31 December, 2016

Lift The Death's Veil

Questioning yourself―
like a Spanish Inquisition.
Ruthlessly digging out,
the anatomy of arrogance.

No flavor. I speak
to myself of atypical
intolerance of a man in revolt.

The slavery of tongue will not go.

On the verge, the other
thought collapses. No longer
the heritage remains faithful.

Love suddenly becomes
stranger. You won't touch
yourself. The narcissism becomes suicidal.

The black song
empties the mind. You want to weave,
but air does not become green.

I stand alone. The cosmos
moves away.

Satish Verma


Life, sex and pain were
of mundane existence.
From where to where, we
have arrived.


From a bridge to bridge
you cross the river
without touching the water.


When a nameless projectile
downs your flight
you fall like rags
from the sky.


A spider runs
on tiptoes
you wilt like mimosa.


The ink spills
an the sheet
hiding the code.

Satish Verma

30 December, 2016

In Exasperation

Open the news paper
and find out that war has a set sequence
of going daily,
and has a negativity.

The physical shock, when
the earth trembles. Your body
becomes stone, hairs stand.
Light breaks through the twisted limbs.

I don't love the ritualism.
Time will not stay for you. My life
becomes your life. Sod
will receive the ashes of rage.

And you will delete the
presence, the touch, the dust
of departed fragrance. Once upon
a time, death used to be a song.

Satish Verma

Undraped Souls

I run my own life, when
epicenter moves to periphery.

A drink of hemlock
from your purple― spotted eyes.
You want to squeeze the blue sky
in your chest.

Was I violating your
sanctum sanctorum, hidden
deep in crevices of ancient love?

Your voice was cracking up
hoarse, as I listened
in silence, concealing my
poem not to explode.

Wings become the tongue
flying off, like possessed
celebration of loosing
the glaze and becoming a naked mammal.

A cold-blooded laugh!

Satish Verma

29 December, 2016


It was the frontal assault
of brutal summer.
I waited for the rain
to come and fall on my neck.

There was no grief
between the aches.

In starlight, flitting
around in bushes,
you take me in twilight.

The vernacular nirvana
begins, till my moons squeeze.

It was not a stabbing
wound, to be picked up
by a poem in distress. Light
on light will speak

of femineity in dark.

Satish Verma


Standing on black stones―
in water death,
I let it go, my pride
at the end of bay.

No obituary
no elegy,
will erase the thoughts of coming and going
of moon, when night
starts crying.

The smoke-filled eyes
will speak of the burnt house,
when the sun was
telling the truth.

Setting frozen tulips
at your feet, I bring the
river of tears
to start the day.

Satish Verma

28 December, 2016

Afloat In Words

Would not move the things.
They had moved me.
I will never be the same.

Probably a time to learn,
listening to yourself. The
sensors didn't go wrong.

More often I will unroll
my candles and burn
them with my life.

Ripening old, in dry
fountains― waiting for
rains in songs of sorrow.

History does not repeat.
I am preparing myself
to start again writing my book.

Will not commit anything.
Standing in morgue
searching for my unclaimed face.

Satish Verma


Will not donate
my bloodstained shirt.
It divides the cuffs.

The alphabet turns
around to watch the fall
of syntax.

Everynight I wait
for the moon to rise
from the crescent of golden eyes―

for another encounter
with a god, who
would not listen to soliloquy

of a rich begger―
sitting in the ruins of a temple,
he built of dreams.

Satish Verma

27 December, 2016

Color And Shades Of Punta Cana


Memories on edge
one after the other―
salted, dried and smoked.

On green sea―
in a sail boat.
You do not know, where to go.

Hot and humid night.
Half moon, sitting
on a royal palm.


A violent sun
was rising. Knocking down
the unending music of night.

The purple flight
of fish, clams and crabs,
overrides. Tomorrow they would be
on table and white sand in your eyes.

The waves, come one by one.
To die on the receding shore.
Your hands tremble, holding the sea.


China rose. Evergreen.
You will find its glory
petal by petal
at every step.

On a tropical beach―
at sensual dawn.
You come out
to pick up the poems.

Love is the arrival of carnations.
Do you mind the nameless pain,
When you walk Matilda?


Earth breaks here
into palms, like spread hands
and hibiscus blooms.

I find the red lips
on burning globes.
of honeysuckle shades―

the sand, sky and moon.
They will meet tonight
at beach for parting kisses.


Something climbs your bones
like an invisible wave
of primeval lust.

A blood feel―
from the pricks of Duranta,
the secret of land's native instinct.


It falls like a quivering leaf:
the sultry night.
A salty wind slaps and tickles.

Walking under the royal
palms, escorted by
lined cycads.

Full moon hangs
overhead, watching the sensual
dance of light and shadows.


The absolute stillness,
hisses. A vicious assault.
Your hands fly to ward off the evil.

A savage storm
of whirling thoughts―
uprooting the dream of wholeness.


I spread rose petals
on your frame.
You smell―
like a garden.

Around the moons
I will draw the Caribbean sea
with a roving eye.

The lush green, your body
of domes and hairless seeds.
Skin starts burning like a peach.


The flames
now leap. Sabotaging the surging blood.
A subtle and delicate presence begins.

The ism has a silent
fall. You can hear the turbulence
before the poem is born.


The age
unwraps you.
Listening to the sounds of sea.
You are ready to face the ageless.

Time takes its
pound of flesh.
You bleed in grass.

Wind smears the pages with dust.
You were writing―
in praise of absence.

And when the full moon
gives a call, you
become speechless.

I have lost my home

Satish Verma

The Thick Skins

Anointed truth
had no path. Path
was the truth.

Not a play of
emotions. I am talking
about the transparent
leaves pressed in the books
of fake religions.

When there were
fireflies, you deleted the rains
and sapwood saved
the lip's blues.

You rolled around
the burning pyre. Flames were
embracing the dark lies,
about the brailled poems.

Perfectly in harmony,
Bach was being played by
a blind artist. Did you know it?

ShareShare The Thick Skins

Satish Verma

26 December, 2016

Lake Huron On 4th July

Sun breaks
on green lake―
into myriad of white birds,
fluttering their wings.

In wet grass
you sink, inviting the black clouds,
to hear the echoes.

You follow the sunset
in a glass of wine,
to become complete again.

Satish Verma


A lake walk,
in the forest of limbs.

Like the blind man said,
I can hear the truth.

It was more of a ritual
to sit in intense moonlight
when seagulls were stealing the sky…

And you will belong―
to the darkness, of unknowing―

Knowing the inevitable end,
that will come, uninvited.

Satish Verma

25 December, 2016

Grafting The Lichens

We are going back.
Let it be.
I will never know―
when will you arrive.

In the aloneness,
going blind to the playing
light, you prepare to drink
the darkness of noon.

Becoming dishonest will
not be possible for me.
The times are revengeful,
come back in black to fix the smiles.

Like water hyacinth, the
disquieting worries will grab
you and hound you to the white bones
and turn away.

Where the blood and
nerves went down? It was
no sin to rise and
stand against the sun.

ShareShare Grafting The Lichens

Satish Verma

Unknowing The Real

The founder will not find
the copper to cast the history.

It has not begun to hear
the farewell to summer.

Arms were coming out
to end the war, to seal the fractures.

Not my pen, not my tongue
will know the secret deals.

Frontiers are being redrawn,
between the guns and the books.

Satish Verma

24 December, 2016


He wants to revert
back to mutism.
No thyme―
no secrecy.

The half-baked pursuit
of non-violence,
accepting the violence,
on other way round.

The otherness.
You want to identify yourself
with a new religion.
Terror of anonymity?

A night blooming cereus
wanted to avoid the sun.
And love, must you
play desert?

Satish Verma

The Enabler

You come to me formless,
to claim your dues―
of whispering poems.

At sharp cliff,
what was your dream―
destiny of taking a long fall?

The rising smoke dissolves
the boundaries, when you
fondle the dark for some pulse.

The final gift arrives
of tears, within reach
of the implosion.

Along the boulevard
a flight of swans―
sails for another lake.

I lift my hand for final salute.

Satish Verma

23 December, 2016

Unabated Rage

A poem
borrowed from the roses
sits today on my lips.

Crowded with pricks
at night, words move
around the flickering flames.

They fly like sparrows
encircling the mind.

The sky falls. Import
of faceless assaults thickens. Red
poppies bloom in wheat fields.

White mushrooms,
come up in summer to complain
against the muted surrender of clouds.

Satish Verma

Missed Adventures

The waves
had brought me to you.
Do not be gentle to time.

Lower the songs
into a mass grave,
as the violence spreads.

This time-travel
will take you to panic attacks.
Blackness moves very fast.

Photons will take you
to fading sun.

now hurts. You cannot
haul the gift of reeds.

Satish Verma

22 December, 2016

In Quiteude

I walk towards you―
till it hurts.

In moment of nemesis
I set you free,
and deceive me.

You look beyond me
and become blind for the road.
Life starts drifting away from
each other to discover the meaning
of truth.

We may not meet again,
behind the faulted moon,
groping for light.

You always knew―
I was not you. A miniature
vice― religion apart,
had become a river between us.

I won't swim again.
Buddha smiles with alacrity.

ShareShare In Quiteude

Satish Verma

Unhooked From Space

The cat had the feral
look. The home was
burning. Drag of
day to day dying

Nowadays the god lives outside
the temple. You don't have patience.
Some zealotry?
A siren song?

I was not in any trinity
of god, man and beast.
On the remote trail you will
find my blood-soaked footprints.

Instead of emptiness
I have filled myself with grief.

Satish Verma

21 December, 2016

Of Heaven Aside

The intimate god,
versus the body of slain faith,
was not ready to bring in the rains.

What quality was the substance
in shadows, while you were
reigniting the inquest?

The space was shrinking
noiselessly. The nest―
was crowded. You would not

place your frame on the wall.
This happened, which
was, not supposed to happen.

The eyes don't blink.
You are looking straight in the
glass of elegy. Why coming and going

of a name should affect the masses?

Satish Verma

Do Not Throw The Stones

Living in a wax palace
and deliberately―
firing it.

The beseeching fault
of life. It demands pure

Self-consciously I
pick up the glossy cowries,
with beautiful patterns
and play my childhood.

How come, the style
remains the same as that
of a butcher or a saint?

The humiliating defeat
in the hands of a dirty character―
becoming a class.

The cradle rocks. A new―
born theme is thrown out.

Satish Verma

20 December, 2016

Of Revenge

Half night of insomnia
half night magma
you never go quiet.

Tremors of blaze
enter the veins.
Moon was crazy.

The graveyard.
First you dig up the hole.
Shot, then you are tossed inside.

A copper in the tank,
you sleep past the belly.
Vessel in vessel, you are dead.

Like a relic, you carry
your head, looking chasing
the cottonwood tree.

Satish Verma

Losing Oneself

What would you give
when I ask for nothing?

A mysterious lineage
of the soul. It has no sequence,
no flesh, no body.
I was heading towards the edge.

Did you know the perfect
no home? It has no crumbling walls,
no hurting windows. The gray roof of sky?

The earth, the damaging
winds. An hour of awareness
in wait. You start
exploring jinxed mind,

hearing voices, but no words.

Satish Verma

18 December, 2016

The Blue Lake Burns

When the roaring tiger
was behind the bars, there was
this otherness. So much voiceless
was that, it had wounded me.

Your life had entered my
dome to meet its darkness, my
sky, my moon and the
riot of color begins.

By unbecoming, dying
in every home, to write the
script of desire, you will take
the path, where my marrow went down.

The clocks, on every wall
to remind me the moving time.
Will you wait for the explosion
to stop the trembling hands?

Not giving an answer you shut the door.

Satish Verma

The Golden Dust

The other day.
A full moon was walking
on the pavement
like a pedestrian.

I was dumbfounded
at the sight of the imperial walk.
To give a poetical start?

Was it a pin drop visual
with no sound? Only night
was listening to footfalls?

I would not know of,
the journey of ending
or ending of journey.

Like death burning
inside the seed, or a golden
flame becomes a lapping machine?

Satish Verma

17 December, 2016


Intimacy in dark
carries the emptiness,
pauses in the way―
under the faint moon.

A homeless bird heads towards
the lake.

The flowers remind you
of crucifixion.

The human loss was intense.
The fire within, extinguished.
No stone was ready to move.
Do you want the sound to be on?

The firmness now starts
melting. A holy river caresses
the bridge. Shores tremble.

Satish Verma

Unknown Burns

Flawless surrender,
when the leaves were falling
of bougainvillea, while
the hot wind blew past.
Future enemies were
ready not to say farewell.
Overtures were charming.
When did I want you to go?
And the dust settled in eyes.
I implored you till the brink
of sunset and moon blink.
Infinitely alarming, it was
you wanted to rename― the bigotry.
The crib deaths had started.
An awkward moment came.
When you wanted to cry
and laughed.

Satish Verma

16 December, 2016

Wary Of Tomorrow

A moth love was evolving,
without a flame.
You are going to bang the wall.

It was too early
to sing aubade. Night was
still rolling on the leaves.

A tall tree failed,
to send the message of moon drop.
How will I read my palm now?

At funeral, a crowd
waits for the bride. The groom
jumped off the dam.

No music was left
between the lips. Angst
was palpable in stumps.

Satish Verma

Flying Woes

The cat was finally
After a professional cut.

An infant injury
of the cadaver, will not speak

of the dead river, of elegy.

No life―
after the rite of passage.
You are confined in a coffin
buried in ice―
in north and south.

The space shrinks
between the screams.
A syncope overshadows the moon.
The howling starts.

Satish Verma

15 December, 2016

Nobody Was Innocent

You were not facing
the facts to defeat yourself―
with palm leaves wiping
away the stains of moon.
The confessions were not
valid in light. Darkness will
decide the fate of an exhibitionist.
In the game of survival,
onlookers become strangers.
You will not stand on your feet.
Invisible hands clap.
Sometimes we don't talk and look eyeful.
I have nothing to begin today
nothing to finish.
The sea swells up without a storm.

Satish Verma

Invisible Import

The space had a scent.
In stunned silence, I will
speak my mind.

More was less. Nothing
stirs, the raging pyre.
As if the poverty of thoughts had ended.

The happenings, splinter
the dream again. Sun steps out
from the black clouds.

You find yourself
interpreting the propelled blaze,
sleeping amidst the mirrors in dark.

The bondage jumps the
boundaries. I am your only
dilemma. I never speak in whispers.

Satish Verma

14 December, 2016

Finally Injured

What you did not know
was the resilience
of tulips.

The riots start
in colors, earnestly. A violent
outburst of the theme of surrender
before dawn.

You kiss the irises,
blue, violet and crimson
for nominalism.

The vision emboldens―
the wounds, the slit throats―
to come again for guillotine.

A sliding blade
with promise to kill,
will not move.

Satish Verma


Answering your own question,
wrapping the kill―
as manifestation of
God's will.

The old earth
still bears the fruits and
comes face to face with the
ungrateful human being.

Not touching your breast, I will
hear your heart beat

Before the rains come,
the rage will sleep with the stones
and reconstruct a―
prehistoric fault.

Apollo wants to leave
Delphi and become a monk.

Satish Verma

12 December, 2016

The Soliloquist

Stares down, the grey
moon, fixedly,
in naked aggression…
Fire and brimstone.
I move one step, towards you. In semidarkness
I have lost the address
of peace.

The transgender, stumps
the ghost. There was no noun,
no pronoun, only an abstract
feel. Do you see the
wooly trail beating the dust?

When did you hit the dirt road
not to come back…
What was undone? After
the death of the cuckoo, there was
no wedlock in words.

Satish Verma

Knife And Boat

Like the banana peel
thrown on the sidewalk, you
come across the life.
And you still go on, in the―
search of moonlight―
without pills.
The drugged sleep.
Unorthodoxly you insult
the sun. And one-liners
go abegging for the listeners.

You are talking to your
peers now, long dead.
Fair amount of water, is
needed to sink.
The river merchant has brought
no fish.

Satish Verma

11 December, 2016


The triangle―
right-angled. Pythagorean
I would never find the center.

An absence gnaws
at me. Standing in dark
I start a talkathon with walls.

Stoically, I reverse
the numbers. Fires start.
I am still reading the page,
started before I met you.

The poise, the serenity
are gone. Masks are coming off
there and now I embrace the burning well.

Bliss of looking back
at unreached peaks of pain.
It is very cold.
Now ice will not melt.
You know who bled my poems.

Satish Verma

Fish Ladder

Like a snake
it moves.
My poem.

You are not, what you were
in the night, lightning
the grey moon.

I hear, what you
did not say or did―
not think.

Even dark
forebodings, move like red
ants, from the slit eyes.

I cover the faults
via songbird, which
was calling, desperately,

Satish Verma

10 December, 2016

No Acrimony

You decline to speak―
to listen―
to see
like a meditating Buddha.

Like a sunflower
with moon seeds,
ready to explode at sunset.

neck, hanged from a tree
to tell the tale―
that you were violated.

This was the principle of
cosmic order. Poor god
waits for the world
to show the rage.

I wake up the tree.
Leaves fall like unspoken words
from the decaying oak.

Satish Verma

For Pythia

In suddenness, I will
write a poem for you.

You had stopped at the
outset, like a black moon
opening up perfervidly.

Remote from the oneness
of life, a flame leapt up
to ignite the process of birth―
without perceiving.

Come let's meet at the
navel of the destiny.
I had the penchant of
burning myself.

You, who would never be
visible, I will dust all the mirrors
to find out.

Waiting for the festival to begin.

Satish Verma

09 December, 2016

A Black Speech

Refusing to be
A wound will stay awake.

Mired in bitter controversy,
the captain said―
the war was not a deliberate act of
atoning for the soul.

That prevents the sun
to come out after a long night.

You walk in the light years,
gaunt and dazed,
in pain of hunger. The words
hang in shame.

A city fails, for
another voice of verse,
in favour of renunciation.

Satish Verma

The Hymn Of Love

opens, ejects the scream.

Oh, my god.
The ink spilled
on the sheet, hiding the code.

The scared veins
of pure honey, wets the lips―
of gills. There is no salt.

The water explodes
bursting the dam. No spine was
worth of robbery.

Golden nuggets
are displayed now. Would you
bargain the uphill?

The nightmares begin again.

Satish Verma

08 December, 2016

See My Hands

Overreaching for chemical signs
and word for word,
you want to move on-
without parents.

This was only a poetic
idea, that no weapon will
be used for execution.

Not offering an apology,
we were dissecting the ethics
of violence and war.

A chilling reminder, you are
going to starve the definitions.
But no clarity was visible.

I am becoming bones
and taut nerves.Only eyes
were looking ahead of the tempest.

Roofs were melting.
You want to hit the sky.

Satish Verma


the sexuality
of clock.

Time moves
the hands, of past,
the present.

The future
belongs to no one.
This poem, cosmos.

Satish Verma

07 December, 2016


A near cult glows/ on faces―
for harvesting peace,
saluting each other, without flame.

I have come so far
though you did not want the winds to move.

A new theme was
developing. The first wicket has fallen.
The collective suicide
will follow.

Invoking the sun, you stay in shadows,
without qualms to hear
the swish of swords.

The phenomenalist,
strides confidingly to read your mind.
Heart cries―

Satish Verma

But Nothing

No it will not work.
The amalgam of arrival
and departure.
Debunking the theme
of reincarnation, you enter into the body of a poem.

Crowned and faded out,
all the icons were diminishing
in stature.A winter bath
tries to hold the halo-
for sometime, and then disappears
in obscurity.

Where the things go wrong
and connectivity snaps?
The tall people, yes very tall,
crumble under the weight of anonymity.
When you climbed down from
the pedestal, light was dim.

Did you ever receive a blast in face?

Satish Verma

06 December, 2016

This Cosmos

The tall, dense, tree of life
divides the culture, ages.
Will witness―
the gorgeous, ruinous and
hideous days.

How would I claim
the legacy of a deaf and dumb

The fragile bones of the
earth, break.
Blackberries burn under
the eyes.

The hidden herons
fall involuntarily, when you
trim the tree for a
new moon.

Satish Verma


Xanax in the blood
Empty chairs.
Small birds, hopping from here
to there. Waiting for the guests.

Evening sits on the
dirt road.
We look together at the
cracked moon.

The grace of becoming
gray, sweeping the floor
of life. You will wear a different
smile everyday.

The house follows you
wherever you go.Saturn or Mars
will not cast a spell of malfeasance.

Satish Verma

05 December, 2016

Startling Likeness

Yes it is descriptive only,
the unbearable pain of denudation,
like blue heartache.

Touching the extremes, you
become desperate to―
reach the first letter.

The word will form later.
The virtue of knowing―
the unknown was a punishment,
you cannot untie the knots.

You must know the trick of―
the trade. How to come back
alive after touching the skin
of a viper?

No celebration to mark―
the anniversary of the assassin.
Life itself takes the award.

Satish Verma


There was obsession, to wash your
hands again and again.
They swing wildly.

The moods.
Betel leaves, and bad grammar.
Charity untainted.

Divided walls.
A street breaks the steps.
Nails scratching the rosary.

The stranded words,
will not sit on the wide screen.
The damp soil becomes dark.

No gift was needed―
unmaking the wasp's nest.
I bend down to light the lamp.

Satish Verma

04 December, 2016

Evocative Images

A single line,
undefined, hangs
to make your life vulnerable.

The drifting starts.
You fumble for the right―

to convey the urgency
of a moratorium. The
dew on the grass,

was not ready to
accept the rainbow of
false promises.

Flat refusal comes
from the deprived homes.
The poverty has become a sin.

The elegant procession
of the king was throwing
dust in our eyes.

Satish Verma

Whirling Dervish

In being and unbeing
I come to you today―
in unconscious state.
Excessively leaning on
cause, it is not heart―
not brain. Just a beat.
Evening is settling
down. Time flew past. Birds
going home. A lone moon
will rise.
Underground thoughts start―
stunning the secrets.
You open the lost book.
In war go the alphabet.
Questions arise. After all―
who was me.
The awakening begins.

Satish Verma

03 December, 2016

What Grammer

The tremors. One day
I would know. The trees are walking.
No miracle. We are―
becoming rootless.

The fear, was palpable.
Nowhere to go. All the roads
were blocked. The king
is being anointed after the bloodbath.

No logical lie was needed
for targeted killing.
Why did you start the
bonfire near the oil wells?

Satish Verma

Far And Wide

The night poem
was the breast-feed
the train whistles by

the thugs squirm
no waylaiding now
in the dark hour
till the moon rises

the drag queens
are out to collect
the marbles
would you play the chess?

faithfall will spring
a surprise becoming
god himself
do not tell any prayer―

Satish Verma

02 December, 2016

To Know What We Do Not Know

Though inaudible, I will
hear you― clear and distinct,
offering to be understood.
Destigmatizing the ghost of truth
and be accepted.

The noises still persist
of the parables. Who was the
king without a crown?

Accepting nihilism, I will
ask my inner voice, will
you meet the god?

In anguish I search the answers
to deepest mysteries.

Do not wash the words.
Your hands will pick up
the fallen moon in dirt.

The slanted eyes.
You want to drown in the
crevices of pain.

Satish Verma

Melting Nowhere

Everything was in place,
and I started to find―
the kingpin, door by door.

Wanted to know more about the death,
when you were struck in silence―
of blackness.

Displaying the art of kill. It has
an ancient throw of fangs.
I am ready to catch the blues.

All day the hibiscus has
been bleeding. I will never
disappoint the skin of the pilgrim.

Oh pink eyes. Sometimes
I wonder, why this shade rests
after wedding a celibate.

Satish Verma

01 December, 2016


Eclectically, do not say anything;
put a bullet in your head
and go to sleep.

I know what was coming
after the ballot. A heap of
abuses, for not maintaining the war.

The presence you can feel,
I am the native of this land― when
hurricane comes, you untie the shoes.

May be, wearing a dark suit,
the bartender comes and pours the
honey in your broken glasses.

The music must not stop. The
black spiders, with paired legs have
synchronized with myriapods.

Satish Verma

Distant Dangers

Aquilla. Would you
carry the burden
of ungiving?

Transmuted, I
will find you in portrait
of sublime?

And I will see in your eyes
a cosmos, floating in void.

But a primal question
remained unanswered, who were you.

Through the blue sky
and legends of dark, the
constellations squirm.

And I start believing
in God dust.

Satish Verma

29 November, 2016

Do Not Wear The Dreams

You were different from
others, away from home and hypocrisy,
unlistening to the fiat
of karma.

There should not be
any put-on face. Hibiscus will tell the truth.

Sanguine. I will again
invoke the bride of moon.
Time to go for a simile.

Eros tips. I educate
the limbs, not to go
for the anima. The bearded face.

You had ruffled the tranquil
poem. I cannot gather
the tender moments.

Satish Verma

Dilemma Of Ink

The ostrich problem
of catalepsy.
You go into a cocooned

I will wait, till you
come out, ready to take a flight
for an oath ceremony.

The land suffers,
the sky weeps.

The shotguns would now decide
the boundaries of speech.

I will walk into the
sea of heads, to find the sunken ship,
to retrieve the faded road map.

I have to face a new testament,
how to remove this poverty
of right words.

Satish Verma

28 November, 2016

Living Perilously

You will remember―
what I would not― the
inner darkness of noon.

A bright sun goes
blind for a caged bird. To
dream or not to dream in
the path of unknown.

Any celestial movement―
will bring the halcyon days?
One day the man will change?

This culture, your
ethos were making the
sense datum extinct― a fossil.

Far from the meanings
the body language flies
in wings of wax.

Again an era ends,
the very blood of stones.

Satish Verma


Night blinks.
Light sits under the door.
I am ready to confront the moon.

Too much brilliance
was there. Would you redesign
the blue sky and paint the new stars?

Poverty was my great strength.
Nothing to lose, when
you were dancing with the shadows.

Satish Verma

27 November, 2016


the burning coal has gone to sleep,
before igniting the dry grass.

Eye to eye colliding
turning you into ophelian mess.
Light had gone back to black matter.

It was a frisk season―
in sick society. The hidden plaques
have come out in the blood stream.

You are now backtracking
on the uphill, ready to fall
from the green heights to connect with ground.

For keepsake I will
again unwrite the book
not mentioning the stillbirth of freedom.

Satish Verma


Be what you are.
As night falls,
I start moon spotting
standing starkly against the pain.

Reaching for you
from you, in―
moonless night.

The relationship of
dream blood, was never
seen but heard.

The pursuit of location
where the eclipse descends like a dot
on truth.

I am going to touch
the surreal constellation
again in your wet eyes.

Satish Verma

26 November, 2016

Never Wanting

The weight of the ideology
flattens your upheaved chest.
You speak, what you did not want to say.

A fake hunger and pseudo-demands,
put you on the pathless clouds.
How would you now fly towards the sun?

The polarization was deliberate,
to usurp the authority. Blue jays
have refused to join gangs.

A faded document tells about
your missteps. A bunch
of eunuchs have come to guard the palace.

Black versus black will
not brighten the screen. One third of
generation had the criminal record.

Satish Verma

The Accidental Fall

My bronzed speech is available,
accepting the defeat of daffodils.
I will not write an elegy.

The postpartum blues are over,
I am coming out of the crib,
like a new born poem.

Floating the paper lanterns, at
night, on flowing river, to send the
message to moon. No more the beach will cry.

The triangular nuts will
speak of the hurricanes, protecting
the hairy seeds.

No resistance was needed
to stop the invading army of black
ants, ready to tear the dummies.

Satish Verma

25 November, 2016

Ecce Homo

When silence stays alone
in the hollow of the eyes,
would you come?
In the audacity of
beauty and pain, when
the moon does not rise.
Like beggars the clouds
roam, parting the
sky for a glimpse of a vision.
We will speak like
strangers not looking into the eyes.
Not quite sure―
you blinked. Time to return
back the gifts of ocean
profound and deep.
Pearls, tears and half-angel.

Satish Verma


Arithmetic becomes poetry,
when you start counting the stars in Milky Way.

Light will cross
your path. Your own sun
becomes a logic.

You step into a holy bath
to collect all the scripts
of the dark circles.

Where the infinity starts,
you become the center?
of all the conflicts.

A simple way to burn
without throwing light.
How would you raise your finger?

Satish Verma

24 November, 2016

The Face In Flames

Salt-of-the lips.
You never know, how it hurts
the bigotry.

It was not the might
of divinity, when you sentence
the child for blasphemy.

I would not kiss the―
stone, where the blood stained
the sun. Grey halo was collapsing.

It was the helplessness
of the river, accepting the guilt
of sunken boat.

Again I recite your name
in sleep. The sting was as cruel
as the tongue.

Satish Verma

Never Again

You to whom, I
am lost, the remaining pain
will fetch the grace―
poise and dignity of

The future lies in―
the halo of the hill, where
the blood was spilled last night.

A black spot on the sun was
enlarging. I spell your name
in a bird song, that croons
tirelessly in timeless dawn.

The moon drenched lake
wails for the boat not to come.

Satish Verma

23 November, 2016

Levitating In Solitude

The heartwood had the ingrained
dream map, to reach the
divine shape of a solemn god, who
was guiding the sap.

One day you would go deep
in dark, to find your roots
where tomorrow was conceived.

And in the ruins, you will
find the warmth of
your peers, still walking on the god-particles.

A religion now takes over
the mob, ready to plunge into yellow
sands of dry river.

The hopes and promises,
give you a horizon, far away.
Your want to touch this furnace,
that brings the burning day of solitude.

Satish Verma

Welcoming New Era

Wearing the red bandanna,
you tried to manipulate the bedrock.
Life had been never the same for me.

The ferry sinks the riding
deity in midstream. In polytheism,
I never had my own god.

O the chemistry of love has
changed. Meatless, my skiny arms,
lift the sage of fallen moon in darkness.

I am not ready to conclude
as yet, my epic of fragmented truth.
We were fighting the wars of lame lies.

Who would spare me to become
immortal in stones? Let us not start the
annihilation of sane shadows in the poem.

Satish Verma

22 November, 2016


Your interpretation
was a miracle of
unbelieving. I was not
a flesh eater.

Between paradise
and a hut, lies the sky
of colored dreams. You
lean forward to―
pluck the moon.

So stoned, was the
sinister design, that
you walked straight
into the arms of stings.

It has become a
strange saga, when a
moth burns, without
a candle.

A sun nosedives with
a water motif on the lips.

Satish Verma

Victory March

The living dead are going to
ask for the right to be
forgotten in gender dysphoria.

In grimed apparel,
the deities were deported back
to the barn, for housing the antiques.

The future turns blue,
moon-eyed, hooking up the
hopes of running heels.

Is that true that there
will be mass suicide after
the fall of the fort?

The fat lanterns now
don't throw the light. Incense
of burning flesh floats.

Satish Verma

21 November, 2016

The Ephemerality

It was punctuated night.
You sleep into wakefulness.

The space between the shut-eyes
trembles, when you start sweating.

The infant-death of the dream,
incites the borderland. The―

flames rise in a partisan way,
to erase the memories of guilt.

You are in deep grief for the
coiled sperms, from end to end,

they were longer than the body.
Would you like to wake up a jinn?

A digital forgetfulness, you seek
to solve the enigma of life.

Satish Verma

Walking In Woods

This spectrum.
No it will not work.
I am not there in the
shade, smoke filled barn, or―
in secular morgue.
Stubble burning was
like legend of war.
How do I shut the
door of diamond moon―
in the kingdom of
weeping night?
An animal in you
will not sleep, claiming the
innocence of baby steps.
A virginal vanity.
Nobody stops you to
display the grains of salt.
Would you listen to the land,
flight of words―
passage of time?

Satish Verma

20 November, 2016

Thinking In Depth

The moment of truth has―
arrived. The earth
has moved the man. It was
accidental verdict. You know,
which cell you will be incarceated now?

My flame-singed eyes, search
the inception of integrity above board.
I am afraid of myself to
admit that societal violence
has come to stay!

Celebrating the birthday of
a self-propelled god, I go
into irreversible retreat. God
bless the wax house, fire was
raging on hills.

The blood cherries, blood on
your shirt, blood rings on your
fingers, and blood in my eyes.

Satish Verma

The Honey-Sellers

In searing heat, on
the fern path―
a thoughtless journey begins.

You cancel the prayer
for midnight blues.
Ice was going to unload.

The skin deep spread
of levator floor acts.
You jump from a springboard
to catch a lucid dream.

Would you now walk like
an eight legged spider?
I will remain sociable.

The hands are not for sale.
I am arranging the combs
on the white sheet―
for the queens.

Satish Verma

19 November, 2016

Forced Tragedy

You loosen the grip
and let go the bank.
After throwing itself on the
burning pyre, the phoenix
has failed. It will―
not rise from the ashes.
An agonizing script
unfolds. In a visceral moment,
I was scared. Life, till natural death.
What do I do now? Words
do not help. Stop doing anything?
A void becomes a voice.
You become whole.
Living precariously, thinking
becomes a tree. The roots
will feed the heart.
A songbird reminds me.
Time to salute the dawn.

Satish Verma

Black Days

It was a marathon race of
timeline. The days are bound and shot.
How do I come to you to express
my grief of the country
in tumult!

In shouting and screaming,
there was no magic wand to invoke
peace. Your mouth opens
and shuts like the shell valves. The
scollops― words, swim in
sea of burials.

The seriality was unconscionable.
It falls short of a stroke.
The blood splits. A riot erupts
to wet the lips of curved razor.
The sun retreats, to let
the stars find their sky.

Satish Verma

18 November, 2016

Fading Sheen

My little dirty moon,
why were you hiding―
when the vulture-poems had
an uncanny similarity with
raging road show?

The volatility would not exit.
It rises in flames to make
a big black hole in the sky.
Sometimes I hate you,
sometimes I, love you,
my elusive, beautiful karma.

At night when I disappear
what poem you will read?
In fast-running stream, your
croaking will not be heard.
Try to begin a dance of democracy.

Satish Verma


Wanting to die young
hairy and unbaked,
not telling the truth.
It was a savage vendetta.
The crowd was not on your side.
In manic intensity,
they shouted― death to the veils
in holiest dip.
I repudiate the presumptiveness.
A super religion gives birth
to a devil― another godman.
In chains, I will carry
a cloud. Very disquieting.
There was no water.
The seeds crawl―
underground in the wake of earthquake.
Collecting the tears to grow.
It is a blank summer.
The fat spiders open the eyes.

Satish Verma

17 November, 2016


Night falls in rings.
The poetry becomes
a summer dilemma.

A dancing frog
starts foot-flagging.
Mating was the ultimate.

Politics becomes
a ritual. I will not come back
to face the lynch mob.

Satish Verma

The Enigma

The traveler sleeps in a sepulcher,
endlessly, timelessly,
where no ray of light enters.
Like the death has stopped
moving, for a moment
to celebrate the close of the journey.

Indeed? Is it the edge of yearning?
I no longer belong to any one,
to any universe. Come a long way
walking barefoot on hot sands
of life where no footprints exist.

Do not go for my vision. Find
your own path. In yellowish― brown
eroded silica, ripened in sun,
I have left my eyes. The moon
will tell the tale of my Olympian

Satish Verma

16 November, 2016

In Harmony

A sudden shock,
when a snakeskin starts moving.
Behind the shut doors
a conspiracy was hatched.
Son of the moon―
wriggles on palms. Sneaks
a glance at the diving sun.
Cut and glued, a mourning looks
in the eyes of a Titan.
The anarchy raises its head.
The make-up cannot be
taken off. It will expose
the artless faces.
When eyelids flutter
of a fallen angel, you think
it was an imperial command.
A pause in pain.
You float on ice.

Satish Verma

Difficult To Understand

To connect with a reclusive mind,
was an uphill task.
You become―
vunerable again.

Everyday the curtains
come down after the entry of
assassin bugs.

Long-legged, bloodsucking
predators would roam
and abduct the phrases.

The young turks break
the nest, petals strewn, a
rose dies in my hands.

My night journey begins
I let out a poem
to become my lantern.

Satish Verma

14 November, 2016


The great lines, you quote, don't
stir me... you know my vexation,
with the twinkling lights, that don't move.
The colors, don't mix... I move
from death to death, to understand
life, and fail miserably. The body
does not open. Seducers
ready to jump for a bite, to tear
off my columns, my domes.

Yes, I give, give away my precious
heart, time, my infallible attention
to heal you.I don't demand any
dough, remaining in penury, do not
ask for the factors. My arithmetic
has failed. Cannot solve the puzzles
lost in maze of juggleries.

It was your world. I am living
at a binary planet, scarcely habitable.
Yet I am happy in myself
looking at the grains of sand on my
hands. You know, you cannot
write like me... like me.

Satish Verma


As I accept the verdict,
the dead-soul beast―
jumps up, draws out the sword
and starts cutting the drift. You shout,
wake up from a nightmare.

The words had betrayed. Vowel
harmony was gone. Voice hoarse, you
stammer, accusing the city, the country
the century.

It was consensual. The suicide pact.
Cloth and body, print and color.
Paper and pen, bed and grave. The
moon had kicked out the feline.

The insomnia, now rules. You
start counting the sins. No stress,
no indecency, sleeping with
dead poems. A big explosion changes the fonts.

You go into long sleep.

Satish Verma

13 November, 2016

Unburned Houses

Once you are labeled,
The human input is out and
you start falling apart.

My home, and I am trying
to set the walls free after―
the explosion.

A sinkhole eats you alive.
I am walking in air
contending with the old god
who would not listen.

Suddenly it is time to
back drive. The wrong road
taken has given in glimpse
of people starting the war.

The land becomes black
and paper lanterns adorn the doors.

Satish Verma


I punish myself daily
to deny a god.
Do angels cry?
Pinning hope in a crisis to extract
the truth from a dying moon?
A ghost walks on the
wall to enter the alphabets
of living deads.
Ambrosia― was not
sufficient to resuscitate
a bleeding cross.
I am charting my life
for you to forget me.
Quasi-surrender. No never
I am just learning―
how to meet the death.
Another name of victory.

Satish Verma

12 November, 2016

The Great Divide

Cut the masks
and you will find a river of sorrow
in the unblinking eyes.

The mud tears had smeared
the face.

Chimera? The fire breathing
will start a new traction to break
the silent protest of lying lambs.

For whom you have come to
offer the chador at the shrine?
For whom the houses were burnt down?
For whom the lives of unborn children
were cancelled?
Whose god?

This is not anonymous insurgency.
My name had been written in.
First Informatiom Report.

Satish Verma

After The Chemo

You said this summer,
hold me tight,
when hanging lights―
go out.

I will heal your moon,
your cryptobiosis
of seeds―

at dawn, when you wake up
before the stars leave.

It would not be a day of mourning.

The quinces, japonica
irises were deeply disturbed.
Under the tongue
lies the religion of masses.

The menus are same, only
the taste was different.

Satish Verma

11 November, 2016

Eyes Like Flints

A streak of sin,
just as culpable,
gives back my pains.
A half-finished poem
jolts me out of my vision.
Someone drops the moon―
and becomes evident in mist.
A profile floats. I
imagine the spreading smile.
I want to understand myself.
The colors blend. Have
you read Rilke? You will not
rise from the surface of―
life and death.
Authenticity has become
rarer. Copyright to kill is
religion. An aquiline nose
smells the prey.

Satish Verma

Something Different

Transcribing my emptiness,
like emulating an ape―
to study the anatomy―
of a scar.

There was a brutal assult.
Uninterpretable was the ink,
like the blood spilled
after the vein collapsed.

An egg within an egg
would change the gender
of a name. A different money
was needed to appease the god.

The skin-sperms, and the
cut flowers. Times have changed.
I cannot fly like you.
I would write an ode to the nightimglae.

Satish Verma

10 November, 2016

Vox Humana

The family pride
goes for the jugular. The rotational
push, dooms the vessel. I
come out in black waters. Night
is pitch-dark.

Riding the tiger, now you
want to come down. There was
no anonymous call to
remember the wits. A buried
myth is ready to romance.

My country bleeds in war
of titans. The secret of the road
was out. It does not go anywhere.
The bottomless pit is moving up
its depth. Nobody will drown in democracy.

Satish Verma


Celebrating the summer.
Planting a wet kiss on―
the hiding moon.
Dousing the flames,
you come in crosshairs
of a mob.
You will light
your own candle now, in―
pitch-dark inside.
Impoverished. Always
poor to buy your happiness.
Like Paleolithic stab, you stay
unmoved, exposed to shadows and sun.
The water affair was kept
alive with bloody curves. No
one believes in old bones.
I will not ask you.
I will not need.

Satish Verma

09 November, 2016

Accepting Defeat

Where was the empirical
evidence, that you don't exist?
The vibes were becoming

The comb has fallen, and
honeybee feels lése-majeste'.
Where the dots end, a
new line starts.

Adrift. The resistance is gone.
Reflecting on the added
infidelity. You cannot pay homage
to ungraceful exit.

Will you be able to draw
the wages of your life? For the
bread and liberation?
Who was responsible for your falls?

Satish Verma

Reply To Fear

This country divides us.
Only cameos were

The ache of the holy river
was your body which
becomes a canoe.

The snow-clad peaks
would smash
the hikers.

Opinions differ,
when the tornado strikes.
You wanted to build a new house.

The black night.
A green silence would
rebel against the stars.

Satish Verma

07 November, 2016

Weird Enigma

You have to spell it out.
Where the sun sets
in shifting sands?
Picking up the heart rocks―
I was learning to
walk away from undying.
Who would confuse the
infinite falls. There was no conclusion.
Again you come howling,
waiting for the snowmelt from
the face.
The lips become the stones.
You will not count the peaks.
Overnight, it has
turned grey, my red moon.
I will take hold of the night.
There was no referral
of lying truth.

Satish Verma

My Truce

Without trying to become
an avenger,
you were trying to find the―
joy of primitive faith.

The dignity of terror has
to be modified.
You were now afraid of―
yourself in the crowd.

This thing had a dark tone, when
you cross the street.
Underneath, the seed vessels of
past pain, were ready to split open.

The bandits wait on the line
of control. The shock
comes out in open. Society is
generous, accepts your blood.

Satish Verma

06 November, 2016

Homage To Flesh

Far beyond the light years,
I will seek the darkness―
where the hope was born,
and night had the faith.

The trust not betyrayed, become
meniscus, when the crowds
start coming. Dog bitten you scowl.
A half-written poem was ripped away.

An inside truth comes too close
to flames. Something limbless―
moves in empty mind. In the
falling snow a dove flutters like a myth.

Half-truths are touted now as,
a new brand of secular religion.
Something was amiss. Man was
afraid of himself, becoming semi-god.

Satish Verma

Unborn Desires

When I make a heap
of all my killer pains,
rains come.
A half-moon casts
a spell. Hope used to
have many colors.
A black magic
ruffles the feathers, casually.
Peacock forgets to dance.
Rocks. Like rare earths.
Difficult to separate you
from me. The call of the mountain
rattles me again. Will
that continue, unending
path, towards non-existence?
In the dark greens, it
was a murder, I cannot find
the blue moon.

Satish Verma

05 November, 2016


It was a breech birth,
scuttling the forecast,
under water search.
Sad night.

The sand fills your
pockets. You start
licking the salt
jettisoned by violent waves.

Don't focus your mind.
D-Day is drawing near.
No deference to sun.
Unfurl all the sails and ride the breakers.

Satish Verma


It was a mixed affair
of love and hate.
You are in deep water
to engage in a dialogue.

Almost farce was the
black ice. Animalism was the―
same. It was murder
in one form or the other.

The landscape would be
remembered for illicit violence.
The virgin sea hides the remains
of midair collision.

The purple men talk of
casualities in war times. The
relocation of peace march was
a big mistake. The vultures―

refuse to move from the trees.

Satish Verma

04 November, 2016

I Will Not Agree

This was the first
evidence of altered genes.
Keeping you in abeyance, the
barbs fly from lips to lips.
It is pitch dark.
Reaching the tortuous path of climb,
unabashedly you want to say
it is over.
At the edge of hurts.
What was your pride? Very
private, very distant, thinking
to and fro, when someone wants to pull you back.
Do some questions arise?
Are you ready to talk?
The sermons, the prayers won't
help you become a subject―
to unseen god.
The delusion of being chased
begins. Truth becomes silent.
Will nihilism overtake?

Satish Verma

Stationary Waves

antinormal was not a―
big task, like discovering a new mineral.

It was upside down
a binary star.
Mother and son of morning.

From your absence,
I pick up a poem
and milk the words.

Unlike the purple poesy,
you write,
when the pith becomes the spirit.

The houses set apart
have no boundary layers.
We were immersed in our
strange thoughts.

Satish Verma

03 November, 2016

Sonorous Tones

To skim the sky
like swifts,
when you move away
from yourself.

Holding a four-leaf clover,
night drapes the moon,
taking a lion's share of light
on its wings.

Your full lips defeat
the kisses of incense. I
will come again to
learn Ars poetica.

The fake blooms. I will
never see the death
of a rose petal, skipping
the barbs.

Satish Verma

Nobody Will Die

Knowing the beginning
and the end,
you stand in water.
Transparency should
come first, waiting
for your time.
A blind pursuit for a brilliant moment,
to break the black rock.
The bloodstained eyes
tell the opacity of eternal lies.
Can you melt the darkness?
The holy edge was inviting.
You want to settle
for a suicide, after the hymns.
O golden peaks
I don't want to climb the illusion.
Sun was sitting in my room.
A bluebird was
staring at me. When do I
start laughing?

Satish Verma

02 November, 2016

Moonlit Lake

Hot fish
becomes topiarist.
I want to remove the scales.
Once for all.

The lesser island
holds the boat. You
become ready to rove
in dark.

Hot fish
scrambles at dawn.
Do not open the eyes.
It will go straight.

Satish Verma

Knocking At Door

I would not bend the
truth. A grape in mouth

will stimulate the wedge.
Night will hammer on my chest

with glossy fists. I am born
again in your muteness.

A ghost line walks with me
to pull out the delicate verse.

Everyday a tulip is delivered
in the folds of woodcraft.

Satish Verma

01 November, 2016

The Bleak Landscape

In this cruel summer,
body becomes a river―
embroiled in sun.
Gnomes tied to our
bones dragging you down. You clasp the portal
of a feral cat.
Obsession rises.
You kill the petty thoughts
On the edge―
comes the thrifty moon
in night. No holds barred.
In desperation, you
call all the dead stanzas.
Nobody believed in leper's tale.
The black eyes burn
without flames.

Satish Verma

Into The Dark

In western sky
hundreds of small birds were
flying in an arc,
synchronized in orange.

The grass, holding
the skirts, wants to cascade
in death of the

Let the copper―
speak of hurt, in the
thighs of moon.
It will not climb tonight.

Satish Verma

31 October, 2016

Said In Part

Impacted in lunar surface,
the centuries of dust and
dust of centuries, were willing to surrender
orange love,
hovering over your trajectory.

The second death will not
come, flesh consumed.
I will draw your profile
in white desert of psalms.
Life was a big funeral.

Footprints in snow were vanishing.
I have come afar from the
home. I don't want to leave
the traces of my missteps.
Time was very venomous.

The roses will not die, never.

Satish Verma

Closed Chain

Not a single word
wept, when sky was overcast.
Who wins ultimately?
The cell in the death,
or death in the cell?
I tried,
I tried not to do any wrong.
The centuries suffered.
The pollen in the wind
will not land. Each grain
was a harbinger of a relic.
The purple tears―
for bread and water. Who was
not hungry?
A peacock dance
goes waste―
without rains.

Satish Verma

30 October, 2016

Traveling Constantly

Again I have come back
in the crowd of fakes,
to understand the nature
of dark.

The questions have become
my beacons, I am prodding deep
to stumble on the temper,
ethos of white lies.

You will not take your own
life now. We will stop grieving for
the sunken ferry. Who allowed
the novice, third mate to steer the ship?

Do you know, where the country
was going? The swords had
become a junk shop. Tongues stale,
the language foul.

So we will go for a collective hara-kiri?

Satish Verma

The Atavism

The cannibalism was back.
You were eating yourself

The guts spilt,
would meet the dust,
in abode of earthworms.

They creep and burrow
and bury the organic themes.
Unpolluted, untouched.

The bowels undulate,
to the thumping rhythm,
of greedy feet. White eagles?

How far this digging
of gold mines will go?
Someone had swallowed the glitter.

Black birds are joining
the procession of
empty hearses.

Satish Verma

29 October, 2016

Praying Mantises

Unresponsive, an
alien ego: I was moving
deep into the soul-search.
The compactness was
snapping. Played against
the hype, the hawks were descending.
Like milkweed I drip,
waiting to be kissed. Copycat
the moon makes a scar. I am hurt.
I wanted to touch you
behind the lens. Closed in,
the lips won't meet. Cobra will
not spread the skin.
The lamb has lost the
innocence. Knife was
a blessing.

Satish Verma

On Sick Bed

There were involuntary
When you stretch at the sheets.

Those were scorching
questions, about my identity.
I tell, I don't have any name.

The body was partitioned.
My head belongs
to psalms, which I don't understand.

My torso to the lost
ship which went down
without a torpedo.

My legs were my own
taking me, to places, where
I did not want to go.

Satish Verma

28 October, 2016

Striving Hard

Like inky jet,
ejected on white paper,
the cuttlefish
of a poet―

was warding off the
unseen enemy.
The dry flattened
chest, would remind you
of a chalky desert.
Only cacti grow there.

You go into a trance,
then convulsive seizures, with
a loud scream. You
invoke the toddler god
who would kill king cobra
fifteen feet long.

Satish Verma

Silent Prayer

A manic moon
in ethereal night-
supplicating for a single
cord.Not becoming unfaithful
to me.

An empty desire-
in your absence, remaining
a secret even to myself.

Becoming pseudo, full
of titles, that was not my
world.I am engulfing my
achievements away
from you.

As the life moves on
leaving the bloody footprints
on my chest.I will
always fight my demons
with my broken pen.

Not a blessing I need,
I want to remain a human being.

Satish Verma

27 October, 2016


instrusive, was the withering effect,
questioning the sex.

Filling the space
between body and soul, you
sail into emptiness.

The mistakes―
happen in night, sleep.
Death will drop the stars.

Ergo, the embedded
testes will not descend; you
can kill the sperms of mosquitoes.

Blueberries, haul you
up from the darkness.
You will find your sun now.

Satish Verma


After a little wee,
I will put the record straight
by removing your name
from the hit list.

No more, the river
bleeds, chasing the mannerism,
of falling stones on
the glass houses.

A massive selfie campaign,
overtakes the school bus,
full of wayward, tipsy
wandering kids.

The negativity
targets the blooms. Roses are
roses, they will not stop
sending their compliments.

Satish Verma

26 October, 2016

What Was Not Said

The cuckoo gives
a final call.
Moon was rising.

Trivialities of the earth
be aside.My dream
is going to burst.

Golden keys in a ring,
hang down from your neck.
I am imprisoned again.

Into some intimate
moments, I will inject some
tears.My time has come.

Where the road
ends, a tall tree will wait
for your coronation.

Satish Verma

No Reason To Wait

The vagility
was close to disaster.
Standing amid the ruins,
we were ready to break ourselves.

We had come afar
in search of the golden deer,
which we find now standing dazed
in the moon's dawn.

The dark circles under the
eyes run deep, hiding the babies
unborn, looking back at the dead,
living god.

The sick society now finds
relief in the screams of
windows, that will not allow
the sun to peep in.

Satish Verma

25 October, 2016

Pack Of Wolves

You had tasted the
salt of a viviparous.
There was no asterisk
no bluff to cross.

Why did you turned yourself in,
when the rock was
melting? Was't it an act
of surrender, of sort?

At the end of the road―
moon was waiting for
you. Could you climb the
night for a rendezvous?

Coming of age,
you will not exit the stadium
till the rape victim is shot dead.

Satish Verma

Taking Sides

Courting the dark words
picking up from beautiful life,
I weave the tapestry-
in circle of silence.

The liberty of blood
had become obsolete.
You wanted one kill, one voice,
one faith.

The acid test shoots down
the black roses.What
about the mass graves as a
signature of victory?

You cannot stop
the bloodbath.As if a swarm
of big bees was ready
to hound you.

Closing the last window
I suffer.I would
never become you.

Satish Verma

24 October, 2016

How Dazed?

Eons ago, it snapped.
You don't fit into the mold.
Like onion peels, I am trying
to open myself
holding the secrets.

you alway had to invoke
the inner god and―
forgive yourself.

With the same
left foot, always leading you
to truth. That was not now.
Your belief was going up in flames.

Who was sleeping
in your bed, nude, like the
moonbeam, when I was not there
to undemand, the eternal sleep?

Satish Verma

I Will Not Be Back

One small step, in dark.
A silver of fear
slaps you.

You move around
to confront the past.
It was the partition of night.
Cobra white, when
eyes would not listen.

You drugged the stone
on stone,
hiss on hiss,
hair on hair.

I did not touch you
like burning coal.

My waterfalls
on red salt, bring the
largest tears of moon glittering
eerie wet.

Satish Verma

23 October, 2016

What You Won't Say

Don't spell the deportation.
Mind seems split-
with a maddening feel.
Do you see what I see-

the invisible lines on
my hand, piercing your heart?
Do you hear, what I
hear- the Hum, which has
made you go crazy?

Dying to unspeak, you
hide between the leaves.The
borrowers come like Crab fish,
ugly and demanding.River
bed was drying up.

Black sticks, things not
required- get piling up.In
wheelchair, you push
a crying doll.

Satish Verma

The King Vultures Are Coming

The causal effect
was the kiss of the blind spot.
I wake up every morning
smelling blood.

The space animates you,
leaving the truth outside.
An unwritten message was lost
in the watering eyes.

The aquaduct dries up. You
get the cramps of city,
after the memes of swollen eyes.
Do not open the umbrella,
sun was hiding.

Your brain becomes wired.
Someone slaps a sticker on your lips.
You cannot cry. A muffled scream,
shatters the windows of the capitol.

Satish Verma

22 October, 2016

Violent Flaws

You call an all night truce
of all stripes in moonlight.
Only milk will flow in dark.


The violets had a secret to tell.
Tonight the moon will
appear red after meditation.


A single parent, gay, has
come to stay in line
to accept his godless defeat.

Satish Verma

Poem Of Summertime

And I will hear you
without noise,
in the yawn of night
when I will open
my wound!

Burning in the
intensity of time's blood
I will not touch
you in my dreams.

A fakir wants to leave his skin on the
rocks in sun to become
parchment, so that you can
write your name on it.

And my vacant eyes
in summer night, will search
the legend of undying
grace, in the wasteland
of life.

Satish Verma

21 October, 2016

Falling Debris

Purity of thoughts,
must limit the knowledge―

collective withdrawl from
the valley of words.

Each life you had changed
the bed, to meet the god, in different attires.

Hanged from the roof
to understand the pangs of poverty.

The unborn century will wait
for the collapse of identity.

Man has gone too far carrying
the burden of acoustics.

Satish Verma

The Reckoning

It was revenge on you
by unknown.
You were sentenced to live before
the ashes arrive from thumb to thumb.

The onset of grief
was caliberated. I would
not live with a mad weaver
who will not heal the moral bleeds.

A line delimits the dots.
The dance will not begin tonight,
of democracy. The sparrows
were frightened. There was blood on the road.

You want to go into a long sleep.
The moon had an excuse to rise late.
The seeds will observe the silence,
before they come out of the asphalt.

Satish Verma

20 October, 2016

Parting The Ways

Like wounded tiger,
going for last innings.
Like Orpheus listening
to water, without looking back.

Will not entrance you
any more, under the moonscape,
getting light from
the nightingale.

Finding the passage of
sunrise, I will wait for you
to come last time-
for a goodbye.

Trembling like aspen
leaf, to steal your aura
in moonless night, when Milky Way
will spread the diamonds.

Satish Verma

This Universe

The spirit was not there
under the skin―
in grey domain.
I will not seek any revenge on self.

The defeat was my solo passage.
I am still searching
myself in the crowd.
More than enough, I had my share of hurts.

Talking of the innocence
of a womb, when you were not
born. The steel in your hair
and empathy in your tongue.

A wandering sage will
not love the fall of night.
You see better in twilight. The
shadows give an illusion of angels.

Satish Verma

19 October, 2016


This was a perception defict
when only a suicide could stop you.
From where to where we
Have come in traumatized stake.
Black tongues always ruled. No
rite of passage, where money changers
speak. How will you cover yourself now?

Feminized, the dance of wolves.
Do not throw the chunks of flesh
in arena― for hubris will
bring the nemesis.

The flint makes a pledge.
When the red rains come and
overwhelm the innocent earth,
we will make the tools again.

Satish Verma

A Guilt On Trial

Like a blood sport
you play with me.
My thumb bleeds.

Cannot be salvaged.
You are put on display
like lamb meat..

Jealousy will ultimately win.
Uncoupling has started.

The betrayal hides
under the lids.Side by side
are laid the golden chips.

Now you liberate the unbeliever.
One day the avalanche will bury the rings.

Let's not go back to the
sordid details of relative truths.
I only wanted to to prove that
I was wrong.

Knees broken, I will walk.

Satish Verma

18 October, 2016

Feeding Silkworms

Living in a different
reality. You wanted to confuse
the honeybees. They were dying in large
numbers. There was frantic search
for the skullcaps. Power
of the crowd was on display.
The stingers were on prowl.

Again the mountain
slips. The terrain becomes pathless,
placeless. So where to sit with a mirror?
A tulip garden has arrived
for inquisition. Are you ready
to surrender your cloaks? The
public servants will make an inventory.

The day dreaming does not stop.
I wait. The best is yet to come.

Satish Verma

Sitting Alone

The shallow incursions
grow louder. I have
burnt my fingers, lighting
the moon.

The future of currency
was changing hands. You
start bargaining for―
the water, the air.

Armageddon: will it take
place in the modern times?
Where are the titans
and the hill?

It slows the search for
the truth. The mudslide was
rising and the buried will
not speak, at peace with themselves.

Satish Verma

17 October, 2016

Wasting Of Faith

Annihilating your
own minarets to meet
the god once.

Little time left to make the score.

The climbdown has started
absolute and final.

The methane was
spilling out.You need a matchstick.

Awful.You cannot see
the kitchen fire.Where was
the sanctity?

A noble cause.Dousing
the flames, to leave a naked
body of truth.

Don't split the hearts.Only
give the shrouds.Faces
must not be seen

Satish Verma

Compressed Emotions

I had met the flower
after a longtime.
The rose.

And its fragrance
hauls me to childhood
after the big dying.

A tender, scented dream
will touch me,
to become a poet.

Lying on dewed grass
you think, a promiscuous
microbial libido begins.

The explosion will eject
free verses, waiting in silence―
to witness― the April fall.

Satish Verma

16 October, 2016

The Exit

The sleep was disturbed.
A book reads me.
The thinker will not rest in the arms
of Morpheus.

There is no road. You will
walk in the kitchen for the last supper.

A scream in the throat
dies. I have no soul. The night
looms large. I will not surrender
my pen.

Unquenchable thirst
was me. My head in a spin,
I go beyond the words,
to find the clapping hands.

Satish Verma

I Will Not Come Back

Let me paint a still life.Like
your eyes- unmoving.The irises
with shut pupils.

Why I should be green-
I ask my old mentor?

The terror of a smile
wipes away the tail of dust, with comets.

And the pachyderm remains
buried in the sands of time.

Touching the margins was gone.
You cannot leap over the grass of antiquity.

In fog twin hills will move away
without any acrimony.

A denial becomes a stake
a part of the golden ring- the boundary mark.

Satish Verma

15 October, 2016

Screaming Larks

Abuzz with profanities.
There were gene faults in your
conversation; when the
ice cap was melting.

It should not have happened. The
sea was creeping in my veins.
I will hold back the floods
with my weak hands and strong roots.

The shifting sands and deep
flaws in melanoma distribution,
makes you caste away. The ultimate
lullaby will find death at the door.

Let me commute my frequency
into zero. The worst was yet to
come. I will have no fingers left to
lift your name.

Satish Verma

Forever In Coma

Zinnias were stalking.
The fading moon hangs upside down
from the massive Ficus tree.

Ultimately the grace withdraws.
Now you sit under the bo-tree
becoming a wet Buddha.

Unthinking, unblinking
falling out of thoughts,
and start supervising the barren landscape.

The dawn sets free, the white
pegions to become prey of ravens.
Would you talk about peace?

The evil touches every next door.
I will write a long letter
to me, to unwrite the sermons.

Satish Verma

14 October, 2016

Without Guilt

Something exciting
was to happen.You
call for an assayer.

Morality has failed,
running after the
false values of untruths.

Pure virginity.
I won't touch you again
for the sake of god.

Crossing the threshold
like walking on burning coals
to test the bonding.

The mankind was
always cannibalistic.
You devour the body without blood.

Satish Verma

Losing The Vision

I left a piece of moon on my
table and started writing about
the broken mirror. There was a time
when we used to cry together.

Dusting off the old books, uncared
for months. A rare ritual
defines the motion. It was the
temblor giving me a dustbath.

Do you know who was the leader
of the pack? The greed, the authority?
There was a bright door, between
the umbels. Would you taste the hemlock?

Every thing is in disorder. You
remember how cranky I was when
I found you unframed. Today
I will embrace the empty wall.

Satish Verma

13 October, 2016

Dutch Door

Moving among the glittering―
crowns, as in glaciated valley.
once again, in capital of grief.
I am folding the twilight.

The viciousness of the hisses, zooms,
once you sleep on the bed of silence.
A blue light cuts you half.
I survive on the black tongues.

The assault was imminent now.
Flat foots will invade the afterthoughts.
The incline was treacherous―
You cannot climb up, nor down.

Give me a haiku after the sun.
There was no night work left and―
I am plotting not to kill myself.
I will burn an empty bark.

Satish Verma

Some Ghosting

Hunting calm, without
a kill, without a

A momentary lapse
and you suffer
for centuries.

The pangs of separation
were rising.No birth.
You become a white mausoleum.

And the ancient
bloodshed will take care
of the pearls in your eyes.

Ask the moon
to lift the veil.Bonfires
of sharp pains have begun.

The halo around
your face quivers.I was
not a god.You were not mortal.

Satish Verma

12 October, 2016


Do not sleep, as libido
Moon will visit
the shrine of love today.

It was an end of the―
lone journey. You recover
the path of lost poem.

A river lies buried in
my chest, unawakned.
Would you kiss the stone today?

Satish Verma


Trying to quantify the vices
in you, I am becoming

Going my own way.
I join the migration
of invisibles.

A plucked tiger lily
roars. Amphibians were ready
to invade the mountain.

The curled fingers
had become question marks.
Blindness had become a bliss.

Inlaid in the redwood
lies my blood. I lived under
the branches, naked, carefree.

Satish Verma

11 October, 2016

Foetus Was Not Moving

The mood-lifters
you will need, when
night falls and the poems
start howling.

The crisp massacre
of golden dreams, and you
start disposing off the defunct philosophy.

The myths of heaven
and hell, causing the colossal
anxiety.A dog walks past
a dead body, near the burned temple.

This is the world apart, where
you opened the book for
an eye hole.Then you suck the images.

The pebble in the pond
starts moving.No water was left
to wash the dirty idols.

Satish Verma


The caterpillar on the lawn―
in the name of god,
eating away the copper,
the blue veins of thighs.

Barefoot I come to wish
you farewell. You must stand―
in the decaying woods,
to pronounce me dead.

The auburn fawn climbs on
the podium, to mimic a birdsong.
It was sloth time. Moon was
away and it was dark.

The eagle swoops on tiny
breasts, popping up from the
nest of muse. There were no
feathers and no beak left.

Satish Verma

10 October, 2016

Secret Whereabouts

Deck is empty, today: -
physics of life unfolds.

I know you less now, what
I knew you earlier.
A cloud city after the collision
had become distraught, after taking
a dip in mudslide.

With chainsaw I am cutting
myself. Why not to become a fossil
with imprints of the collapse―
of our culture and education, in
coal pits of ancient times?

The body has hardened, bones
twisted in agony, I grab the window,
to pull in the sun. Only
the eyes will shine in dark.

Satish Verma

09 October, 2016

Unwashed By Sins

Life had tossed you in
Like hearthstone, I sit
deleting my colors.

Time on black feet
runs, on the sacred
river bank.

Molten lava will ask
when, and from where
the funeral procession will start.

A hard core wants
the evidence of rape. Two
leaves will not cover
the naked aggression.

The spooky game had
become, ultimately― the biopic. Once
angles used to roam
on the burning coals.

Satish Verma

Question Marks

The milk run appears like
flesh trade. A bigamous
marriage with two ideologies.

The politics looks like
a fudged slogan. The silence
was broken by screams.

A dwindling faith, could
not revive the ancient Buddha.
There was no pity, no sorrow.

Activism wades on home―
turf. The colossal night
releases the lynx vision.

I am the cipher, you
said, will not connect
to any integer.

Satish Verma

08 October, 2016

Not A Renegade

The summer moon with
poetry and musk.
I waited full evening
to become a coherent whole.

I wanted to quit, like
a Buddha, not to come back
in the baked mud house
where the sun would not break.

The earthen lamp with
a flickering flame, under the
holy basil, wants to die
before the moonrise.

Paralysed lower limbs
will make you sit like a god
on the altar, deaf and dumb.

You don't want to learn
about the red lips of the goddess.
Moon was bleeding heavily.

Sit in a lotus position.
Sky is going to fall.

Satish Verma

Celebrating Dark

I do not write about something
or anything. You will
not knock at my door.

I will be pained, if
you sweep the floor, to
tout the unwritten song.

I sing wordlessly. Even
the echo will open
the waning wounds.

My body, I give to
hawks, to escape the
elegies in the death well.

Even the night
will bring the pillow
for the dying moon.

Satish Verma

07 October, 2016

Chanced To Meet

It was not,
just a kiss of a zodiac sign.
You had become a stranger
between fight and flight.

The trick was capricious.
Albeit, a calligraphy
on a bare tree, engrafting
your name which keeps
on growing with broadening trunk.

You watch the sky
at night and start a monologue.
The stars were expanding,
filled with grief. The
despair of going back home
in dark.

Satish Verma

Venom And Stings

Behind the iron mask, with
unsteady hands, I
separate the conjoined thoughts
and start greening.

I will ask, the god
after a chilling spectacle
of undying freeze, that
don't give me the bliss,
but only truth.

No mercy, no sympathy.
I will walk on the spiked
road to reach you in your own
sepulcher, to become you
and suffer.

Who needs eternity
to grieve for dying lights?
Darkness has its holiness.At least
you won't see the beasts in action.

O god, let the blue sky
open like an abyss to embrace
the fallen baby.

Satish Verma

06 October, 2016


In search of lost
memory, there was no regret
of losing any achievement.
A Buddha was ready
to walk away.

Zebra stripes become
evident at sunset.
Was there an eye in the eye,
the smell in the smell,
of an infant sea?

There will be no
ache retrieval. I am dancing
around the fire, reversing
a sin. The ugly and weird
life has become hypocrtical.

A smoke shapes your preference.

Satish Verma

An Acid Attack

Sometimes I would
look at the lame moon. For
whom you were faltering?

Perhaps, I was a
mirror. You trip, fall
and become a raw wound.

One day I will
touch you with my ragged
hands, to heal my knife.

Satish Verma