of knowledge?

The curved images of receding
years are disappearing. How long
you will wait,
how long?

Satish Verma

24 September, 2013


Now I am used to
I don't hit back
in the vanishing light.

Very frightening,
I will say.
Sightless bats hovering
round your head.

Have started playing
the game with the nettle.
I will take the stings
and give you back honey.

An intimate kiss of a
naked beetle.
Are you coming for the
last supper?

Satish Verma


Now I am used to
I don't hit back
in the vanishing light.

Very frightening,
I will say.
Sightless bats hovering
round your head.

Have started playing
the game with the nettle.
I will take the stings
and give you back honey.

An intimate kiss of a
naked beetle.
Are you coming for the
last supper?

Satish Verma

23 September, 2013


Tell me, is it not pathetic
that we keep on drifting
away from our loved-ones as the
time beats us out.

You were in a marathon.
Did something go wrong? Why,
why did you run faster than others
to become a sole survivor of the massacre?

Life would want to know
your name, which you had wiped
out from every page of the book,
uncorrupting the painful cessation.

What was concealed
in between the words when you
went into the soul
to erase the bodyprint from the bed?

There was nothing left unsaid.
The death said, I will not come.

Satish Verma

22 September, 2013


A black swan was worried
about the debt slaves
and misogyny,
sailing along the
marbled slopes of red meat.

The ghosts in white cloaks
of truncated wombs, wait
for the pearl's extraction
from the doe eyes of future.

Can you trust the truth of
the city which will not climb
on the rooftops to look at
the white moon?

Instead you get paid for the
crimes you did not commit.
Now you will write your own
epitaph before you are shot
down on the back.

Satish Verma

21 September, 2013


the midnight at target shooting
making away of yourself.

The morning smells coming from
your axillae?
I cannot believe my
jaundiced eyes.

The blue night abusing
the white moon-
in a sizzling sky.

I will keep your name
on the brink, before
I jump into fire.

What was the secret of the
lovers, who left their belongings
before disappearing into dark woods?

Satish Verma

20 September, 2013


It was the interplay
between shadow and moon.
An encephalopathy
in ring of fire?

The blast was the tipping
point of your identity. Now
you don't recognize yourself
amid the books.

Grieving can start now.
Tossed from temple roof
on to mound of ash, you
stand on your grave for final count.

Again your voice will drown
in a green pond. It was a
prelude to a voicelessness for
ever. Irretrievable was, a bird song.

19 September, 2013


Uncovering your breasts
and waist,
you become half-eaten.

fathere a child.

The intimacy was
false. There were anger and theatrics.

The paternity suit falls
flat. The boundaries between
underthings are torn.

Painting the self-portrait
I had made a cut on my face
for you to bleed.

With a flick of hand
you wipe out the whole future.

Satish Verma

18 September, 2013


Butterfly interrupted.
Fear grips the flowers
eaten by the winds.

I seek the guilt for
not walking on the dunes
to build a sky.

The cracked roof
lets in the rain. I
drench my driftwood.

One day a god will sit
on my altar to speak
to ailing mother-

earth hauling away
the burden of waste
of human verbiage.

Satish Verma 

17 September, 2013


What was the prophecy of
a slow moving floating name?
To hang a spy from the beam?
Your face lits up.

The world was translating
the labate grief into small mirrors.
A seed explodes. A magnetized
book of conduct is slapped on your face.

And you start reading the script
in darkness in a beautiful retreat.

The approaching night engulfs
the moon. An anonymous fear
takes hold of this moment before
disappearing in an abyss.

You stoke a desire to collect
the immortal blues and headless clues
and we crawl on the sands of time
breaking the silence by our drones.

Satish Verma

16 September, 2013


Wrestling with a theological
puzzle, I would like to talk
about the nature of God. He was sitting
besides me. The man has
become arrogant, he said, I want to quit.

Were you afraid of
becoming a narcissist, while
eating a daffodil?

I was trying to listen to the lunatic's story.
The other side of the indiscretion. The
corpse comes alive
after resuscitation. The bones in
desert started laughing. There was
a chorus of cricket's symphony
and hopping toads
became friends with stray dogs.

Satish Verma

15 September, 2013


The rain enters back
into your eyes.
A private door quivers.

A moonless beam
flashes before you.
You start seeing in dark.

Silt settles in headless bodies
of poems.
The shadow of a tree-

opens the seeds of
unknown. The world is shattered
by an unending scream.

The struggle with the decision
was there, you squeeze
me like a prayer.

Satish Verma

13 September, 2013


In asci we stand like
spores in a floating pain
in trepidation of something

It was a lily pond.
The water brings a dead city
on lotus leaves. I will
become crazy for small deviations.

The body bags are full of
remains. You know everything
before hand, from alphabet
to full script.

In my own way I will
decipher the stream of
death's language. A part
of your face floats nearby.

The uncollected legs were
searching the flame of sorrow
without digging a hole.

Satish Verma

12 September, 2013


Let us talk about ligation.
I don't want to push the -
searing boundaries trumpeting
the sexual orientation.

The butterflies and bees
are disappearing. A petri dish,
a test tube and artificial
thrust through the red lights.
An unbroken promise
lies in shambles.

Availing something less,
had been beyond the topic
of returning back to home.
The desert blooms again
with indignant cacti.

Satish Verma

11 September, 2013


White lotus at red feet:
we will start self-infliction
with regrets.

After a rough night
the day was weeping.
From where the bread will
come, when you were playing
with a golden spoon.

This morning I again
dig a hole in heart.
Was the Mayan calender right?
Why the sun is playing slow music?

I am coming nearer
to a locked god.

Satish Verma

10 September, 2013


Take the thorns away
from roses.
Sex will never be the same.

Bring the bellicosity under
cover on the steep side.
The mountain has started cracking.

The wreckage was strewn
around in the field of croci.
Religion had hit the jagged cliff and exploded.

It was not an airborne god.
The salt water was telling
a tainted story.

Flashing the legs, the
pink panther will find an equal in
wolf. It was a political liability.


Sacred sex
on water trail.

Would you mind to sit
on a solid rock and
measure the strong winds
stripping the tall trees?

Jackals were calling.
Lions are approaching.
You say it was not immoral
to commit a sin before the fire.

There is a bloody gash
on my body. I am not
able to stop iniquity.

Satish Verma

09 September, 2013


Why were you afraid
of unknown?
I am washing away
the whole truth in the vicinity
of discrepant nouns.
The words will articulate
the body overrun by rough
handling of the golden triangle.

The arrival does not stop
the allegro.
Claustrophilia enslaves you.
You start a new journey
towards a non-space and non-entity.
Was there anything beyond the naught.
I have come faraway.
Will not return to numbers.

Satish Verma

08 September, 2013


I am standing in peat.
The war drags on.

The dirt is raw,
squirting on to fingernails
turning them blue.
Who was running away
from hinges?

The genital warts were
spreading. The cold facts will
wear casuistry. The train
derails. Only the earth
is hurt.

Dreams cannot close the
wounds. You want to go
where the jungle is. Teeth
are broken. Eyes
become the house for ants.

Satish Verma

07 September, 2013


You always repeat the moons
in your eyes.
I will not drop my lids.

I was talking to myself
about the perversity of skimming
the sperm, throwing black rocks
on milk white daisies-
to protest against the fields
not ploughed deeply and scattering
the seeds in wild jungle.

One day panther will die
on his own, head down,
swaying, leaning on one side
and then collapsing.

No pheromones will come out
from the spent body.

Satish Verma

06 September, 2013


The frozen voice hangs on the
door. A crowd waits.
Midnight explosions
will start soon
to herald a benevolent sky-
for squatters.

In rise and fall of an empire
I won't put any label
to generation drift. The
changing geography will
take care of the ashes.
A ragpicker will tell the story.

Ambulatory moon
had become economical, blanching
the stained dreams only
like our land's wounds.
The sea of hate lies naked before us
to sweep the carcasses. I know not
how to become omnivorous.

Satish Verma

05 September, 2013


The supermoon was rising with
a great aplomb to shame the stars.

At night the buttercups wage a war.
Come unpretending, as you, not him, -

on the lake, becoming a stranger to
yourself. There ia an endless nocturnal confession.

Do you know the poison tree blooms,
when the golden eagle rises to take a dive

on the row of funerals.

Satish Verma

04 September, 2013

Blind Alleys

A nascent cry
demands the signature
of space.
I will start the self destruction-

clawing back
on the land of
The rule of sky was at stake.

Trees were burning
and the birds
want to grasp
the stark reality of notional violence.

In dark hour
I know not words
to lift the eyelids
the cloud, the flowers, the blood!

Satish Verma

03 September, 2013

The Scream

your titanium teeth
in flawless

You release
a terror.
The scream.

of fear
and fear of
chasing a mysterious silence.
The scream.

Satish Verma

02 September, 2013



The reluctant thereness
I want to embrace.

The spiritualism without a god?
This whispering darkness -

always becomes an incensed flesh.
I unwrap myself.


Please let me touch
the multistrands of understanding.

After all what was a religion?
You were always seeking an exit.

The betrayal, godliness and
fog hours. I always remained obsessed

with the failing lights.

Satish Verma

01 September, 2013


Witch hazel jumps the
gun. Questions arise.
Why the cuckoo will not sing today?

I am drumming the wall
raised between us,
opening a small window towards the sea.

Strange things happen.
Full moon was bleeding
Astringent. I call for the mountain's music.

This fractured statecraft.
You become a stone after a blast;
moving towards the periphery.

Half-naked a statuette
was walking in night to find a
mortuary where Apollo was laid to rest.

Satish Verma

31 August, 2013


Violence unalloyed.
I want you to hear
the noise, light and blast.

Shrouded inside,
a chandelier breaks
in splinters of hymns-
all enveloping. In the positional
vertigo, you hit the nail.
I call it quits, undating
a curve, an arch.

It was incomplete. They will parade
the victim naked, because she was
raped. Why did she let loose
the testosterones?

Walking ferns and
wish bone.
The inmate wants nothing.
She has come to stay in dark
till the sun unrises.

Satish Verma

30 August, 2013

Ending War

Lashed together
for a better tomorrow,
ending war of words.

Heralding the new
moon I sacrifice
my becoming age

I will sleep now
on hawthorns in bleeding
flames of forest.

Satish Verma

29 August, 2013


After the organic death
of soaked breast,
I put up tiny islands of eyes
in spooked water.

The dead were coming back
to live on the terrace
amidst the roses
of roof-garden.

I talk to flowers to end
the war. The light was waiting
behind the hills and
birds were ready to sail.

Were you afraid of mother
earth or roaring sky?
The corpses are standing in row
to receive the mighty wrath.

Satish Verma

28 August, 2013


While peeling
an orange I think of
you all time.

Walking in ruins
I pick up peonies
in grass, for you.

Dewy-eyed you
call for a knife in night.
It was full moon.

Satish Verma

27 August, 2013


When life is done
and parrots are gone;
take me to the canal.

All life lived in small
footprints. There were eponyms
all the way.
When the name is done
and wigs are gone;
take me to the canal.

The kids had guns, when
you were hacked. You wrote
for yourself one beautiful elegy.
When the road was done and
stones were gone;
take me to the canal.

In one blue moon, one another day,
a journey will start in
elephant grass. They were hiding
behind the bush. When pink and white
I will unfurl a flag
take me to the canal.

Truth handbound in jail for a crime
I will dig a grave for you.
Take me to the canal.

Satish Verma

26 August, 2013


I write a song
for you which you will
not find in book.

The butterfly waits
for the bud to open its
secret of colors.

Did you taste
the tears of the sky ever
in a purple dawn?

Satish Verma

25 August, 2013

Bouquet Garni

A golden fish in
blue waters, with many eggs,
collecting the sperms.

Haiku in sun-
light was the essence of
the daydreaming.

The lost road in
bamboos comes out
as solitary song.

Satish Verma

24 August, 2013


Was there any option left?
Violence was there,
evil existed in pacifism.

Signature flora demonstrates
the mental poise.
I call for the imperfections.

In blue mood, I kill the moon
and take a walk on the cinders.
Will you give me a hand?

There was no path left,
but the trees were walking on beach.
The war will never end

between the genders. The
secret of butterfly catcher
was buried long ago.

From a childhood into the -
forest of lies, it was a long
journey losing the scents.

Satish Verma

23 August, 2013


He nearly jumped
from the cliff shrinking back to
the old avatar.

Crossing the dawn in
winter of life for a gift
of the autumn.

It never ends for-
the tears, which lighten up
the candle in dark.

Satish Verma

22 August, 2013


In ascending numbness
you can think clearly at night
and see the half-moon throwing
the silhouettes in dim light.
I suffer in my poems,
foretelling of a sinking flame
insulting the roots.
The rising failure, like visitation
of Icarus shooting from the surface
in pain. An answer without questions
erupts wearing a death-mask. Was
it a speculation of claustrophilia
carrying a prism? The marbled
globes are melting. The danger
was evident,
you can smell it.

Satish Verma

21 August, 2013


Blood - mother, go
to moon and ask for a
spoon of silver.

Am still waiting.
Siege was unstable.
Austerity ends.

I am free now
to dance in skin of night,
shedding my shirt of dirt.

Satish Verma

20 August, 2013


The point was, he had swallowed
the pawn.
The world rips apart
and ultimate wintering
sets in.

Shy of one truth,
the hour of reckoning demands
the blood facts.
You could have destroyed
me if I were to sing.

There were no crisis. Dismemberment
went on to squeeze honey
from the hapless victims chanting
Hail Mary.
I sizzled in vain.

Choking on your trumped up
victory, you will break in the house
to find the silver god stolen from
a golden mantel.

You climb on a tall tree and
then disappear in clear blue.

Satish Verma

19 August, 2013


It was a severed finger
in an envelope,
which wrote the letter
of consent.

Oh, my father
I am still crying
with loss of words
and figures.

Past the hills
I sent the secret of
my poems which did not tell
me the name of knife-

that was put in my back
by my unknown
brothers of shame. I will
now bleed all life.

It was only an
apology. I will still
walk with my toes drawing
the stripes of welts.

Satish Verma

18 August, 2013


The camellias.
Catch the witch on the pole:
A spring was here.

Sweep the road.
The exhibitionist
will put up a show.

Monsoon tours
the landscape amidst blows
from the rooftops.

Satish Verma

17 August, 2013


Waiting for a birthing pool
to throw up a dream chaser
nestled in chains.

The grip was easing out
on sun, stung by moon.
Asteroids start hitting again.

The runaway tiger had
turned cannibal, to practice
a new escapology.

A spiral of smoke
rises after the hunt.
You throw the glances back.

Someone will put a knife
in the tulips. Take home
the colours of death.

The celebration starts today.
Children of a bubble have
come out on the road.

Satish Verma

16 August, 2013


On lotus leaf
a frog sits meditating-
the parenthood.

Fetal coaxing,
was on trial. Will you
come to witness?

A premature
death of a dream. Who
was responsible?

Satish Verma

15 August, 2013


Absolutely sapped out
I will unfurl
my flag today.

It was a raw wound
of nuanced statements in dark
when the moon fell in lake.

Talking to butterflies
as I take on the genre
of brainstormed hibiscuses.

It rained again in my
courtyard, wetting the
marbles and my eyes.

Take away the roof from
over my head. I have
come to meet the frozen tears.

The enormous guilt now
haunts the vacant eyes, why I didnot
accept the voluptuous breast of death.

Satish Verma

14 August, 2013


The fireflies
wait for the lights to go.
Dancing in the dark.

Breast of moon
does not dazzle. Sexing
had stopped tonight.

Birds will not come
in the garden. The flowers
refuse to sway.

Satish Verma

13 August, 2013

A Handful

There was peace
without scapegoats.
It was a monopoly. A prelude to a kiss
of insanity. Unzipped between foibles
and forte lies the sanity.
The path will know the sex
sans flowers.

That was the outer side of
fence in the cattle shed, where
the panther had left the half-chewed
leg of a young girl. The naked
model denies the sanctity
and starts talking aloud about the
flying insects.

It was worthless
the travesty of truth. Everybody
wants a share in mining.

Satish Verma

12 August, 2013

Rambling Roses

Slightly indecently
the moon was sleeping
beside me in the dark room.
There was a shift in the stance
of window. No wind either was
coming, nor going.

Should you be calling me for an
interview, be aware of the bipolar
mood swings of weather. Sometimes
it is hot, sometimes it was freezing.
If you have a sharp knife, download
it in spirit.

The tribes are fighting for drugs,
money, land and withdrawl syndrome.
There may be a toss for a run-off. A rendezvous
with tulips will make a big start. I am
tired of paparazzo. There should not be
a slide show -
of truth and lies. The situation is very
catastrophic. Whosoever wins will not
bring drinking water to parched lips
and light to dark books. Take me to
last resort of pain. I am going to sleep.

I stand tonight before the moon
and commit suicide in a beehive.

Satish Verma

11 August, 2013


In starless night to-
think of you, watching the
moon dying away.

Downy mildew on lips,
like the secret killing
without a sword.

encounter with a spark
for honey-bee.

Satish Verma

10 August, 2013


I will not play
for you,
in burning shadows.

Bribing the body
to sequester the soul
via ripping steel-

of a blade of grass.
He stopped at the door
for a short while -

to sharpen the proboscis
for blood and dogma
of a fake country.

Cannot pardon me.
I will present to you
my earth, as cow.

Satish Verma

09 August, 2013


Under anesthesia
the elixir drips from the language
of poor and you come out
from the blue sea
holding a red lotus
between the teeth. The
sweet words take me to the
fire and smoke where
was a mangled corpse of a meaning.
The power of people now shows
the people of power.

You cannot read the signs
and arrows. The acid burns will
give the dying statement. Those
who doused the flames should
be punished.

Satish Verma

08 August, 2013


The flame tree
burns again my house
of cards in jungle.

Sometimes, things.
Float without air
touching you.

I watch a moon
rise like a fear
from blue window.

Satish Verma

07 August, 2013


Why the jasmine was
now becoming sensual?
Drummer was dead.

The blackbird comes
again to sing bluesy.
Clouds on moon?

Economy of love?
Will you bargain the
delta for stone?

Satish Verma

06 August, 2013


I am giving you up
for a delusion-
of being watched all the time.
The retrieval of a poem
must start now.

A mannequin was defiled at dawn.
The puppets on a string
were dancing whole night-
for a born loser.
A lemon without an escort
has become a tree.

A living corpse, after
the acid attack. Give me some
water to wet the lips. I am
going to confess all the
sins of a weak man.

Let there be a face-off
between a river and a bridge.

Satish Verma

05 August, 2013


This was
a catastrophic state.
I had started
questioning myself.

The scientia implodes.
You swallow the pill
and become fluid.

A clock stops
I would be angry,
if the hands don't catch
the numbers.

Ancient pain.
You open the door
and light disappears.

I will draw
your face on sand
and then kill
the wind.

Satish Verma

04 August, 2013


There was insurgency-
in white night.
Moon will stay to witness

the murder
of a golden leaf.
What was the promise of a ripe
language? The yellow thrust?
Keeping a date with death was not all important.

There were
lots of poems to be underlined,
preened and straightened. The dirt had
accumulated. A metaphor
will remove the stains.

Any confession will
take away the mystry. Who killed
the nothing?

the apples were crashing.

Satish Verma

03 August, 2013


Meet a gender bender.
There was a precocious

A cryptogamic kinship.
Someone writhes

A god writes a hymn
on the chest of
a new born baby.

Beyond the origins
lies a marbled tale.
You have reached nowhere.

Inflammable was
the blue birthmark.
There was an arrival.

Satish Verma

02 August, 2013


The prescience
plays a bellwether role
on the path of light.

Come and share
with me the moment of truth:
victory of unknown.

You say truism
will fail one day in
fire and smoke.

Satish Verma

01 August, 2013


Words are mine.
Otherness will prevail.
I will call you.

Faraway in dark
I will wake up in arms
of a feeling.

A little yellow-
bird has made her home
in the glass window.

Satish Verma

31 July, 2013


I trace the path of murder, reclaiming
the blood stains
on grass. Becoming a stranger
in my own land.

Stranger? Yes.
Lead name missing.
Always wanted

less than enough.

I bare my chest
scrawling a blue butterfly trying to
unwrap the colour.

Satish Verma

30 July, 2013


Blaze. Awakens
me. Again it was snow
on the black lamppost.

me when the moon dies.
Day starts bleeding.

Voice rested.
The little yollow bird has
left for new home.

Satish Verma

29 July, 2013


After decapitation, it was
and half-bread.
We had prepared ourselves for epilation.

A war for milky sap
starts for an empty chair.
You are asked to abandon
your field and go for
a hate profile.

The gated religion now
scars the high searing, wayward
fronds of untangeled age
of absent truths and
faithful lies.

I will go again to
find the answer in a similar
darkness to stand
my unconditioned faith
to stumilate the unflowing river.

Satish Verma

28 July, 2013


Where was love
in a dewdrop and rose
when your lips went dry.

The salt now speaks
of vacant eyes of a
covered nude.

Untitled my song. I
leave at your steps
for a waterfall.

Satish Verma

27 July, 2013


Come down gingerly.
The deep snow is melting.
Will wait at pass.

It was a toxic
snub unintentional.
Growing poppies.

The thinker thinks not;
in the poem of terror,
the blood will spill.

Satish Verma

26 July, 2013

Straight Talk

Was it a mirage of innocence
in the age of push ups of a
violent surrealism?
I was wary of the repeat
acid horrors. They come back
again and again.

I want to get an abili by
sitting between the sunset
and moonrise. The wounds-
refuse to heal up and I
will not lament the disfigurement
of a verse by scars.

I want to say I like you yet
I will not be able to tell-
for want of a book
which remained incomplete within
its mask and pronounced words
as soft as feathers.

Satish Verma

25 July, 2013


Flirting will broken bread
I taste a bitter truth.
I am entering into a stupor
from head to toe. The
intimate torture has begun.

Trying to locate the
dirt path back to
home. The bird watching
has come to an end.

The meaningless ailing
now bleeds from dark
orifices. I return back
your globe.

The river has changed
its course. It does not flow
by my home. I am planting
forget - me - not.

Satish Verma

24 July, 2013


Flirting will broken bread
I taste a bitter truth.
I am entering into a stupor
from head to toe. The
intimate torture has begun.

Trying to locate the
dirt path back to
home. The bird watching
has come to an end.

The meaningless ailing
now bleeds from dark
orifices. I return back
your globe.

The river has changed
its course. It does not flow
by my home. I am planting
forget - me - not.

Satish Verma

22 July, 2013


A downy clay near
fingertips. I ascend light
to meet darkness.

An ambush memory.
Remember your name?
No, I don't know me.

Gambler raises
the stakes to win his dirt
from golden nails.

Satish Verma

21 July, 2013


Ah, the baby clouds
rappled down the moon
squeezing hands-

mourning for grass
when the snow fell all night
burying the graves

of the hunters, who
climbed the rains during
dry spell of the hot sun.

Satish Verma

20 July, 2013


Trapped necklace:
after a kiss of bee
to find the hive.

Honey spills from the
urns. I wet my moons in night.
Wind snatches a sun.

Let's go back to bricks
for the moral blindness of
king without crown.

Satish Verma

19 July, 2013


Eyes take flight
away from sleep, from words
to talk to moon.

Midnight dilemma
when a midriff blooms with
cactus dahlia.

Picking up the scent,
jasmine will unfurl a
new bouquet.

Satish Verma

18 July, 2013


Death wil wash
the feet of truth.
Grass, where the blood spilled
has gone for sale.

A pink eye stalks
the night in dark
humility. You know
moon was rising.

A melting pot rips
apart the ghost.
Besottled I celebrate
the arrival of flames.

Thirsty, you throw the
ice cubes on the ramp.
Butterflies are going to
visit the altar.

Satish Verma

17 July, 2013


Were very hot, trembling thighs
like in frying pan, you sizzled
looking around for ladders.

Then you crashed on the charged
net like a mosquito, exploding
in white flame- tip, tip-top.

Pungent smoke rises, of
smoldering flesh. I was afraid
of drums, the fierce sounds.

Your song has been left behind.
Stolen piece. Love has become a
terror asking for ransom.
Living fossil. Taking it all, you did't
deserve the garbage. The string
of wasted years.

Satish Verma

16 July, 2013


Pushed by troubled waters
on the periphery; dream
interrupted, you start
coloring your nails differently.

A white moon was not that
white any more. You grow
overnight gray, becoming
older by decades.

Gravel was going for a coup.
Stones had upturned
the river.
Brutus, were you impeccable?

I don't want to travel
back to dark memories,
of a raccoon drowning
a little poor thing.

Satish Verma

15 July, 2013


Delta. I was the fourth child.
The delta connection of a
triangular love. No blues.
Only cottony belly.

My copper coins. I want to save
them for making talismans.
My arms are entwined like
a python around the neck of a medusa.

That hairy push of a trident.
The stinging tentacles. The
polyp was enlarging. Now the
snake was shedding the skin.

Statesmen. They change their colour
like chamaeleon. Prehensile
tail trailing behind the witch-
craft of black goddess.

Satish Verma

14 July, 2013


Was it the end of senseless
of the rainbow,
crawling towards the destruction?

Pathography hurts when
you look at the sea for a
bipolar thrust. There was
an absent father.

You cannot touch the wreath,
it burns in your hands. Where
will you place it when
it was raining words?

Ah, an accidental incest now
will spawn the half-siblings
in an archipelago of opinions.
There was no birthday celebrations.

Satish Verma

13 July, 2013


The day was killed
diving in the books.
A lamb was dyed to
please the race.

You gambled for water
huddled in eyes.
I wanted to scatter the pearls
on cheeks.

Drenched in gasoline you
tried to send the message.
A flame was ready to
light the dark.

Margarine had the lustre
but was not a gold.
A red hot iron will
tell you the same.

Satish Verma

11 July, 2013


The dark energy
brings a little death, everytime
you throw a lighted torch at -

the hunched mass of a wounded
pride when you were wanting
a wayout from within in vain.

A neurotic dilemma to
arrive or not to arrive
for the final act of -

kicking the bucket. Silence
one day will speak to me
in whispers for a beautiful
elegy of a charred remains
of a renegade god who always
wanted a silver rain.

Satish Verma

10 July, 2013

Across The Silence

You failed me.
I have started learning
from myself.

The man-made world,
a culture of stinginess-
overtakes the ism.

Confronting the hawks -
you scramble over
the wet shoulders of wounded sex.

In hiding
your own exit rope;
are you thinking to end the solitary confinement?

I will wait
for the suffering to end -
and aurora to rise.

Satish Verma

09 July, 2013


After being robbed
you want to hide your
poverty, like sex.
Someone is going to flaunt
the kisses of moon.

The sinking of twin islands
in lake begins. Claspers
were poised to hold on the tree-
house. The privacy was
threatened. Nobody will conceive tonight.

The erotica wins, temple fails.
A lone wolf smells the wind,
invades the obscene closet of
a god to find locusts
riding on each other devouring
one's own.

Satish Verma

08 July, 2013


Will you read
the snow on the grass knitting
the big eyebrows

of moon at night
which will never know hidden
hands of a wetland?

The tears implant
green circles on cheek.
Spring was coming back.

Satish Verma

07 July, 2013


Digging the fossil
foot. Satisfied less
I want my old coin.

The early call was
for preacher, who will not
get up by funeral.

Books are ugly.
Will write magnolia.
The yellow waxy monk.

Satish Verma

06 July, 2013

Violence Unkind

When besieged by
shooting, the word kills word.
Meaningless show.

The day will unfold
bringing blood on street.
I will pray for night.

Sectarian push
decimates the forest
of daisies.

Satish Verma

05 July, 2013


Let the commerce begin
in moral crimes.
You had been selling the death, daily.

The lichens,
had invaded the tongues.
Speech was blurred and words were gray.

Someone comes knocking
at the door in night. When I
opened, it was moon.

The potter will not fail you
once, writes a blood poem
for the drifters.

In the beginning there
was turbulence in the sea.
Now the boat sails on fins.

Satish Verma

03 July, 2013


I am not stopping by.
Day was crumbling
in flares of core issues.

I have set my thoughts
between the cries of victims.
Hearing the shots, invoke

the fire ritual, silencing
the guns. My journey starts
to bury the evil, but fails.

Again hear the foot steps
of unknown. Understand my
smallness, loneliness, my doubts.

Move ahead of truth, step
into a black hole and
drag out the light.

Satish Verma 

02 July, 2013


The thrill of watching,
descent of reddened sun.
flustered moon!

Half-bitten bread.
The moon was chasing the
Dark. Captivating!

Rituals begin
to anoint the poem
written by naked man.

Satish Verma

01 July, 2013


The dawn, arrives.
Like fawn, under window.
Get a silk rope.

Across the sky, ravens-
bragging in shrill voice,
of early rise.

Sun chops the sea
in sharp blows, distributing-
light for everybody.

Satish Verma

30 June, 2013


The sellout of an identity
was complete.
You were standing on your

Scarce was the remorse
in your eyes,
after killing your

Bipedal activity has been
And you were crawling
on all fours.

You are glorifying the
forgetting the brides of

Can you walk upright,
stay clean
and stop eating the dialogues?

Satish Verma

29 June, 2013

Jungle Jungle

For ethnicity
draped in gasoline
you burn the sky.

Who was fighting a
jungle abandoning
every thought?

Step aside,
mirror, Oh mirror,
I am going up in heap of flames.

This self-annihilation.
Will it take you to
promised heaven of deaf gods?

The dust, the heat, the soot.
They are going to blacken your
entrals. How will you come out in moon?

Satish Verma

28 June, 2013


When light will not
enter the cove,
water breaks in.

He jumped to death
with his book in his hands.
The silence starts speaking.

What was this brand
of homegrown belief?
Truth has been punished.

How big was the murder?
Realization comes very late.
The path to violence-

was through god. The
somatic victory gets
a gruesome reward.

Satish Verma

27 June, 2013


You had set your sights
on the pond, accepting defeat:
wanted to know the depth of water,
fracturing sky.

The mangroves porous roots
jutting out of muddy water
exploring the memory
of reclining tree.

Always remained sick
of politics- the massive
hunt of fake solutions.

The return of theboat with
tiger. Are you ready to
take a plunge in nakedness?

Behind the curtain was
sitting the invisible wheel
which will find the vulnerability
of a lonely path.

Satish Verma

26 June, 2013


The war game begins.
You hide the sex behind
the hedge. The power

has gone for sale. Bury
your face in colloquies
for an internal search.

A native pain invades the
mannequins. The fine dust
of lies covers the nudity.

Do you need a war stimulant
to dehumanize the killer? He
dragged the kid by hair and

shot point-blank. The saliva
uncoils. You start spitting
everywhere and on the face of god.

Satish Verma

25 June, 2013


In the dim corridors
of a dirty game,
when the crime was rising
you were pursuing the self-ism
at the end of the smoke.

Was it not a wailing song
of a dahlia, blooming in sun;
when the life demanded
only a seed, an old coin
and an empty frame?

The fake encounters and torn
shirts of a bleeding tribe
will ask many unpleasant
questions from the forest.
Why the bees had stopped collecting honey?

Satish Verma

24 June, 2013


An alien feeling 
of weird dreams
whirling in eddies
of thoughts.

I snapped at moon,
bursting on to pow wow
at phallic rocks.

The God was kind enough
blessed the knife
which fell in lake
without noise.

Satish Verma

23 June, 2013


Leave me alone
amidst the daisies.
I have come to talk
to a quivering dandelion.

I must see. I must
count the teeth of the tiger
who had stopped killing
the bucks, but-

there was death in the grass.

Cannot believe in
shadows moving behind the
moon. The space was
shrinking, and tongues were
very sharp, but -

there was death in the grass.

Satish Verma

22 June, 2013

Dirt Roads

It was a mediocre crowd.
You wanted to touch-
ordinary thing.

After he was drunk
he threw the blanket
and started,
a hate crime.

There was dark smoke
without fire. You can draw
a frame around the singed face.
I will not taste the blood.

The death will come again
to find the lover, after he
jumped from the bridge. There
were thousand ways to seek revenge.

Satish Verma 

20 June, 2013


A frosty look when
moon floats in a cup.
I was uneasy.

Rose was rose.
Thorns want to tear it up.
Blood was mine.

After moon it
will be dark. I walk back
to find a candle.

Satish Verma

19 June, 2013


On marbled lids we
stretch our arms to collect
the frozen tears.

Will you stand up
for a final good bye
kissing the eyes?

A dewdropp was -
the strength of silver, drinking
the fluorescent sky.

Satish Verma

18 June, 2013


Standing under a
bottlebrush I write a
poem for you.

Something going
to happen. I feel that
future will turn.

Crashing against
a tunnel wall, injures
me collaterally.

Satish Verma

17 June, 2013


the flesh, now you ask for
nomadic soul.

When ignited, a-
spark follows a dark moon
for a final kiss.

In ecstasy I smash
a door for a door
for the elightment.

Satish Verma

16 June, 2013


This moment was not
mine. Not this moment had
gone to you.

Each moment was-
a white death lying in
state on the dirt.

Send some tender
shoots of a poem to
bloom on my anger.

Satish Verma