31 December, 2015

About Unhappenings

Taking refuge behind the
solemn words, you speak loudly.

It rattles you, when you―
hear, it was the world's end.

I have not yet spoken to you
about the happenings, which never happened.

You want to slingshot the
malignancy without your remedy.

Illegible was the writing
on the parchment. I must dig up the ruins.

Matter of instinct, when you start
washing your hands and spitting unendingly.

Satish Verma

29 December, 2015

It Was Distressing

The red dot was sinking
to smear the lake. It was
in soft focus, the waning light.

You want to bury
the attachment, on the bank.
Let the waves wash away―

the footprints. The
clan was in great distress.
On ventilator, the icon was not dying.

Innocence goes on the block
I will not get a fair deal
from the silence of the stone.

The disk tumbles
into obscurity. Who will
bring peace to the withering art?

Satish Verma

28 December, 2015

Speaking Stones

When there was a cloudburst―
it was time― I thought
for the soul search.

Again I turn back to―
our complexity, in religion,
caste and lineage.

The prairie was giving―
way, for a volcano to erupt.
Can there be a drive from the back seat?

A prisoner of one's own
follies, you would wait till―
the sky comes down and liberates you.

The illegitimacy bursts
open, when you claim that
no child was left behind.

Satish Verma

27 December, 2015

Holed Up

You are becoming a
frozen leak, the violet

Ultra was not going beyond
the zero. Here the―
journey ends.

Dispersion of light was
increasing, the surface tension
between me and religion.

Again you are deflecting,
taking an oblique route
to find the truth.

Who was the father
of an unborn lie?
I was not expanding any more.

Satish Verma

24 December, 2015

Times Are Changing

Addictive in shambles, that was
cognitive decline―
amidst wars of life,
with a right to death.

The gold dust falls
from the dead, colliding stars,
after the violence of giants.
You may not need stem cell transplant now.

Like a gamma ray burst― of
cataclysmic events― to start
the creation of verse. Were you
ready to hear the inner voice?

The urge to go up, was very strong
without grit. My burden will
increase if you are―
reluctant to propel yourself.

Satish Verma

22 December, 2015

Till The Ceremony

I accept, my defeat―
in the hands of Ariel.

You start hiding from your
own chrysanthemums.

Trying to merge the agony
with the diminutive flight.

The tale of a big fall from
the height of assimilation―

I will go all the way to
challenge the unknown fear.

The passage was full of
bumps, slowing the pace of kisses.

Satish Verma

18 December, 2015

After Meeting God

You should not be present―
everywhere, O God. Pull down,
all the shutters of your temples.

I am mortified, of a
hidden hand, that gives
spurious― sugar coated hymns.

A hometown crowd
assembles at the door of the―
palace to hear the arrival.

What was the natural
descent made of? A cyber attack
was the most desirable thing.

A crypt sets you free―
from the engraved sermons.
All night I will sit on the vigil, for a vision.

The book was blank
for a goodnight deal. I will
not cross any unwritten poem.

Satish Verma

17 December, 2015

Seeking Carefully

Where do you stand―
in the crowd, for the love of a cause―
your feet cannot measure the ache
of the earth, respecting the rhythm
of a lone survivor.

Can you believe in the fall of a titan?

Stranded in accuracy
for a salt lick for
a zipless mouth wide open.

what the flesh would not say.

And I keep standing by the midriff to see the face.

Satish Verma

15 December, 2015

Confronting The Unknown

I walk for a short while―
talking with the moon and
thinking about the zero―

and spirit and water― standing
my ground, I ask the earth―
tell me, whose fear was greater than mine.

If god was blind, then why
so many planets and moons? Is that true
that between good and bad lives a shaman?

There was something
behind the walls. A lot of noises coming―
out, as if nobody was perfect.

The realization itself was hurting.
The day I started sweating,
reaching the icy peaks of understanding.

Satish Verma

12 December, 2015

Violence In A Cup

The winged sex of the
module/wants to stay naked.
Everything backs it up
to become a suicide bomber
on the beach.

A cactus will not bloom tonight.
A shirt was loaned to the
tortured torso without head and limbs.

She was possessed by a
black spirit of a squirrel,
which was killed by a hatchet.

Bit by bit a moth was eaten alive
by the ants. Only the dry wings
were clapping.

Satish Verma

11 December, 2015

The Prairie Wool

The trapped body
will not listen to baby fugue.

The perception will find―
the writing on the flute.

For Neptune, the liquid
carries your voice.

The fugacity will find
the tongue of eternity.

The sea has divided
the land. Water sends the wreaths.

The future will keep an eye
on the scavenger, time.

There were signs. It was going
to become a predator.

Satish Verma

10 December, 2015


was becoming unborn, ―
untaught. Very fluid state.
You could transgress the boundaries
like the sea spreading over,
on your land.

My ankles giveaway. I cannot―
walk incognito. Moon will
not open the door. Nightshade welcomes
with open arms. A climber
with purple flower holds my hand.
I may stumble. Almost done―
disconnecting with present―
and past.

This is the sun. This is the
sky. Circumcising becomes an
escape, to cut off the bondage with yourself.

Satish Verma

09 December, 2015

What Hospice

Becoming unsteady
at points of darkness.

Tinged with blue
I am ready for the unspoken departure.

How to reach out―
for a situation, which was not?

You sleep on the floor
to hear the earth’s agony.

A helix― surrounds the
imperfect creation of unsavory thoughts.

Abusive was the creator,
The evil had a beauty in destruction.

Satish Verma

08 December, 2015

The Daphnia

The truth of my blood
at the mensal
without prayer and anguish.

Will you be able to
heal the rift between color
and smell?

The other face―
offering the tears in
cupped palm.

The slant eyes will
never know, the end of―
the day under the shadows.

The endemic fugue―
tilts the balance of angels.
The bay tree sends the condolence.

Satish Verma

06 December, 2015

The Rarest Thing

The night watchman
has become an etcher.

The stoning of the shirt
must stop. These moments were the
real sinners/beating the moon.
A simple story becomes an epic.

The belly buttons start
stammering. Meaning did not take a bath.

Canaries have gone on a strike.
They will not sing on the edge of night.

An oil painting walks out of the canvas―
to become a parable.
The creator of this art
was done.

Satish Verma

05 December, 2015

An Awakening

Profiling the flaws
after the ignition, starts
the outrage.

A stoic will assume a
secret. The mute testimony
against my naked walls.

Your gifts are lying unseen,
unused. I have gone, O tormentor―
beyond your reach.

When you would try
to annihilate the vision, I will
check the bleed of eyes.

If the bell rings;
somebody will arrange the table
for anaesthesia.

Satish Verma

02 December, 2015

Cracked Open

Living my own way
like flint,
you will not read
my cosmology.

We two, keep quiet in―
the same book― I
want to read some
hidden message from you.

A day slips into night.
What a consumption of will.
The train stops at the terminus―
without a traveler.

Stepping out, from the
grave of body― you will throw
a reflection, of the nerves,
in a wreath.

Satish Verma

01 December, 2015

The Benevolence

Borderless pain was
said untold. I am writing
a new chapter of night.

The somatic scent―
does not rise now, for the peaks
dissecting the snowy falls.

Racial climbdown
brings friction amids the uniqueness
of downtrodden dolls.

There was an intense―
urge to rip open the endless sky―
to find the secret of blackness.

The fabled light,
fails to distinguish between
eyes and ears. A blind man

will not find the shape
of truth by noises.

Satish Verma

29 November, 2015

Skirting The Book

This was man made,
the blue-chip―
changing the landscape.
Fanatically you cling to mother
terra firma like a baby primate.

I am going back to look
like my fathers,
with twisted contours.
Forward― facing, but looking behind.

I climb up the blue,
to unsolve the murder and go
into deep meditation to reject
the gods. The gold mine was flooded
by unprecdented rains of hands and footsteps.

Satish Verma

28 November, 2015

A Space, A Dot, A Line

The hesitant―
dawn cracks, as the
river of darkness squirms.

The moon―
was in last, to leave
the howling bank.

It looms large, a ―
brain-dead future. I think
I am forgetting my age.

You must face the
dying earth― sustained―
on prayers only.

This is the height
of dilemma. Why―
poems were hungry?

Satish Verma

27 November, 2015

Through The Ashes

Outside, a discreet moon
was rising, breathing―
dark. I was wary of strange clouds
of unknown scents.

Like a blue absence of nothing,
from nothing to emptiness.

The religion of unspoken
prayers― I start the journey,
to void. From there a turbulence will begin.

Blinking eyes― will find
the answer to a no-question, at
the end of the conflict―

when the face is lost to sadness.
You will not take off
your shoes.

Satish Verma

26 November, 2015

A Riddle Unsolved

Something novel:
a good augury―
creeping to augment,
an esoteric fall.

I repeat the mistake of knowing too much.

Submodified. The man―
still wants to bite the tongue
on the name of truth.

It was very unpleasant
to see a hummingbird
becoming a sphinx.

No need to commit a suicide after homing,
to a blazing icon in the urn.

Satish Verma

25 November, 2015

Again A Sheep Walk

I will be kissing in proxy―
at the dark side of
the moon, where my twin crashed.

The cracks had emerged
in the fiery zone― the flames
reaching the zenith of blue, killer sky.

A tamed hematoma,
speaks― for the ripped open brain.
There was nobody left to be whole.

Survivors were the gift
of miracle. A saint starts
abusing the stars.

The god’s temple lies―
in ruins, buried under the sand,
debris and the dead faith.

Satish Verma

24 November, 2015

A Discreet Failure

A midnight darkness―
threatens the purple moon,
standing in awe.

There were two poems―
in your hands― which you
wanted to read in my face.

One for the asking―
and one for the moral defeat.
Do you have anything else to narrate?

A thunderbird makes―
a landing in my insomnia―
to scatter the dreams.

The insane world returns
the gift of the pagoda tree. Buddha
will not come back.

Satish Verma

22 November, 2015

Future Tense

The reflection was never
I was trying, was trying
to understand me,
in absence of you.

Looking into the persona
making a saint―
out of sexual surrogacy.

The human gene―
transcripted, on the borrowed womb?
Will you now speak for the fear?

I will never know you
in dimlight―
of suspicions.

Are you a complete man now?

Satish Verma

21 November, 2015


The space in between―
the mayhem and spiritual hour;
was not much, but a spitting image,
of swapping with sun bites― was
evident without remorse.

The ice storm was raging.
Blueberries hang from your
eyes, to bluff me. I draw the curtain
and lit the fire to bring in―
the bride of vengeance.

A charitable act, to clear
the needles from the doll: No black
magic will work now. I am clean
and pure, will not cut a
slice of breast, for the red milk.

Satish Verma

11 November, 2015

The Sorcery

I can do it, hold the wasp
in my palm― without grains
and short of fructose.

Layer by layer eggs
will leak― wetting
the vibrating stigma.

Neat abuses, will suck
the milk of nodding thistle.
No marrow comes out to save the elixir.

The hoofers, without
stirrups were running blindly
after the fallen apple.

The sage sways sadly
in the passive winds. It’s aroma
enters the stream of sex.

Satish Verma

08 November, 2015

It Kills It Kills

Eaten up, by wanderlust―
I started my sleepwalks
cheating my dreams.

The grace of knife was there...
it did not open in daylight.
Night was the brilliant host.

When do I meet you―
behind the moon― when stars
were not twinkling out of fear?

The rare gift of footnotes
was sufficient to explain―
the meaning of abstract pain.

You will not treat the stings―
very unkindly. They were
meant to awaken you from letting it go.

Satish Verma

06 November, 2015

Gold Coins

A hate apart, living in embraces,
one night― you find the
bridge collapsed― in the
forest of skins.

In exasperation― I watch
the face of the adultery. I
will know― I am going too fast
for the hypocrisy.

Why you were becoming too
cozy to the silence of the necks.
The little feet are not―
able to run for the morning star.

Shutting the lamps. No moths
will descend on the books― no
bleeding of the verse, so
you can become empty of arithmetic.

Satish Verma

03 November, 2015

Negation Of What

in the wounds,
like a gas dragged into
the black hole.

Bedeviling the light.
There are no winners in this war.
Corona will not sit
on any head.

There was ambivalence
in the robust thrust.
The hard x-rays will
burn the thoughts.

Do not go on chasing the
grazed genre. The style
will bring back the questions
which had no answers.

Satish Verma

31 October, 2015

Karmic Influence

Under surveillance, the vegetable―
lives on ventilator.
All doors were shut― for the
dark― to remain inside.

The spastic breathing with―
rising chest, delivers the
nuances of death. Are you
sure― it was easier to live?

Asking the destiny to wait―
at the door. You can write
your own epitaph―
on the dust― for posterity.

I am coming home to collect―
your letters― you were
writing to me daily― but
never dared to post.

Satish Verma

30 October, 2015

Against Nobody

Do you need a divine witness―
if I abdicate a claim
on you, saluting the dark?

Drawing the ire of a void,
the violence becomes visible―
when earth starts dying.

The completeness― will give
you a rude welcome― after
you were landuishing in wait.

An intern surrogacy―
defies the sexual assault of the
gimmick. Why did not you
swear in the moon?

In jitters. I start―
making circles again― and again.
Will I remember―
who am I?

Satish Verma

29 October, 2015

A Paragon

Like a starfish― you are
not a star, always opening
the shells― with your tube fest
to find the pearls.

Predator― you will attack
in a crowd― when it is dark―
coming out of your skin.

Flesk for flesh. It was your dynasty.

I cannot reconcile. I cannot
play the game of chess―
and checkmate the opponent.
Will wait for a nemesis.

Unorthodox. The nature
reveals its move― in the galaxies.
The earth is in―
mid-life crisis.

Satish Verma

28 October, 2015

The Right Moment

Tell me,
how would you die
when the call comes?

A hollow skin―
with no viscera― underneath.

Will you cry―
while breaking away from the earth―
carrying your own urn?

Elysian vision―
was not very clear
and Styx was full of bodies.

There was no space left
to celebrate the liberation.

A parchment paper
with your fading name printed;
after the petition of right
to exist, undying
in deeds.

Satish Verma

25 October, 2015


First listen to your heart.
No poetry will walk tonight―
without fear.

Sometimes you will find―
words will not descend/to heal
your ache of unslept poems. Hovering/
like the obsessive hawks.

The migratory, adjutant/
storks, had not come to roost
on the tall tree―
naked as they are.

Democracy always/sends
erotica/to take off your mind
from the trivial subjects.

Fireworks resume the celebrations
for the fugitive/who returned
home after drinking absinthe.

Satish Verma

24 October, 2015

Take Up Your Book

After the apocalypse,
the fiefdoms were growing―
buttercups― with golden flowers,

Anemones and hellebores/
aconites and clematises/
famed for making lethal―
poisonous seeds.

So much went through us.

A billion years after― there will be
no life/ on earth. But we
have become lifeless now―
the poems incomplete.

It was getting smaller―
and smaller― the tall man.

Satish Verma

22 October, 2015

Irony Of Gist

The finger and a ring―
a story of bonhomie;
if you live precariously.

Difficult when you are perceptively nimble.

I would like to take off―
any clinger.

If you live in a crate, ―
there is no escape.
The pollination has stopped.

The washed bees will not go anywhere―
in this rain.

The bumbler will strike
when you are eating the poem.

Satish Verma

21 October, 2015

Earth Is Moving

It is pouring.
You can feel, smell and touch
the rain. A river of qualms―
starts swelling. Watercress―
will decide the fate of water.

Do not consent to switch off
the amplitude. You cannot drink the sky.

Keeping the lexicon― of road map in order.

The scope of communiqué
expires, if you do not offer the apology
for dousing the snow with
conspiracy and setting it on fire.

A daring attack takes place
to avenge the insult of mountains.

Satish Verma

20 October, 2015

Night’s Song

Grazing on the clouds,
moon was moving
in a daze.

Someone will milk it
for the poor, who will not
sing for the inevitable.

Witch hazel will stop the
bleed of unholy wars
between the diminutive fidelities.

This was the beginning
of a dialogue― meant for
the deaf― who will listen with the eyes.

There was no consolation
for a man who lost his finger
while searching his ring.

Satish Verma

17 October, 2015

His Or Her Majesty

That inner probe―
and access― was the need. I
promised myself, not to
sail on the waves.

It was difficult― the way
of birth, to deliver the truth.
You must invoke―
the legacy of the reals― against the fakes.

Factuality, your image
will not suffer. I will witness
the ultimate happening. The
testament will not be written on the beach.

Between ” I “ and “you” lies
the gulf of ancestry. The
unknowing will make it
easy to understand the glacial fall.

Satish Verma

16 October, 2015


It bends― the chastity―
the illicit vows. O, let me
become an artisan. I will
ensue― a new harvest of sandalwood.

Don’t light the joss sticks.
There is no abstract presence―
of him. Nobody knows―
you, better than me.

Search the―
magnum opus and you will
find that― man has failed…
to clear the debris of the Fort.

Strange happenings, still
take place. Grass is still green …
in solitude, a poem
takes birth.

Satish Verma

15 October, 2015

Where The Road Ends

Since you knew, ―
it was going to cast a shadow.

I let the question hang in air.
Death was known, ― only to man?

My suffering begins today. Adding―
my two cents, I go wild. Too few
white blood cells cruising in the veins.
Like lightning strike― I put myself
in harm’s way.

Bright yellow―
the gold and fire, absolutely opaque
decimating the drooping primula.

Impulsive, ― I raise the lid
of blazing rage. A divine exposure.
A millennium melts
beneath the carpet of snow.

Satish Verma

13 October, 2015

Virtually Untrue

Lethal mix
of blood ties― before
a fugue delivers its tremors.
A rage visits with the dark voices...

Reverberating in death chamber.

Heat seeking― the missile
goes straight into the heart of the Himalayas.

I am still recovering―
from the eternal fires― of biligual nights.

I am transfixed―
in my shoes― facing shoulder
fired― a sentence ejecting its hate.

Satish Verma

12 October, 2015

Change Of Life

Becoming wise to
your faults. I will not wear
any talisman.

No fireworks were needed
to celebrate the return
of the sane fakir.

Standing up― was the biggest
ideal of the oppressed. I
repeat the act.

Taking the helm― without
retribution― was a challenge
thrown by the dark.

I have come to be reborn
in the name of symbols

Satish Verma

11 October, 2015

No Message

You have kept the
script― to age in dark,
silent night.

Drawn into the upheaval,
of grains―
ready to strike the mouth.

Nameless wheels were out
to carry the gay pride.
I am not amused of the day.

Who was naturally―
born― breathlessly, holding
the flag, to spite the clan.

A pink window was
stolen from the green house.
The light now burns black.

Satish Verma

10 October, 2015

Will You Leave Me?

I did not mean to hurt.

Do not try to flute―
drinking the lianas,
wearing a fatigue. Then comes―
the shoot. Like a scarecrow
I sway― the slug― passes through me.

You ask me to turn over―
the death mask―
giving a smile. There was no
reprisal. Must bring under reins―
the pounding heart― I cannot talk.

Alone to mend my grief, the
scaled loss of bliss. Do not want to
use any metal. Poverty becomes
my strength. Fears will stand with me.
I am empty like a glass.

Satish Verma

08 October, 2015

Scattered Thoughts

Coming to an end the
consecration. The land will
not give you any god.

Only the demons will come in your dreams.

If it were window, the
street will send the black
noises in your house.

I will not wait
for snow-melting.
The slum was going to be
sliced off.

Wet from the rainfall,
the grain cannot be milled
and you will not eat my sprouts.

I cannot sail now.
It must be very dark
and the glossary
very foul.

Satish Verma

07 October, 2015

No Saviour

Out of ambit― you resume
the surfing again― on
yellow tulips―
in misting valley.

One who will not bless
the seed― will sit
in shadow of hunger.

Do not touch the―
impossible blue of the
eyes, unhunted by the tears.

Snare or be snared. If
there was a flint and
the steel― do you think the
spark will be faraway?

In silent night, I will open
the crypt to have a look again―
at the wornout cloak of a paragon.

Satish Verma

06 October, 2015


A freak hailstorm of
proposition, makes you―
deaf and mute. The sex
orientation― will not remain the same.

It was not pink― it was not
blue. A thunder breaks the
roof― of calligraphy. A
beautiful face― goes manic.

About the harvesting― I
would say ― it was all
humbug. You can wear a gem
in your eyes― and still not go stone blind.

The prayer will have a
summer wedding. All the―
lavenders will bring all the
blues and all the mauves.

Satish Verma

04 October, 2015


How many light years you―
have, when I walk
in dark?

The spiral galaxy shakes
me up.Haloes of gas.
I smell you lavender.

Effeminacy. Sometimes the
moon will wear a veil and
I will never know you.

More comfortable when the
ism will go. A stout mount
comes down indigenously.

I will expand a soaring
silence. Abrogation of faith
will give a call.

Satish Verma

03 October, 2015

The Dancing Tale

I do not remain happy
with noises of wisdom.
Time was running out on me
to know myself.

No sensory cognizance. I
touch you with my invisible
hands, stroking the hair
to dislodge the moon.

Ashes lay strewn. River
was overflowing from the
banks of limbs. I will not
come near the unfathomable

depth of a chasm, between
good and bad. Out of the bed
of roses a snake uncoils.
Praise the dark. It in night.

Satish Verma

02 October, 2015


Shedding the knowledge
I was aware of emptiness,
that will allow me
to watch from afar―

the message coming from
the locked doors.
Getting nearer the gorge
you want to look at your spitting image―

in water. I hinge an old frame
to find me in baby face. Did you
see your future visits to
cauldron of life?

You never wanted to become
a god of wayfarers. A tinge
of stupidity was evident to renew
your faults to remain human.

Satish Verma

01 October, 2015

Rising Rage

After the blast, the
morning gets wise, and
does not spill the sun.

And the dead will not
come back to celebrate
the dark after the rage.

There, on the white peaks,
the splattered blood will
draw the face of assassin.

Do not enter the dome of
seething screams. The priest
hangs by the bell.

O, my brother, why we
have become coldblooded after
thousand years of pilgrimage?

Satish Verma

30 September, 2015

No Love Song

In black midnight,
the white moon, like a nun
sits stonely.

The sliding moon is toxic
and you are not ready to
die for the theme.

The high priests will
weave the faux mantras to
invoke the goddess of wealth.

The debt pervades in every
relief. I survive the ignominy
of not touching a yogi.

And you, little brown bread,
will not feed the thousands
who come clamouring for a bite.

Satish Verma

29 September, 2015

After The Snow Storm

It tumbles down. The real.
Heels start hurting.

Once upon a night, there
was a red moon, which used to hang
on your head and I
would watch something beyond.

No outburst of profanity
will take place, when you were
dissecting a triangle―

of rainbows. I will not
assemble the waist of a tall tree
after the fruit fall.

Gone with the snow, my
temple, my god. I am now
waiting for the looters of rings.

Satish Verma

28 September, 2015

I Am Not Afraid

There was a road to landslips.
Why would the mountain break
for consanguinity?

You had spurned the hovering
clouds altering the means
of communication―

by adopting the lightning
for jousting with new gods.
As the thin cobweb flies before the eyes―

I go for insomnia to talk
with invisible in dark. In
moment’s lapse I become grey.

A life’s learning makes a
fool of me, hurting myself
in moonlight. The

abandonment brings fear
of me. I am ready to go
to a sheepeater carnivore and lie still.

Satish Verma

27 September, 2015

Sheared Off

How much you were honest
with you?
The poems had singed
the eyebrows. I am filled
with salt.

Would you know what was
missing between the lines?
Afterlife will not bother me.
My image and me
will not superimpose.

An apology for extradition
of my agony. Trapped, my
mirror has broken. I
will tear off the moon
from the window, when the room
is dark.

Satish Verma

26 September, 2015


How much you can carry,
carving a deep gorge
during last rites
of a river?

It was a skunky remain
of the civilized terrain
gone berserk.

Oh pilgrim, don’t come
again to wash your feet
in the snow of
painted storks.

Hiding behind the tattoos
my raw galaxy perspires
climbing the graveyard
of old songs.

Satish Verma

25 September, 2015

A Sombre Moon

This is for the
smaller gods sitting
in rains, seeking asylum in

Nobody knows the
fate of sunken erotica
when the glacier

A wild rose
sends the thorns to
prick your conscience.
Let the death walk
in sleep.

Satish Verma

24 September, 2015


A visible evil stands
upright. I did not want to
die before the death.

My needs were small and few
but I am at peace, breaking
water without shaming the earth.

I will now make a moon
out of the mystery of mass cremation
of rose buds.

The small recess of the soul
mends the wall of the flesh to become
a stable house.

The black crypt, maintains
a secret. Here lived a wounded
soldier once upon a time.

Satish Verma

23 September, 2015


Stargazing will not stop.
The will to find the answer,
when the glacier breaks.

You bring the god down
to earth. Don’t want to
bother any door.

A pair of fetters fastened
around my ankles.
I hop to the house of sadness.

The auroral spark
ignites the leaker. Clouds
burst crimson with tears.

A ring of red stones were
markers. Here fell the divine

Satish Verma

21 September, 2015


A boulder on my neck.
I am climbing your
house, O god.

I don’t believe you.
I trust the man,
a committed trespasser.

A crestfallen humanity
walking endlessly in―
the valley of tears,

to find the clean water,
the bread and roof. The
anguish breaks the morals.

And our painted deities,
resting on their thrones to
see the vultures descending.

Satish Verma

20 September, 2015


Moving on death trek,
standing near the stonehenge,
the hunger for immortality
begins to kill.

The summer solstice is there.
It could hinge on the bones.
Sometimes it takes all your life
to know what do you want?

Somatic. The flesh refuses to
go down on the divine path.
The urge was very strong
to go hegemonic.

Blue stones, walk with pagans
and druids were coming back.
I am not sure whom do I believe
I start an inward odyssey again.

Satish Verma

19 September, 2015


Waiting for a supermoon
like Aphrodite.
I translate my twinge
into moonlight.

The speed now hurts.
I want to go slow in dark,
Like wayward feet ambulating towards a carnivore.

It was not fair to call for
the soft snow,
when my eyes start
surging like a natural spring.

You had almost eaten me
alive with black fingers.
I did not sin, you come like
thunder making me deaf.

Satish Verma

18 September, 2015

Walking Small Feet

Distrust prevails.
To be poor. Why did you need
less, than you want?

I will ask me, and get no
answer. Like hedgehog. Spiny
coat. You will not watch―

the thought coming. I do
not move. The dead horse
speaks of moments of stillness.

A perception cleaves the mind.
The world takes revenge
behind the glass. You were―

squirming in the vessel. What
was your name, among the
stumps? A cloudburst, wipes

out the deity. The walls
stand out in the death masks.

Satish Verma

17 September, 2015

A Noble Life

Taking the drugs in heavenly
night. It is very precarious state
to live innocently.

The petals fall on your brows.
You are not ready to meet the stigma.
Pistil was wary of the human touch.

Neoplastic. I wanted a botanical
end. Like evening primrose, a
yellow death facing the sun.

The opal effect. You were changing
colors. A precious sin to become
a saint. Who is going to be a scapegoat?

The bankruptcy. Uncertainty will
overwhelm the haze. Stay indoors.
You will not be able to make a speech.

Satish Verma

15 September, 2015

Sailing On Peaks

The blue veins,
defending brazenly
the pink gloves.

Unwedded to moon,
I become sick
of hypocricy of hands.

As the boulders slide
on chest, to unbring the infancy
of snowfall. I put my shovel down.

Was it too early to start
the game pf ravishing
the temple of stains?

Looking at the pillars
that would not hold the
ceiling, inviting the moment’s eternity.

Satish Verma

14 September, 2015


This city of musketeers.
You are always having a bruising―
encounter with yourself.
Everyone tries to find an exit plan,

when the house in on fire,
and the abstract signs go on display.

I think you should not
have organized the religion,
the book, the sermons.

I have lost the way to me,
to my aloneness, to my emptiness.

The economy of words was
in ruins. There was no space
to stand on the sense, import.

A chilling meet begins between
the sparring wheels.

Satish Verma

13 September, 2015

Battered Faith

Deserting a shrine, in the swirling
waters, I move, unbuilding
a path, under the shade of the moon. the
sprawling village has been swept off/and
so were the ponyriders;
a lifeless symphony of howling winds/
scatters the silence.

I step forward to meet the vapors
of after death./The souls are dead/
and the ghosts are walking in dark.
No ignition was left to recognize the faces.
No god was seen nearby.

I am at loss to make the return journey.
A boulder as big as the temple/
obstructs the view. There are moaning
voices/coming from under the sunk
houses. Why won’t the unseen hands/build
up a bridge. I eat your words
and go in trance.

Where are the bottle’s jinnees now?

Satish Verma

12 September, 2015


A dark secret
of double standard,
releases the hidden forces.

You must
bend backward to walk.
This was the rape of surrender.

The art of dodging,
the decoy effect.
You choose the ultimate hypocrisy.

You do not confirm
the rage of shirtless.
A name goes begging for the figures.

Shrine in mud,
will give you a final call
before starting the builddown.

Satish Verma

11 September, 2015

Returning Your Message

Don’t let me go.
over the cork, a bottle
fights for the fluids
to flow out.

No apology to
feel you. There was
no death in the night.
A sun lies down beside me.

The flesh was disappearing.
A blue star alights,
to make a landmark
for the climbers.

No regrets
for the crunch of dry leaves
when you walk on the
grave of the witch doctor.

Satish Verma

10 September, 2015


Since my ash has
blown in your mirror
I am warming up to your surrogacy.

Too much deep,
expansive cleavage. I am climbing

down a canyon.

The phoenix:
finds the water―
in your eyes.

Writes a funeral.

No punctuation, the
unwritten poet,
will not last the night.

I am spelling out
the grief of the lonely man on
the deserted road, talking

Satish Verma

09 September, 2015

No Snobbery

Talk of politics,
and the auction begins.

Every rock has a price.
The marble will fetch more flesh.

The granite breaks below
your eyes. I limit the tears.

No time left for complaints.
I am ready for the good –bye.

Will you meet me beyond
the space, faraway in void?

No words will follow me
I am going unwritten.

No profile, no editing.
A bloom will pop up, from
below the fallen tree.

Satish Verma

08 September, 2015


The shovel
moves the wet earth

Your path goes to dark,
in the jungle fire
through Sunset Boulevard.

Father of my father
used to drink a pitcher, of black tea, daily,
to stay alert.

He would tell me,
“Do what you wanted to do.”

The rain will not stop
for sometime. Why don’t
you go to sleep?

The fury of the
flood, will not break
the pride of an oracle.

Satish Verma

07 September, 2015

Always A Thunder

The nightingale was
very sad. Nobody
was taking a call.


A scream would
go unheard, when
the floodgates are opened.


The snake will not
change the color. It
will watch the Noah.

Satish Verma

06 September, 2015

Negation Of What?

in the wounds,
like a gas dragged into
the black hole.

Bedeviling the light.
There are no winners in this war.
Corona will not sit
on any head.

There was ambivalence
in the robust thrust.
The hard x-rays will
burn the thoughts.

Do not go on chasing the
grazed genre. The style
will bring back the questions
which had no answers.

Satish Verma

01 September, 2015

Drowning My Faith

Partly stripped, head shaven
for a royal revelation of eternal scars.

Blood oranges.
You want to practice your knife
on the boneless.

No loaves left for the rainy day.

Do you believe in after life?

White pigeons convulsed
on the hot, searing sands of
the rebel stronghold.

The politics works. Small breasts
with no filling. A gender bias
makes you fit for a Stark effect.

I search the flesh, the eyes
the wisdom.

Satish Verma

29 August, 2015


To live or not
to live like a zero
in the company of numbers.


Add the space
to the black hole.
You will find infinity.


The question mark
will always twist
the answer in big NO.

Satish Verma

28 August, 2015

Difficult Choice

If a gadget turns
you on, and I cannot
listen the voiceless
music, how would
we meet in parasynthesis?

A parakeet lifts the long
tail to climb on―
the grill to watch the
sweep of clouds, whistling
past, when the world
was mud-splattered.

Take my hand and hold
the queer. I was never me
in the maddening crowd.
I listen to only my body.

Satish Verma

27 August, 2015

A Revival

Patenting the human genes;
will ask for the god.

You will not reveal
your preferences, though
natural selection propels

you to young veins. A
self-denial comes into
play. The jade was million

years old. Taking a cue
from the fathers, a
monkey runs on the water.

Making trouble was
easier than to erect a
home for the extinct to live.

Satish Verma

26 August, 2015


The opaque civility
takes a big toll. The fledglings
were dying in the duck pond.


I want to steal the moon
tonight for a ritual
and bring it on my lake.


A wet floor always
mirrors the voices floating
on the low roof of my rainbow.

Satish Verma

24 August, 2015

The Secular Ethics

A fact of time. The
has a price.

There was a deep
moral crisis, when I said,
stay poor.

Money makes you
dishonest. Why don’t
you start giving away?

The secular thing.
Were you tolerant
of my protests?

Ethics were changing.
Why should not I be
a very sad man?

Satish Verma

23 August, 2015

Animal Kingdom

There was too much, violence in the
house. I walk through the pathways―

of divided family. As if waylaid
by the thugs. I am stranded bereft of―

all my achievements, fixating at withdrawl.

The menu
I go
The toothache persists. Life is
still.The vision seethes without wings.
Pulsating silence.
There is no voice.

Like mannequins, we dance
without geniality. The master
is nowhere. Who was pulling
the strings?

Satish Verma

22 August, 2015

Last Freedom

a leaker on the prowl,
to become glamorous

The parting,
of ways in a jungle of
principles, life takes
a full turn,

sharply. The ascension
of dark matter,
believes: it’s time has come
to engulf the world.

comes very late in acute
labour pains, throwing
up the agenda.

Taking a call
of inevitable, the
dignity holds on to
the fringes of peace.

Satish Verma

21 August, 2015

All Said

Some things are not said,
uncoupling the cut glass.
Flowers will not come
from the new moon.

You collect the hundred
loops from your hair,
and part the heat. An
ancestor turns in his grave.

Collect the grapes, fallen
plums from my garden.
I am not sure, how long the
spring stays. You were
not ready for the
rocks, for sure.

I am scraping the song
written for a tree.
Cannot decipher the sap.

Satish Verma

20 August, 2015

I Demand

A double helix
uncoils. There was a
beheading in Saudi.

You ask for the
ecstasy in spaceship
singing the oddity.

It was in the proximity
of a brick kiln, that you
wanted to take a sunbath.

It was not private, not
intimate. You had spread
the profanities in bazaar.

How many shots, would
you collect from the,
sinned city of big names?

Satish Verma

19 August, 2015

The Great Decline

Abetting the suicide of
a bystander, your impacted
diamond, downs the hips.

What had you done to
me? I will not hold you responsible
for the ache.

There was the aging moon,
still lingering in the―
crack of dawn.

I don’t close the door.
Will wait for the big question
from the exotic death―

of dark matter, which
defied the relationship
of unique absurdities.

Satish Verma

18 August, 2015

Beware Of The Peaks

To repel the slice of
hope, the patriarch
falls midway.

Pushed to the end of
leaf, a moth is propelled
in the mouth of deeps.

The boat starts sinking
in the age of doubts
and dementia. You

will need to manage
your fires. A hollow
rustling of slogans will,

not repeal the canorous
sounds coming from the
orgy. Life takes a turn.

It asks for an insane man
to change the world.

Satish Verma

16 August, 2015

Debating Point

This was an interesting dialogue
going on,
between me and a ghost. It was
telling me that I love you
because you are not a virgin.

Was it a good thing, someone
asks? The game was fair
but the players were dishonest.

The bared chest, with scars
and raw wounds, tells everything
about blue wars.

The words float on water,
like dragonflies. Do you think
it was impossible to convey
the agony by phraseology of metaphors?

Satish Verma

15 August, 2015


Releasing the pain.
Your eyes laugh,
when you cry.


An ancient city
wakes up. A bird, a lizard
and a beast.


A triangular hollow
of the valley
throws up the moon.

Satish Verma

14 August, 2015

Golden Afternoon

No questions were taken
from unforgiving sword.

And the dead horse.

A river runs through your body
defining the wet castles.

You look into the eyes of the invader.

The palace intrigues dig in.
You cannot meet the princess.

The inevitability of war looms large.
You will finally know that every
body is mortal. The remains
are meant for the inconceivable.

The scripture versus a blank
page are on the collision course.

Satish Verma

13 August, 2015

Arresting The Tides

Talking of prudery,
you acquiesce in,
and let it go.

The eyes lit up
refraining from comment.
A fish jumps out of water,

and becomes mermaid.
How can you eat the raw moon?
The pubescence on the

young leaves was not
ready. Will you restrain
your hubris and foot soldiers?

The imminent descent
was evident. The fire breaks.
I am afraid, it will consume you all.

Satish Verma

12 August, 2015


My ultimate reply was
my silence. There was―
no need to ward off any
further questions.

It was time to take
a call of the ominous. Clouds
are dark and menacing. You
wanted the poverty of words to go.

But it enters again by back door,
standing along with you. The
great divide begins. The day
was on edge over sick patriarchy.

You will not get the fruits
nor seeds. Yet the cacti do not
need any propagation. Full
of spines, they are hardy.

A fake formula is being put
forward. Let there be a
collective suicide to save
the floundering world.

But I would not agree.

Satish Verma

11 August, 2015

Spelling Out

Half milk water and
half water milk.
The predators were happy.

How would you,
justify a self kill, in the
sea of medusae and whales.

That was not only
warts and all. There were holes
in the golden bucket,

and fount was dry.
The glass house. This
concept gives a jolt.

You cannot change
the masks. Deaf and
dumb.the sky was deaf and dumb.

You refuse to divulge the
name of assassin.

Satish Verma

10 August, 2015

Sulking Alone

Drum-beats were coming
nearer. The lineage is being questioned.
Archaeopteryx is being kicked.
upward. It was too slow;
was not able to fly.

Things are not moving, as you
want them, in romantic
relationship with the road.

A madness permeates. The
acolytes were busy in playing
the act, that all wars
will never come to end.

Anointing the salt smell as
savior, after the shadow-boxing.
The sparring must continue―
to find out the catwalk.

The ramp was going upward.

Satish Verma

08 August, 2015

Strange Dreams

The icon,
is a smoky gem,
like a random stone, hiding
a jewel.

You become an ex;
throwing the gauntlet
over the frozen

Everything glides
around you. I am sinking
in Bermuda Triangle.

The trembling hands
groping for―
the coral reef under the water.

The tiger will not
sleep tonight. You cannot
shut the eyes, when
I am being pit-roasted.

Satish Verma

07 August, 2015

The Time

There was a lapse
before the fall of moon.
I am standing in dark.

A wolf a day was
enough to eat me. The digital
pain seeps in the
sad ceremony.

Someone buries
the hatchet in stars far away,
wearing the black mask.

I steal your poeny.
Your velvety voice for the
sake of wronged yellow.

A candle burns
in the white room, bereft
of any trappings.

Satish Verma

06 August, 2015

Fake Encounters

When the surveillance increased,
the curtains started
falling. You were ready to
start the dialogue with death
holding off your hunger.

Each face had its history
scripted on the forehead. Dark is
after all dark. You unroll
the night-black lace and
confront the moon.

Under the old banyan tree
a dream lies with limbs tied.
A mob smears the vermillion on its body
and then starts lynching it.
I have only one question.

Why were we towed on
wrong leads for tallest peak?

Satish Verma

05 August, 2015

Not Invoking

This attitude rattles
me. Silence has―
become very vocal.

The body does not listen
now. A knife
has become celibate.

The unsung hero was
untainted and pure.
It was the veil, which was corrupt.

Are you ready for
the hang? The wrists cut
open were not bleeding.

The jewel of the fire
does not burn. Even the
purple hemlock is very sweet.

Satish Verma

03 August, 2015

Fangs Open

Aghast at the―
burning brutality and domination
of the glaring sun, I will
ask the moon, when will
it release the hormones.

A palm size,
unscripted poem, struggles
to come on the surface;
pulled between the moon
and the sea.

The libidinal instinct,
overtakes the activist. A newly
minted face throws the shadow;
equivocal. The traffic of
poppies will freeze in the tracks.

Here are the keys and
there were the locks.

Satish Verma

02 August, 2015


Even the tree enters its shade.
It was very hot this
summer, while walking in moon.


Sleeping under the cacti
and talking to God. Do you
know the ecstasy of pricks?


This was my total wealth,
the verses. I cannot spend on you,
Oh my god, what an idea?

Satish Verma

01 August, 2015

Caged Bird

Penchant for bats. Always
nocturnal./ Sustained flight.
Eyes piercing./ Incisors ready to
dig in you with anticoagulant saliva.
Your echolocation will attract
more suicides./ Don’t write
poems about leitmotivs.
I will say.

An imaginary withdrawl.
I am no more in your eyes. A sheep
jumps from the cliff.
You start a bonfire / of all your wins
as a signal. The immaculate dawn rising.
Killing me.

Satish Verma

31 July, 2015

Scalding Me

A lamplit page
that smells your body.
I still remember the
cajoling maneuver to give
me a spin.

Oysters. They were crawling
to eject the pearls. And
spiders weaving a net
to trap my thoughts. A
fly lands in the labyrinth.

War of attrition. A tremor
shakes the pillars. Moments
of disintegration. The fragments
throw the footprints in
your hands.

You cannot write your
name on your book.

Satish Verma

30 July, 2015

The Vinegar Test

Loading the twin calyculi
at the dawn. Cotton grass
will get an―
extortionate price.

Silence was dead.
And as were the protests
of levitating poppies.

Chasing a colored storm
becomes a craze, these days.
Bystanders will witness
the fall of blue night.

You want to unfollow
the begonias now, cultivating
the unkissed music on the
lips of swaying reeds.

Satish Verma

29 July, 2015

Between The Accidents

After the ammonia leak,
there was a visual hallucination.
An ad hoc proxy of stardust
will not settle on the lotus.

I grieve for the sobbing moon
who was kept waiting to―
wash the feet of a sunken god.
There were no wreaths for the departed.

Death had a debt to pay,
to a hungry child, who was
given a chance to see the light,
but was not fed by the night.

To perpetuate the crime, there
was a syndicate, who would bet
for the nested game, in lieu,
of wiping the green tears of earth.

Satish Verma

28 July, 2015

No Hatred

Step aside.
Tension of mining gold
barrels through
mating preference.

The shadows under the
eyes were lengthening.
A childhood alley had―
the cul-de-sac.

A face trembles in your
hands when you kiss
the tears of a melting peak.
The body collects the honey.

A sleeping moon drifts
like a fallen virgin,
covering the face in the headscarf
of brazen clouds.

Satish Verma

27 July, 2015

Civil Resistance

Being me
like a butterfly I cannot
fold the wings.

Why do we need to
burn the orchard grass
for an interim exit.

My bête noire was me.
I would not separate the
statecraft from worship.

Snubbing the trees,
I want to climb tall to know, why
were we using sarin and mustard.

On the road to avatars,
I won’t believe, that a released
soul should come back.

Robotic, someone was
searching a lost forest.

Satish Verma

26 July, 2015

To Full Moon

you let it go,
the uneven fall of the tempest.

Which body,
would you turn on,
now; after inhaling―

the jessamines? An
overpowering instinct,
takes hold of you―

to death wish. I want
to make you sit
before me and ask―

why have you fallen
in love with a
fireball. A hidden mystery―

unflolds now. We knew
each other’s gift
of summer, hurting without knowing.

Satish Verma

25 July, 2015

Path Between The Nights

O human face,
coming from the furry past;
now I want you to
become, my death.

The naked ape, has
started hiding the tainted
shirt, loses battle,
and becomes beast again.

The acid attacks on
the nascent roses, I see
the ruins of frozen dreams.
Will you fetch the moonlight?

Carrying the cross, I choke
on my words. The lovers
will never be the same.

Satish Verma

24 July, 2015

The Otherside

the orgy in sky.
Will you wish away, the
perpetual collisions?

The astronomer
does not want to visit
the temple, where
the celestial bodies were making love;
on the walls.

Sunflowers shedding
the petals. Want to change
the orientation. Moon-bitten
now amorous in dark.

Satish Verma

23 July, 2015

Homage To Unknown

Half-living in your gaze
a prisoner of messed―
up life in a petri dish.

Streaking in blood and salt
your inoculation failed.
Now a missed abortion,

takes place. You cannot
defend your freedom, before
the ruthless destiny.

The courage versus scourge
of dust and rage, of
the blowing grains of skeletons.

In my crescendo, you
will hear the most intense,
music of a resilient spirit.

Satish Verma

22 July, 2015

A Massive Withdrawl

The moon was coming up
in cross-dressing style
from he to she.

Smoking in pensive mood;
itching to be ready
for last farewell.

The evil makes you feel
good, to prove the
unrestricted love between the two.

A slight criticism for
Sisiphus. Why does not
he sing like a poor farmhand?

To die young makes them
cry. Why you were burning
your fuel without running on blazing coals?

Satish Verma

21 July, 2015

Intensity Of A Flame

Without audible conflict
I invoke your face
from withered names.

It was always a big NO,
when I would seek comfort
in high sounding verdicts.

An unspoken, painful,
agony to script for an
unwritten foe.

The muscle will twitch
involuntarily, to taste
one’s own ink.

In the waning moon
I will come at your door
to ask for a poem.

Satish Verma

20 July, 2015

Hurting Myself

The blue stare
will stretch on the horizon.

A princely moon
enters the perforate shell―

in the oviform eye,
of the bruised lake.

I was ready to drink
the potion, the viper offers.

Tears and laughter, the
twin ecstasy of dying

by hinged fangs.

Satish Verma

18 July, 2015

The Undefined

A green hunt of words
does not dare to insert
the isthmus as indelible
mark between a future
and an unknown.

The fear becomes me. An
odius entry. Will you
help me to find the variations
in the storms of life deviating
from their narmal orbits?

I cannot separate you
my song, from the meaning
of the script. The indefinite thing
has the text of echos
coming from the stars.

The baby moon is climbing
up, to remind me: night
will not stay for long.

Satish Verma

17 July, 2015

The Days Of Agony

Were you the face of God
in the temple of tooth.
When fire was playing The Return
of the Desert.

I feel cheated, when talking
of nonviolence, when you go for
self-immolation in the
water of straits.

The military boots had failed,
to quench the thirst of dead.
How would you dig the graves
of mauled, tribal gods?

The final mile of human race
comes in the face of triumph
of the death, sharing
the borders of flowing blood.

Satish Verma

16 July, 2015


Different hues were lit up.
A water drop falls on my lips.

I will ask the words
to traverse the circle of clouds
for cascading moon.

let the mob―
climb the mount of greed.
I am here on the earth,

to meet the flames
of thoughts and shades
of wounds.

There is hope and the
chains. I will receive
them in ecstasy.

Satish Verma

15 July, 2015

Your Half-Open Eyes

Moon dust was sprinkled
once more on mangroves
to extend the war
across the border.

This was an intricate rite
after the sad error, of
changing the itinerary
to pathless liberation.

The violence has spilled
over in the city of roses.
There was no water left
in the turbid estuary.

The herd was coming
to cross the sands of time.

Satish Verma

14 July, 2015


Nomadic words
do not stay with me
for long, after the betting.

The gamble was
pivotal, to find the
peace in jungle.

The alacrity to
remove the claudication,
when the heart stopped.

Objectively, a truth
will be dissected
to take out the lie.

Immoral was the
podium, which allowed
you, to stand for a sermon.

Satish Verma

13 July, 2015

Lone Wolf

On ladder, you climb
for espionage, with
a feeling of an evil.

Somewhere, somebody
pulls the strings,
at arterial roads.

You put yourself
in harm’s way for
exotic blooms.

A civil disobedience, starts.
A bone of contention was
the muscle of love.

One on one
tooth for tooth,
lips for lips.

Satish Verma

12 July, 2015


I was not afraid of,
the thing, but the signature
strike of a copycat
in the art of dismantling.

try to pull down brick
by brick, the
jeopardy. A dead premises
becoming alive.

will you, numb with pain,
explain the poetry of victim’s trail,
becoming a Buddha?
Can you find a bo tree for me?

grape hyacinth, I still
carry your globular blue
eyes, chasing my
kisses. Why in the evening?

Satish Verma

11 July, 2015

Back To Savagery

Hacked to death.
All I scribbled on―
your breast.

I was on the verge of
a confession. I loved
you like never before.

A full moon, like a
toddler was hopping
towards me.

Never reached the
perfection. Do not have
any wants.

Getting the burns
from the cushions.
I will call you later.

Satish Verma

10 July, 2015

Long-Feared Night

Eyes half-shut, you are seeing,
unseeing to house the failing light.

When the tornado writhes down, will
you come to clean the rubble?

And splash the bird, the sky in purple?

I am afraid of myself
to explore the craft of non-living.

When the silence descends, I will
know myself, like the bone of Buddha.

The words will not give
any relief, whipped into terror.

Satish Verma

09 July, 2015


The knot was broken
from the waist,
as if we were struck
by a bolt.

Thinking must stop.
Violence was there within
the pods, to explode and
eject the seeds.

The silent rape of a
sleeping book. You cannot
tear off the pages,
limb by limb.

You will not read the
past. Would not write
the future. The present roars
through the window starting a brush fire.

Satish Verma

08 July, 2015

Black Script

After the skin, the corti
were trying to measure the silence
before the cloudburst.

The white noises were
very accurate, disciplined shouts
ready to pull down the stapes.

A cochlear fall from the
great heights of vesuvian peak.
No matter how big was the chasm.

You have given up yourself
to broken stirrups. The planets
begin the dance without the god Apollo.

The road never ends. The
rider stands alone to ride the moon
gliding over the empty sea.

Satish Verma

06 July, 2015


In shadow of the moon, why
an illict bone, indentured
to the spirit of Buddha?

The footsteps were retraced
to find out the angst
of disappearing grass.

The blue eyes must remain
unclosed to print the
image of a pink cloud.

This desperate retraction.
I will not be able―
to write a single poem.

The unholy exit was
damaging the steel of a
proud man, still standing erect.

Satish Verma

05 July, 2015

Why Are You Blue?

The wayfarer, searching
for the leaf-pains―
fallen from the lone tree.

Some holy script will
tell the angst of the sap,
which would not reach the roots.

A responsible weep,
will divulge your name to―
forest bees, waiting for the moon.

I watch the setting sun
with trepidation.
Night will bring again, the blasts.

Satish Verma

04 July, 2015

Accusing Whom?

The unthinking begins again
watching a lunar

The smallest droplet:
I never had any agenda,
holding on to emptiness.

A dark jumps out at me.
I push the light

to see your face, O
invisible. Where the road
ends? I want to start

my new journey, unloading
the accumulated wealth
of erudition.

Satish Verma

03 July, 2015

A Smile Falters

You were collecting the
clocks, to stall
the time; for a pathless journey
to nowhere.

Quietly the colors
start disappearing. Only
a blank void
hangs on the eyes.

The body, is at work
to teach the soul. Fat will
singe the mind. You will
never know, why did you suffer.

My sleep was ordained
to become eyeless. I
will never watch the dreams.
Blind spot snaps out the light.

If I become you, the
freeze will set in.
The blackbirds are

Satish Verma

02 July, 2015

From The Womb

The póetique listening
to the reason, as foggy
as the past, untelling the
future of midnight onslaughts.

The rain of emptiness, was
playing havoc with the
fiery cross. No orchestrated
withdrawl, I am―

preparing myself for the
supersonic cruise missiles of
vendetta. Golden heart,
you will carve out and eat.

The bluebirds. They had left
unannounced. This summer
the snowy peaks will melt,
for a lone tree.

Satish Verma

30 June, 2015

Listening To Yourself

Treading gently, trying
to feel close to the heat of
the cardinal sins, why
you were not able to take off
your eyes from the
macabre slaughter?

The unknowable instinct.
You abhore, but still want
to see the execution. They
were blindfolded and
were shot at the
back of head.

Decimated. You hold the
globes, making peace
with the wrongdoer.He
will not alter his ego
and why you were afraid to

Satish Verma

29 June, 2015

Cruel Bonhomie

Like a meteorite streaking
through the sky, iron
and nickel, for a proxy collision
with hidden destiny.

It was the post trauma
syndrome, after the great
divide of breast, lifting
the nipples.

The lofty peak crumbles.
There will be the scare
around, to grow the poppies
on the mounds again.

Are you ready now
for emasculation? The
legacy will, on its own, pass
onto alternative sins.

Satish Verma

28 June, 2015

Thinking Deeply About Something

The trail in mind, you had
a problem, before the coming of Him.

A quest, a a question, became
landmarks of the journey
in jungle of humanity.

The compatibility lost, you
have stopped looking at the
things with inward eye.

Is it necessary to give a title to every anguish?

The crisis throws up some detritus
of past, from where you had
taken up the wrong road.

The fixing magnifies your
scars. Do not go deep
in the veins.

I am your face.
I am your name.

Satish Verma

27 June, 2015

Pure As A Flame

Sleepwalking in unlit
night, grabbing the
moon, for a bite.

Very difficult to chew
the contradictions, to relieve
the heartache.

Endless drumming of
woodpecker to mark territory.
A war begins for insects.

It was the Adam’s instinct.
I will not fall on
the burning coals.

In a dewdrop you will
see a miniature tree,
shaping out for the sun.

Satish Verma

26 June, 2015


A fuzzy fear descends.
You become ensconced―
in the smell of a

The saltcutter will forego
the idiosyncrasy
and start collecting the oil
from the dome.

A stain on the shirt
spreads, covers
the heart in distress.
Codas were waiting.

Do not burn the book.
Go in a lily pond for a ―
script. The different shades
of flesh will be revealed.

The divine sin will ask
for a retribution for ―
the withdrawl syndrome.

Satish Verma

25 June, 2015

Soaked In Glory

The plunging line was―
going deeper, cutting close to
the bone. I was preparing
myself to be martyred

Prod me viciously, my
love, I want to die in your arms before
the dawn. It should be
too good to be true
for you.

Waterbirds. They are ready
to take a flight. Petal
by petal, sun will send you
the message. I am going to fade away
in moonlight.

Water hyacinth had the death secret.
Knife me gently. I will
meet my Apollo in dark.

Satish Verma

24 June, 2015

Along The Path

Encountering a dislocated self,
here it goes, the “I”,
flicking out the name
which will reach nowhere.

The foreword will not
disclose the contents of
the book. It was reading
only a footnote.

I place a searing moon
on your plate. You can take
a slice of it and gulp
your agony.

The arrival does not finish
the journey. There are far―
away worlds beyond
your fantasies.

Satish Verma

23 June, 2015

Left On The Dunes

Talking points at ground zero
trap the heat. The tyranny
knows no bounds.

Trauma of awaiting liberation
was intense. No truth was
ready to accept the bends.

I feel cheated when,
the dark gives a sermon about
the hidden dawn.

The hair burn in unmade
bed, taking a cue from
the beast, who will not sleep.

Where do the white stars
go, when the sun rises? I
will ask the crying lake.

Satish Verma

22 June, 2015


Scratching the rusted face
of the dust storm―
to read the message.

I have come very far,
from the old stinks.
It was not the escape.

The unshaped sap,
spills from the cut end―
of treetops. I gather your cones.

The fall begins abruptly.
It was a landslide of
leaf drop. Yellow and brown.

I wait for the red.
It reminds me of blood
dripping from your poem.

Satish Verma

21 June, 2015

Tones Of Beige

That obscene stare
aggravates the silicon
thrust. You become a victim
of an upheaval.

The white dwarfs have
invaded the blackboard.
You can get a glimpse
of unsolicited rape.

A cyanide capsule
hangs on your chest.
Will you commit a suicide
after an unnatural kill?

It takes a toll. The
abuse of the fingers.
Instead of writing a name
you print the cave.

Satish Verma

20 June, 2015

Walking Down The Lane

Time entombed, a negative
film, showing the
white bones of
a black moon.

I am surprised, how
a jungle of humanity, lives
with predators―

A lost genre will find
new syllables to start a
heliographic script to
make history.

There has to be some
reason, in the lamb days
to become a wolf.

Satish Verma

18 June, 2015

In The Labyrinth

The pungent smell of dry
smoldering leaves, greet you
when you cross the road.

The knower has become
unknowable and I start collecting
the pebbles, a remimder
of lost childhood.

Somebody has kidnapped the
art of the nocturne. The
songbird will never find the moon.

When you are under attack
you run faster,
to drink the speed of dust.

It was a case of intimidation.
Invisible ghosts were demanding
their bricks of gold.

Satish Verma

17 June, 2015

The Warts

Like a wax moth, me―
sensing your footsteps
from a mile.


The half-truths
were always baked in milk
to look white.


The cleric was
jubilant. God has decided
not to live any more.

Satish Verma

16 June, 2015

What Times

The upbeat moon
becomes dazed, when you
start, the dance of death.

Personified, lone word,
unloved; changes the

Given space, a sick
crowd, expands, unsquares,
for the throne.

The abysm from which
the cicadas are crawling out
to devour our being.

I do not want to
control you, your song.
I am burning in my own holocaust.

Satish Verma

15 June, 2015

Your Voice

There was a sharp rise
of indecent things. On the
rocks you left my name
without flowers.

Make a heap of all
the gifts of life and griefs and
start a bonfire. No message
is going to come.

Let us live in separate bowls
of soup. Time had swept
them clean for a murder.

One day the alien god will
alight from the sins,
to alter the numbers.

The mudslide of untruths
will scupper your house
made of paper and pen.

Satish Verma

14 June, 2015

Fermenting Mind

A desire spews the rocks.
Between two moments
lies my body.

Learning the first alphabet
of violence. I fail myself
in the lily pond.

Statues and inscriptions
were me. I had become
the god of doubts.

A disembodied faith
overtakes my senses,
I float between the words.

The humming
starts from a formless bee.
The everpresent honey drips.

Satish Verma

13 June, 2015


Hiding from each other
your prosperity.
I wanted to remain a fakir.


This was the faith
in its truest sense. I wanted
to live in childhood paucity.


Like the first letter
I wrote to you, I am
sending you a poem.

Satish Verma

12 June, 2015


After tasting the homemade
poison, the walls,
start moving.
The poppies are in bloom.
I am not interested in morphine
or codeine. A sago palm has
come of age, preparing to
put up the conical sex.
A trust deficit will not know,
the signature of veneer, of
the gender.

Something moves behind the
bushes. I was already afraid
of emptiness. After the violence,
amputations and barrenness.
The desert invades my bones.
Cannot sleep with hands
on my chest. Will you
collect some runners?
I want to raise
the grass for the sake of commanality.

Satish Verma

11 June, 2015


The nephrite syndrome.
I will not change the―
calculus, to find the truth
of the flesh.

The paid price of chemistry
will make history. If
you can stop the blitz―
of the replicas.

It ends like a fire, without
ashes. The limbs check
the fall. Across the river
an isle erupts.

The prisoner at last escapes,
from the procession of profanities.
You are finally liberated,
releasing the lost poem.

Satish Verma

10 June, 2015

Head And Torso

Nothing-ness fills me
again. Once visiting a funeral
home, a child asked me,
why do the people die?

How do I explain the dark
side of life? A blunt trauma,
makes me jaded. One collapsing
process creates the black hole.

A nude, the tall figure, stands
on the rock, much venerated,
and you cannot take off the
eyes, deciphering the skin.

In the intense pain of―
learning, a fantasy of
looking out at a ghost deity
in the vegetable, springs a miracle.

Satish Verma

09 June, 2015

Some Glimpses

Moon rose from
obscurity, once I released
the fury of darkness.


Do not want to
repeat; why my song was
stolen by flight of birds.


The negativity of
the penknife. Always tearing
away the heart.

Satish Verma

07 June, 2015

An Opening

I will color
the sky, grieving for the
departed moon.


Tossing my words
onto the lake, to bring back
my baby pink.


Night I had woven
a gold pattern on the bed.
Memory will know.

Satish Verma

06 June, 2015

It Never Happened

I was not afraid of legacy
seeking out a collateral
collapse of a fantasy.

Raising the ante―
I was prepared to meet
the unknown in your chest.

What came as a surprise
in a white boat. I will
never know of death.

A pause, a stutter,
sacrificing civility to open
the door of the poor syllables.

The secret will go in―
the grave along with
the famished poet.

Satish Verma

03 June, 2015


Come to me
like never ending pain.
I will wait till eternity.


Wing pierced, like
butterfly amidst cacti,
still trying to reach your lips.


I carry the fragrance
of fallen jessimines on grass,
white as the morning snow.

Satish Verma

30 May, 2015


The who was
inside you.
I want to discover,
a foam-born deity,
killing the moon.

You destroyed
me in the poems.
I cannot weave the
moonlight on the

Can you send
a message to Mars?
It is too crowded on
the earth. There was
no room for the muse.

Satish Verma

29 May, 2015

The Syntax

Coming over here
to find me, in abstract meaning?
I was very much there in your eyes.


A ghost appears
on your lips, when you explore
the silence of the road.


Learning the grammar
without prepositions; how will
you reach my words.

Satish Verma

28 May, 2015

On Unknown Track

From window to window―
a search begins,
for a healer.


The black pain
floats between the moons.
I wait for the Socratic destiny.


As required I will
not commit the suicide.
Would meet the strange god.

Satish Verma

27 May, 2015

Becoming Myself

A ghost truth
levels down,
the traffic. You enter
into catatonic stage.

Rage and anguish
will ask,
for the price of blood
flown down the river.

with the eyes. Leaffall,
luteus, music of descent
on grass.

A dust storm
settles on sill. I will
look through the window, at
a setting sun, unadored.

Satish Verma

26 May, 2015

A Small Story

Talking of obscenity
you were undressing
to show the scars.

It was and it was not
a display of is. Little
raw wound.

The lungs will not take
this insult and scream
in full horror.

One collapsed faith, after
the god failed him
to climb a ladder.

I am still convalescing
from the gunshot injury,
when you fired at a blackbird.

Satish Verma

24 May, 2015


Doing nothing, for no
obvious reason, engaging
the travails of self-watch, I do
not want to confront the propensity
of withdrawl.

The elder pain blooms, again
like Ipomea. Will not stand the
bright sun’s gaze, I will sail―
out between the blackened
teeth and stammering

It sucks, the female snake.
The phloem, the flora. A tree kills
its own birds. Cannot ambulate
tender promises. A stricture
chokes the poem. Double-
edged truth lifts the weight.

Moon knows the art of giving.
Sends the blood tears.

Satish Verma

23 May, 2015


Attending to my laments,
reading a poem to myself
I could not foresee an incoming missile.


How could you change the world
when a black and white magpie
writes the script of life?


A god once told me
in whispers, he wants to
die in the shadeless sun.

Satish Verma

22 May, 2015


A sniper was around.
I did not want to rush
and kiss the jessamine.

Last night, it was a
retributory offer
to put off the candle.

I am here to stay
for prudence, speaking
the dialect of the nameless.

I survive the fetishes
of light. O unknown, I
live in darkness.

Moon was my solemn-
pledge. I had always stayed
in the house of truth.

Satish Verma

21 May, 2015

This Was Love

The feel, it hurts
when you
open the eyes.

The world
returns you back,
your name.

A moon
will miss the
night, the darkness.

A door shuts.
Nothing moves, except
the footfalls of unknown.

Satish Verma

20 May, 2015

Silent Journey

The orange poem
wanted to blunt the white
moon, obliquely,

liberating the sameness
from the hands of
twin souls.

There was no invitation
to jump from the immoral peaks
when the fire broke out.

A blue thorn
in the flesh of a pink dawn
explores the text of broken earth.

Dust on dust
writes a song of wings
who would not take a flight.

Satish Verma

19 May, 2015


Earth was sending a long
shadow on the moon.
A great night for both of them.


A city of dreams
lies still. A divine path
opens for the erring earthlings.


A night falls
surreptitiously on the lake.
The moonlight was trapped by waves.

Satish Verma

18 May, 2015


Sailing over the body,
dream to dream
I see, a seated Buddha,
at salt coast.

Everytime you were on wrong
side. It was only accidental?
You start making a snap against
the thumb.

Levitating, you start to under-
stand life anew, cajoling
the pain of abandonment on
the roadside.

Dark lightning sexed the
clouds. Eons away a galaxy
had cried and signature came,
milky way.

Satish Verma

17 May, 2015

Different Renderings

You were lost
like a rolled away pill.
Hibiscus was waiting


As the night departs,
I will look at the moon
through misted eyes.


A bridge has collapsed.
How sad.
A bell tolls endlessly.

Satish Verma

16 May, 2015

Song At The End Of The Road

Drinking from the portrait
of an alienated moon
in a self-taught remedy―

I was looking very
hurt in the muse, which
had failed the earth.

I wanted to say, my
sun was my sun,
broken, eclipse by eclipse.

Who was traitor to oneself?
Sifting the leaves of a
raptor, to find the death

under the shade of
sundew, which blooms
when you become an insect.

Satish Verma

15 May, 2015


You walked with me
when it was pitch-dark.
How do I find you in light?


These were the last roses,
for you. Henceforth
no water will flow from the eyes.


Only your face will swim
on the nippy moon;
burning skylark.

Satish Verma

14 May, 2015

Blackness Of Moon

You walk out from
the bruises, like a late
bloomer, for a clandestine
affair with indigo pain.

I break the barrier,
and teach myself, how not
to make an incendiary bomb.
A cohort will untie the barbed wires.

Now you can tread carefully
on fire ants, undaunted.
While stitches will take care
of the woundless blood.

A hoax sends you scurrying,
to find the golden apple,
which never emerges in light.
In despair you commit a crime.

Satish Verma

12 May, 2015

A Snaky Path

Where do I begin,
extracting the earth
from your skin?

The grim reaper
would wait. I have
to unwrap the gifts―

digging out the roots,
peeling off the bark.
The time stands still.

An exit wound
will receive the unborn

Mother dust will
return the name
of annihilator.

Satish Verma

11 May, 2015

Questioning Again

a blood code.
Manipulating the taint.

towards the violence,
had the tribal instinct.

of testosterone,
was the key thread.

will not know, what
I conceive of the coming onslaught.

was ready to strike.
I am not myself today.

O, life, we will never know each other.

Satish Verma

10 May, 2015


Like the artifacts of ruins,
you look back
at the lost innocence.

Too much knowing,
was hurting.
Life does not spare you twice.

You arrive incognito
in the jungle of
fake hugs and kisses.

Innovative. The fear
strikes, bites with
a lethal sting.

Could not reverse
the anhydrous eyes.
Trying to exhaust the vision.

Satish Verma

09 May, 2015

Dreams Wandering

The moonlight―
singed him at night.
How will you write a poem?


Standing at window,
you watch a shooting star―
hearing a cuckoo’s two-note call.


Picking red hollyhocks,
your face swims before me,
and fleeting time!

Satish Verma

08 May, 2015

Gifting Away

Want to return,
to unknowing, the
trap door.

Filling up the gaps,
the arrow slits. No more
I will need weapons.

Trespassing the,
brutality of sin, committed
against the sanctity―

of body. This is how
I am re-creating myself
without morbidity.

Annihilation, was not
the answer. I am holding
the gold leaves of sun.

Satish Verma

07 May, 2015


It was a free fall,
drowning me on the footpath.
The yellow glare had
scattered me completely.

Left alone to suffer, the
failure were you. When the
brick come, you met yourself
in the doorway of menacing home.

The hunger pang was
obsolete. The fish will
not swim outside the orbit
of a new isle for enigma.

The Turkish stones, blue―
green eyes, haunt me in
sleep. Your life takes an
about-face, march outside the promise.

Satish Verma