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