30 January, 2017

The Sunrise

Centrality suffers.
A poem

The kingfisher
to find the depth of water.

Ready to strike
beyond― the
horizon, black hole.

With September
blues on―
my hands, I pray.

Satish Verma

Was It Scary?

Do not measure zany,
yourself. When did you become
your pedagogue?

Around the city I am
planting the roses―
against the wishes of land mines.

Haunted by a survivalism,
somewhere the smoke
was rising. But I wanted―

to leave the fragrance
for you― and you will not
wait for the ghosts to tell,

who was the visitor. You
will not know my future and
I will not know your past.

Satish Verma

29 January, 2017


After finding the pulse,
you become a man-eater.
Decide to play a volcano―
to solve the mystery
of god.

Shirtless violence,
sells the skin, the vagus
and the cranium.

There was no difference
between black and white. I
had fallen for the crooked―
smile of death.

You appear like a
nymph in my stasis―
of thoughts. I kiss
my hands.

You penetrate in my bones.
O God, you were exactly my image.

Moon stained a poem beseeches
me, to lift my pen.

Satish Verma


The interstellar
reticence, becomes the
muse of a storm.


Departure begins,
when the lights are dimmed.
Night licks the moon.


Now, you can
roll up the stings.
Cadaver will not rise.


The bell rings―
for the last exhibit.
Moths were waiting.

Satish Verma

28 January, 2017

Circling Moons

When the time faults, it
becomes metaphysical for me―
to write a poem in flesh and blood.

A night's terror, descends.
Buzz of an insect hovers,
until I give in.

A thoughtess invasion―
makes you unstable, when
you reach the heights, where
snow wails, time and space
start collapsing.

A vacuum bubble expands
into a dome. You draw frescoes
in dream. The colors penetrate.
Blind landings begin.

Looks as if you were sitting with dead,
till eternity.

Satish Verma

The Debauchery

This age of depression―
Do you hear―
the unheard sounds?

I always bleed―
in the books. Some words
won't stay for the sake of propriety.

Nothing is held back,
not even modesty. The biggest
savagery, of being a human.

And a flock of ravens will
go on hungry,
not feeding on debased carrion.

The baby moon will
not smile. History has
cheated us out of the truth.

The heat, noises and
dust. Every face was covered
in soot. I cannot recognize myself.

Satish Verma

27 January, 2017


Unstitch my memories,
I have come home,

My bag was full of worries.
How will I spread my age?

An old man reading the palms―
cannot find the glasses.

After a mutiny, nothing was
left of a hissing pyramid.

Tell me the shape of tomorrow
to come. In dark I have
to bury my name.

Satish Verma

Here And There

The collective
scream of peacocks,
brings the night horror.

The horses run―
in morning blue.
The call has come.

Cotton wool on―
retina. I cannot read
your command.

To immerse
my god in your lake,
the wait must be long.

Satish Verma

26 January, 2017

Bittersweet Nightshades

It was time to
modify the heritage―
in a delicate bid to
aid the dying.

A wrenching decision was―
to ask for an apology
from a living god.

I will crack, but
not come to you, to
invoke the grace of mercy.

The twilight sits at
my door to seek the nemesis.
Why did I swallow the moon
without asking the sky's womb?

Cocooned. Afraid
to show the scarred skin.
Your words bloom in dark,
like a cereus. I collect the fame
to light the candle in wind.

Satish Verma


Can you contain it;
the call,
one animal?


A baby hurt,
you enjoy.


The full moon was―
as poor as,
a church mouse.


Sitting in court
watching a
finch play with water.

Satish Verma

25 January, 2017

No Sin

you think―
you will not come back

like Argentine
130,000 pounds

That was

There is no space sacred,
left to die

No time, cause
or substance

You can speak to me, unspeaking
without wires

There is no carrot
for the god

Satish Verma


Sundown, the masks
come out and a game of
perfidy begins.

Words disappear. A
long pause. You will kill two
birds with one stone.
You and ultimate.

No threats. Only the
heat and flames of summer.
In a dark cave, the icicles
form a white deity.

The religion of the body
and flesh, has no god,
no prayer.

The candle burns―
without a wick, melts
into a blue lake.

Satish Verma

23 January, 2017


A spotless white moon
was hiding the―
ink spilled on the apron.


The pretty nouns
scramble for hope―
if there was any.


You could not undo―
what a rose―
did, in broad daylight.


A town lives
under a tree, in shade.
The ants come and go.

Satish Verma


Escaping the unknown
becomes easier
when you listen
to the echos of dark.

My god says, the peeled
oranges will feed the
starved moon, when you
invite the rains.

Invisible hills will send
the bronze poems to you,
once the black night starts
drinking the green water.

The nightmare looms large―
climbs up my chest to
lick the isles, throwing me in
parenthesis, failing the commas.

Satish Verma

22 January, 2017

In Rebellion

I am nudged to shift
the centre of gravity.

The flames are touching
both of us. A civilized frisking
to unmask the secret.

I look at the dark
sky to plant the stars.
Unreached and unreachable
were you― in the carnival.

A creepy night nods.
I must wait for your zodiac
to blink and release the
incense of dew drops.

There was no destination.
I am a surfer, will not skirt
a thunderbolt.

Blood stains will appear later.

Satish Verma

Dark Waters

Bliss of blue
and white, balancing
the dark.

This was my curse,
and this was my fate―
mixing the colors.

Do not go farther,
in sea, the fishes
have swallowed the sun.

The park-teachers
and path finders were
not aware of foot-faults.

The word stoppers
were abound. I have yet
to find an ear, drunk as water lily.

Satish Verma

21 January, 2017

Studies Of Land

It was not true,
Truvia. The seed leaves
are not true leaves.

Ifs and whys were not
relevant, when
you become mute.

This country was never―
at war with itself.
The salt lake had dried up.

Two little girls hang
from a smiling tree.
Dreams are incredible.

Satish Verma

Ars Poetica

You don't have to walk
in self-discipline
and abstention.

To transcend
the prying eyes and
rub off the naked shoulder
of moon.

Would you come back
in dark to light the lamps
in my eyes?

I need no pain
to write the epitaph of
an undying poet
in jungle of wild screams.


There was no beginning
no end. So from where
you will start reciting
the beautiful saga?

I don't think of your
luxury to pick up my craft
and hack me to hundred stanzas.

Satish Verma

20 January, 2017


Your limbs tremble―
when you stand erect
to end the silence.

Nobody wants the clamor put to sleep.

It was a direct insult
of surgical kill.

When it was light, you start
covering yourself, caught in a vise.

Every dialogue was worth living.
You can only pray for the wrongs,
come to right.

A secret of tongue was
out. Ladders and snakes,
snakes and ladders, were not meant
for you.

The ambulances has always written the
letters― in reverse.

Satish Verma

Tapping The Wall

A soul-search violates
a code.You cannot
drop your mask.

A liquid pain, again
laughs from eyes.
Green was the moon.

Was your poem―
a truth? Capable
of death watch?

The squirrel hangs
down by tail, to watch
the man climbing.

Satish Verma

19 January, 2017

Breathing Barriers

You receive when
you don't ask,
celebrating the soul
with mind.

The matter, the blurred
awareness was made
of tiny faults.

The fabric breaks
in yes or no. Pricks draw
the blood of million screams.

The moon catcher blights
himself. Flowers
pull up the roots. Nowhere to go.

The shadows close
the windows. You grope
in dark, searching the right
word or answer.

Don't turn your head.
Pathways are sinking.

Satish Verma

A Dying Hymn

Your face had only the
eyes, when you flew backwards,
hovering like a humming bird.

There was no absolute,
hoisting the beheaded god.
In transience I will meet you
in air and shed the body.

In mouth-hole you put
all your wisdom, to bisect the
virgin house. Violence creeps into
the roses. They droop and bleed.

I will talk to burgundy-black
moon, not to leave footprints on
my face. My lips are going to
catch the stolen kisses.

Satish Verma

18 January, 2017

Thousand Truths

Ah, this was the comfort of
defiance. You can
expunge the consonance.

You are not proving anything
except to play devious game,
with fossils. The lunacy
will hide you.

A thoughtless state comes
to exit. There is absolute stillness
in the busy bee suspended
in moonlight.

No awards. No flogging. What
you can give without seeking
any space? You cannot
eat your own progeny.

Satish Verma

Breaking The Golden Leash

Float seamlessly in dark.
Come in my arms,
like a cloud―
like a moon.

The cult will live
on for eternity to
meet the challenger.

The objector had
the flatfoot. Will walk

In eerie silence―
an agile titan was going
to vilify himself.

Conscientiously I
wanted to feel you once
in my verses.

No virtue, no sin
was needed to come to
the lips of an abyss.

Satish Verma

17 January, 2017

Without Envy

This command was
I will not accept the defeat
from life.

You were mending the shoes,
of god. My vase had
broken. This is my burden,
I carry the body of a poem.

Waterfalls. I stand in
midstream. Throw my walking stick
in flowing stream. Will heal
the dead legs of a thought.

The belly is full of crickets.
No light. The unending muffled
trill. The pebbles fall in nightmares.
I seek the ending of blue marks.

The air fills the lungs with your prayers for me.

Satish Verma

Blood Feud

In moonscape, a flower
remedy, enters the white
smoke of your eyes. An open―
house shuts.

The coal writes its name on
blue skin. We were slaves of our
own deeds. I want to go back to
my ancestors, to learn the clock.

Unheard the suicide of
a viper, eating its own venom.
The fat people will come in line―
to pay homage.

White caps and black caps in
thick silence, drink the empty glasses,
cutting the meat of the books―
and reading again the sky.

Satish Verma

16 January, 2017

Asking Yourself

Exploring yourself― 
with an ornate dagger,
to find the missing link.

My integrity was at
stake. From where did―
you start?

Bring the steel from
the sea, and loneliness
from the storm.

The beige sunset
would dare to go ahead
of the red moon.

Will you threaten a
small reply? The lips were
in the state of siege.

I will meet you
one day at distant dangers.
How far you will go with me?

Satish Verma

Without Curse

The animals are―
in solid fear,
of man.

Fauna was in distress,
delivering the offspring―
to unnamed creator.

Earthworms were
regrouping to start burrowing
under the mausoleums.

Stoicism would find
a new house. The mutiny had
collapsed in good weather.

Of winter and summer,
You know the discipline of
winds, when birds sing.

Satish Verma

15 January, 2017

Out Of Way

I do not know,
If it was a religious assault―
to meet god,
face to face―
when my poem was burning.

One tooth broken―
I cannot speak properly. But
my eyes will show my angst,
my unretrieved light
from a tunnel.

Who will find the sun, when
night was sick? And grievers
had gone to dig up a grave?

There was a meaningless pain,
in waiting. The poem was dead.

Day you are in, day you
are out. It was a beauty
to hear nothing.

Satish Verma

Coming Out In Dark

Starting a crush,
on the baby face moon.
Only half-sinned
by staying quiet.

Think straight.
If you don't spell out,
you will snap―
like the fallen blue angel.

Falling in arms. Space
was small. Ars poetica―
faulted. You feel―
luggage was heavy.

For a griever, it was
a long walk. In trance a
city lifts your pyre.
You refuse to burn alive.

Calling names in sleep.

Satish Verma

14 January, 2017


A circle,
will not become complete,
without a center.

The peripheries
cannot be defined.

Why should we
become prisoners
of small gods?

The hope―
is a gift of unknown.

Take it.

Satish Verma

Listening To Night

Walk warily.
You are in crisis zone.
Moon will not rise today.


A bare phenomenon
of shedding the
fears in dark.


Now you will confront
to take revenge.


Like nocturnal
flight of a bat, to find
the mate on plum.


Hangs a tale of
a squirrel, waiting
for a Buddha.

Satish Verma

13 January, 2017


Where will you go
when you are not right,
not wrong?

And train will not stop
at your station. You
have to wait till sunrise.

Half-mist, half-moon―
and the glass houses.
The rocks refuse to fly.

The consecrated dawn
on a silent street whispers.
The city was dead.

I sleep after the naked
assault. The black shirts
and the white shirts have no answer.

Satish Verma

12 January, 2017

Secrets Of Unknown

Stone gods
envision the interface
between man and beast.


He sits with his
head sunk in knees.
Wants to become a painting.


A black piano
looks around for the
blind maestro.


He was fighting
with the shadows of ghosts
on walls.

Satish Verma

Coming Out Of Asylum

Multiple hurts― and
you still want to live
in this dystopia.

The queue was
lengthening to catch up
with moon.

The gate man will talk
of an apocalypse.
The repeat flame, which
does not die in the presence
of sun.

The thoughts. Will they
ever stop in dark? The
moonlight gathering the ashes.

The erotica fails to
cast the net. You want to
collect the venom of desire
capping the end blues.

Satish Verma

11 January, 2017

Wild Reflections

After a long journey
he wants to sit
under the moon.


Not calling home,
he wanted to cross
the religion.


There was no clearing―
of subterranean fears.
I have accepted the mats.


In boiling water
why did you jump
to save the fish?

Satish Verma

Faint Viberations

I want to be
eloquent, with myself―
to write a poem.


Do you have
a clean blade
as pure as a plum?


Not enough
were the seeds,
for green fingers.


A grivever―
comes back, to undo
the guilt of others.

Satish Verma

10 January, 2017

Displacing The Milestones

Talking of myths,
in dichotomy of grace―
when somebody said that
the facts were loose truths.

Your faith slumbers―
when you are awake. And
you, my door of night, will
wear the tears of dawn.

Not sharing the loneliness,
when I was dispensing the
laughs amidst the grief
of hills. The trees, the slopes
and seeds― that will never bear
the fruits.

And there, I did't want
to celebrate my unwritten epitaph
after completing the life
of falls.

And the neighborhood still
sleeps when I decide to walk away
towards the dark.

Satish Verma

Are You There

The wheels.
I decide to abandon―
the home.


The pain of darkness
returns. Wax
drips from a taper.


A sickle moon―
my religion.


Deep anguish,
after the taste of
your own blood.

Satish Verma

09 January, 2017


This was an illegal kill
between you and me.
I will abdicate―
my headstone.

The black eyes keep on staring
at the orange wings.
Butterflies presage
the quake's qualms.

Very unsettled, I was,
against the odds. I was trying
to figure out my―
new passage.

Slaughtered with a sickle,
a faith lies―
bleeding, I bring out the
cannabis for peace.

Satish Verma


At crisis of
inquiry, you search
the questions.

Life throws up a savage violence.
Bruising our psychies
we try to know each other.

At the end of the road,
we try to start a conversation.
There was a huge presence―
of some unseen force.

Much ado, looking
through each other. Would
you call me again?

Let there be a brutal
confession. I take back
my words and rewrite a poem.

Satish Verma

08 January, 2017

Proving False

News runs faster
than the sun. It is
dark already.

You have started arresting
the shadows. I was still
talking to a rose.

Let's go somewhere. Where
no war cries are heard
for a day.

How many, will you―
count the dead? Each mortal
wants to go home.

The postcards, don't
arrive from the front

Will you take my message
by the severed head.

Satish Verma


Sometimes the unholy fears
come obliquely―
from the scorpions.

Tongue tastes the salt of spilled
hate. You execute the hooded anxieties,
creating a cadaver pyramid.

Stich-open-stitch. Cobra
in the bush. Awesome colors of eyes

I am not going to kiss
the chillies. Burning hot lips.
The contours were enticing.
I shut my eyes for a weird encounter.

The floors pulverized. I still
stand in mud, on my own.

Satish Verma

07 January, 2017

A Broken Chain

A dumb copy of me.
You were done for.
Sometimes the design goes awry.

Ptosis. You are called for―
a fall. But you refuse
to die.

You survive the clouds, the
first moon, the brown eyes.
Me before the sun.

Let us take a risqué humor.
Forget each other
and become strangers.

One intentional error.
Honey, honey, honey.
Bees ready to fly away.

The shrine of a flier.
Where it was?
I was searching the sea.

Satish Verma

Emotional Resonance

Sorcery comes handy
when you start
beheading the sunflowers.

The mountain goes bald,
qualifies for the
murder. I set a bronze―

lover on the pedestal to
arrest the muffled
voices, coming from silent cries.

The grace was missing
from the artifacts, you pluck
from the freezing lips.

Stones are falling.

Millions of words.

No meaning.

Satish Verma

05 January, 2017

One Black Summer

I break myself
today, angry with me,
for small things.

Not able to finish
the track, I will sell now―
my dreams.

How do I turnaround,
to seek my aching legs,
for the fear of climb?

The call of the peaks,
in deep ocean,
for an asylum?

Why did it happen to
unhappen, when you were
fighting like a lynx with fate?

Satish Verma

What Else Does It Mean

You did not tell me―
what did you want?

Departure was sad,
unceremonious, escaping
an epitaph.
My legs become heavy.

Unthinkingly, you
write on the wall with foggy hands.
The silhouettes tremble.

Who will break this
infernal cycle of reincarnation?
That means, we should redefine
the death.

a creed is born.

You walk on the burning coals
to pick up the poppies,
a gift of torn love.

Satish Verma

04 January, 2017

The Safe Journey

How not to feel
the rapture of the deep
after arousal of a centotaph.

Like losing a hand,
while groping for

This was the sin
of the silence, not ready
to share the pain.

Do not invade the
private domain, when
you decide to abdicate.

Dishonesty was
intact. You will not
bargain for lies.

When you love,
You make it dirty.

Satish Verma

In War

O Earth,
today, standing on your bones
I will study my fears.

I am talking to myself
to say everything, which I don't
mean, presiding over the violence.

Bullet-ridden I
will return your sorrow
to sky, hailing the stars.

From grief to grief
I walk pigeon-toed,
to explore the mines of seed thoughts.

In summer, you
offer the naked hands to me
to write the poem of the day.

Satish Verma

03 January, 2017

Prayer In Message

There were no regrets―
from the life to lose the game.
Tell me, how can I forget
you, when flesh was melting
from the bones?

The poetics. This was not
the world, I had dreamed.
Sinkhole. You are swallowed alive.
The script was changing.
War allows to drop the morality.

Eye shamed. For your sake.
O God, I had loved your creation.
Why it had become dirty?
This was no more my property.
Take away the loaned apples.

It is the split,
the divide. I am walking
barefoot to feel the bygone dead

Satish Verma


Coming of age becomes
temporal, when
I start to speak.

It was my ancient wound―
which had come into being,
to bleed.

No mannerism,
idiosyncrasy or culture
was needed to stay dumb.

Time runs in a
narrow tunnel, to cross the enemy lines.
I will unmourn my death.

Like collecting the bluebells.
After the burial of candor,
there was no other ceremony.

Satish Verma

02 January, 2017

Something To Happen

The ache of taking a
call, when my
book was burning.

I scramble to warn
the bees, not to
come near the sundew.

Words hide the
sticky floor. Walk prudently
to swap the hunger strike

for bread and wine,
as the fingerprints untangle
the mystery of desires.

Satish Verma

Not Left Behind

I will keep on
looking back, when you would
not be there.

Trying to put it behind me, the
Moon-blind dysphoria.

The riddled moments. You
are badly hurt, but
would not say.

Bare-boned, in
the oasis of flesh.

The mankind―
why were you feeling let down
by animalcules?

Into the grave milieu,
you― sleeptalking, without

Trying to rekindle the
flames from the wet eyes.

Satish Verma

01 January, 2017

Causing Intense Pain

Clouds had veiled
the waning sun.
A topaz.

A blast,
becomes quite blasé at first
then becomes green.

With envy, the moon
gives no light.
My faith tumbles.

Sometimes I ask myself.
Why did you cover
your sore spots?

As a perfect pretext
of buying peace
why did you go for the lies?

Satish Verma


O Zero man! you come
with a continuous denial,
of thirst of war,
a habit, predation.

When would you cross the blood lines?

The night blooms.
Sucking stars, moon
and chaste boundaries.

Nothing moves in the
stillness of voice, words.
A green light floats.

When there will be peace?

en face, I was ready to
fold the words, the sky.

Satish Verma