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