16 August, 2017

Tortured Times

You wanted him alive.
To witness the evolution of
man into beast.

Hounds start yowling,
one after the other―
in dark.

Why do I break the coconut to―
celebrate the death of a god?

It was that simple as
an orchird opens its bizarre labellum
to trap the sun.

A paperweight against
an argument, shatters the window.

The bluebird
refuses to sing.

Satish Verma

Philosophizing

On the run,
was a bon viveur―
in amber thoughts.

I start unknowing you―
O invisible. A curse
will follow if you make me
a god.

I plead, standing
on the rubble, I will not learn
to live without the muse.

Sometimes you disappear
unshorn, in the rain forest―
of stunning phrases.

I hold,
the existence of a ghost.
Undying for the sake of
forced acceptance.

That was the art of inevitability.

Satish Verma

15 August, 2017

Made On Earth

You by yourself,
will become me―
one day.

I am standing―
lone, with
body planet.

The intrinsic design―
of ampersand
falters. And

partition of soul
begins. The mutation
from the dust to schism takes place.

Where tears cannot
reach, the poem
will carry the message.

Satish Verma

New Questions

For lurid details
of velvety arms,
in ashes you sleep.

Knowingly you walk
into a death well,
opening the trapdoor.

Seizure brings
the nearness to unknown,
deliberately.

I do not know me―
now, after reciting
your name.

Oh God, why did
you play with coda,
before the curtain drop?

Satish Verma

14 August, 2017

Some Transcripts

Phobia. As it occurred.
Earth was being spread
on the tryst of man.

You won't learn the
life, wearing the veil of death.
That will ditch the destiny.

It was a big question. How to meet you?

One's own beginning was
transient. You will always
imagine the end.

How wrong world was,
when you were stigmatized
for saving the poems?

Give me your fist not the hand.
At least I am not going to be perished.

Long live the Homo.

Satish Verma

Distressing Call

Fear returns to
glass jars. The generic gap
flutters in narrow
basin.

The caged image. Regency
starts burning. The
divide widens. Your fidgety
fingers roll the stiletto.

Premonition. You condone
the crucifixion, beheadings. I
heal the broken limbs,
punctured hearts.

The striped, elegant walk
on the ramp. I dream of
empty bowls. The rubber
mannequin smiles.

Satish Verma

13 August, 2017

Listening Unheard Voices

The leaning neck
of the moon, getting
intimate with
a tall pine.

Partheno-sculpting
a protégé, without touching
the essentials.

Somebody waits for your
footfalls. Somebody
loves you without telling.

Like sensory pits
of a viper. I smell
your heat.

The swaying hips
of downing night.
Sun was rising.

Satish Verma

In Denial

In shadows of dawn,
there was no theme―
on way to home.

My agile hands were trying
to find the sins of
unbroken faith.

Will you hold for sometime,
the trembling questions
of my parched lips?

My deepest secret was out. I was
preparing myself in extremis.

Not worth speaking of,
I was changing my path.
You will not cry anytime.

Here goes the culture,
the credence of unbelieving.
Stand by me, when I explode.

Satish Verma

12 August, 2017

Strange Logics

A blood retreats―
through the gift of tears.

Pain has no religion.
Why did you search the
truth in ashes?

A command goes waste.
I didn't call a god
for mercy.

The dust leaps for wings.
Rain leaves no scars.
I will come back
to gather the washed bones.

A rusted wound has no thoughts left.

Satish Verma

Preternaturally

Trying to understand the
impossible, I will
reach for you or your
hidden libido.

Gynaecomastia.
Life span cut short by
despondency. A woman
speaks for sex change.

Poverty of thoughts, and―
death of a theme. It
was the one-way street in a
ghost town.

Something to serve in
the way of courtesy, when
you start imploding
to celebrate the arrival of ash.

Satish Verma

11 August, 2017

Exodus

In memoirs,
I send you my poems,
from this insane world.
You can hurt me again.

Like a stone
of an unknown, I will
wait for you, for a potency
climb to understand the resurrection.

Life will extract its price
from you when you
are passing through a burning
heap of skeletons.

Your unending romp was
over. Night was getting ready
to wear a ceremonial gown at
the wedding of the genius loci.

Moon starts licking his wounds.

Satish Verma

Your Tresses Of Night Shade

Do you know my
love, where the road ends
I will meet you
one day.

Life had been always angry
with me. Sometimes I would
sit quietly, doing nothing, and
looking at the hanging―
earlobes of Buddha.

Cannot hone my thoughts,
how to stop the violence.
The Sunday moon―
cracks open like a cotton flower.

The vandals,
I am done with. The headstones
separate the faiths. It was
a punishment.

O bronzed man, don't
hide the gold.

Satish Verma

10 August, 2017

The Land Pulls

Dying was not worth
living. Your journey
starts for unknown.

Why were you fixated to
watch the small men―
milk the moon?

It was very expensive to
buy a decent death.
Religion makes it dirty.

Do you remember the myth
of Sisyphus? I love to
carry my rock without a face.

Not quality of life. It
was a matter of degrees
when you feel liberated.

Satish Verma

Dwarfing

Decoding the love
which will not do us
apart, like death transcending
the history of man and beast.

The perspective
of history was changing. I
didn't want to be happy, with shifting
epicenter of pain of severence.
Let the river flow between the banks.

I was there, where
you did't reach. Becoming stupid
was the choice. My pen will
dig up your mind, when you were
hiding behind the unspoken vows.

Taking revenge was
no career. You will fall from
the heights of rosewindow.

The sculptor was ready,
to anoint a fallen angel.

Satish Verma

09 August, 2017

Little Gods

Do you know the
truth of lies, when
something goes wrong?

You pick up the names
from private dialogues,
to hurt yourself.

Increasingly on edge,
You release the―
doves, to reach the affiliates.

To buy some time
for a debate, I put
off all the lamps.

Why the amnesia,
becomes a blessing in
celebrating the mass beheadings?

Satish Verma

Coding An Ocean

You fault me for
a silent poem.
In infinity of this moment.
I catch the miracle
of unspoken words.

Let me not forget
the way you look at
me via tears.

Why buttercups were
poisonous, untasting you?
Even a simile touch
brings a shudder in leaves.

Give me a kiss of parting,
only you can give. For
ages I will remember the sting.

Satish Verma

08 August, 2017

The Cameo

Chinks― honest to nails,
averting the wants.
It was very dark here.
My screams were not reaching to you.

The sublety seeps
into conversation. Salt was
very bitter. Tears swirl at
the banks of hurts. The stains
were becoming darker.

Poachers were honing
their pens. Someone falls
out of line, to take revenge
on the gods.

Weather was changing.
No dress code was needed
to take a dip in holy water.
A moon crunch will meet you in nude.

Satish Verma

Speaking Of Angst

Killer was brown―
not white. Snowfall
covers the wounds of earth.

No questions were
asked for the body
lying in your lap.

Invisible was the
hurt, inflicted on my soul―
for not paying the debt.

Let the myth of
glory fall of the man.
It insults the god.


Satish Verma

07 August, 2017

In Nostalgia

Dual to one another,
I became
a victim's faith.

Collapsing at
far side of the moon, before
I remembered ars poetica.

There was a motive
behind the question, in
between the teary answers.

It was not possible to find
peace, in verses, on the loud
lake at night.

Will ask myself
again, why not to set
the boat on fire?

Satish Verma

Infinite Loss

Small truths
of gun battle,
with black roses in hands,
beg for peace.

You fly with broken wings,
and fall like a damp squib.

The darkened facts
in outsized pain, want to
revert back to line of separation.

How will you enter
into the sinless book to find
the words of a prophet?

Nothing was personal.
I have come to you―
to complain about you.

Your wrinkled eyes
look straight through me, and
push me into a dark blue lake.

I want to go dumb?

Satish Verma

06 August, 2017

Eyeshades

Your body, intense―
eats the sins,
dedicated to hunger OF temple.

Weeping windows
will speak for ground zero
from where you picked up the rosary.

Would you invoke
the spirits of owls, who would
not open their eyes in day light?

This was the thought
of the moment. I hail
the half-finished kiss.

There was an allegro
in the outskirts of moon.
I wanted to wear a mark.

Satish Verma

I Will Not Be Silent

Overlooks the juvenility.
The shrinking genitals.
It was the militancy.
The freedom, brought
about by the guns.
Now indiscreetly firing at the sky.

This deadpan delivery
of the shut doors. Economy
has failed the toads,
the croaking minions. A raw
poem speaks now
for the unopened coffins.

The run, the run of the
century begins. Some one was
running, non-stop, from
sleep to sleep, away from the sexual
assaults, from rapes, from
man-slaughter.

Satish Verma

05 August, 2017

Where To Go

Go to the speaking moon
to fell the stars,
and to learn a way of becoming―
unbeing.

It was a rough ride.
How could you open the
fist of darkness
and see in absolute nihility?

Can you unattach me,
when I was seeking your pith
in my poems?

Come to me with unarmed
lies, to fight with my truths.
Life is very short and I have―
many things to do.

Satish Verma

Your Philosophy

Why did you cast
a net to catch
the monster?

Some dark whispers
intending to flog the
supermodel?

What was your fecundity
before you had become
a saint?

Lean unto me, my
soul mate. Can you hear
the footfalls of invisible?

The wholeness was counting
the beads. Are we
killing our icons and prophets?

Moving like a madman
was the motif for you.
I am not going to live dangerously.

Satish Verma

04 August, 2017

Revelatory Execution

Listening to green voice―
genderlessly,
I anoint the beautiful death.

Stream of consciousness slides
on shell of faith.
You disturb the pattern of life.

The core question was,
who did not hunt
with brutality, the lost horizon?

I become radical
in captivity. But the exit
was inside me.

Through the small window
I will catch the baby sun
to become my muse.

Satish Verma

In Transition

The end of night had left
a bloody trail―
of the fading moon.

Love erupts with
a pang. I love the privacy
of dark niches.

Life begins to write about
the bare pricks. I start
paying my debts of wounds.

A canary leaves me
bleeding whenever I ask
it to burn with me.

In flames go my
dreams when I invite the
sun to sleep with me.

Satish Verma

03 August, 2017

Without Stopping

Facing the music
of intrigues, the cuckoo
is perturbed.

Very formal, very gentle.
There was not enough time
to prove that you were―
not god.

The snow fence was broken.
Drifters tend to winter
the counting of old coins. Ruins
become beautiful. A deep
ocean invites for a solo dive.
I open my Gita and read the
dilemma of the Sun.

All the facts are rigged.
Nobody was going to sink
the lids in tears.

A moon-blind song bird
wants to reach
his home.

Satish Verma

Falling Rubble

Numerical death
walks quietly in the ruins
of hubris and pride.

The neostrength of
the grass, goes for some aberration.
Wind stops at the gate of unknown.

It was not your fault.
We all were responsible
for the fall of grace.

The calculus of the rubble,
would not tell about―
the last words of fallen hero.

It imperils my belief,
when you wear a brace to―
tell the truth in dark.

Satish Verma

02 August, 2017

In Depression

Your face swims like
a myth.

Night spreads the veil
of a cloud on the
white breast of moon.

No family. Words
move in different tacks.

Water heals, when
your feet were sore.

Soya beans. You have roasted
them alive in jumpsuits.
The faith becomes a devil.

The black eye
waits for the rain to
wash the racial smudge.

Satish Verma

Earthenwares

You cannot bisect
the darkness,
in this unreal world.

A silent pause in words
ups the rejection. You
go out of your mind.

A shadow fear,
follows you in corridor
of light. You become friendless.

Amnesty comes in
way, to dismantle the truth
of kill, without blood.

Don't chase the columns
of light or beautiful
orbs, in intense winds of black hole.

It swallows you
whole, when you want
to touch them.

Satish Verma

01 August, 2017

Half-Lights

With silver spoon, I
cannot eat your words―
selling my poverty.

Another pain comes,
when you walk barefoot
in hot sun, to feel the old burns.

Black moon, and red
eyes, in white nights.
These were my poems.

Your body comes in
between my blues
and trembling morrows.

Satish Verma

On Judgement Day

The horror of you in
lesser light, when you took
via dolorosa, to
meet yourself.

Moon was not waiting
for you in unkind sky. A
pinhole of dark would not send
some hope.

Something unsavory was a
way of unhappening,
tying the knot with the destiny
of doing nothing.

Losing my kernels in
desert of words. I took
the wrong path of liberation―
where no god lives.

Satish Verma

31 July, 2017

Leukosma

A dynamic kill,
when you start crystal―
gazing.

Were you a participant
of an organized
rape of the planet?

Your roots drop,
as you gamble with the
change of coins. It would
become a stillbirth,
of a seaisle.

Telling lies has become
a lucrative job.
Are you going to buy immortality,
in the bazaar of bazookas?

The blast cells were
rising. There was intense
pain in my thighs. Blood
was turning white.

Satish Verma

Translating Death

Dancing on the trembling
flames, virtually
remaining calm, I was just
watching your hands― the palms, and
only the stance of pointing fingers.

I mimic the death
in a cage, burned alive―
or beheaded by a black night
under the moon. One digit added
to the depth of an ocean,
which has no shores.

One day, you will forget
me, walk away from the hand-written
beautiful calligraphy, describing the agony
of man, who would not drop
his pen, even, tyranny tearing away
his limbs.

Satish Verma

30 July, 2017

Dead Lips

Flesh by flesh
bone by bone.
I am tired of your religion.

The fake rituals―
to anoint the sins.
Meanwhile someone will execute
the pollen heads.

Blackbirds will come
and go in the corridors
of power to get the plums.

After a murderous day
slowly the moon
rises, to wash out the
dark stains of earth.

Satish Verma

Path Of Rising Star

You started parenting
a blitz,
against my nest.
I am bleeding on my lines.

It is hurting
me a lot.
Like breathing in chlorine.
The mercury rises, falls.

Towards unknown blues,
you took a dive. I cannot
read the signature―
of nemesis.

Would not find a
kindred spirit. I was trying
to follow you in dark.

The story does not end
here. Back to antiquity, did you
believe in a second cousin
of moon, that were you?

Satish Verma

28 July, 2017

New Religions

Pure kill.
I pull out the shivering
heart in my eyes.

A rising sin. I will
not forget you, never―
your tongue bifida.

And a real―
murder of a blue-green cow
reared for religion.

That sucks. The
numbers, the lies and
the terrible abuses.

The shadows are
lengthening and you were
becoming small.

Satish Verma

After The Sunset

Night was young.
Shameless moon
wanted to talk to me.

Will do what―
I was not supposed to do,
holding back the tears.

We had killed
ourselves with indelible scars
for a puppet show.


Reddish-yellow
rind of bloody orange in
the eyes of severed head.

Satish Verma

27 July, 2017

Rebirthing

It was a quaint
feeling. Something was
going to happen.

I had asked the fading
moon, are you going
to die?

Fear was going to
win, it said. The blues
are approaching.

Do you believe in
probables of phobias?
The killing of big hugs?

No mercy for the
obsession of noisy celebration.
A god was changing the gender.

I forgive the fire,
forget the light and
start embracing the dark for a bang.

Satish Verma

You Love Yourself

The beast
draws a circle for
winter, untelling.

You climb the frozen
falls, to reach the moon
in gray.

The treachery
in domes was evident.
You get the twisted cones.

Under the shade
of stars, you start the
fire to ignite the limbs.

Satish Verma

26 July, 2017

Enormous Precipice

Ah, the statecraft of
present times, was becoming
agender.
The strength of institution
would lie in old oil paintings.

You become stupid
and start living in dark rooms
to understand the sun.

Half-beliefs were―
cooked straight from the
sermons of striped coats.

The delusion was
simple. There was camphora
to revive the fainting glory.

Satish Verma

Only God Knows

There was no respite
from the repeated assaults.

When did I ask you to move
slitherly with words?

A straight delivery
was needed to refrain after
the collective suicide.

There was a conspiracy theory
that a super moon was
going to drown you
in honey.

Now you come back
to seek pardon and then
start destroying the truths
with impunity.

It was an intrigued
home coming
with braided locks.

Satish Verma

25 July, 2017

Dying To Unsay

A lesser person walks
in the dead man's street
to meet his metastasized
oncocytes to,

kill for the sake of kill,
death for a song that was
not there.

And you will keep wearing
the explosive vest
which will not go off.

Luteum. The color of
spring spreads. No prolactin.
Milk has dried up,
and so the tears in the eyes.

Satish Verma

Dying To Unsay

A lesser person walks
in the dead man's street
to meet his metastasized
oncocytes to,

kill for the sake of kill,
death for a song that was
not there.

And you will keep wearing
the explosive vest
which will not go off.

Luteum. The color of
spring spreads. No prolactin.
Milk has dried up,
and so the tears in the eyes.

Satish Verma

A Sacrifice

Your face becomes
an eye, a saga of
holding the assaults.

A body hails
the sagacity.

A child becomes a man
away from home
of truths, god forbids.

The innocence gives
rise to a mound of bones.
Death lingers to
take revenge.

Brutality breeds
brutality. Can anyone
break this cycle by giving
one's life after receiving the award?

Satish Verma

24 July, 2017

Pummelled

It was a direct hit,
meeting an immaculate
moon tonight.


Was it possible― that
a star flew off the sky
to undo something?

I was the mist,
and I was the sun.
Describing the accident―
not the truth.

The molester.
Time, steps out taking a big
chunk of life.

Unhinged, a messiah
drops dead―
at the door of equity.

How vain, was the
ego of man!

Satish Verma

In Darkness

Talking to Morpheus
when moon was asleep.

I was not guilty of
waking you up.

In splinters, the man
goes deaf and dumb.

A violin was thrown
on the track to stop the music.

Death becomes a finger,
points at you.

The rodes become blind.
There was no D-Day for exit.

Satish Verma

23 July, 2017

Crazy Thoughts

A blighted ovum
demands a ransom for life.
Unhinged, you rub with―
the command and
set free a poem.

Some very visceral fears
hold your hand and
ask to write an epitaph
of yourself.

Unboiling the egg in
irreverent manner, you
proceed to make death,
out of eternal entangled questions.

The sheer stress unmakes
you into a creator
and you begin to spawn
a new religion of violence.

Satish Verma

Singing In Dark

Will I know you―
by unknowing myself in bleak―
moments of giving
wings to you?

Raising your legacy; losing
my words, I block
a masterstroke. Something
was wrong. I was walking alone.

Disrobing a covered
statue, the anguish of
incorrectness hangs.

Enduring a song of―
drums, calling the sun from clouds
for a wounded earth.

What was truth
in jungle of beasts? Any
humming left on the lips of trees?


Satish Verma

21 July, 2017

Winter Backdrop

An earthy scent
rises, when―
you rain in me.

The hole in
heart. Naked
as salt of eyes.

My roving boat
sinks near
the banks of ashes.

Pure and white
like snow
you fall on my lips.

Satish Verma

Present Life

It is.
What you don't think,
and don't want to share. Nothing.
Kamikaze― divine wind
destroying your crotch.

Saffron― dried stigmas.
The hiss of a dead shake,
kitchen's flavor for celibates.

Many roads to reach
the mannequins. God is
one. Hydra's tentacles catch
the believers.

Unwholesome.
I won't taste the violence
of celestial bamboos.

Satish Verma

19 July, 2017

The Great Dilemma

Break your silence.
Stay for me.

Face-to-face, after
my first inning,
prey for me.

To know the whole truth
I will change the
ecosystem.

The fake reals,
would become the change,
you never wanted to see.

Smitten by your verses
I was in distress. The
sexless army of thoughts
stand in snaky queues―
beating the big gods.

A nickel for your
eyes. Why they have become
fathomless?

Satish Verma

Against The Current

That mad truth.
The unborn was knifed
long back. Now you throw―
the net in the crowd.

I had found you
after the centuries of conflict―
in small eyes, looking
for the stolen myths.

I want to hold your
face one day and bury it
in my tears. It should not have
happened in the jungle
of jinxed plays.

The unmarked tree. I
had picked up the fallen fruit
to taste you. Would you
find me in dark?

Satish Verma

18 July, 2017

In Misty Day

Moment of truth.
Bougainvilleas
on grass.

A visible absence.
I was searching―
you in poems.

Your fluid eyes.
My moon-clouds
ready to crash on the land.

In my cupped hands
I collect the tears
of the sky.

Satish Verma

Who Had Spoiled The Show?

Muzzle the ape, that
bleeds the tall tree,
tearing apart the blue birds.
I saw it coming.

I was overwrought; watching a
beheading― of the innocent,
in the town square.
People standing in queues to
grab the voodoos.

When you will end my woes
basking in the glory of blood?

O god, take away my chips,
my papers,
my pen.

I am tired of this deceit of man.
Everybody walks like a saint
on the holy banks
where flows the river of tears.

Satish Verma

16 July, 2017

Searching New Phrases

In twilight
the sickle moon,
waits for the dark.

What a kill.
Roses in bloom
watch haying.

Halix of life
uncoils, to warm
the man.

The butterflies
shiver in sun.
Fine weather.

Satish Verma

This Myth Of Life

Today I am alone―
with myself,
not even with wet eyes.
A corona intends to go into flames.

Stars unaligned―
where was the need of the god
to commit a failure?
The ruins must stay for ever.

Hurtling towards the sun
you wanted to know― why black scorpions
live in the flares of light?

Nothingness bites you. The
despair hurts, because you wanted
the freedom to die without
inventing the Deity.

My guilt should not be identified.

Satish Verma

15 July, 2017

From The Flames

Under your eyes
shadows, my poems curl up.
When do I call you?

From wires, tiny drops
of dew hang perilously.
Sun was going to kiss.

First I take you, then
I will cry for the last time.
Going to meet the gods.

Satish Verma

Snake Dance

Silence was so loud―
a pain ago, would you
resume me now,
between a scion and stock.

The sap had dried up.
A tiny human inside a pen
draws the borders
of bleeding lacerations.

Black mouths,
confront the grizzled gods.
I want them now
in water.

Suicide of a fig tree was
evident. It had eaten its
own figs. No leaves
were left now.

Satish Verma

14 July, 2017

Who Wears The Mantle Of War

I will pick up the dust in
a swift scoop-from where
the stars fell and step out,
of the shadows of light.

A détente begins, between
the limbs and eyes, to hold
in check the flames
licking the doors.

How far was the moon
beyond the money's reach? The
man has bared the―
earth's womb, with skulls questioning.

The sucked out blue lake
runs for the shade of wandering
clouds. We divide the thick
silence with unspoken abuses.

Satish Verma

A Parting

I was once again―
angry with me, for
cheating the smile and
wading into violence of tears.

It was hard on me.
You will not find any remains
of my departure.

Like a cuckoo
breaking its flights in mid air
and falling from the sky.

It was not that simple―
to embrace the solitude. I
was your dream and I was
your pain.

A pithy moon―
in all-out night, smothering
the wet lips. I want
no more affairs.

A ripened age wants only
a handshake to finalize an exit.

Satish Verma

13 July, 2017

Barriers

Your frozen words float
like flakes
falling from invisible lips.

Aimlessly I would
pick up the yearnings
trying to caress me.

Talking to me in
hushed tones, to give a
tang of silence and release.

The otherness, like a
silvery spider's web invites.
You wait at the edge, pondering―

To walk in or not. You
bite your tongue, cannot move.
There were suicides.

The cadavers talk.

Satish Verma

Will Not Breathe For A While

To know, who I am…
in the name of truth.

We move in different circuits.
Our toes don't meet.

Fraternity mangled, I will
not sell my wounds.
I will not show my scars.

I will wait, wait till eternity
after the black end, in the hope of dawn.

As a mark of respect, you fly
low, invisible to the eyes of walking gods.

The thick men, become menace
for the slums. There was no light.

I turn blue.

Satish Verma

12 July, 2017

From Fairyland

Searching in your
rainbow eyes
relics of past.

Your pride on the leash
goes on a rampage,
refusing a kiss of hemlock.

My indulgence ends,
becoming a sufi
you walk through a thick smog
to drag the failed suicides.

A tinge of vulnerability
when I meet my image
in water. You break into hundred tears.

Where this path leads
in the jungle of predators?
Would you carry the flag
of dramatics for quick relief?

The bubble bursts. My
feet buried in swamp,
I look back in agony.

Satish Verma

A Long Road

Nothing to think for,
at this moment. Faceless fears―
like pine needles,
prick the toes in walk.

You cannot―
collect the white roses
in blue rains.

You remember precisely, a toothless―
poised tiger. The prey
tied to a pole gives a
long whimper, before being mauled.

The game continues. You
cannot do anything. Violence was
real, the pen becomes the
weapon.

You start drawing vultures.

Satish Verma

11 July, 2017

Muffled Sounds

Like the xenia effect
the terror
was changing the landscape.
Will you become my eyes
in scorched run
to my god?
The sea has turned black
in holy rain. I don't ask
any numbers.


A child weeps inside
me. Hydrophobia. You cannot
go near the water. Stay
away from me. A white
cobra was coming to kiss me.
Religion has become a
toxic drink. I cannot mix my
tears with hate.

The bodies are still
coming in the water.

Satish Verma

Overwhelmed

Not scared by stings
I will carry you in river to―
put you behind sun.

The maple has shed the
red leaves one by one in row,
as prayers for you.

Why would the snow skip
the road, where you stood midway
to stop the whirlwind?

Satish Verma

10 July, 2017

Imperfection

For image breaking
I exile myself
for one half-god
to lick my scars.

I have not touched
you even for ages―
in words.
The door knobs remained unturned.

I let go the dust. Time
was not ripe for me.
Still I have to
find my eternal muse.

I will strive, will
look around, to smell your―
presence. A warrior
always waits for the graceful exit.

Satish Verma

When A God Bleeds

Cause of things―
finding in myself in solitary
manner, reaping
the harvest of failures.

The ghost of a town
roils under the protests.
Nobody knows the ―
length of suffering.

Me and my god―
we are one. Nobody else
was entitled to live.

The half-burnt bodies,
making a crowd at the bank
of a holy river. At least they
were not shot in the head.

Reasons were flawless.
Fallacy was truth.

Satish Verma

No Contempt

Yearning to reach you
like out of body experience.
Dreams will not agree.

He was stunned when
you disappeared in flames.
Was this a protest?

Reincarnation?
I will wait until the death
of the Super moon.

Satish Verma

Many Things

The moment of truth
for a flower seller.
Sun will not rise today.

Learning the―
alphabets of violence.
I would not bet on you.

At nude beach
I was wearing the moon
in pitch dark.

Silently weeping
a prophet today asks
for the mercy of dead.

Satish Verma

08 July, 2017

Getting Acclimated

Fear is on rise.
How long would you live with that?
Terrible questions bring
arousal bouts.

The days are demanding
answers from the red noses.

Like patato peels
you were wrinkling.

The burning moths.
How do they smell? Young
beautiful faces wearing explosive skirts.

Evening fever. You must
be rooted not, to listen to―
the call of desecrating the comic book.

Satish Verma

Drawing A Circle

Nudging the contempt,
he wanted to become
homeless again.

I had never seen
such human insanity.
Hate me now―
I was your sin.

You made it easy,
making my nest empty.
There was a colossal waste.

The salt was
becoming scarce. Night and
moon were going to break
the hills.

The cost of life
was falling. Diana― the huntress
will not shoot any arrows.
Artemisia was no more sacred.

Satish Verma

07 July, 2017

Beginning Of Voyage

A fear stalks you
in the dead city of broken paths.

If god wills.
Listening to truth in golden dawn
you become a stranger.

Where you want to stand
between far-right
and far-left?

I relapse into grief.
Who was not a god….?

Between you and me
what was missing?

Brotherhood?

The silence was heavily
pregnant. No one speaks.

Give me a chance
to look at me.

Satish Verma

It Happened Once

You wanted to possess me
and I sought to
drink the stars.

An optics? Tears and
blood. Lynching. I
ask the moon, have
you ever been kissed?

You hold my hands
and laugh, heartily,
throwing back your thick, black
interlaced braid.

The radical, retrograde…
white space in between, I
watch the falling snow, covering
my thoughts with silverberries.

This was the unspoken,
untying love between a mortal
and a celestial being!

Satish Verma

06 July, 2017

Ambiance

Trying to face fiction,
poetry was falling apart
between the glasses.

Telltale signs betray
ghostwalking of the black stones.
Sculptor coming up.

Moonrise will decide the
fate of lovers. Nobody was
ready to tie the knot.

Satish Verma

Snowblinks

Scythe of a moon
swings, between tall
palm leaves.

Wanting to see
the midnight fall
of white snow.

Never felt the
sadness of cold weather
when flurries fly.

Leaves had
assembled at the
funeral of the moon.

Satish Verma

05 July, 2017

The Blame Game Begins

The trauma gives me a
severe jolt.
The paper nest of
wasps remains unbroken.

There was an ethereal
feel. One outwardly thought.
We should be ready for
a final war.

Between words and deeds
the religion was expanding.
River of blood was becoming
thick. Can you walk on the
frozen bodies?

The title of the substory
changes. Every executioner
had a deep hurt inside.

Satish Verma

Behind The Brick Walls

Winter is round the corner.
A single dew drop―
cedes a concession to tall trees.
Watchers of virginity
will stay to freeze the fidelity.
Eyes will not let fall
the blood tears.

You were not reading
your mind, skipping your mantra
of departure, behind the
curtain. The winter takes revenge.
Not a single leaf will
follow you, when the blaze
rages in the eyes of moon.


Listen my love. Story does
not end here. Deep within is purple
band. Win or lose, you
will walk on the stings to mutate
the pain of amputation. And
I will paint a fallen
bo tree unfinding a Buddha.

Satish Verma

04 July, 2017

In Trembling Smile

The age has taken
away the bones
of tall trees.

I am drinking
from the lips of moon,
the tiny specks of pain.

Crossing my candles, I
try to read the dark
sky, hanging from distant stars.

What was in store
for us, secured in vaults
of future rage?

Is it the last confession
of dying bottomless
present, without a cue?

The prophets of doom
are on the doorsteps of a
long winter night.

Satish Verma

The Dead Don't Care

I grope, I fumble.
I do not seek
any death.
You will divide,
my body, my soul.

Concealing a double
of god, you disappear
in zero visibility.

The bullets,
the knife.
Will they break the pride
of defying the norms?

The nonviolence speaks
from podium.
Hate breeds hate.
Would you drop the weapons
for enemy?

A rose will say I don't know.

Satish Verma

03 July, 2017

That Was

Turning over your
signature page, holding
your poem in nude.

What else was needed
to commit a sin of god
when you go insane.

The snare was made of
gold, glittering like panther.
You hide under moon!

Satish Verma

What Now

Locating the perceived
footprints of moon―
in my dark house.

My homegrown precision
brings the weird
calligraphy alive.

Now the execution
begins in rose beds. Out from
nowhere come the missing thumbs.

You kill in broad daylight
all the dreams of
feathery morning. I―

start climbing the
violence to reach the eye
of hate and enmity.

A god a day becomes
my natural love. Would we be
meeting daily?

Satish Verma

02 July, 2017

Taking A Form

Like a falcon
you dive with a notched nose.
There was an element
of absurd in your style.

Crushed under snow,
I would search my lost
shoes. The spirit to move on
wakes me up again.

The pursuit of perfect
truth in jungle of fake
excuses. I was wary
of animal grins.

Thugs, they have become
the stewards. Life was mystery.
Death sorts out the secret
of undying passions.

Satish Verma

After The Ceremony

I would be riding
your stumps― to
byzantine castle
of ardor.

It was not
my thesis― to make
me blithsome.
You were your own enemy.

In a crushed phenomenon
I was sketching you
in coal, without scratching
the face on moon-paper.

The room
crumbles. Space shrinks.
I cannot touch you
in moments, in time.

What I bequeathed
remains unclaimed.

Satish Verma

01 July, 2017

Voicelessly

Listening
from the walls what
was not sacred.

*

A bipolar body―
slaps the weird
space, between your eyes.

*

On the morning
of new year
a hungry panther waits.

*

Before he exploded―
himself, he wrote
his name on boots.

*

The petunias
were always laughing
after the rains.

Satish Verma

Not Guilty

Undone in dark
you strike back with ardor.
The end was not near. It
was only the beginning of it.

There were many questions
about life. Without mincing any
words, you draw a circle
and sit outside of it.

There was no natural answer.
You teach yourself about
the foundation, from the book
of falls. The breach of trust has a glint
of dagger.

In the hour of betrayal you
drink the cup of Conium, to
describe the ascending palsy.
Step by step, drop by drop.

Why death was hesitant to
shake with you?

Satish Verma

30 June, 2017

A Blackbird Will Not Sing

How would you describe
the stampede, when there was
no crowd sourcing?

You can draw a perfect
square. If I lose and you gain a miss.

You cannot win a war
without coitus.

The life and death
of a jinx was there to see.

The sun will have a moon―
moment in dark.

Who was building the pain
of emptiness, when
I am filled with grief?

Satish Verma

What A Wrath

Another woman
sits on rose hips
and talks about the spirits.

At sunset point,
I watch you undress,
in fading moon.

I would be talking
to the heap of my failures
for the sake of my touchdown.

There was no looking back
in dim light, when―
you were colorblind.

The arrow tip was
dipped in curare.
It goes straight into the beast.

Satish Verma

29 June, 2017

Orgy Of Pain

There should not have been
any question marks on your
forehead. I am afraid―
you were becoming very typical..

Have you understood―
the meaning of life? There were
no clear answers from
your signs.

Weather was very unstable.
Remaining just private, I was
hiding you in my tears.
O my truth, what was my first lie?

Night will not throw any
shadows. I will wait for the moon
to rise. This ugly earth may look
beautiful. Did you paint―
your body with colors of fall?

Every leaf becomes my poem.

Satish Verma

My Injured Self

In your big eyes
my mission ends.
I lower the flag to half-mast.

The steps were small
to follow the footprints
of the demise of an affair.

Embracing the words,
you had felt pampered by
the demigoddess
of broken hills.

The white muslin, weaves into a wreath;
would be laid on the unbuttoned secrets.

The night watchman
stands guard till the last
candle burns out.

Satish Verma

28 June, 2017

Antithesis

Strangly enough―
it was the most silent night…
I hear the footfalls
of your absence.

There was no affair
between you and me. Only the flames
of frost I was born with. Blue
roses still keep a ritual
of counting the deaths.

I didn't touch you. The
placenta still dragging the neon
light of the womb, the
sins lay bare.

The land mines exploding
one by one. Maimed truths speak
of the communion
with unseen gods, who will not come out
in the courtyard.

Satish Verma

It Is

Telling a big no
was easier than conveying
one painful truth.

The hollyhocks come
back again, after the storm.
It was a religion.

Finding happiness,
when you are alone in
darkness of the noon.

Satish Verma

27 June, 2017

For Whom The Sky Weeps

You stop at the brink, 
to flirt with the rim of
the lake.

Reading yourself in water
you wanted to defang
the life.

The blood berries expose
the guilt of the moon.
Would you sit at the bottom

of the bay and become
a doer? The white cobra waits
till you are paralyzed.

The lovers go crazy
baiting a god, to unleash
the trapped tempter.

A conflict between a
prey and the bottle. You
do not want to live in luxury.

Satish Verma

From Suicidal Angle

You become a crimson
dusk in a sea of greens.
The cost of the murder
had increased.

With lock and key you
can enter a new era of
misunderstandings
and misquotes.

The fertility cult skips
the gravel, catches hold
of thighs and climbs
the fame.

Healer was in great
despair. Grape seeds were
ready to sell the garden
of honeysuckles.

Oh novice, don't go alone
in the war-zone of suicide―
bombers. They were looking for
the witch in breaches.

Satish Verma

26 June, 2017

Snaky Paths

In deafening silence
I was hearing you,
trying to taste and smell
the traces left by you.

Choosing between hope
and despair, I gather
the old coins. There was no
clue to understand the movement of shadows.

Earth is melting into
water. In rapt attention I
watch the footdrop, of placenta.
It will be a stillborn moon.
No honey, no elixir.

In a deadpan approach,
you will not communicate the
death sentence for echoes.
I will not take the side of inevitable.

Let the book start
burning the poems.


Satish Verma

Coming Face To Face

When a gravedigger
mourns―
the impasse ends.
A robot turns on the rains.

With horror, you release
the doves to reach for
olive branches for peace.

Paraplegic, the horse
will not run― on hawthorns.
King was decapitated.

You talk to your seers
sleeping six feet down in earth
to explain the genocide―

of unborn fathers, when
they were praying
headdown for downpour.

Satish Verma

24 June, 2017

Improbabilis

Forever the rituals
of hate and love continue.
The sun survives the feet.

You cannot run. It
disconnects you. There was
no beginning, no middle
no end.

Shapeless, unborn figures will
decide the fate of seeds. You
were sowing the bones.

Pulling out the head
of a terrorist from the rubble,
sometimes you forget―

the contours of the enemy.
Existentially you wanted to crack
open the psyche of man.

It was a blue parable.
Do you believe in utopia?

Satish Verma

Engraving Your Name On Trees

Telling the truth
was becoming difficult. You want to
become a cult.

A sinister design takes
hold of a satanic urge. You
start throwing the limbs.

Was it an emotional upheaval?

The train whistles by.
You are ready to board. Unsleeping
you will rhyme with the wheels.
Home was left behind. A hollow
tree waits for you to become another Buddha.
Fantasy moves beyond the fiction.

Irises move to close
the pupils. They want to become nuns.

The coffin was empty.
A cadaver morphs into an angel.

Satish Verma

23 June, 2017

Green Waters

Gifting yourself the speed―
you betray me, when
I was trying to heal―
the injured wings of time.

Archipelago. The islands
were very lonely in frozen lake.
No boat was in sight.

Having no coastline,
the landlocked language,
suffers the ignominy of the tribe.

The neighbourhood crawls
after the nose-dive of
the plane without agenda.

Shelterless, you want more
sunshine to fight with
the cold beach.

Satish Verma

The Broken Statue

A sleepchaser brings
a quantum of pain
to fight the ugly night.

The patient attack
on the lids
for the sake of absinthe.

The son of lakes―
would bring in goat
to drink the elixir.

I would not talk
about the exile, which
one earned by donating―
the kidneys.

The blade of grace
cuts the sun into small
chapels which become eyes
of street dancers.

Satish Verma

22 June, 2017

Ghostwriting

Flaunting your new skin
like a salamander,
ready to endure fire,
O stranger,
read me,
read my tears,
the pathbreaker is going back.

I will not extort, never your integrity.
The trump has committed suicide.
A game was over. I am
gathering my ruins to go
into winter sleep.
Let the sun wait for eternity.

Somebody was climbing
on the breast rocks. There were
no landing planks. Words
mingle with four― leaf clovers.
You can inhale the smoke,
eat the walls of palace. I open
the latch of mud house and
disappear in future.

Satish Verma

Pulsating Moods

Advent of strange
sign on forehead was asking
for the laughing eye.

A cessation of
botched therapy was a need.
God was still alive.

The birth pangs
were becoming stronger
with every fall of trust.

The gravest thing
was the love of moon.
It keeps you smiling.

Satish Verma

21 June, 2017

Not A Banal Taste

Privileged of remaining
grey in the hands of enemy,
I say to myself―
why not turn dark.

You will erase the ancient bliss.
It had made you a goliath beetle.

The weapons become the
shining medals. I would fill the―
gap of gender space.

But, when the doors become
shut, light tends to cling
the floaters― moving in straight line.

You reach for the falling
crumbs of age. The pain opens
the sky of withering vision.

Satish Verma

The Mysterious Fire

I was a poem
reinventing the estranged
diaspora of words.

No regrets. Eliciting
the sane suffering,
which did not bode ill.

Breaking the silence
I will reclaim the groped
virginity of stones, which
had witnessed unparalleled assault.

I was your earth,
and I was your space.
You zoomed through me
like a comet, piercing my body
my bones,
my sky.

An angel paints
his body with moonlight,
in blue theme.

Satish Verma

19 June, 2017

Twisting The Watercolors

Lost on the way
to find the wetland
where lily of the valley grows.

Have you seen a
lily-trotter?
The floating leaves tremble.

Talking of karma,
Would you like to become
a monkshood?

The woodpecker was
marking its territory till
late night.

Satish Verma

Winter Solstice

The chase, the speed―
the kill. How far you go to―
retrieve the dead horse
from the river.

Floating bridge, I
wanted to drink the
moon in red.

The chimes would not
winter― in falling snow.
Can you bring me some hot blood?

The ceramic arms spray
the liquid memories on the
grass, all night.

Later when the sky
fails, I will bring the
sun to wipe out the tears.

Satish Verma

18 June, 2017

Let Me Kiss A Flame

In my pensive moon
I knew you better.

Never to come back from
the winds of East.
I ask my shadow, the prisoner
of stings, where the truth begins?

I will never smear
you with any stain. Culled
from foam-born, goddesses,
you become my apple,
which I would not bite.

From green lakes of eyes
will you pick a new name
and disappear on the wings
of light to become a daughter
of rainbow?

Why did you turn your head,
to have a last look at
the painfinder?

The sun will go down in many colors.

Satish Verma

The Thinning Faith

The whipped up temper
for a mass destruction―
of thoughts. A squeaking floor,

summons the―
last measure of strength, to manipulate
the blackboards,

to draw skylights,
to do everything to bring in
the hope.

A fracturing dilemma
seeks annexation from the blind faith.
You had started doubting on yourself.

Beyond the high pitched
dramatics of banging doors, I
stand below the windows for harmony.

Satish Verma

17 June, 2017

The Words Of Blank Paper

Not reading your eyes
today, walking on
burning cinders.

In search of green
darkness, to sleep on the breasts
of waiting moon.


The fear of woods, hiding
the tiger beetles. They
run very fast to snatch the prey.

No agenda. Outside is
very cold. The poet will
see the fall of veins.

The road still entices.
Endless dreams and―
no halts to get the kiss of eternal rest.

Satish Verma

Blue Dragons

When you would not be there
where I was, my fingers will twist
like questionmarks
not getting any answer.

Baby talks were increasing.
Time to leave this planet. There
was no death. We move from
breath to breath.

Sleeping without blinking,
dreamless, with hope, to
resuscitate the dawn.

Who will keep the fire
burning? You have not kept
the promise to come back.

King of stones, don't throw
the black statues in river.
Water was red and palms were
burning.

Satish Verma

16 June, 2017

Creamy Swipes

The virgin moon
and young lover―
talking in hushed tones.

The speed was the
limit of suspended
economy of wood pecking.

Sap suckers abound
on the pretext of exploring
the depth of resistance.

My bones were your
enemy, your flesh was
my temple.

I will bring daffodils
when sun sits
and night falls.

Satish Verma

Audio Pain

I cannot hear you
in my absence―
for a transient heartache.

Life gives you a dirty slap
and you write a poem
and this was not to happen overnight.

Looking at you straight
I discover myself
surrounded by glares.

From where the horse
was felled, a warrior makes
a hole in earth to reach
the flesh of time.

The flames take away the
gifts of death. Only the grey
ash smears the face of moon.

Satish Verma

15 June, 2017

I Will Know

Time was short
and I was in hurry.

In Prophet of grief―
humility of pain was evident,
when you bit your tongue,
chewing unsavory words.

It was the trouble.
You wanted me to wait―
till eternity.

Someone throws an incendiary
device towards me.
I am burnt alive.

There was no need to invite
a moon. When talking to
you, I need a dark night.

Counting annual rings
of a felled fig tree,
Buddha becames very sad.

Satish Verma

Without Vendetta

You are putting
stones in empty coffin.
It may harbor the ―
methane after the tribal savagery.

The internal search
still goes on to find the
abode of no-gods.

This grief of burying
yourself in deep freeze like
a mammoth to―
be found later as an ecstasy.

How do you count the heads―
that will not say―
any prayers now, without
the bodies?

You can walk the rest of miles in universal pain.

Satish Verma

14 June, 2017

Who Will Stop You

The white ribbon
gives you an angle.
Moon will rise from that point.

The summer dwells
in your poppies.
I was walking with feet of clay.

My eyes will collect
your scarlet lips,
for a deathless painting.

There it was, the body in
velvet, lying under the shade.
Only moon was naked.

Satish Verma

Moon Child

Blessed dying
like a fading moon―
with no watermark.

A candle's flame
makes a hole in your shaking hand.

Skids off― on the
unpaved dirt road, a sleep catcher.

Climbing on moon shaped
rocks for the final jump.

Comes like a throwback
dialogue, what you did not say.

I will go in the wings now.
It is your turn to come
on the stage.

A nameless baby was born
on paper. It has
become an epic.

Satish Verma

12 June, 2017

Extraversion

Being outsider,
you will not be excused.

Deluded perfectly.
This was a holy crime to be
burned out.

You can walk
round and round around the bed,
in search of sleep.
This night was yours.

I had embarrassed
the moon. It was watching me
from the window with a quizzical look.

Of meager existence
an asteroid wants―
to beat the sun.

The palm holds the secret of orbs.

Satish Verma

For A Pinch Of Light

The black thread
tied on your wrist was
meant to end the siege.

The fire-eaters were
back. I will watch
the birth of violence.

When the night
comes. I will move from
door to door for a flame.

Fireflies will assemble
to mourn the death
of the baby moon.

Satish Verma

11 June, 2017

Into Her Deep Eyes

To read a map―
listening to your inner voice, for
changing the green color
of eyes.

I was studing you,
in the caravan of desert,
leaving the roots
going nowhere.

I will wait for the fall
to pick up my crisp, memories
breaking off from―
the sad trees of life.

Stepping stones were
beautiful, not the feet. I might
have erred in draping the
people who were fake.

Sometimes you mourn
the vision of dying moon.
It will not bleed―
till you cry.

Satish Verma

Burning With Flames

Who calls my name
when I am absent
from the stage?

Do you want me
for the endgame, my
future decided beforehand?

Until you come back
I will remain in
shadows of time to come.

The grape seed extract
and your brown
irises have, become water lilies.

And I catch fire
in midstream, when
night was feeding the moon.

Satish Verma

10 June, 2017

Like An Old Song

Walking in mental
fog, you become
a swaying tree.

In mistiness
one becomes lonely
like a blackbird.

Hollyhocks
would wait, till
the sun comes out.

December rain
brings the gift―
of sleet on lips.

Satish Verma

The Invisible

Debt laden
I turn the ashes
where you left the footmarks.

My native pain
will not go, for a distant truth.

Unscheduled
like a robot,
you kill your own, noiselessly, and then
think with your guts.

Achingly you admit
the alien for a lipless kiss,
struggling to hold back your tears.

A star breaks, in green dark,
without throwing light.
I beg the sky to give back my baby.

Forgive me,
O unforgettable, I never
understood myself.

Satish Verma

09 June, 2017

Opening The Fist

Scavenging the art
of life, you strip
to the bones …

The wild hunt for
the blue jay ends
in exile.

Time plays a cruel
game. You win, and are
served the crab apples.

Like Sylvia Plath―
you betray yourself,
but poems stop you.

A bling of your voice―
deflects the stardust.
A granite will become you.

Satish Verma

The Delicate Dives

You always speak
from the eyes.
My sun will send the clouds.

No it isn't. You
wanted to look away
hiding the moons.

Extra-virgin. No way.
Tree was crying.
Branches gone, no olives.

This city will start
a trade. Selling
glass eyes of many shades.

Satish Verma

08 June, 2017

My Other Poem

It was me.
Real not surrogate,
behind the words.

A way of lips, without
you, with few things to disengage
upon, what the agony demands.

On skin, a lump
was rising― straight
from the animal instinct,
discussing the religion of predators.

A manhood was
in peril, unregarded by
otherness. You want to collect the scars now.

Because you belong to me
like a moon to earth.
We both were moving in different
orbits, trying to touch each
other, undying, for sun.

It breaks the heart, when
it is moonless night.

Satish Verma

Stone Eyes

The wayward words
will not make any difference.
I am filling the pit
with singing stones after the assault.

The killer drip levels the pain.

Karyons? Will you
crack the code of downward
spiral? Nuts. The
nuclear intimacy goes berserk.

The nodding consent
of a fallen star, was ready
for decapitation.

Trash. You always return
to tragedy. Why don't you shut
the eyes and become a clover?

Satish Verma

07 June, 2017

Chameleonic

Like a birthmark
you will remain
on my forehead.

Round cups and
blue drinks, the dark
side was capitulating.

You become my
partner, I will unleash
many moons.

I intended to
talk in walk about the
woes of life.

Satish Verma

The Golden Gate

Was it too late
to find out, who was
morally wrong?

It was an art of dying
for you.

Shapeless, a big pain
flourishes in my limbs,
but I remain too static
to locate my roots.

The bell will not ring today.
Somebody kills a story.
There was no hero.

Resting, my head on stones
I will bleed rest of life.

No cuts. No bruises appear.
Naked as an arrow,
a sharp gilded attack
opens the cage.

Satish Verma

06 June, 2017

Haunted

In a cruel joke,
the torturer becomes
the tortured.

The colossus in its
aloneness, meets the goddess
of death for once and
messenger turns
into message.

The mixer of violence
and mantras, becomes god of
non-believers.

Let me disappear from
the words, a smoke
rising from the book.

Unpraised I was in between the names.

Satish Verma

Standing In Canyons

Treading―
through self, you will
discover your other side.

A gateway
lotus pond, where you
will talk nonstop to poems.

My evening dress sheds
the microview―
of flesh for rising moon.

A pansy speaks
for the first time of
death's dilemma, to stay or to go.

Satish Verma

05 June, 2017

Blinking Lights

I let it go, sometimes
my unborn poem―
listening to my
wilderness inside.

Spreads the pain in
every cell. I welcome
the poison proffered to me.

Life becomes a message to me
of no return. You
can only move forward, towards
the edge―
joining the family.

A forest grows in―
you, when you fail to
curtsy the black verses
of white days.

There were any choices?

Satish Verma

Improvising

Like a snake girl,
the black tresses trailing
behind the heels.

The wavering moon was,
gliding in blue sky,
for a rendezvous.

The beds had
become obsolete. Time to
use oneiric rocks.

Faith was no
more relevant. Now
you hear the dreams.

Satish Verma

04 June, 2017

Cuckoo Will Sing Again

Way off at point-of-no-return,
my geometry,
collided with you for the last spell.

Lines, angles and curves had
started chopping off the hills of grace.

I had lost my path
in the slant profiles of brown eyes.

You stood in shade, like a
bronze sculpture of Michelangelo.

And suddenly you realized,
it was not enough.The moon
becomes pale.A palm tree
swings in its scars.
At distance the horizon crashes.

Time tricks you.Bones crackle.
The poem was born again,
bluish grey gem.


Satish Verma

Unmoving

Investing your hands
to write something unique―

the parrots flew out from
your lips. You will not mimic the beasts.

Avoiding taking sides, the
torture remains unexplained, but
we were always bleeding.

Between eyes and paper, words
float to land in haste. Faith
was ready to self-immolate.

It was not a political commentary.
Some poems really want to become poems.

Read my money. It cannot buy any death.

Satish Verma

03 June, 2017

Aftereffects

Give me your smile
like dew drops of rose―
the tears like pearls.

The flight of swans―
writing a secret message
for the forlorn earth.

Celebrating the return
of the lost river―
after the torrential rains.

A boat sails
in bright moonlit
dark waters of the moat.

Satish Verma

Thinking Of You

Once I had asked
the nightingale, why did
you need to remain in
my thoughts?

And cloning of words
want to save my
orchard?

Was it provocative,
for a flame to become intimate
with a volcano?

And you must wait for
the tranquil sea to explode
into a mountain of ice
for the otherness.

And at invisible moon
a swan glides to bring back
its princess from the clutches
of yellow earth, which
has gone insane.


Satish Verma

02 June, 2017

Very Unsettling

This was the collective
fall, unsolving
the riddle of life.

In memoriam, I
light― tens of millions
of candles for each departed thought.

Ahead were hard times
of darkness, I wanted to
view the world from a cadaver eyes
after being cheated, robbed
and abused―

to be born again with
a blank book, as a white sheet
on dust-ridden toes.

Nobody will know
that a father was coming home
to seek the unborn children.

Satish Verma

Sometimes

Under the denuded
chinars, I stand
again, waiting for you.

The hawks were
pining, for a prey―
in morning prayers.

The chrysanthemums
stand in a row―
opening their hands.

Sometimes you
trace the plum scent
coming from lover's grave.

Satish Verma

01 June, 2017

To Agni

O goddess of priests,
in punishing myself
I found you today.

Tonight you will sleep
in my eyes,
and I will search my
lost poems.

Did you touch the
faded leaves to bring back
a withered spring?

A song still waits in the throat of a cuckoo.

The wasted years!
Do you hear me, walking
in sleep on burning coals as
a penance for the world
going wrong.?

What did I do? I ask my
past, my present, my unhappened future?


Satish Verma

In Darkened Mood

Deflecting the logistical
guide, you were
becoming a juggernaut―
running after the shadows of kites.

Mute testimony of a
bare cut of imagined
willow, which would not weep
for the winds.

Becoming surrealistic, you
knew too much of the truth, when
you were drunk on lies. Why
the poems were murdered in day light?

First time looking at a large
landscape, I skipped the beauty,
the land and the clouds.
Only the birds were flying.

Satish Verma

31 May, 2017

Gift Of Takers

The poster boy
was a blind hunter
waiting for the blast.

The salt mausoleum
melts in moonlight
white as a sand.

A mofussil background
will search the estranged
words of childhood.


Like a hostage held
for the return of holy book
written in blood letters.

Satish Verma

Not Seeking Retribution

Struggling with-
a fakir's heart, at random
fall, remembering a reverie
in quest for unstopping
in your home.

It was not a personal
guilt to modify the echoes
to let go the original voice of
the shelter.

Not believing in-
a parasol, I asked the moon,
why the sky was crying?

Walking alone in the
valley of dolls, I
assemble the broken watch
of faultless decisions.

Time was up and you sing
in honey-trap of life.


Satish Verma

30 May, 2017

The Perspective Fault

With a live moon between―
us, you were staring beyond me
in blank looks.

Shackled, you hang―
from the past praises.

In a crematorium you will now spend
a night with some noises
in penitence.

You have to come out from
the old scripture and invent
a new libretto.

No breathing room was left
in the crowd. Would you
become a little wee taller?

Meanwhile I will listen to bird songs.

Satish Verma

Too Old

In times of stress―
the island sinks. Will
plant a tree today.

Will dream again
of the fall.
When there was violence.

In new bottle―
there was old wine
as panacea of dementia.

I will not forget
your name, though
I don't remember me

Satish Verma

29 May, 2017

Posing Questions

It bewilders me, when
I follow you. Why the savaged
retribution starts for a
separate mouth?

I may become little
demanding, sending you a
death watch for tender memories.
Why did we meet for different truths,
to fork out, not pardoned
by anchorage of our spriritual pursuits?

At early dawn, a sad
cuckoo gives a long, lingering call;
desperately evoking the
soft bleeds of beautiful past.

Your profile was very
sharp, aquiline instinct, to
smell a lover.

October is here. Intuition
develops a sixth sense.
You don't want to leave the nest.


Satish Verma

Not Reproaching

Robbed―
of my aloneness, by
an army of ravens―

thoughts. I
meditate and weave
your face―

in muse. My
journey begins on a
mist scent as the moon rises.

What more you
want, than the silence,
before the bell tolls.

Satish Verma

28 May, 2017

Being Trust

Don't speak the truth―
loudly. Bipeds
are listening.

I will not blame
any one ever,
for my poems.

I must invoke
Buddha, if he
was an avatar.

Rage again for
the dying sun. Night
was very cruel.

Satish Verma

A Mask Done

Your time
was not my time.
An arrow had pierced the space.

There was no past,
no present.
Only I had given you the future.

And now
a volcano will not sleep.

When the death
arrives from sky, how
will you welcome it
with broken heart?

When somebody is
burnt-out, would you collect
the ashes of poems?

The proceeds should go
to barren fields of human mind.
May be, a virgin marigold
bursts out.


Satish Verma

27 May, 2017

Silent Wails

Humanoids fill
the universe. Where does
the humanity live?

Back and forth
the song birds fly to
find the roosting place.

This road leads
to nowhere. You stand
midway holding the map.

Irrepressible was
the goddess of death,
magpie has come to play.

Satish Verma

Midnight Blues

Like godfather,
moon was giving a
benevolent smile.

Picking at bedclothes.
Cannot sleep―
moon was too bright.

Stony creek.
I collect the pebbles―
of all colors.

The peacocks―
cried in rising crescendo.
Night was silent.

Satish Verma

23 May, 2017

Taking Off Frills

Copper-brown
I was always looking
at your face.

One of trinity,
the fallen spirit, that
did't bore any number?

A visible mark
betrays the flying grief
of a pagan.

Between the cacti,
desert was blooming. No
water, no river in the eyes.

The smoke was
rising, in all its viciousness.
The panic was writ large on the face of moon.

How far was the death
camp of unwanted dreams?
I am not bone, I was not flesh.

Satish Verma

It Was Outlandish

The genial face of nephrite.
Jade, stone of the flank,
was becoming sectarian.

The pain was excruciating.
Not the evidence of god―
an imitation love.

The anatomy of conflict
looks vulgar. The street fight
comes out in open. A new born baby

on trash bin. I will not
ask who was the father of
truth. Today I commit myself

to the walking stones. There
was no music. You are
awakened by a loud thud.

The god falls from a big height.

Satish Verma

22 May, 2017

Beyond Discernment

The last thing
I wanted to say before
the sun went down.

Heal thyself, Oh
seer, stoking the flames
under the lake.

Honey-yellowed,
fall of your climax―
for golden calf.

Like a hen in blind
panic, under the spell
of innocent blade.

Satish Verma

Clean Hands

Deeply troubled inside,
I become silent
like a quiet, serene sea.

Impatience. It
has erupted again in my
hardened mood.

Playing a gamble
without a dice. An unmasked
body trembles.

I will ask my
river goddess one day―
where was my moon?

Exploding in its
face, the enigma had never
any physical.

Making things easier for you.
I stand in the moment of truth
on flames.


Satish Verma

21 May, 2017

Clinging To Hope

Revealing id,
without ego, and hunger.

I may not touch
you ever, placing my palm
down face on the burning candle.

Step by step I come
near you and move away
collecting my pins.

The medallion still hangs
in the cleavage.

You will throw your head
backward and laugh in misty chimes.

The skiagram shows the increased
vascularity. Would you come
if I don't call you?

We will smell together
the parting lips, trying to say
love, but unannounced.

Satish Verma

A Leap Of Faith

Nothing left to do
anything today.
Snow falling incessantly.

Did not believe ever
in shortcuts.
Still moving on legs.

Soundlessly I
meet my strange god
under a sickle moon.

Faraway my old
faith listens―
to the footsteps of dawn.

Satish Verma

19 May, 2017

It Hurts

You start forgetting
the absence of
existence. Wishing to remain
dead for sometime― to see what you did't
want to see in the hands of god.

A tricky aura
overlaps the consciousness―
of proxy war. Someone
cries out for the earth's hug.
Wolves start howling. This
was a stainless murder.

I get nightmares. Craft
slips from the tongue. You
must decide for yourself, who
was a clean angel. Door was
locked, key in your pocket.
You cannot move in the absence of proof.

I told you, we are heading
towards the Apocalypse.


Satish Verma

Where A God Sleeps

At the end of the day,
standing before a shut window―
in fear of power game
under a cataract of twilight.

A panther had visited
again at night in your courtyard―
to sniff out the
hidden moons.

Your ism was on fire.
Logic gone. The weird neighbors
had become bedfellows.

A dirty war will ensue
between the translation and
original script, in fake
and real.

You slap a drum. Pathos.
I have reached where I
did not want to.

Satish Verma

18 May, 2017

The Shaken Faith

Incandescent―
the oil lamps floating
on the holy river, have
started bleeding.

So much blood had spilled
on the street, after
slitting the throats of a
runaway couple.

This was not my religion.

Do not steal me from my
footsteps, wounded by
the gifts given by you, I
will not come back.

I have stopped reading our gods.

It was the lynching of the savior.
Let me count the dots and―
dashes, the unsaid crimes
of opening the text books.

Satish Verma

Quite Palpable

In a wasp moment―
alone with myself
I was struggling to find the signs.

This was an out-of-body
war, a preemptive
strike to wipe off the imperial
message of unknown.

Was it the fault and
sludge of the common man to override
the gratuity of existence?

The primal animus still
goes on. Meaningless, you
repeat the mantras, all of them
to appease Kali.

Like an adult, punched
in face, you want to start again
the ontogeny.

Do you believe in black art?
A sculptor will never become extinct!


Satish Verma

17 May, 2017

Black Woods

The hanged girls,
unraped?
Or the slit throats?
What your antennae are sensing?

Unlifting the veil,
why were you rubbing the
stones in dark?

Absent seizures.
You blink only, without
any response.

Print your body on the
canvas, with cracked
hands.

The cities are burning.
Throw the nets in the
river. You may
catch a prophet.

Satish Verma

Different Pathways

Why silently burns―
the red moon, in
moaning night?

Why in my
absence, you started
picking the rose buds?

Who had placed
the red strings in your
dampened eyes?

A missed heart
beat, always sounded
as if your name.

Satish Verma

16 May, 2017

Coming And Going

In last breath,
when the door remained
open, you walked out.

Accepting the truth
was my fault.
Everything was not true.

After a death
there was no other dying.
Thoughts were deathless.

A self-portrait
would be not simple,
you were watching.

Satish Verma

Bald Arguments

How do I remember
you, I ask grammarly
between life and death.

You were not very
keen to know,
what I did not say.

What I saw was a
moonshot, restrained by a dig in.

Ultimately I sniffed that,
nobody wins in love.

The bona fides are at stake.
The mob was not a validity,
stranger than real.

Collectively I will gather
the stones to throw on god.

The road warrior was dead.
There was no path.


Satish Verma

Marking The Graves

Remaining hawk
in voyage of tears, birthing
a poem.

If art of communicating was
via testosterone, why
did you land on water?

Mongrels were increasing,
dirtying the road.

Greif multiplies. Hate was ingrained
in faith. The arithmetic goes wrong.

Landscape stays. Moon moves on.

Why red roses were
dying in your land? Tell me
angel, tell me.

The rage insults me. Who
was perfect in the crowd?
Do I ask the god?

Satish Verma

Silent Perception

The crowds,
I was always afraid of them.

When you were
battling for a space,
you became a number,

in the golden cage.
Let me think...
what was the temple-secret?

Where was I
when the inferno started?

The grass still
waits for a showdown
with tall conifers.

Satish Verma

14 May, 2017

The Deep Anguish

In city of thousand sacrifices
the dominion reads―
your mind.

When you were putting
salve on paranormal wounds.

Telekinesis begins.
Fear lurks in your home―
before the orgy of slaughter starts.

The echo of blood―
looms large on the beach of glassy eyes.

The sinner wants to be
anointed, to
do it again.

In stench you walk alone
to meet god.

Satish Verma

Do You See?

Distrusting a
sure rise of moon―
if clouds were there.

From inside
a voice comes to haul
a burning sun.

If you open the
dark room, would you
find the tether?

The beast roams
in night, to escalate the
violence of sleeping truth.

Satish Verma

13 May, 2017

Death Was Lucky

I will find another
indigo in you, when you
were linked to exercising talons.

Stealing my moons,
for a rapturous choke,
I was being observed.

A face off begins
on the stage of life, between
wrecked ego and collective guilt.

Thumbs severed off. Ghosts
of war are mushrooming.
A winter crop was becoming rich.

Only god knows, why
singingbirds were silent.
October was not very cool, and
big tears were not flowing.

The unparalleled blood
was becoming thinner.


Satish Verma

Unclaimed

You create a hybrid
without protocol.

A body of clay lies―
in the morgue. The fear
guides you.

Hold me, we
would discover each other
in dark.

You can, I would say,
without hurting yourself,
become what you are.

The great divide
between life and death
must continue.

Satish Verma

12 May, 2017

Breakdown

When you talk of
a war on the behalf...
you become a sinner.

A self-deceit
wants to believe in demon,
what he was.

In mode of morphing
into a giant, who
had no limbs.

Truth was not
this. It was trying
to prove it was.

Satish Verma

Evening Smoke

It was like a combat
exercise at sunset.

I won't call any deity
for my prayers,
and expect to survive
the blasphemy.

No, there was no carnality.
How could you take
your own creation?
An affair with your own shadow?

You always loved the
hidden meanings,
unstitching the wounds.

Seeking an endless
peace for a pilgrim, climbing
a river of quivering eyes.

A tongueless marionette
does not need the strings.
The Barbie doll may not crumble one day.


Satish Verma

10 May, 2017

Hole In The Heart

It was all white.
You wanted to see the interruption
by black rocks.

In frost you don't
leave footprints, do not
reach anywhere.

A facial deviation
separates the primates from
enlightened beasts.

Stones won't roll
today. Bystanders would not
pickup the fallen.

The unarmed question―
marks fall flat. There was
no ready answer.

Satish Verma

In Hubris

Talking to
vanishing lights―
then I panicked.

Historic low.
Ghost will not leave.
I see him everywhere.

The journey
in caves, to reach within
the vultures.

Black and white
will meet one day all―
with empty cups.

Satish Verma

09 May, 2017

Strange Eyebaths

Looking into yourself,
one day you will say
I am not an alien.

The unborn nightmare
takes a secret look at the
self-portrait of a Rembrandt.

The contours were
losing the shape. Being
dented you don't―
want to become a pawn of time.

The hearsay was genuine.
You start believing
about the blameless moon.
Pink threads were appearing in your eyes.

An enigma flourishes.
Neither you will open your mouth,
nor the night will end.

Satish Verma

Suspended Fog

Charred―
blueberries.
I am returning your gifts
of cruel times,
when none was crying.

Chewed―
evidences.
I don't want to look at them―
to provide the measurement
of face.

A demoniac―
version,
of a sweet dialogue, stuck
in your throat.
You bend double.

Epitaphs
demand justice.
Nobody dies for his god, you
want to disappear to
take revenge.

Satish Verma

08 May, 2017

Morning Hour

The grass clings
to earth―
for a feel of mother.

A tall conifer
sends the message
to sky.

Not hearing―
the cooing of ringdoves
in snow.

Listening to
the swish of a car
on silent road.

Satish Verma

Within The Apparition

How will you undo
the legacy of violence?

A thought persistently bothers me.
You need high heels
to become taller, lifting
your face in dark.

Thinking without direction,
my dilemma was, how long
road rage will resolve the xenophobia?

Looking at the moods
of moon, would you
travel to an ocean in anger?

My eyes meet your hands.
They were busy doing nothing.

Like the apocalypse,
we will perish in savagery,
and meet our kismet beyond the stars.

A glow in the east is going to die.


Satish Verma

07 May, 2017

The Parable

Fear of staying in sidelines,
as a waning voice,
and falling in a drain.

You stand at the door of light,
and see the truth― boundaries
crumpling.

Afraid of transmission of lies,
interfacing long threads
of darkness.

It was extraneous, A
lot of heat generated by the
conversions. The doorkeeper remains the same.

The wisdom goes with
a begging bowl. Spirit was to
become an incomplete text.

Satish Verma