16 August, 2017

Tortured Times

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

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

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

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

A paperweight against
an argument, shatters the window.

The bluebird
refuses to sing.

Satish Verma

Philosophizing

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

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

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

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

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

That was the art of inevitability.

Satish Verma

15 August, 2017

Made On Earth

You by yourself,
will become me―
one day.

I am standing―
lone, with
body planet.

The intrinsic design―
of ampersand
falters. And

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

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

Satish Verma

New Questions

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

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

Seizure brings
the nearness to unknown,
deliberately.

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

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

Satish Verma

14 August, 2017

Some Transcripts

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

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

It was a big question. How to meet you?

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

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

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

Long live the Homo.

Satish Verma

Distressing Call

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

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

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

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

Satish Verma

13 August, 2017

Listening Unheard Voices

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

Partheno-sculpting
a protégé, without touching
the essentials.

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

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

The swaying hips
of downing night.
Sun was rising.

Satish Verma

In Denial

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

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

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

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

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

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

Satish Verma

12 August, 2017

Strange Logics

A blood retreats―
through the gift of tears.

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

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

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

A rusted wound has no thoughts left.

Satish Verma

Preternaturally

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

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

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

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

Satish Verma

11 August, 2017

Exodus

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

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

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

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

Moon starts licking his wounds.

Satish Verma

Your Tresses Of Night Shade

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

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

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

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

O bronzed man, don't
hide the gold.

Satish Verma

10 August, 2017

The Land Pulls

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

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

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

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

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

Satish Verma

Dwarfing

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

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

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

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

The sculptor was ready,
to anoint a fallen angel.

Satish Verma

09 August, 2017

Little Gods

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

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

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

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

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

Satish Verma

Coding An Ocean

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

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

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

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

Satish Verma

08 August, 2017

The Cameo

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

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

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

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

Satish Verma

Speaking Of Angst

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

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

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

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


Satish Verma

07 August, 2017

In Nostalgia

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

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

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

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

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

Satish Verma

Infinite Loss

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

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

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

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

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

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

I want to go dumb?

Satish Verma

06 August, 2017

Eyeshades

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

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

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

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

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

Satish Verma

I Will Not Be Silent

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

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

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

Satish Verma

05 August, 2017

Where To Go

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

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

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

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

Satish Verma

Your Philosophy

Why did you cast
a net to catch
the monster?

Some dark whispers
intending to flog the
supermodel?

What was your fecundity
before you had become
a saint?

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

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

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

Satish Verma

04 August, 2017

Revelatory Execution

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

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

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

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

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

Satish Verma

In Transition

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

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

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

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

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

Satish Verma

03 August, 2017

Without Stopping

Facing the music
of intrigues, the cuckoo
is perturbed.

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

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

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

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

Satish Verma

Falling Rubble

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

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

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

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

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

Satish Verma

02 August, 2017

In Depression

Your face swims like
a myth.

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

No family. Words
move in different tacks.

Water heals, when
your feet were sore.

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

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

Satish Verma

Earthenwares

You cannot bisect
the darkness,
in this unreal world.

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

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

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

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

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

Satish Verma

01 August, 2017

Half-Lights

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

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

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

Your body comes in
between my blues
and trembling morrows.

Satish Verma

On Judgement Day

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

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

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

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

Satish Verma