18 October, 2017

Red Lines

In eternal quest
of peace I will find you one―
day in flowing tears.

Doors are reticent.
Blue stars were melting. Poverty
will take the back seat.

I promised you, I
will never hurt you even
in my wild dreams.

Take my hand to stop
the tremors of earth. The moon
was dying on naked beach.

Satish Verma


Mounting surveillance
on myself after snapping
hyphenated bond.

I will set you free
from the white paper, carrying―
your beautiful face.

The slanting eyes
will haunt me in dark, I will
turn around and cry.

When did rift emerge―
while playing the moons? The lake
was ready to drown me.

Satish Verma

17 October, 2017


Sometimes words
are very cruel. You
cannot chew them.

For the spirit of―
dying moon, you
wear a death mask.

Sitting on a wind cheater, in
tower of pain, you
want to understand the breed
of conflicts, fuelling the duels.

Yes or no, you have
to come with me. Stones
will not shame you anymore.

The black spots―
of dream-dropped roses,
smell of family dust in the
eyes of white ghosts.

You fatten the flames.

Satish Verma

Reprimanding Self

You must act now,
to deceive yourself. Laugh,
when you want to cry
in blue silence.

Getting ready to choke on
the unspoken words―
of committing a sin of speaking
the truth.

Unaltered ego of lynx eyes
goes through the walls of double-blinds.
The drugs were fake and
faith was dead.

With whom you want to
share the brickbats? The cheats
will ride the colossus and
the new moon will rise red.

Satish Verma

16 October, 2017

Great Leap

The stones will speak for
river bed― a perfect home
for drowned principles.

Like shrew you enter
the belly of jewels to talk
to a bronze Buddha.

He stands in vigil,
your godhead, after the thieves
plundered the frames.

The small hands pointing
the pistols at the heads of
ancient fathers.

Satish Verma

Winter Sleep

The dust to dust phase
in between, you
did't want a self-destruction
to resurrect a dying myth.

Only God knows. Why
there was only the body language
to explain the miracle.

You wake up a frog
from hibernation. There was
no drought. Plenty of rains.
No nightmares. One has to change
the climate shift.

A muted denial stays
in throat. You wanted to say
the whole truth about life,
which never was uttered.

Scoliosis tilts the water
balance. You cannot carry the
vessels on head. Doubts
would play on the script.

Author had promised to live again.

Satish Verma

15 October, 2017

After The Execution

Just wanted to be
myself today, ripped after
the apocalypse―

of stainless bodies.
You pull down the era of
earthen lamps from ruins.

Give me a wrapped
guilt. I am a boat in water
without wooden oars.

Black eyes stitched
to dolls. They were going to
wed the white gods.

A knife's cult invokes
the barren cave. You had planted
the severed heads.

Satish Verma

Lapsed Memories

Can you foresee the
future, the unstable peak, the
ground's underneath tremble?

A lonely moon sits on
the palm― watching the risqué
world go to long sleep.

I am nowhere in
this crazy― maddening race of
musical chairs.

Unsure, I meet the
blue eyes of the lake, ready to
jump into my leaky boat.

Satish Verma

14 October, 2017

Where Three Rivers Meet

Homeless, you
remained on the
wrong side of moon.

Trying to steal
yourself from light.

Now money speaks,
undoing Fabian formula.

Why one should exit
from the cabal of choosers?
Your infirmity will
sink you in wet sands.

When salvias were blooming,
you wanted to become
an accomplice of a sage.
Killing without crime.

Sometimes you fill
your life with meaningless words.
A trivia of hurting others.

Satish Verma


A romance begins
between a tall tree and grass
to lighten the land.

The absence of thrill―
makes you mad. You wait for the
sky to become red.

A cat has nine lives.
Each for redemption of an
enemy in the house.

Staying silent whole
life, unlike anybody else to
become ordinary.

Satish Verma

13 October, 2017

Mixing The Shades

Catching the colors―
of rainbow, altering sky.
You kiss me again.

The panic was real.
Confession of a lone wolf
enters twilight zone.

Strange undergrowth sends
misty feeling of raw wounds.
I sing my farewell.

Sorcery comes alive.
You tie my hands not to write
the violent sunset.

Satish Verma

Renewal Of Faith

At middle of nowhere
I don't want to believe
in your truth.

In white robes
a crowd, like mushrooms
of same genes, raising their
heads, after paying obeisance to
mother's mausoleum.

It was still a face
of terror, my trampled
future in our nemesis.

Was it a divine curse?
I remain, who I was. Unscathed
unharmed, after you left
before the knif's plunge.

The alternate damage was
mine. I will bear the asp's
bite in my glory.

Closing the door of
crypt was not my choice.

Satish Verma

12 October, 2017


Hips and the rose hips.
You bite your tongue. Desire
has many connotations.

You always feared
of a free fall. I rise. The
war will continue.

I permit myself
to talk to the waning moon.
The clocks stop taday.

A train whistles by.
The river trembles violently
under the bridge.

Satish Verma


Like the furled leaf―
with teardrop earrings, why you
will play with the winds?

The temple vestige
will invoke a forgotten god.
The dove circles in sky.

The history repeats
in desert of uploaded censors.
I become a narcissus.

The tremors return,
when I start drinking moon, from―
your glittering eyes.

Satish Verma

10 October, 2017

Repealing The Command

Like sheltered, as in fist,
the firefly―
my poem shudders
in your cavernous eyes.

You will not bend down,
to pick up the dropped
coin of moon.

A benign lump
refuses to melt for a
speckled beam of light.

The charred bones
of the burnt-out church,
wait for the second coming.

There was no
curtain drop. Everything
will happen before the weeping grass.

The father and son,
were both guilty― of killing
the mother moth.

Satish Verma


Leaving a bloody trail―
moon jumps into lake in hurry.
Sun knocking on doors.

Existing without
the soul, was a fatal mix
of lips and hamlock.

You write your name
on the decapitated moon
declaring a war.

Fireflies now dip
the sparks in your eyes, which
will become blue poems.

Satish Verma

09 October, 2017

The Grand Finale

Your night eats the―
umbel of light with curved lips.
What was the ethics―
of this getty image?

Your responses are weak. You
walk in, on unsteady path.
Will not lift the rock from the chest
unlike Sisyphus.

You roll down on lilacs
gnawing at my pain― nibbling
away at my poem. There
is no gender, there was no god.

The spilled milk of moon
now washes the face of night.
I become you in the embrace
of unlimited death.

Satish Verma

No Departures

A massive black hole
devoures the devdasi.
The temple becomes
a cadaver court.

Some say it was
less punishment for the sins
of the pulsar.

The dancing baby
in the womb of rubble
of prayers does not want
to come out.

It was a price of
dying intact.

The incense of screaming
roses blooms. How much
heavy was the wreath?

Overnight the image
was replaced. There was
no spinning wheel. Only
a water cistern.

Satish Verma

08 October, 2017

Silent Complaints

To remain normal―
how difficult it was. To undo
what had not been done.

A pinch of salt was
needed to taste your skin.
Belief will come later.

My unearthly lover, the
moon was becoming physical
sending me a lipless song.

Once upon a pain,
I had asked you to be, what
you were― my rival.

The uncanny fear, wins
over the whispers― when it
appears stark naked.

Satish Verma

Everything Was You

A poem dies in me.
I search for you again
deep in my breast.

The initial spurt of
the raging thought―
sleeps on the rags.

With scrawny fingers―
you write a verse of―
moon in night.

The half-moons rise
in the vacant looks
like venus flytrap.

Do not pluck the―
blood roses. My fingers
were still bleeding.

Satish Verma

07 October, 2017

In Burial Home

Not for me,
this politics of living
for sexless alchemy.

You take on―
the pen's broken nib,
writing blood soaked birth
of an illegitimate avatar.

The spin was fatal.
Unfazed a bizarre tone,
announces a miss call. You
are pronounced dead.

You will swim now
in veil. Eyes looking deep
in water where light does not reach.
The mission of salvaging a
heritage fails.

Dog winter.
Sun hides behind the thin survivors.
There was no will,
no suicide pact.

Satish Verma

Moment Of Hubris

the past, systematically,
you reach the core,
of undoing.

A curse hangs―
over the empty cup.
Now you can fill it
with tears.

Space shrinks.
Eternal memory of
losing your faith―
brings in the damaged truths.

Stick and carrot―
both survive.
It was not, it was,
the liberation.

Satish Verma

06 October, 2017

Green Fire

When I need something.
I will ask you.
But I was never going― to need anything.

From where this―
armoury comes, trying to
influence the vowels, from
the clenched teeth?

When I hold your hand,
you start trembling.
There was mist and
there were walls.

Are we drifting apart―
in search of moons?
Flesh for flesh, bone for bone? You
swim fast, I track on the land.

Satish Verma

Who Answers?

was the great avenger.
It takes you away
into war,
with swan words.

My baby poem
cries. Lost in a crowd of swindlers.
Not finding the home of truth.

Was it a rarified
phenomenon, that it was
a dark nebula,
that gave birth to the sun?

Are you free to
agree with me, with my existence?

The conclusion was
beyond the judgment of insane people.

Are you going to harm yourself
by accepting the fireball questions?

Satish Verma

05 October, 2017

A Window Speaks

were lengthening.

I start mending myself.
you commence telling in signs.

Grass flattened. Glass―
in water. The body floats.
The game was over.

A new chapter opens without a book.

Another spurt of poetry.
I will never forgive me.
Fear becomes my guide.

The sound of decapitation
resonates. I lift the pen
and kill myself.

Satish Verma


was deep blue.

In zero-reflux, I was
intimately involved―
with your pride. The conflict
was rising.

Human mind
like shutting off the sex,
was making a bibliography.

Purity of link will
describe a yellow hollyhock,
waiting to be crushed.

It becomes a burden
when I spend on you― my poems.
Chemotherapy had failed.

Satish Verma

04 October, 2017

Old Habits

I wanted to make
you my friend.

The combative
bull-taming on milk roads
was in vogue.

Somebody was talking
about the rape of
rising sun on the
higher reaches.

A marathoner stops
midway to collect the nails
after the bonfire of shoes.

The festivity over, you
can sing in the praise
of fallen black moons.

The gifts of crimes, for
bounty hunters, were in plenty.
I always stood in dark
to evaluate the triangles.

Satish Verma


The sins of mortals
have become ordinary.

You can breathe like
nekton, in deep ocean of
idyllic mind.

Pull out your hubris like
a tinkling coin and rub it with your―
body / let it become dirty.

The wayward emotion and
illuminati will meet for the
first time/on the turf.

Desire wins ultimately.
You pick up a red rose
and place it along the jasmines.

Acceptance comes after the fall.

Satish Verma

03 October, 2017

Escaping The Wait

Perfect domes―

An alien sitting in
Mona Lisa? Do you believe in the
pshyche of a beekeeper?

A vision. The future tense
retrieves the past glory of tenseless era.
The mimicry will do its own job.

A freak incident. Earth was
moving. Corned bodies riding on lead.
You must fill up the blanks to―
prepare for lethal descent.

Idolatry. Every cult becomes
a new idol. Hate-filled sermons.
Yestersins will pay
for the mortgage.

Satish Verma

When The Smoke Rises

Writing poems
on your lips,
fearlessly compromising
the Venus.

The pink, female
moonlets, trying to
stitch a womb.

I start a countdown
to launch,
a death paramour.
My severed hand
holds a yellow rose.

Preserving the―
half skull of artificial
intelligence, living
without you.

Meet me again
on the crossroads.
I want to change
the gender with you.

Satish Verma

02 October, 2017

Another Assault

Set free the water―
do not harm the spring.
A short poem will write your
theme in air, without asking.

The unbaked bread
will feed the oven.
And the silent prayers
will seal the lips.

The bride of desert―
weeps. No palms, no ariels.
You run over the ruins
to find the tools.

Now breathing stops. A
hammer strikes.

It was the tragedy
of a brainless tumor.
Aneurysm brings the stroke.

Satish Verma

Uprooting Dandelions

Eating a suicide tree's fruit
searching for the answers.

When I am me without you;
poetry meets an accident.

I stand on the shifting sands,
asking each stone, where
was my home?

In core of your earth, I was
the centrex with no message.

The white paper and black dots―
doors had become jealous.

No light falls, on the prayer book.
I apologize for my ignorance.

Satish Verma

01 October, 2017

Desiring Impossible

To own you,
was my fault. I wanted you flawlessly,
to choose, who lives
and who walks away.

Trying to discover
pure truth, the whole truth―
nothing but complete.

You start groping
for eternal globes, like Mars,
burning hot, but far away.

An aesthetic oneself, searching a duplicate.

The suffering of useless
phrases hurts. Your eyes squint,
wanting to tell, but don't betray.

Who will succeed
awakening the sovereignty of a wayward bard?
Who will pull down the moon
from the black sky?

Satish Verma

Fantasies And Myths

Bleeding the planet
between life and death.
O invisible, in time and pain
I want you.

Telomere― the capping
has failed. My genes are shrinking..
The acid burnt face still
smiles behind the fingernails.

The spurious drugs will
not allow you to pass away. Lip service
was too fallacious. You never
knew how difficult it was to die.

The night dissents. Day has
many upheavals. You stand alone
in tall grass to count the flames
engulfing the sunset.

Satish Verma

30 September, 2017

Midnight Shots

The bull's-eye on
your chest, the black marker
on death apparel, was
turning red after the shots rang out.
Somewhere in a golden cage a parakeet starts―

And which means, each grain
of the last portrait you―
made would inherit the color
of the dying sun. We were
martyrs bulled by milk of the
religion of the state.

After sometime there will be
no news of you. We will
forget, forget the footsteps
of past, our golds would bloom
in the garden of hate. The mystique
of palace will bask in glory.

Satish Verma


Listening to the voices of silence―
of beautiful triangles,
plagiarizing the
straight lines from nowhere
I lost my way to
find you.

I don't have numbers
nor zeroes. Only angles
to solve my pathless destiny.

In spiral mysteries,
would you ever climb the
stairs of a minaret, reaching moon?

You wanted a black rose
without barbs.

How does the blood flow without veins
on the cheeks of sun?

A hurt activist
disappears in the clouds
without wings.

Satish Verma

29 September, 2017

Pain Of Shingles

Hiding behind the faces,
you had pushed me to the edge.
Now Himalayas were weeping.

The self-mutilation
starts. Human body and mind
collide like tectonic plates.

There was no rape in
sacred marriage. Do you know the
anxiety and depression are not
only the human traits?

Psychosis. The obscenity
does not leave, and the language
starts dying. You block the
road. Nobody was going to leave
the doomed plains.

Satish Verma

Dark Presence

Blindfolded you wanted
to catch the moon.
It was no my fault.

The sounds first crushed the
strings and then came loud rumblings.

My darkness
was taking the revenge.

You knew because you were blind.

Cadavers. No names, after
cleaning the blood. You paint on―
the forehead. Quake.

Pushed upwards in seconds―
the absence. You were saved
because you were telling lies.

It was not an imagination.
Find out, who was―
omnipresent― no where?

Satish Verma

28 September, 2017

The Descent

Buried in a shiny grave,
a redefined religion
becomes the first god
of scams.

Attaining Moksha,
breaking the law of rebirthing,
in barking dogs.

This was a stunning
betrayal of―
human race.

A lone gunner
pulls out the gun and
starts shooting everyone
resembling him.

I become worried
about the mental health
of unfolding mortals.

Grief was not my asset.
The planet was falling apart.

Satish Verma

India Ink

In everyday life
you pick up a war with a―
moment in truth.

Unleashing a malign―
half gender― to speak
for the sake of a maker.

You were standing on
a fault-line, waiting for the
unhappened to happen.

I have come from a
faraway land to dig up the
legacy of the ruined convulsions of man.

The faith, a religion the
god were all forgotten when
you sit homeless, hungry under the sky.

Satish Verma

27 September, 2017

Tremors Countless

In a pinch of light,
waiting it to happen―
becoming me.

You, my crush―
floundering in fever
of the moon.

I track you down
in the tears
of earthquake, when
snow was trembling.

Thin needles in eyes―,
I retrieve the―
history of fallen

A survivor would
rise from the rubble
to reconstruct the shrine.

Satish Verma

Melting Points

To sell the half-truths―
of lies, you quit
the post to live with Stonehenges.

Assembling another
dream. I rearrange the thoughts
to save the trembling planet.

Sleepover very discreetly
with me. Find out, how
my flesh has turned into gold dust.

Some wee moments,
chase after you, to become immortal
with each poem.

O life, read me.
I want to go quietly,
climbing down in waters of blue lake.

That was not worth it.
To wait under the moon
for a Cleopatra, who would
not carry asp vipers.

Satish Verma

26 September, 2017

Somebody Dies

You walk through me
opening the portal of―
unending moment.
A right to die lingers in the eyes.

Not a serenade. I am
tying the knot on the tree.
The wait was becoming too long. I
would read again Hamlet without the prince.

Truth was not happy, when
you brought down the body.
The wind was moving like a panther
stealthily before the kill.

How shall we bite our toes―
now? They have left
a bloody trail on the
weeping grass.

Satish Verma

The Dirty Beliefs

More searing―
in fog of love.
You prepare the first draft―
of suicide.

It was not in your
handwriting from the left,
before sending―
the message.

The crash of the drone
before hitting the ground.
I apologize to sun for―
the brilliant fault.

I will never know
what did I give you.
My tulips were ravaged
by the statecraft of the winds.

Satish Verma

25 September, 2017

No Coronation Please

Like toothache.
Would hear the voices
of dark.

No beginning, no end.
I will not conclude.
Like the setting sun in west
dying beautifully―
without moon.

It is a chilling confession.
No offending. Trying to
understand unmoving lips.

In my suffering
there was no faith healing.
I won't ask your hand.

Every syntax, regenerates
the truth of the dirty mind.

Living amidst the
dangers of orthopedic blunders
you cannot walk straight.

The queen has gone insane.

Satish Verma

White Shrouds

The lips will speak
without sound.
A tuliped man hangs himself
down, from a tall tree of fame.

You wanted to live in the―
glare of slit throats.
The blood brings the brilliant
glitter of gold.

End of the speech will―
throw up a mascot. The noose was
tightening around the―
rising― glorious sun.

Slavery never ends. You
become victim of your dazzling
peaks, when you stand alone
at unthinkable heights.

The spirit of the tree dies in your eyes.

Satish Verma

24 September, 2017

From When To Where

In deep bottom,
at first light, I
will give you a call.

Because, I was only bones,
muscles worn out in hymns
and the nudes were―
putting on the masks.

You will not deliver―
a denial, nor you will
put forward the Buddhist stance.

Like a curling fern you
want to go in dark shade―
eyes shut.

The circus of stunted men
and lady birds―
will go on unabated.

I swear by fire,
The battered umbilicus will
not bear any gods.

A miraculous escape. I
will not eat your
flesh, hot and red.

We start hitting each other.

Satish Verma

A Complete Contrast

The lazy eye,
staggers. Looks behind
the moon.

Retaining the uniqueness
that you were not.

The eagled-hoot.
Your spirit, muddles the air.
How much truth was there
under your skin?

I had always admired your stiff neck.

Only the veil was needed
to cover the green fears.

Would you ever know, how
I was killing myself in small poems?

The danger lurks.
Sparks, seagulls and blue lake.
The blaze never dims.

Eternity prowls around, cutting the ribbons.

Satish Verma

23 September, 2017

Sage Flower

O my baby pain―
this house is on fire.
My body is going to war.

A lonely path, in life
and death― where does it
lead to― in wilderness of home?

The mob only loots.
Lynches and hangs you from
the lone tree of love.

I confess, there was
a chink in my armor, not
light but water seeps through it.

You start fearing the
windows. Not noises, time
was slipping pout, never to come back.

Satish Verma

Stains Are Darkening

After centuries of reverie―
a dream breaks, falls
like a mirror in ink, splintering
into thousand thoughts. Somewhere
words start flying.

Oh god!
your feet of clay are crumbling.
I wanted to write a new script
on your body,
slashing my wrists.

How much the truth was
lying? Ask the shades alluding
to moon. Patchy and opaque
in forest of maple, I was counting
the red-lobed leaves.

Your eyes were telling a
soulful tale. On beach were
sitting some youngmen in a row in orange jump
suits waiting to meet
their gods.

Satish Verma

22 September, 2017

Clouds Were Collecting

was moving without wheels.

Not a match. I
don't exist. Anonymous.
You were also not same
as I lost you.

Black walls.
You will kiss them
for a promise.

Your lips, wrapping
the wounds, like bandages.

The bruises smell
like poppies.

Not thirsty. Still
I revert to the theme of
dry lake.

Are you going to
shut the eyes of moon?

Satish Verma

Keeping Head High

Ah, in this―
culture of shames
you will need some divination
for mooning around.

You cannot mend the old
shoes, become an explicator―
of complex human mind.

Cannot face the sun to
catch my shadow. Father and
son were water apart.

The things become no-things
inestimable. I keep on intuiting..

First came the rains,
then winds. I stand for nation.
I fall for you.

Satish Verma

21 September, 2017

Arts In Telling

I will never be able to―
tell the full story. Winds
are changing and―
the innocence has ended.

Centuries of recital now
starts the inquisition. It haunts
my psyche. In deluge―
the ferry will ever come?

Yesterday you had seen me
in a very vulnerable state.
Even gods weep.
Do you know what is muse,
goddess of art and an inspiration
of a poet?

In one of the poem I had
asked my muse, can you prey for me?
This is my style of conversational
or confessional poesy.
What do you say?

Satish Verma

Some Rehearsals

Talking to moon tonight,
in windless night.
You begin― to reflect― the past.

I pretend― I am gifting you
my poems, while bleeding―
from the eyes.

You will not read,
even once, the steaming tears of stones,
when the volcano―
spews its molten grief.

I am gifting you today, forever―
my summers.

Snow will rush into my veins.
I freeze at once, in memories
of the lone, stark naked, yew tree
laden with red berries.

Not poisonous, I am gifting you
my death.

Take me in your solitude!

Satish Verma

20 September, 2017

The Blessings Fail

It was too loud
to become a savior. You
longed for― only a
flower weight.

I wanted it to last―
my pain― lying to myself.
I will wait for the
sanity to reappear.

Too raw― the codex.
It burns the author. I
will have to learn―
a new alphabet.

The bell tolls,
bell tolls.
Take me to crypt in dark.
I have to read the walls again.

Satish Verma

No Man's Land

It was an explicit "I"―
deeply flawed.
You had started hitting
your peers, asking them
to hate you.

Mea culpa, who would not say?
Kindles a tender feel―
when you love a pink rose,
not uttering a word.

Scared, my tremors
start like a leaf. Cannot hold
the pen. Very quietly
I print my tears.

Thirst, mouthless―
I drink from eyes.
Earth beware― the crop has failed.
Rancher was going―
to commit suicide.

Satish Verma

18 September, 2017

Straight From Dark

Moon was walking
like your shadow,
grabs you from behind
and drowns you
in water.

This was a battle cry
for a beach murder.

This will a become a talk
of the crowd.
Light enters a bone
and you start glowing.

Was it a realization
of the awakening? The
pain becomes your angel―
of skin.

The cuts and wounds become
your words of unknown poem.

Why you want to play
hide and seek with strangers?

Satish Verma

Red Light

A maverick―
neither tears, nor scabs
I wanted to cheat myself.

Confection may go awry.
I prepare the new text
of wearing the pain.

I want you to stay
beside me, when I am unseated―
holding the clouds.

Discarding golden viscera.
This was my last journey
for taking revenge.

Undulation over. There
will be a vertical
drop on the nails.

On the black stones a fig tree wavers.

Satish Verma

17 September, 2017

In Reversal

The philanderer―
an anti-man, comes for regaining
moral conscience. I
pledge my peels.

Ocimum was not ready
to marry a giant tree.
This war will never be over.

The skin, the deep voice
within, were wakeful in dark. There
was no hope to revive the naked soul.

The sea and the whale.
Competing for death-dance.
Blue sky kills the stars.

Now I will become mute,
watching the jewel-thief…
taking away the golden calf.

Satish Verma

In Ecstasy And Pain

under a new sky.

Buried in the sands
of time,
to locate the gate of moon.

Nothing else moves
in my thoughts, except
a Venus fly-trap.

Your hinged, slanted
eyes, capturing my words.

Then your maze bleeds
in the spotless dawn
of baby year.

Between a mortal
and a saint.
I hang my mirror
to prove the divinity of the dust
of god.

Satish Verma

16 September, 2017

A Life's Worth

The brown dust―
floats, while reading

It was my first―
love with the dancing words
in the jungle of departures.

The genocide of―
reliefs. I erect a shrine
for the slaughter of unknown.

Innocently, I utter―
your name in dark, that
lights up the aubade.

Strange things happen.
I stand where the roads don't cross
parting the emptiness.

The deadpan. Another city falls.

Satish Verma

A Day Was Crying

Can you define this relationship?

In a tumultuous city
I was missing…
But in this absence I become whole.
A chemical clock becomes awry.

Night was my poem
I was writing for the moon
and throwing a handful of dust
to meet the dust.

Black flamingo will not
eat tonight. Wading through the
water, its will broken,
searching the pink eyes.

How do I catch you when
you have flown away?

Satish Verma

15 September, 2017


Trending like a
dog walker, the disheveled
moon, comes out
from the cocoon, to welcome
the new year.

This was a flash point
of pure sulphur,
to steal the kisses in rose valley
of violence.

And you stand at crossbones
to kill, or get killed.

The leader climbs down
to sin, to predate
the celebration of womb's disaster.

Earth trembles
in anticipation. A merciless
shreak comes out from the

Satish Verma

No Rivalry

Something― you wanted to
say, which you would not.
Planet breaks― disheveled, weeping
being― unbeing.

Sometimes you play a game
of trembling legs―
waiting to run away
from your anguished inside.

The last hour of night
blinks. A baby sun about
to be born, and you find yourself

The black letters, on yellow
pages, under the streetlight
dance. A fat dream burns.
A book bleeds.

Satish Verma

14 September, 2017

Thinking Again

Not finding a path
to truth,
going beyond the gods. You
will not listen to my pleas―
still frozen in unthruths.

Death opens the―
holy darkness. I am aware of
the bluffs and black voodoos,
insertion of pins.

Moon-bitten, chasing
the blood cherries, you reach
for the yogi cult in trance.
Every night becomes green.

The sacred knife, cuts
the knot, sort of a hinge.
A celebration starts
throwing stones
on each other.

Satish Verma

Waiting For New Year

A lengthy day
to count an arch of colored dreams
in a long queue.

You start sinking
inch by inch, in a deep
obsession of vengeance.

Afraid to leave
the darkness. Cannot see
in the bright glare of sun.

The fall of liberty.
To tell the name of venoms.
How the man has become
a poisonous creep.

An insult to the poet,
singer and artist. Who was
responsible for changing the guards?

Tomorrow was far off.
I am still struggling with today.

Satish Verma

13 September, 2017

Still In Grief

I have become disconnected.

Talking of pose, while shooting
in back, several questions
arise of a staged drama―
missing the lethal word,
releasing the venom.

Poetry of politics becomes evident.
You may spurn the actors,
but the pretence overwhelms.

For testing the secret of depth,
you go down in water

You pull a stretcher, now―
unwrapped. The cremains sink
in the sea― of tears,
unsettling the designed pebbles,
the needles. The tapestry starts burning.

Satish Verma


Barebones, they come
in droves, to drink blood moon
praying in catacombs.

A summer night sets
over the hills with black eyes. The
cleavers have some jobs to be done.

In perfection, the bodies
should be laid― along with red woods.
The autistic moon will find its lover.

Aborted dawn, the clouds
had covered the womb. The
terrible sun had been roped in.

Earth weeps. There was
no peace.A ghost town rumbles
on. I cannot crack the code.

Satish Verma

12 September, 2017

A Part Of Whole

I had not asked for
all of you,
walking your path
above the clouds.

Do you think, it was
end of beginning?
The republic of sagebrushes has
nothing to say. Incense stops drifting
in desert of crumbs.

You start talking
to your esteem self for the rigged factuality.

I don't want back,
your virginity of first tears.
Underneath lies the stunned poetry
of the bruises.

There were ruthless secrets
inside your lids.
I will not wait for the moon
to go red.

The swastika wants to justify
the chimneys?

Satish Verma

So Be It

my temple, brick by brick―
skin to skin,
eye to eye,
before the ascension.

The living legend is
dead. I cannot hear the burial
rites. Walls are rising.

The ashes are strewn
on the eyes of moon. Ages ago I
used to smile. Not now.

Accept me, with all
my non-gifts, dead songs and
wailing prayers.

My hands lift the terror
from the sand, palm leaves
crafting a virgin peace.

Satish Verma

11 September, 2017

Any Dilemma

Kiss me hard―
defending your poverty.
It was a flawless depression.

Do not need any sand-storm
to cover the jutting bones.
Time was full of tragedies.

Did you ever hear of―
the fences in a divided house?
The prayers without words?

Drunk in a moonless―
night, of the unheard voices,
you stumble on Ars Poetics.

More wreaths for the
forgotten lover of letters.
Life moves on.

Satish Verma

Not Listening To Yourself

I paint the day
for you, for the last rites
of sun.

Embracing the dark
to dissolve the boundaries.

I will question, something
else, not about the stoned moon.

The other side of the
thin hijab, was a humiliated truth.
Facts were always knifed.

Something moves
harshly to break the silence.
A pink self betrays the denial.

How mandatory it
was to keep on gooding
the blue flames!

There is no family
of the bohemian.

Satish Verma

10 September, 2017

In Penitence

you blow off the earthen lamp
after the night vigil.

Still stranger
to dark, you start self-destruction
in holy violence.

Was there any life
before death? You encounter
the crucified truth.

Now you wear the blue lake
to meet the moon―
in a forlorn sky.

I let you see
the falling star. It's heat
had savaged me.

Satish Verma

I Must Tell You

Can you get the seizing
without an encounter,
like rapture of the deep?

It was me who was lost
in one sultry night,
when jasmine bloomed.

In night blindness, the
trembling soul, landed
on the blue lakes.

You would not look
at me, without alphabets―
in siege.

In contrast we meet―
to hurt each other.
Falling in love after smouldering.

The soot will chase us till the end.

Satish Verma

09 September, 2017

Dream Catcher

Walking towards you
prudently, lighting
my bones, like candles
in dark.

For salvation. The
lone cobbler cheats on you.
He has placed the rough bricks
instead of cobblestones to cover
the surface.

Healer has become
avenger. Illicitly― drinks
from the virgin eyes, to
be called a survivor.

The cadaver vanishes.
There was no death of
any Fakir. Only flower bed―
will be the last darshan.

You win the battle, waging
inside you and
forget your name.

Satish Verma

Black Moods

I will not beg,
never. There were some mistakes.
You took a wrong turn
hitting below the waist.

It was a disaster. Asking
for the moon― for chilling.
Drugs make you unholy―
you try to whack the clouds.

I give, you take. But the
balance still remains. Somewhere
we don't meet and part with
unease of sea waves.

I am loosening the grip on me,
let go the legs to take me
nowhere. Unwrite the poem
meant for you.

Satish Verma

08 September, 2017

Where Will It End

In deep depression,
clearing the emotional debris,
when your eyes speak―
I become dumb.

The skin mood alters.
Love was not racial.
A naked paper writes your will― that,
you no more belong to anyone.

Going down, down―
the man's ego. I stand on crossroads,
still undecided, your lips
white, eyes red.

The reapers will come again
to harvest the skulls, to
make necklaces. The greed wants
the biggest garland.

Stings are a plenty.

Satish Verma

Some Hegemony

A method cuts you out―
in hunger pangs,
to set you free from bonding
of four― leaf clover, or word.

Love has become a
one way pain, without libido―
in want of a fairy ring.
The maternal cost was high.

Drifting between the
black sea and dead sperms,
you want to raise a
new cult.

The religions betray.
Everything was marketed with
thumbed scripts.
Gods were threat to sane hymns.

I am trying to carve
a face, from the rocks, not
animal, not angel.

Satish Verma

07 September, 2017

Lashing Out

Lying in congealed blood.
You cannot wipe off the stigma.
Moon still shines.

A blitz sends a chilling
message. It is what
it was not.

The narcissism was on
rise. The center was always
in you, falling in love.

Perfectly in disharmony.
A snake eating itself
in great joy. Do you?

Just walk with me.
Don't say anything. We will
enter the black hole together.

Satish Verma

Making Gunpowder

You walk into a trap.
The self-search must start
after the accident in hearth.
The fire has failed―
to ignite the thruth.

No more questions would
come. The shrine will receive
all the answers.

The system wants to know
what went wrong to
identify the protégé of crisis?

You know mimosa. It behaves
like a sensitive person. Touch it and
its leaflets fold together like
greetings and bend down asking
to exit.

The violence erupts. A god has no say.

Satish Verma

06 September, 2017

Forked Tongues

‘Twas your ghost
to secure the promise,
that you would not commit
yourself to the story.

An island sin
confronts the sea
of tears. Was it an
emotional kill?

Did you hear the
sound of moon? It has
come down in the space
where we used to cross the arms.

That was my raw poem.
I had mentioned your solemn
departure. I don't believe
in blaspheme. God would know.

Fever for no misdemeanor.
We walk away on our
different paths.

Satish Verma

Lost Vision

The pain cycle
celebrates the pitfall,
dedicates to the eternal flame
of catharsis.

Syllables were ready to
burn word by word,
orchestrated for a
random repeat.

Like blue veins opening
in dark without spilling the―
blood. But no answers
were coming to compliment you.

Image of self in mirror
sometimes frightens. Now
you begin living without―
body, metaphysically.

A bonfire starts.

Satish Verma

05 September, 2017

The Candle In Snow

An executioner
gazes up into your eyes,
hotting up the gazella.

I am not an asylum seeker.
Was it an insult
to the animal, if I follow a sane path?

From my side of earth,
using different names, unflinchingly
I will speak for the bloody truth.

I never miss a tiger,
even with white coat and
brown eyes. Yellow stripes bring stasis.

Death arranges
the table. You pick up your dish.
O God, I wanted to be like you.

A stunning silence,
again pushes me towards you.
You always grin.

Satish Verma


in final descent.

A distrust starts
the speechless howling.

The veiled threat
to lock the door
and see the other world.


Unmarried― the pears
will not ripen.

Sense of persecution

The doves fly away
you wrote your name on the wings.

Satish Verma

04 September, 2017

In Bald Sun

of invisible blues―

the hesitancy
to shut the door.

I speak for
myself in haze

reaching heights
and deep sea.

The mother in
child weeps;

when we will
meet father?

brings the split.

Satish Verma

Reading Arthur Rimbaud

Dressed to assassinate,
not having much hope.
Were you really―
serious for me?

Like en face
a star giggles, between
quivering small moons.

The night is drunk. You
hear a long hoot, from
enfant terrible, to scare away
the kiss of inevitable.

What a bliss to live
in the black heart of the moment,
when the sun unwraps
the flame.

Complete annihilation
of million desires. You
become the walking death
of unknown.

Satish Verma

03 September, 2017

Between Us

As it appears―
as if nothing stops you and
the spring will ask the direction.
Like a bipolar, I will swing
between moon and sun.

It may not sit true with me
like a lethal drop in an empty cup!

I don't know, what I think
in dual state of mind. Time stretches.
As if involuntarily my―
hands start shaking.

Not yet. It was my wound.
I have to carry my ship down
the river. In hour of ending
would you come to write―
the ascending pain?

Perfection incomplete. There is
voiceless silence.

Satish Verma

Miracles Don't Happen

Part of me― like a morpheme,
you are leaving.
Now I will stand without legs.

The slain shadow moves
from face to face. I
have yet to complete my chapter.

I know what you have to offer.
But I wanted more of
your intimate thoughts about life and death.

You have frequent mood swings.
Sometimes you wanted to go insane
in this clever and wise world.

I trace the terrain of the
inaccessible mount, where one day
you will find broken hull.

Satish Verma

01 September, 2017

The Stony Heart

Looking in your hazel
eyes, I was thinking.

I don't need
second coming. I want
you once for all.

After assassination
of a live truth, I will wear
a cap without an emblem.
I was moving away from the crowd,
after burning the dead.

Why it was so loud?
It was a gratuity? After the
bloodbath, do you still need a bank?

My God, I am tired
of you. Seeds were scattered
for the love birds. I don't find the
moon break.

No about-face
I was still proceeding
towards the lake of tears.

Satish Verma

The Delgue

Blood side by side.
Your risqué humor
ejects the foul nerves.

No religion was my
mother. My prayers were meant
for undying.

The vital fluid boils
without sun.

Pythagoras comes back
to retrieve the numbers.
The mystical figures have failed.

Not afraid of fear.
clenching my fist, one day,
I have to meet my other self.

Satish Verma

31 August, 2017

Standing Out From The Crowd

The weight of charity
sits on my shoulder.
I call for healing
on my terms.

We will divide the
funeral rites for undead―
nourshing survivor's massive,
sin. My path to truth opens.

Chasing a butterfly for
redemption, stuns me.
You were born of your―
own seed.

The guilt ultimately
overtakes. You initiate
unloading the vowels. Words
start flying without wings.

Satish Verma

Landscape Speaks

Poster poems appear
again with all frozen insignias.
I was trying to find a good
remedy, for insomnia.

You wash your moon― shined
face, like a swan gliding
on lips. There was no surgery.

A cuckoo has gone
dumb. Wants a Victorian era
of silver coins.

And the underbelly
lies bare for the spiders
to ride the whistling pains.

Time stoppers were
ready to light the pyres. They
was no other home for death.

You kill the mini ants
running on the mirror. Were
you seeking revenge?

Satish Verma

30 August, 2017

Mind In Asylum

With unease, I follow
the terror on terrace.
The moon was sauntering on the spiky grill.

Fugitive words. I wanted
to take them home. It was
a tipping pain.

That was a brazen assault
in my privacy. Leave me
alone with my roses―

I wanted to talk to them
for a while, before I climb
the rainbow to become artless.

The muse sometimes leaves
me behind. The body gives in,
fighting off the daydreams.

Satish Verma


Like a hedgehog you raise
your spines.
I bleed unbitten.

The sharp polarization
starts a brutal war―
on changing genetics.

The editing of human
behavior with a streak of desire,
goes for lip therapy.

Unimpressed I remain,
after the chlorine attack.
You cannot burn the spirit.

Your tactis anger―
the sparrows. They are migrating
to marry another summer.

Satish Verma

28 August, 2017

Selling Features

The sexless hiccoughs
have started,
in the valley of death planet.

Sovereignty of pure
kiss, in garden of moons― will
feel threatened.

Cannot wipe out
the darkness. The hooded
fear splits the white heels of running sun.

I jump over the sharp blades
of swaying Passiflora, where
pouting lips spread the dark berries.

The paper boats will
not touch the bottom of lake.
You can collect the relies on red beach.

Not you, not me
will prove the virginity
of truth.

Satish Verma

Elusive Thoughts

Time eats the winter, to―
rebuild the fallen ally
of solar storms.

You refused to accept
the incense of disdain, while
carrying the lover in your muse.

Like dandelion's seeds
with downy tufts, your eyes laugh.
Lips pursed, you do not want to go insane.

The need to break was
very strong. I lose myself in a pause.
should shift for another niche.

There was a conspiracy.
Moon was going for a walk―
with another suitor.

Satish Verma

27 August, 2017

The Myth Of Zero

Under the jacaranda tree,
near the fragrant trunk,
lies a sheet of blue trumpet―
shaped flowers.

You are home, near
the lotus feet of marbled
Buddha, standing erect.

You are walling in
Agni's wrath, with wild thoughts.
The somatization becomes very unkind.

It foretells the reality.
Curves take you to lakes. You read more
of the depth of water.

What was the avant-garde
of new age, against
the tight lips of crusade?

Satish Verma

Million Times

Completely broke,
an empty glass, wants
to drink from your eyes.

Validity was incredible
between the silence
of centuries.

Give back my nowness.
Future had migrated into past.
Moon will not rise
for me.

Where was the apotheosis
of my defeats? Any extra
kiss of fireflies was not sufficient.

I will write my own
end in your hands, when
sun brings down the flame.

To sin with the invisible,
had become a liberation.

Satish Verma

26 August, 2017


Waiting for the unwaiting
to appear. The green pigeons
will reduce the palace to rubble.

Could it be like― the
first man to die has become
a savior?

I hold your tender
face in my hands to
read the axioms.

Mumbling something―
Inaudible, I will address,
the upright past.

An unborn love child
Kicks at the walls of the womb.
It was time to see the world.

Satish Verma

Come Whitely

Moon injured―
after reaching climax.
At the death of a poem
nobody was ready to climb the pyre.

A collapsed river was
sleeping in your eyes. I will
come and wake up the sun.
Now I am melting.

Some troubling signs were there.
You were becoming vulnerable,
if the rock cried. And you
wanted to die in my arms.

O brute, cold-blooded
murderer, the shadow of the comet
was lengthening. I don't
want any roses for funeral.

A self-image had the last laugh.

Satish Verma

25 August, 2017

Far From Touching

From uncultured to
subcultured, I was made to―
feel responsible.

My coffers remained
empty. The nightmares had
squirreled away my peace.

And I was always
steeling for a reply. Embracing
the dark woods for support.

Everyday you changed
the mask to become innocent,
separating the sparks from the ash.

Paralysed like sea―
anemone without water. The
sea had receded in haste.

Satish Verma

One Pyrexia

I am the circumference
and I am the center.
My math has failed.

Snooping at your dark gods,
the pi fumbles. Reverse
osmosis starts.

After lynching the saint
you put him on pedestal.
The frenzy, the blaze, and mayhem begins.

The portrait of the fugitive
was incomplete. Lilies
drop the colors and become nuns.

The cage becomes bigger.
You leave the salt. Tears
with laughter would do.

Satish Verma

24 August, 2017

How To Decipher

Like a virgin birth,
a poem floats
without any pain.

Superimposes, as if
on a face, like Mona Lisa,
with her mysterious smile,
longing a release from
the cycle of rebirth.

Are you going to reperform
for me, your silent
surrender, bewildering
a lost pilgrim?

Will you become a
sitter like a moon-faced, veiled
by crying clouds? I had been
trying to touch your lips, eyes.

This vicious assault
was for me. Stony eyes, and
the striking hood―
impel kleptomania.

Satish Verma


Why did you offer your
eyes, to a non-victim―
of invisible violence?

I broke my silence to―
become deaf, like an
ocean under the ice.

The grainy moon crops
up in dark matter. The blue
bomb explodes in your face.

Blueberries swell on your
lips, throwing the stains on the―
mud path between the hills.

The monk sits for oil―
bath on burning coals.
Truth bursts out as dark lies.

Satish Verma

23 August, 2017

Broken Arms

The witch-hunt starts
for an unexploded bomb.

A racist slur becomes mute
for posterity.

The words start migrating―
coming out of their skin and colors.

A dead man walks into
a coal pit for exoneration.

Breathless, I become privy
to mass suicides of the flying moths.

You become a child, hiding
behind a tree, watching
a tiger maul a striped ariel.

Satish Verma

Erecting Another Totem

A conspiracy of the sort.

This is what I wanted
from you.
Abandoned in space―
between the eyes, you were
supposed to lead the humble light
for an elusive peace.

I was lost in the
lexicon of intrigues, the
nest of prudence of the
proverbial lap dance.

Standing at the gate
of morgue, waiting to receive
another caravan of
pseudo remains.

Like a Spartan, you will
not retreat, not bend, your feet
near the grave― still standing erect.

Like wasps the green words would zoom.

Satish Verma

22 August, 2017

Mooning Around

The porus mind―
in the vacant chair, thinking
of infidelity or unbelieving― with
folded hands in prayer
like mantis.

Eating moonlight―
a predator will wait
for a victim fall.

In meditation, you
evolve into Zen. The intuition
to kill, the urge― to go
bald and bare.

The kleptomania. Let me steal
your god from your garden―
without any need. Just
a showpiece.

In a death trap
millions of caterpillars die daily.

Satish Verma

Some Profanity

Smearing an uncut―
and whole moon on the forehead
of night―

the crazy wind starts
turning back the clowns.
Tonight the kitchen would be shut down.

Somebody had climbed
the heaven for a joke, and
became a monster.

Beyond the bread and
milk, lies the cow dead. My
soul cries, who will―
jump on the moon?

The end opens a distant―
black water lake.

Satish Verma

21 August, 2017

Reciting The Fake Poem

Making them dead―
in a regal way,
you joined the bomb squad
of poems.
Why did I need to remember
you intensely O god?

Why eternity of enormous
pain would ensnare you? A group
of panthers were going to attack a fawn
in the blue game? Will
you hurt me one day?

You don't cover your eyes
with a black veil. Then what was
the purpose of becoming invisible?
Does a truth live in dark?

There was no
need of law, before
you die, after removing the makeup.
We always discover an excuse
to live lavishly on the hired
words of praise.

There are no more parables
no more prophets.

Satish Verma

History Repeats

My killing instincts
were intact.
On this bloody moon day―
I must talk to myself.

Just lips would move,
not the mind.

A mode of non-being
comes in fore. You watch the pansies dancing―

The air passes. White phosphorus
ignites on its own.

Memory alternates with pain.
It is not over.
We are still searching ourselves
in a mound of earth.

Satish Verma

20 August, 2017

A Poetic Version

You were at it again.
Ignoring the truth
of lies!

Embodiment suffers
when you break
the sacred threads of perception.

Dried up tears blemishes,
on the voluptuous cheeks of time―
speak another tale,
catching the fire.

In your smashed tree
of verbosity lived
my small poem like a spirit.

You will not write my name
on the sinless rocks before throwing them
in the sea.

And I will watch your face on each
fallen bract of colored bougainvillea.

Satish Verma

Not Yet Battered

The pain physical.
I carve it in my mind, to
set it free― like the leaf going
to meet the ground.

To carry myself, holding
within, the desire to seek liberation
from coming and going.

My unroofed walls, taking
in, the sun, the rains―
the storm― the snow.

And my hurts―
my poesy.

I am confronting myself
for the final count.

Satish Verma

19 August, 2017

Remembering You

After victim effect
of hibernation,
I was ready to take a call
of a sudden drop.

The strange idea
engulfs me. Transparency
now speaks.

The fallout may compromise
with ash. I will not.
Someone wakes up my conscience.
A near dead goddess lights
up the last lamp.

The dirty sheets for
the crying dolls―
crying dolls.

Like the dumb finger
in frost, wants to―
write your name in blue sky.

Satish Verma

Moaning Chimneys

There was no rationale
of jinxed proxy. Let me sort
out the gifts of a no god.

You want to initialize me
in forgetting you. Was it so
simple standing under the rains?

Who were you in
my nest, divorced from the
silence of the aches?

The door will not open now for
the moon to walk in for a tender kiss.

This soil, the grief
the stairs I am going to throw
your malignant civilization.

Start respecting yourself now.
I will come to pick
up my virginity.

You do not know, what was
behind this inertia.

Satish Verma

18 August, 2017

Falling From A Precipice

In a chilly moment
a metaphysical shadow

I start studying in
granular detail, the substance―
cause and knowing.

The terrible. I become
an executioner; climb down
a tar pit to drown
the skulls of peers.

Everything goes in
circinate mode. A ball
of spines. You bleed,
you ache.

I want to go before
a firing squad, for not
remaining innocent.

Satish Verma

In Sadness

It was a non-beginning.
You were there.
How much do you know
about this aggression, when
the emperor was getting
ready for self-destruction?

The heat of a bullet breaks,
the alien chest. I grab the
soft music of heartache―
and release the waterbirds.Now
the eyes will see the―
dawn of mind, and my little
dust will fly over the blue blood.

A man covers his mouth
with a strip of cloth.
He wants to talk to a laughing Buddha.

Satish Verma

17 August, 2017

Replying To Myself

Roping in, as if―
all my defeats, creating―
a tiara for a royal fall.

Being hurled
towards the enormous black hole,
chased by the sun.

Like an old thinker
I was putting myself in a
violent comet's pathway.

Not being a whole religion
why did I worship a walking stone?

How would I communicate
with my destiny?
I was not born a shining star.

An individual becomes,
an androgyne, unsure
to name the gender.

I am going to honour the talent.

Satish Verma


In shadow of moon―
amidst banal, repeated answers,
you take a shot.

Moment of truth―
dissembles, the religion
of fear and kill. I hear

a sea of daffodils
going wild.
After the aching, The vision is lost.

You revert to bind
alleys. Between faith and hope
flickering light waits.

You stir and churn,
breach the obscene party
and go for a god.

Satish Verma

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


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,

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

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.

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


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

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


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


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


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

Satish Verma

05 August, 2017

Where To Go

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

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

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―
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


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


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


A dynamic kill,
when you start crystal―

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.

rind of bloody orange in
the eyes of severed head.

Satish Verma

27 July, 2017


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
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


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.

I won't taste the violence
of celestial bamboos.

Satish Verma