Sometimes I will interplay
the secrets:
faded rose in a book,
a distant star spelling out
your name.
When I go, will you come
to my home?
Hold my eyes wide open
and become my iris?
I wanted to see the innocence of a sin.
Black stone on a white belly
petrifies the womb.
Maniacs were dancing on the petals
of marigolds.
A mauve revenge
Petit mal holds the sanity
of defeat.
Pheromones will decide the gender
of a flat chested angel.
Each thorn was crying.
Satish Verma
31 May, 2008
FROM A DOT
One final leap
from high solitude
into city of dusk,
takes you to presence
of charred remains
of a fallen god.
A housewife moves in the kitchen
to prepare a farewell dinner
for the encounter of fatal descent.
A paranormal parting
to comeback to body of truth,
as you pick up your words.
Space odyssey in eyes,
palms folding,
to receive the punishment.
No complaints, no grieving
conclusion of foregone stopping.
A line will start from a dot.
Satish Verma
from high solitude
into city of dusk,
takes you to presence
of charred remains
of a fallen god.
A housewife moves in the kitchen
to prepare a farewell dinner
for the encounter of fatal descent.
A paranormal parting
to comeback to body of truth,
as you pick up your words.
Space odyssey in eyes,
palms folding,
to receive the punishment.
No complaints, no grieving
conclusion of foregone stopping.
A line will start from a dot.
Satish Verma
29 May, 2008
XULON
Small things were
witness to genes
of freak mutation.
Tooth in eye
becoming boat in blindness.
Witch hazel
fails to stop leakage.
Thumb with beads of lymph
stung high in stillness,
wants to peel off
the concept of injury.
A brace
stops the smile.
Blue-chips have nothing to offer.
A king had hemophilia.
Timbers drip the blood
from heartwood
dropp by drop.
Satish Verma
witness to genes
of freak mutation.
Tooth in eye
becoming boat in blindness.
Witch hazel
fails to stop leakage.
Thumb with beads of lymph
stung high in stillness,
wants to peel off
the concept of injury.
A brace
stops the smile.
Blue-chips have nothing to offer.
A king had hemophilia.
Timbers drip the blood
from heartwood
dropp by drop.
Satish Verma
28 May, 2008
FROM DUSK TO DUSK
The dazzling star
went through me.
I was undemanding
from dusk to dusk
hurting myself, not anybody.
Time to meet my twin,
to set he black on orange.
My guilt, my fear, my foreboding.
Let go off, my sap in the twigs,
fruits were coming down.
Under the guise of innocence
eruptiness entered into non-thought.
One by one snakes unrolled
with black eyes, under the succulent breasts,
the black poison clapping the pink lips.
The dirt was spreading
on the hands of unborn children.
Their eyes searching the seeds.
On dark beads of mother.
Father had been killed in a cave.
Satish Verma
went through me.
I was undemanding
from dusk to dusk
hurting myself, not anybody.
Time to meet my twin,
to set he black on orange.
My guilt, my fear, my foreboding.
Let go off, my sap in the twigs,
fruits were coming down.
Under the guise of innocence
eruptiness entered into non-thought.
One by one snakes unrolled
with black eyes, under the succulent breasts,
the black poison clapping the pink lips.
The dirt was spreading
on the hands of unborn children.
Their eyes searching the seeds.
On dark beads of mother.
Father had been killed in a cave.
Satish Verma
27 May, 2008
A GREEN PRIDE HAS NO AMBITION NOW
Walk with me, till moon rises
on the griefs of the dark,
and the tongue tastes the pain of centuries.
On the erected dome
when the golden leaves start a flame
which throws up an image of a prophet.
My nightingale was giving a call
of a very sad tune, on the death of peacocks -
but for the poisoned feed, they were dancing.
A green pride has no ambition now,
roses were wilting.
Fever was rising in the roots.
Do not give it to me, my award.
Could I have shut up like a fame
when my house was being ransacked?
Satish Verma
on the griefs of the dark,
and the tongue tastes the pain of centuries.
On the erected dome
when the golden leaves start a flame
which throws up an image of a prophet.
My nightingale was giving a call
of a very sad tune, on the death of peacocks -
but for the poisoned feed, they were dancing.
A green pride has no ambition now,
roses were wilting.
Fever was rising in the roots.
Do not give it to me, my award.
Could I have shut up like a fame
when my house was being ransacked?
Satish Verma
26 May, 2008
OF A VIRGIN GOD
Partly clad
full moon
was taking a bath on hills.
Trees were waiting
for the curtains to rise.
Scented stars would make
giant scars on the clouds,
I would make peace with the sky.
Lids of human greed were laden
with golden dust, I was hoisting the skull.
Of a virgin god who did not
want to live for the blotched up creation.
The decline was obvious. Truth
had refused to climb
on the sky-blue, salted peaks of springs.
Body had arrived,
mourners quietly wailing.
Gouged eyes could not decipher
the script on the halved pyramid.
Sun was sucking the clay.
Satish Verma
full moon
was taking a bath on hills.
Trees were waiting
for the curtains to rise.
Scented stars would make
giant scars on the clouds,
I would make peace with the sky.
Lids of human greed were laden
with golden dust, I was hoisting the skull.
Of a virgin god who did not
want to live for the blotched up creation.
The decline was obvious. Truth
had refused to climb
on the sky-blue, salted peaks of springs.
Body had arrived,
mourners quietly wailing.
Gouged eyes could not decipher
the script on the halved pyramid.
Sun was sucking the clay.
Satish Verma
25 May, 2008
FLOWERING OF THE THOUGHT
Belonging
to unbelonging
was becoming a method
exploring the path.
In the backyard unpleasant fumes
were rising.
Nocturnal swoop of enlightment,
clearly becomes a festival
of yellow death.
Who was hiding the truth?
Flowering of the thought in sky
ripens cessation of grief.
Slopes and summits,
bring tears in eyes.
Solace of ancestral home
was gone. Bold ceilings were hung by ungodly fears.
Wet hands lift the body of past,
classical future was gleaming slowly.
Satish Verma
to unbelonging
was becoming a method
exploring the path.
In the backyard unpleasant fumes
were rising.
Nocturnal swoop of enlightment,
clearly becomes a festival
of yellow death.
Who was hiding the truth?
Flowering of the thought in sky
ripens cessation of grief.
Slopes and summits,
bring tears in eyes.
Solace of ancestral home
was gone. Bold ceilings were hung by ungodly fears.
Wet hands lift the body of past,
classical future was gleaming slowly.
Satish Verma
24 May, 2008
IN INWARD ALONENESS
One by one
leaves had gone,
several and many times.
Lone tree, standing naked in dry wind
was ready to walk.
In inward aloneness
to know the roots.
You look straight into the eyes of primeval
suffering. Under a cramped disguise of happiness,
behind the glassed life.
For the clawed, weeping silences
who had turned away from the shrill voices.
Night of burns,
and promised beach of immortality
shoulder to shoulder.
Satish Verma
leaves had gone,
several and many times.
Lone tree, standing naked in dry wind
was ready to walk.
In inward aloneness
to know the roots.
You look straight into the eyes of primeval
suffering. Under a cramped disguise of happiness,
behind the glassed life.
For the clawed, weeping silences
who had turned away from the shrill voices.
Night of burns,
and promised beach of immortality
shoulder to shoulder.
Satish Verma
23 May, 2008
DEATH ON GRASS
Sometime, somewhere I will break
into many moons -
an oblique answer to a terrestrial question
of a pale river.
The heat is on, because of the
fatal mistakes. Violence has pregnancy.
Walls stand alone without a roof
hauling the suicidal balloons.
Blue berries are becoming scarce.
Vision short, we cannot see in the night.
Crystals in candlelight become green,
images creeping tall under the trees.
Of total failure, the chemistry of love
patches up with arithmetic of aristocracy.
Spoils the show of neutrality
in sky, hurting the gods.
I am stuck with autistic heroes
in poor desert of a waking sun.
Death on grass will never show
the second birth of the pain.
Satish Verma
into many moons -
an oblique answer to a terrestrial question
of a pale river.
The heat is on, because of the
fatal mistakes. Violence has pregnancy.
Walls stand alone without a roof
hauling the suicidal balloons.
Blue berries are becoming scarce.
Vision short, we cannot see in the night.
Crystals in candlelight become green,
images creeping tall under the trees.
Of total failure, the chemistry of love
patches up with arithmetic of aristocracy.
Spoils the show of neutrality
in sky, hurting the gods.
I am stuck with autistic heroes
in poor desert of a waking sun.
Death on grass will never show
the second birth of the pain.
Satish Verma
22 May, 2008
DEBTS OF GRATITUDE`
Wanted to pay
debts of gratitude.
There was a call from evergreens,
he was not ready to go.
Standing in pit of snakes
he was preparing himself for a random fang,
throat like a blue-bird
waiting for a song.
The solid waste of numerals
across the thinking,
developed plaques, while philosophy
was accepting innovation.
The authority had started
reading the couplets.
Glory came earlier
sea cracked into shells.
Satish Verma
debts of gratitude.
There was a call from evergreens,
he was not ready to go.
Standing in pit of snakes
he was preparing himself for a random fang,
throat like a blue-bird
waiting for a song.
The solid waste of numerals
across the thinking,
developed plaques, while philosophy
was accepting innovation.
The authority had started
reading the couplets.
Glory came earlier
sea cracked into shells.
Satish Verma
21 May, 2008
FLY-TRAP
You are not me.
It was not gentle,
it was not sweet.
It was fire in the glass.
One yellow rose was opening up
in a very bright night.
I was shivering
under the leafless shade of hawthorn.
One surrogate mother
picks up the wormholes.
One tendril oscillates
to entwine the lover.
Stealthily, the sad moon slides
into the big bosom of clouds.
My eyes now search,
the bared, Venus fly-trap.
Satish Verma
It was not gentle,
it was not sweet.
It was fire in the glass.
One yellow rose was opening up
in a very bright night.
I was shivering
under the leafless shade of hawthorn.
One surrogate mother
picks up the wormholes.
One tendril oscillates
to entwine the lover.
Stealthily, the sad moon slides
into the big bosom of clouds.
My eyes now search,
the bared, Venus fly-trap.
Satish Verma
20 May, 2008
GIVE ME SOME POISON TO LIVE
Give me,
some poison to live
I had been dead
for many years.
I burn my hands on a flame,
blank space has started talking.
I am ill at ease –
My lips are not moving.
The pellets, the bullets, the steel –
nothing matters now.
Dirty games can go on,
I am going on bromides
to ejaculate the pain.
Sleep will not come in dark
nor the relief in white robes.
I will remain awake till eternity.
Give me,
some thorns to bleed.
Rose petals
are hurting now.
Satish Verma
some poison to live
I had been dead
for many years.
I burn my hands on a flame,
blank space has started talking.
I am ill at ease –
My lips are not moving.
The pellets, the bullets, the steel –
nothing matters now.
Dirty games can go on,
I am going on bromides
to ejaculate the pain.
Sleep will not come in dark
nor the relief in white robes.
I will remain awake till eternity.
Give me,
some thorns to bleed.
Rose petals
are hurting now.
Satish Verma
19 May, 2008
ALL THE EMPTY HANDS
To catch himself
he jumped into fishpond
becoming opaque
between silk and lethal crotch.
Milk of silence started flowing
from earth’s breast.
His name was a flower
who was a blind witness
of the love-
for a moon
which plunged into a lake without a bottom.
Pain is spilled since then
on the charred lips.
Marigold–
waits for the sun
to rise only once.
All the empty hands
carry one eye
of the seeds,
to sprout in jungle of smiles.
Satish Verma
he jumped into fishpond
becoming opaque
between silk and lethal crotch.
Milk of silence started flowing
from earth’s breast.
His name was a flower
who was a blind witness
of the love-
for a moon
which plunged into a lake without a bottom.
Pain is spilled since then
on the charred lips.
Marigold–
waits for the sun
to rise only once.
All the empty hands
carry one eye
of the seeds,
to sprout in jungle of smiles.
Satish Verma
18 May, 2008
STILL BIRTH
Roses had gone wilting
after surgery.
Biovision
of acrylic lenses
was projecting a corrupt green mount.
The rubber king had a papery laugh.
How you deal with a maverick –
matter – of – factly?
Pall bearers of a tall legend
were carrying nitroglycerine sticks
unfazed.
Saboteurs of moon night were scheming.
I was sick of pretentions.
Brown and black scars
become a honeycomb
hiding the agenda.
Stigmatized devotion gets back at you
after still birth of truth.
I will wait sine die for the verdict
of hope.
Satish Verma
after surgery.
Biovision
of acrylic lenses
was projecting a corrupt green mount.
The rubber king had a papery laugh.
How you deal with a maverick –
matter – of – factly?
Pall bearers of a tall legend
were carrying nitroglycerine sticks
unfazed.
Saboteurs of moon night were scheming.
I was sick of pretentions.
Brown and black scars
become a honeycomb
hiding the agenda.
Stigmatized devotion gets back at you
after still birth of truth.
I will wait sine die for the verdict
of hope.
Satish Verma
17 May, 2008
LIPS OF MOON WERE HOT
Eggs went freezing in the sap.
Lips of moon were hot.
In the flare up, the
rebel had cast doubt
on cartridge.
Missiles were unique
but, hands trembled -
concept of sky was a lie.
Saturn and moon were coming closer.
Two way mirror of sun
was watching.
The fallen leaves on grass
refuse to be blown away.
They were waiting for the fruits.
Once in a blue lake
you had cheated the boat,
you may not be lucky this time.
Satish Verma
Lips of moon were hot.
In the flare up, the
rebel had cast doubt
on cartridge.
Missiles were unique
but, hands trembled -
concept of sky was a lie.
Saturn and moon were coming closer.
Two way mirror of sun
was watching.
The fallen leaves on grass
refuse to be blown away.
They were waiting for the fruits.
Once in a blue lake
you had cheated the boat,
you may not be lucky this time.
Satish Verma
16 May, 2008
AN ANODE WILL DISCHARGE
Your window
was very small.
Why did not you throw the dice?
Walk away
without a want?
I had no courage
to tell the lies,
to hold the secrets
of brave tears,
which failed to live in red-bricked house.
And a naked womb
protecting the fetus
from scars and curtains,
will find a anointed bed to sleep for eternity,
for delivering, a new star.
An anode will discharge
on a galactic light,
a message of the hungry
birds of prey.
Death wants its share of flesh.
Satish Verma
was very small.
Why did not you throw the dice?
Walk away
without a want?
I had no courage
to tell the lies,
to hold the secrets
of brave tears,
which failed to live in red-bricked house.
And a naked womb
protecting the fetus
from scars and curtains,
will find a anointed bed to sleep for eternity,
for delivering, a new star.
An anode will discharge
on a galactic light,
a message of the hungry
birds of prey.
Death wants its share of flesh.
Satish Verma
15 May, 2008
KLEPTOMANIAC
This kitsch
makes you hollow,
kleptomaniac.
You become blind in green
ready to make a dumb leap
from tall cliff.
Contempt for climactic throats.
The man walks on water
to meet death in icebox.
Pink torch like royal command signals,
black white moon enters a sober cloud
beyond the vibrations.
Now was the chance to kill
the light, fixing the graves.
One day the laughter was alive.
Satish Verma
makes you hollow,
kleptomaniac.
You become blind in green
ready to make a dumb leap
from tall cliff.
Contempt for climactic throats.
The man walks on water
to meet death in icebox.
Pink torch like royal command signals,
black white moon enters a sober cloud
beyond the vibrations.
Now was the chance to kill
the light, fixing the graves.
One day the laughter was alive.
Satish Verma
14 May, 2008
FOOD WAS LEFT ON THE PLATE
For you
I am walking on rocks
holding unburnt match sticks,
you want me to throw them
behind me.
To step down in lake
for washing sins
from the snuffed out
skylights.
Between green and blue I climb on leaves.
Remained pygmies
till end,
in frail human relationships.
All that we saw, was only for ourselves
in questions and replies.
Wasting shine of titles,
followed by empty looks.
Nothing remained to be said.
Food was left on the plate
untouched.
Satish Verma
I am walking on rocks
holding unburnt match sticks,
you want me to throw them
behind me.
To step down in lake
for washing sins
from the snuffed out
skylights.
Between green and blue I climb on leaves.
Remained pygmies
till end,
in frail human relationships.
All that we saw, was only for ourselves
in questions and replies.
Wasting shine of titles,
followed by empty looks.
Nothing remained to be said.
Food was left on the plate
untouched.
Satish Verma
13 May, 2008
BOAT CAPSIZES
Stammering quarrel
with classical fluidity,
fails to measure the uncertainty.
I was finding my rocks,
that chunk of certainty
in midstream,
when you were not sailing with me.
The wait,
stirs high the separated pain.
Boat capsizes on high sea,
churning the eyes.
Suspense was killing
behind the veil.
Half-belief
half-truth
sustained the spirit, kept
possibility at bay.
Satish Verma
with classical fluidity,
fails to measure the uncertainty.
I was finding my rocks,
that chunk of certainty
in midstream,
when you were not sailing with me.
The wait,
stirs high the separated pain.
Boat capsizes on high sea,
churning the eyes.
Suspense was killing
behind the veil.
Half-belief
half-truth
sustained the spirit, kept
possibility at bay.
Satish Verma
12 May, 2008
BLACKENED CROZIER
Let it remain
ovarian pure. After strangulating
the truth,
for hypoxic euphoria.
Flies in your face
the dirt,
the denial, the terracota
of superposition of speech
hiding self-interest.
Blackened crozier
for wrinkeled crotch
drops the ashes of love
on unopened buds.
Weeping willow sways
in warm winds of prayers.
Strawberry in holes
nothing like bruise.
Satish Verma
ovarian pure. After strangulating
the truth,
for hypoxic euphoria.
Flies in your face
the dirt,
the denial, the terracota
of superposition of speech
hiding self-interest.
Blackened crozier
for wrinkeled crotch
drops the ashes of love
on unopened buds.
Weeping willow sways
in warm winds of prayers.
Strawberry in holes
nothing like bruise.
Satish Verma
11 May, 2008
AFRAID OF UNKNOWN
A patch on my shirt
was growing.
I could not, because I did not
want to remove it.
I took everything, without choosing,
a flag of my territory fluttered
without wind.
Like a marooned kiss on fainted lips
cryless eyes.
The body fails, climacteric defeat evident.
A satellite crashes in midsky.
A star in waste was rising.
Multiple setbacks start,
like the botched transplant.
Thieves were active in dark alleys.
Kicked at slump bodies, like
sleeping on road.
I was always afraid of unknown.
Satish Verma
was growing.
I could not, because I did not
want to remove it.
I took everything, without choosing,
a flag of my territory fluttered
without wind.
Like a marooned kiss on fainted lips
cryless eyes.
The body fails, climacteric defeat evident.
A satellite crashes in midsky.
A star in waste was rising.
Multiple setbacks start,
like the botched transplant.
Thieves were active in dark alleys.
Kicked at slump bodies, like
sleeping on road.
I was always afraid of unknown.
Satish Verma
10 May, 2008
VALENTINE
Your body in mud pack
in line of fire
suddenly finds a lover.
I was watching with concern.
Cup of soul, lined with abrasive desires
was empty. Do not go raging in the
sea, to collect the salt.
The pink eye tells the boom.
We may meet again, may not.
I was leaving behind
a trail of exiled skulls on sand.
The ghosts had left the home waking up
On periphery of trembling moon.
The door did not open for apocalypse.
I fell over long stemmed roses
since life was very desperate!
Satish Verma
in line of fire
suddenly finds a lover.
I was watching with concern.
Cup of soul, lined with abrasive desires
was empty. Do not go raging in the
sea, to collect the salt.
The pink eye tells the boom.
We may meet again, may not.
I was leaving behind
a trail of exiled skulls on sand.
The ghosts had left the home waking up
On periphery of trembling moon.
The door did not open for apocalypse.
I fell over long stemmed roses
since life was very desperate!
Satish Verma
09 May, 2008
CORPSE IS BEING SENT
In the stand-off
between stolen history
and presiding deity
priest was hanged, while a blue cloud
was shedding the yellow moon.
Who was selling god on the road?
A tall coconut tree was my home;
all but your mouth was shut.
Face to face I am ready to leak
the secret of panic attack in open space,
it rips open the unhealed wounds.
The shot holes on the walls
were still bleeding.
I am getting visions of birds, trees and hills.
A pacific coast was punished
for not joining the conflict.
Corpse is being sent on shores.
Satish Verma
between stolen history
and presiding deity
priest was hanged, while a blue cloud
was shedding the yellow moon.
Who was selling god on the road?
A tall coconut tree was my home;
all but your mouth was shut.
Face to face I am ready to leak
the secret of panic attack in open space,
it rips open the unhealed wounds.
The shot holes on the walls
were still bleeding.
I am getting visions of birds, trees and hills.
A pacific coast was punished
for not joining the conflict.
Corpse is being sent on shores.
Satish Verma
08 May, 2008
BECOME MY FATHER
He did not want to climb the spiral helix,
a son will be born without him.
He said I want to become my father
and see the decline.
How for shall we go to investigate?
An infant wrapped up in plastic explosive
was going to be presented on dais.
An unclothed carcass was lying between you and me,
body donated for the study
of failing restraints. How death would behave
in broad daylight?
The vasectomy did not work. Testosterone was
still flowing.
Reading Kafka, peanuts!
We have come near emptiness
of a tree, hollowed by white ants.
Satish Verma
a son will be born without him.
He said I want to become my father
and see the decline.
How for shall we go to investigate?
An infant wrapped up in plastic explosive
was going to be presented on dais.
An unclothed carcass was lying between you and me,
body donated for the study
of failing restraints. How death would behave
in broad daylight?
The vasectomy did not work. Testosterone was
still flowing.
Reading Kafka, peanuts!
We have come near emptiness
of a tree, hollowed by white ants.
Satish Verma
07 May, 2008
MILK BATH
He had tied the brown thread on the pole
relieving the spirits from trees for the start
of belly dance of death on sand dunes,
whispering, gyrating to the tune of an
invisible snake charmer. Salaam
ambrosia, you had pledged to unhole
the milk bath, black waves will crash on the
windows, that I dream was true, god will
have the nativity for mankind and planet
earth will redeem peace.
Let us first accept the defeat of eternity,
and wounds will leap on, pouring upwardly,
aimlessly to defy the diktat of gravity,
contents you will know one day, watching
the birds fly away to warm lakes, that needs
a precision, geometry and courage
to glide over the tallest peaks.
Satish Verma
relieving the spirits from trees for the start
of belly dance of death on sand dunes,
whispering, gyrating to the tune of an
invisible snake charmer. Salaam
ambrosia, you had pledged to unhole
the milk bath, black waves will crash on the
windows, that I dream was true, god will
have the nativity for mankind and planet
earth will redeem peace.
Let us first accept the defeat of eternity,
and wounds will leap on, pouring upwardly,
aimlessly to defy the diktat of gravity,
contents you will know one day, watching
the birds fly away to warm lakes, that needs
a precision, geometry and courage
to glide over the tallest peaks.
Satish Verma
06 May, 2008
SALT LAKE
In my domain I am the child again
lost in labyrinth of stairways
unable to find my home.
A swarm of bees descends
gives anaphylactic shock
I am dead in my arms.
You carry a dead gorilla
on the makeshift scaffold,
somewhere a female was beating her chest.
Blood on the face of moon
my sobs will not stop
flowing in muddy streaks in pits of tattoos.
Eggs of blue bird were waiting
for the mother to come,
kids were on doormats.
It was always the salt lake.
No body was going to drown
wolves, sharks and men!
Satish Verma
lost in labyrinth of stairways
unable to find my home.
A swarm of bees descends
gives anaphylactic shock
I am dead in my arms.
You carry a dead gorilla
on the makeshift scaffold,
somewhere a female was beating her chest.
Blood on the face of moon
my sobs will not stop
flowing in muddy streaks in pits of tattoos.
Eggs of blue bird were waiting
for the mother to come,
kids were on doormats.
It was always the salt lake.
No body was going to drown
wolves, sharks and men!
Satish Verma
05 May, 2008
BLOOD WAS ON SHEET
Was it necessary to see,
what you wanted me to see,
when I was keeping open my wound
to hear the unheard scream?
What was that which was getting in air?
A little disjointed time, asking
peace for the land
to stop the moulding on the medallions?
The divide and hate the hate and divide
the kill the kill the kill of mercy
and this was to be believed, not to believe
in the grim fate of the fall.
Pain was you was me was him
the guilt of chewing polluted words
to accept the uncertain,
the naked lies.
Blood was on shirt blood was on sheet
blood was on paper blood was in eyes.
Satish Verma
what you wanted me to see,
when I was keeping open my wound
to hear the unheard scream?
What was that which was getting in air?
A little disjointed time, asking
peace for the land
to stop the moulding on the medallions?
The divide and hate the hate and divide
the kill the kill the kill of mercy
and this was to be believed, not to believe
in the grim fate of the fall.
Pain was you was me was him
the guilt of chewing polluted words
to accept the uncertain,
the naked lies.
Blood was on shirt blood was on sheet
blood was on paper blood was in eyes.
Satish Verma
04 May, 2008
CRACK OF DAWN`
The king
made a fun of our poverty.
Marble faced girls always thought,
wearing black scarves –
sweeping the floor of white mausoleum.
You made a death
a loving eternity.
We die daily
in the face of old shine.
Who shoots a peacock
on the tree?
I mourn for the blue peace,
let the clouds come.
Who remains unhurt
unpained, when the night calls?
I seize a moon
to enter the crack of dawn.
Satish Verma
made a fun of our poverty.
Marble faced girls always thought,
wearing black scarves –
sweeping the floor of white mausoleum.
You made a death
a loving eternity.
We die daily
in the face of old shine.
Who shoots a peacock
on the tree?
I mourn for the blue peace,
let the clouds come.
Who remains unhurt
unpained, when the night calls?
I seize a moon
to enter the crack of dawn.
Satish Verma
03 May, 2008
PATHOPHOBIA
Vast emptiness preceded him,
when he stood inside a glass on road.
Sun did not contradict him,
light had entered back in stars.
Failed fingers knocked out the magnet. There
was no reason.
Pain in neck neglected for long
now becomes time,
impatient to meet beginning of end.
Blood was spurting in vain.
A black pearl of pure love
uncenters the lazy death.
He knew the secret of pathophobia,
had known the morbidity of troubled mind.
There was no return now to new words of mourning.
Grave masks were hiding
the smiling faces of unnames.
Satish Verma
when he stood inside a glass on road.
Sun did not contradict him,
light had entered back in stars.
Failed fingers knocked out the magnet. There
was no reason.
Pain in neck neglected for long
now becomes time,
impatient to meet beginning of end.
Blood was spurting in vain.
A black pearl of pure love
uncenters the lazy death.
He knew the secret of pathophobia,
had known the morbidity of troubled mind.
There was no return now to new words of mourning.
Grave masks were hiding
the smiling faces of unnames.
Satish Verma
02 May, 2008
CHOKING ON WORDS
It was past endurance.
Flattened rage went into shaking palsy.
He moved into sculptured dark
like false reason,
to defend the ankle-bone,
for sequential pain.
Every one seemed a fallible saint
wet eyed, sitting on extinct volcano,
between tickling bombs of flesh.
He imagined –
that he was evaporating,
from the eyebaths, steadily
for a spiral journey.
By way of fear,
he wanted to break monotony –
sitting upright in a lotus position
to reverse the clock, of hunger, of extreme failures -
choking on words, mixing
continents of hate.
Satish Verma
Flattened rage went into shaking palsy.
He moved into sculptured dark
like false reason,
to defend the ankle-bone,
for sequential pain.
Every one seemed a fallible saint
wet eyed, sitting on extinct volcano,
between tickling bombs of flesh.
He imagined –
that he was evaporating,
from the eyebaths, steadily
for a spiral journey.
By way of fear,
he wanted to break monotony –
sitting upright in a lotus position
to reverse the clock, of hunger, of extreme failures -
choking on words, mixing
continents of hate.
Satish Verma
01 May, 2008
PAPYRUS
Let me go first in the cave
to see the hollow-eyed, bird-face,
my ancestor, relic of reclusive
committment, eaten by hierarchical
grass, inch by inch.
Calories burn to free the bones
from the green pond, beached, skinned
and fished alive for a weird ritual
offering rice, flowers, tamarind and wheat.
Bald, hungry eyes were looking at approvingly.
I was searching unself papyrus,
to print the tale of agonising
travel of a small colossus, from
night to night to track a dragging sun
in mud and water.
O, groaning seed, you are the paradox.
Neither tree, nor root, only a promise
to destroy the fear. I will wait till the next
sun-eclipse, when you turn
outside into inside!
Satish Verma
to see the hollow-eyed, bird-face,
my ancestor, relic of reclusive
committment, eaten by hierarchical
grass, inch by inch.
Calories burn to free the bones
from the green pond, beached, skinned
and fished alive for a weird ritual
offering rice, flowers, tamarind and wheat.
Bald, hungry eyes were looking at approvingly.
I was searching unself papyrus,
to print the tale of agonising
travel of a small colossus, from
night to night to track a dragging sun
in mud and water.
O, groaning seed, you are the paradox.
Neither tree, nor root, only a promise
to destroy the fear. I will wait till the next
sun-eclipse, when you turn
outside into inside!
Satish Verma
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