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