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.

Incontrovertibly―
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

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