Cannot decode the signature of fear beneath the huge eyes,
serene and calm, darting right and left, like in stricken
animal at frenzy. Drift we must; will seldom cross the path.
Agony of existence, flying thighs, erect humps, sliding on sand
dunes. Even moon melts in our mouth.
You had kissed the frozen lips; of betrayed night.
The sudden gyration of hips, fading of stars,
and waning of nameless memory. Let’s go and
hide in blasts of whistling train. Pale wool of
knitted love cannot hold the heat. The waiting will
be over in minutes. Wheels will runover an epoch.
I would raise my head after ages in astonishment. I was still alive, cast
in a different mould. Dislocation became my integrity,
my fate, a frightened truth.
People were very short sighted, could not cross infinity.
Supreme was in them, discounting morality.
Satish Verma
31 August, 2008
30 August, 2008
YIN-YANG
A tremendous force moved them apart.
They started moving in opposite direction,
never to meet again.
Negativity of flight
took them to frightening heights.
Like the two peaks
temples apart.
First causality was grace.
Loaves of bread gave them carnal satisfaction.
But gravity was taking its toll,
like god moving from one body to another.
The lungs started drowning in rib case
gasping, panting. Father of all the mistakes
now promised to stop
the whole transparency. Life had become murkier.
Who is going to move the world
and resuscitate the renaissance
from our bones?
Satish Verma
They started moving in opposite direction,
never to meet again.
Negativity of flight
took them to frightening heights.
Like the two peaks
temples apart.
First causality was grace.
Loaves of bread gave them carnal satisfaction.
But gravity was taking its toll,
like god moving from one body to another.
The lungs started drowning in rib case
gasping, panting. Father of all the mistakes
now promised to stop
the whole transparency. Life had become murkier.
Who is going to move the world
and resuscitate the renaissance
from our bones?
Satish Verma
29 August, 2008
THE REDUNDANT
In a temple without god,
They performed a cryptcastration on a colossus,
targeting a total annihilation,
and liquidation of a beautiful saga.
And then, layer by layer unspeakable pain was released.
Nobody looked at my red eyes.
Half dead, half alive, groaning, spurting, dumb, dishevelled.
I was shouting, running in the dark alley,
the legendary mountain has collapsed.
From the cocoons come out skeletons.
Not true, not true, they were crying in unison.
Archaeopteryx without apron looks scary,
Let’s move to a different showcase
see the birth of a Caesar. How it rises from
the womb of democracy? How the thaw comes in a glacier?
The eyes of a tyrant sometimes look gloomy.
Is it possible to start a bonfire of lover’s coat in the chair?
Cast off the milkteeth and start from void?
Stretching the boundaries of death and immortality?
I am terribly confused and burned out.
The astral bodies sometimes look so good to me,
faraway from this ugly world.
At least they shine in their own light.
But we were always busy counting our awards
of gold thread, earned by dark strategies,
to make other feel small and ashamed!
You were talking, of self inflicting injuries
was a way of life,
with some people to purify their souls.
But I was wondering about soulless people.
How much they were pollulted and blackened
inside their lungs?
Strange it appears to talk about spirituality
in a slum of poor thinkers
where we were living beyond death.
Satish Verma
They performed a cryptcastration on a colossus,
targeting a total annihilation,
and liquidation of a beautiful saga.
And then, layer by layer unspeakable pain was released.
Nobody looked at my red eyes.
Half dead, half alive, groaning, spurting, dumb, dishevelled.
I was shouting, running in the dark alley,
the legendary mountain has collapsed.
From the cocoons come out skeletons.
Not true, not true, they were crying in unison.
Archaeopteryx without apron looks scary,
Let’s move to a different showcase
see the birth of a Caesar. How it rises from
the womb of democracy? How the thaw comes in a glacier?
The eyes of a tyrant sometimes look gloomy.
Is it possible to start a bonfire of lover’s coat in the chair?
Cast off the milkteeth and start from void?
Stretching the boundaries of death and immortality?
I am terribly confused and burned out.
The astral bodies sometimes look so good to me,
faraway from this ugly world.
At least they shine in their own light.
But we were always busy counting our awards
of gold thread, earned by dark strategies,
to make other feel small and ashamed!
You were talking, of self inflicting injuries
was a way of life,
with some people to purify their souls.
But I was wondering about soulless people.
How much they were pollulted and blackened
inside their lungs?
Strange it appears to talk about spirituality
in a slum of poor thinkers
where we were living beyond death.
Satish Verma
28 August, 2008
LOVE & PAIN
Perhaps you know,
that you do not know,
the moment of truth is here,
and we are at the cross roads.
Night is without a cloud
and crescent moon is questioning a star.
Ghost of strayed peace
has slided back in dark.
Pure chemistry of love is boiling.
Planting the tender flowers on lips
I find nothing. I think I will go
for a new lover.
Strawberry was your choice,
but I always craved blue berries.
Pulpy red and blue black were teeth apart.
Your eyes are unreadable,
a watery grave of pain.
Something impossible should happen
Poetry is waiting for symbiosis.
Satish Verma
that you do not know,
the moment of truth is here,
and we are at the cross roads.
Night is without a cloud
and crescent moon is questioning a star.
Ghost of strayed peace
has slided back in dark.
Pure chemistry of love is boiling.
Planting the tender flowers on lips
I find nothing. I think I will go
for a new lover.
Strawberry was your choice,
but I always craved blue berries.
Pulpy red and blue black were teeth apart.
Your eyes are unreadable,
a watery grave of pain.
Something impossible should happen
Poetry is waiting for symbiosis.
Satish Verma
27 August, 2008
Dirty Mirrors
Life may mean anything to you, but
I refuse, to become a utility.
Come, let us face the death of time.
We were whisked away,
had taken a wrong turn,
and when battle lines were drawn,
the guns were not ready.
Dirty mirrors always complained of a bad weather.
Today I will go for a long journey,
to get the gifts of peacocks from green trees.
I want to listen to their grievances whole night.
Humanity stinks when infected hands
handle the peace. I splash the truth
on your face,
to see the sun clearly.
Satish Verma
I refuse, to become a utility.
Come, let us face the death of time.
We were whisked away,
had taken a wrong turn,
and when battle lines were drawn,
the guns were not ready.
Dirty mirrors always complained of a bad weather.
Today I will go for a long journey,
to get the gifts of peacocks from green trees.
I want to listen to their grievances whole night.
Humanity stinks when infected hands
handle the peace. I splash the truth
on your face,
to see the sun clearly.
Satish Verma
26 August, 2008
TH REALITY SHOW
Tell me how to tell you about a flat
robotic voice,
asking for euthanasia,
a rite of passage for ceremony of death.
He said, he preferred lethal injection
to noose. But it should be painless,
and there should be no leakage of pain
on face. Mercy it be.
This was not a stage show.
No mummer was performing.
Sitting in lotus position
inviting the inevitable. Be my destiny,
my end.
A terminal prayer of infant dream,
which could not find words,
worth any weakness.
Going separately on different routes,
meeting accidently at home
two things were quarreling with dark
quietly.
Satish Verma
robotic voice,
asking for euthanasia,
a rite of passage for ceremony of death.
He said, he preferred lethal injection
to noose. But it should be painless,
and there should be no leakage of pain
on face. Mercy it be.
This was not a stage show.
No mummer was performing.
Sitting in lotus position
inviting the inevitable. Be my destiny,
my end.
A terminal prayer of infant dream,
which could not find words,
worth any weakness.
Going separately on different routes,
meeting accidently at home
two things were quarreling with dark
quietly.
Satish Verma
25 August, 2008
2007! SO WHAT! !
I watched in horror,
your pride was tilting.
The landscape was losing the freedom of anonymity.
The labels were rejecting,
the moods of winds,
and embarrassing the consensual sleep.
Where was the need of constructing the arches
on ugly roads,
when mob was indulging in incestuous manner?
Incognito moves the truth, crest fallen.
I had been on edge since long.
This human atrophy was appalling,
while I was searching a doomed culture,
in orchards of wits.
Two thousand seven, and still our angular limbs
cannot move the time.
Satish Verma
your pride was tilting.
The landscape was losing the freedom of anonymity.
The labels were rejecting,
the moods of winds,
and embarrassing the consensual sleep.
Where was the need of constructing the arches
on ugly roads,
when mob was indulging in incestuous manner?
Incognito moves the truth, crest fallen.
I had been on edge since long.
This human atrophy was appalling,
while I was searching a doomed culture,
in orchards of wits.
Two thousand seven, and still our angular limbs
cannot move the time.
Satish Verma
24 August, 2008
THE BIRTH OF A PUBLIC STANCE
Looked naïve, but he was
elevating himself on the heap of lights
unlearning the human commitment.
Hunger was his weapon
to level the uprising of underprivileged.
This monarch of darkness
picks up the best,
insists on low profiles.
We were searching fossils
under the rocks
to decipher the shadows of history.
Between the glory of hardened footprints,
we found the labels.
Contents unknown but enough to browse.
They were weightless
and soaring high.
But I was not able to survive.
Satish Verma
elevating himself on the heap of lights
unlearning the human commitment.
Hunger was his weapon
to level the uprising of underprivileged.
This monarch of darkness
picks up the best,
insists on low profiles.
We were searching fossils
under the rocks
to decipher the shadows of history.
Between the glory of hardened footprints,
we found the labels.
Contents unknown but enough to browse.
They were weightless
and soaring high.
But I was not able to survive.
Satish Verma
23 August, 2008
WELCOME SIR!
It was a fascinating night
like albino children playing in park.
I was gazing at sky.
The years have gone by one by one.
I am still walking on dead leaves
refusing the fruits.
This was me, no urge, no need,
the leather worn out but
feet are intact.
A continous civil war among the windows
suffers the grace. Stupidities of house.
You collect the garbage whole life
and when time comes to depart,
make a bonfire of your winnings.
We are ageing like wall paper
and talking to doors. The guest
is coming at last.
Satish Verma
like albino children playing in park.
I was gazing at sky.
The years have gone by one by one.
I am still walking on dead leaves
refusing the fruits.
This was me, no urge, no need,
the leather worn out but
feet are intact.
A continous civil war among the windows
suffers the grace. Stupidities of house.
You collect the garbage whole life
and when time comes to depart,
make a bonfire of your winnings.
We are ageing like wall paper
and talking to doors. The guest
is coming at last.
Satish Verma
22 August, 2008
‘CROSSING THE BAR' ONCE AGAIN...
Beyond the gaze there is a time zone
of rumored agitation
when you cannot sleep.
You open your eyes quietly to complain.
The caretaker has prepared the shroud, .
Smoke is rising on the hills.
No body walks with you,
it is a lone journey, where
centuries throw the dust on your hallowed gifts.
The pyramid of signs, symbols, signatures,
disappear in penultimate flare.
Time to leave the waiting room.
The resurrection will take place now;
of fear; of despair; of foot steps in dark.
I will hear them, holding my breath.
Landscape will change into valley of tears.
Satish Verma
of rumored agitation
when you cannot sleep.
You open your eyes quietly to complain.
The caretaker has prepared the shroud, .
Smoke is rising on the hills.
No body walks with you,
it is a lone journey, where
centuries throw the dust on your hallowed gifts.
The pyramid of signs, symbols, signatures,
disappear in penultimate flare.
Time to leave the waiting room.
The resurrection will take place now;
of fear; of despair; of foot steps in dark.
I will hear them, holding my breath.
Landscape will change into valley of tears.
Satish Verma
21 August, 2008
THE TEAR OF THINGS
The panther goes for the neck only.
A body trembles on the stairs.
Scarred bones are strewn around in
the broad day light.
I sometimes hear a wailing sound.
Here lies the scarf, the coat, the shoes.
A nation is rambling in dark
woods. Faces have become stones.
No longer, the illustrious suffering will help.
How to judge the verdict?
Defence is proving the guilt,
and desert shouts a single
name.
How many meanings should be thrown
for one answer?
The tears. Are they not sufficient
to give the depth of immensity?
Satish Verma
A body trembles on the stairs.
Scarred bones are strewn around in
the broad day light.
I sometimes hear a wailing sound.
Here lies the scarf, the coat, the shoes.
A nation is rambling in dark
woods. Faces have become stones.
No longer, the illustrious suffering will help.
How to judge the verdict?
Defence is proving the guilt,
and desert shouts a single
name.
How many meanings should be thrown
for one answer?
The tears. Are they not sufficient
to give the depth of immensity?
Satish Verma
20 August, 2008
Non - ‘I’
I intend to move away from myself
as apologia for sadness,
Could not give up the zen,
powerless, breathless, drowning,
in my skin, my viens,
sharing the existence of undoing,
what was something.
Nobody I am, connecting to you
by flames of aristocracy of pain,
for eternal slavery.
Primitive memory hurts. Give me your tears.
The world is struck by salutation to sun
I am free to put a mask
and light the dead wood.
Satish Verma
as apologia for sadness,
Could not give up the zen,
powerless, breathless, drowning,
in my skin, my viens,
sharing the existence of undoing,
what was something.
Nobody I am, connecting to you
by flames of aristocracy of pain,
for eternal slavery.
Primitive memory hurts. Give me your tears.
The world is struck by salutation to sun
I am free to put a mask
and light the dead wood.
Satish Verma
19 August, 2008
ON THIS SHORE OF LIFE
Death will not wait.
Locked in bruises,
I want eternity.
Stinking pubes,
micro to zerogravity.
Kernel rises like a star.
Touch was not real
How far you will go?
Earth was collapsing.
My father was right,
Don’t climb to the peak,
snow was melting.
Love has no barriers
Winter steals in like a thief
one by one the knives are drawn.
Satish Verma
Locked in bruises,
I want eternity.
Stinking pubes,
micro to zerogravity.
Kernel rises like a star.
Touch was not real
How far you will go?
Earth was collapsing.
My father was right,
Don’t climb to the peak,
snow was melting.
Love has no barriers
Winter steals in like a thief
one by one the knives are drawn.
Satish Verma
18 August, 2008
PARADIGMS OF PROGRESS
Becoming something from anything
was a great bliss of paradigm.
I take a dip in anonymity.
You will never know
where you start a rough patch
on the road?
A prehistoric site could not outlive
the humiliation of proximity to hate.
Violence chewed the dust.
My knees give way to anguish of morality:
horror of captivity of dawn.
The eyes are going to collapse in endless night.
Tapping of kernel in hard shell of truth bothers me,
like a mountain dew under the stone.
I will destroy the anxiety of grass.
Death of desire may take place
Fragrance still devastates the moon.
Satish Verma
was a great bliss of paradigm.
I take a dip in anonymity.
You will never know
where you start a rough patch
on the road?
A prehistoric site could not outlive
the humiliation of proximity to hate.
Violence chewed the dust.
My knees give way to anguish of morality:
horror of captivity of dawn.
The eyes are going to collapse in endless night.
Tapping of kernel in hard shell of truth bothers me,
like a mountain dew under the stone.
I will destroy the anxiety of grass.
Death of desire may take place
Fragrance still devastates the moon.
Satish Verma
17 August, 2008
TRANSMIGRATION
I must accept the insignificance
and solve the puzzle of night.
Possessed sunlight always pursues
the shadows of words.
Philosophy of veils descends on awareness
casting silhoutte of differences.
Nocturnal sweat of sky
overwhelms the grass with dew.
I pick up the fallen stars on my eyelids.
A love affair of moon smarts in wind.
Right now I want peace with myself.
Summons of death will arrive,
when you would have finished your innings,
and start dressing up to welcome
the beautiful sunset.
Satish Verma
and solve the puzzle of night.
Possessed sunlight always pursues
the shadows of words.
Philosophy of veils descends on awareness
casting silhoutte of differences.
Nocturnal sweat of sky
overwhelms the grass with dew.
I pick up the fallen stars on my eyelids.
A love affair of moon smarts in wind.
Right now I want peace with myself.
Summons of death will arrive,
when you would have finished your innings,
and start dressing up to welcome
the beautiful sunset.
Satish Verma
16 August, 2008
PROZAC
A candid confession from you,
when your identity started protruding
from innocent rage.
You were accepting defeat
without a fight.
The lips tell the grief of human failure,
your prudence propped up
by Prozac.
A beautiful collection of anxieties
adorned on the shelf of life.
A cruise in veins
to dispel the high cholesterol
dewy-eyed mirror
and ambulating pain.
Satish Verma
when your identity started protruding
from innocent rage.
You were accepting defeat
without a fight.
The lips tell the grief of human failure,
your prudence propped up
by Prozac.
A beautiful collection of anxieties
adorned on the shelf of life.
A cruise in veins
to dispel the high cholesterol
dewy-eyed mirror
and ambulating pain.
Satish Verma
15 August, 2008
BUT TRUTH WILL NOT...
Space has all the silent approval,
truth will not multiply.
Another funeral takes place
in the barren field of lies.
Fire burns the life’s hopes,
while town mourns the death.
Sunshine bakes the eyes
but truth will not multiply.
Desireless peak of thoughts
sets out the smoke,
towards our homes,
trampling the shame, guilt and hurts.
We were still indulging in useless talk
but truth will not multiply.
Virtue has a unique impulse
a drone in the ears.
Fog was waiting for the sky.
The planet empties a bucket of sorrow.
I will favour the faceless name,
but truth will not multiply.
Satish Verma
truth will not multiply.
Another funeral takes place
in the barren field of lies.
Fire burns the life’s hopes,
while town mourns the death.
Sunshine bakes the eyes
but truth will not multiply.
Desireless peak of thoughts
sets out the smoke,
towards our homes,
trampling the shame, guilt and hurts.
We were still indulging in useless talk
but truth will not multiply.
Virtue has a unique impulse
a drone in the ears.
Fog was waiting for the sky.
The planet empties a bucket of sorrow.
I will favour the faceless name,
but truth will not multiply.
Satish Verma
14 August, 2008
A SEARCH BEYOND QUEST
My thoughts halt at your lips
beyond lies your silence
to start a voyage in snowy dialogues
to find a meaning of futile life
and trash of the myths.
Our entwined life has chosen
consolation of past,
We are still alive
kicking and reveling.
A shadow imitates the God
meditates under the unyielding tree.
The fugitive may find some greatness
in insult.
The vastness of loneliness
ultimately takes over.
Satish Verma
beyond lies your silence
to start a voyage in snowy dialogues
to find a meaning of futile life
and trash of the myths.
Our entwined life has chosen
consolation of past,
We are still alive
kicking and reveling.
A shadow imitates the God
meditates under the unyielding tree.
The fugitive may find some greatness
in insult.
The vastness of loneliness
ultimately takes over.
Satish Verma
13 August, 2008
A LIVING SOUL
Anxiety was touching the mime
I cannot hold a reality.
We were playing with each other.
The creation and hunger of living
takes you to unknown fields
I am, what I am not.
Always bluffing, puffing on the road,
counting the milestones
in reverse osmosis,
feeling proud of mighty mistakes,
talking to faltered ego,
going against the sun.
My climate merges with hot desert
A story reappears again and again
like a dried skeleton in sands.
How long I will run
chased by planetary fears?
Barbs pierce the tender zones
I see my own demise,
body floating like a flower on lake.
Satish Verma
I cannot hold a reality.
We were playing with each other.
The creation and hunger of living
takes you to unknown fields
I am, what I am not.
Always bluffing, puffing on the road,
counting the milestones
in reverse osmosis,
feeling proud of mighty mistakes,
talking to faltered ego,
going against the sun.
My climate merges with hot desert
A story reappears again and again
like a dried skeleton in sands.
How long I will run
chased by planetary fears?
Barbs pierce the tender zones
I see my own demise,
body floating like a flower on lake.
Satish Verma
12 August, 2008
Ancestral Present
Pardon my mask
I will put you on pedestal to torment me,
because you were necessary
for my existence.
When I prepare finally my death wish
you can smile.
Your eyes are looking through my head,
I know,
you were hurt from my moon face.
I will wash your feet with my tears now.
Exhausted, nameless in a crowd
I was counting my see-through triumphs
all piled up as burned out bones.
To live without meaning is very painful.
Everything is abused for self gratification.
Over a black sky, against the mountains
the old silence becomes teeth of a dead faith.
Satish Verma
I will put you on pedestal to torment me,
because you were necessary
for my existence.
When I prepare finally my death wish
you can smile.
Your eyes are looking through my head,
I know,
you were hurt from my moon face.
I will wash your feet with my tears now.
Exhausted, nameless in a crowd
I was counting my see-through triumphs
all piled up as burned out bones.
To live without meaning is very painful.
Everything is abused for self gratification.
Over a black sky, against the mountains
the old silence becomes teeth of a dead faith.
Satish Verma
11 August, 2008
CATASTROPHE
Are you genuine, I ask?
Your face, a stone wall,
I had been bruising my psyche against it.
I have no strength to bury myself alive,
in the mass grave of lies.
An ancient fear
descends from the hill.
Wants to marry a tree.
Or worship the terror
of a diaspora.
The vultures are dying every day,
We were talking of pregnancy,
desire and death.
The sparrows are gone.
Heat is rising.
I am starting the countdown.
Satish Verma
Your face, a stone wall,
I had been bruising my psyche against it.
I have no strength to bury myself alive,
in the mass grave of lies.
An ancient fear
descends from the hill.
Wants to marry a tree.
Or worship the terror
of a diaspora.
The vultures are dying every day,
We were talking of pregnancy,
desire and death.
The sparrows are gone.
Heat is rising.
I am starting the countdown.
Satish Verma
10 August, 2008
Mask unmasked
To become or not to become a renegade,
or to die or not to die for a semi-god?
These were some of the questions
thrown at an incomplete script.
What elevated you to a celebrity?
Your hump or deep wrinkled groans?
Age is abating, abattoir is empty.
Exile from the past is over.
When you intend to comeback to childhood
and become a simple star?
Behind the mask lies the embrace of death
I am afraid the flames will engulf,
the genius of pathways.
Everything will turn into obsolete gossip.
A patch of sunlight becomes a costly exposure
bones are entwined in eternal cuddle.
Satish Verma
or to die or not to die for a semi-god?
These were some of the questions
thrown at an incomplete script.
What elevated you to a celebrity?
Your hump or deep wrinkled groans?
Age is abating, abattoir is empty.
Exile from the past is over.
When you intend to comeback to childhood
and become a simple star?
Behind the mask lies the embrace of death
I am afraid the flames will engulf,
the genius of pathways.
Everything will turn into obsolete gossip.
A patch of sunlight becomes a costly exposure
bones are entwined in eternal cuddle.
Satish Verma
09 August, 2008
A Rebel Being Born
I do not want to become
plaintiff or defendant.
Untethered, I will punish myself
for metaphysical nuances.
Sometimes a silence talks to grieving sky
about a fake truth.
The tears will never stop now.
Give me my freedom to cry,
to exhume the body of justice
and bury my future in memories
I do not sell the dreams.
Eyes tell it all.
History repeats itself
when message dies on legs!
Satish Verma
plaintiff or defendant.
Untethered, I will punish myself
for metaphysical nuances.
Sometimes a silence talks to grieving sky
about a fake truth.
The tears will never stop now.
Give me my freedom to cry,
to exhume the body of justice
and bury my future in memories
I do not sell the dreams.
Eyes tell it all.
History repeats itself
when message dies on legs!
Satish Verma
08 August, 2008
First Step of Creativity
When insects were crawling
dreams had contradictions,
a sudden dropp in temperature
brought the quantum touch.
Ending of the grief
or grief of ending
rejected every intact truth
and death was trailing behind the candle.
Fear and agony were following
the footfalls of night
Blindness was weaving a broken moon.
The time will not be answerable for any plight.
Corners of childhood brighten up
for sweet nothings
I adore the fallen god,
he was inhaling the earth.
Satish Verma
dreams had contradictions,
a sudden dropp in temperature
brought the quantum touch.
Ending of the grief
or grief of ending
rejected every intact truth
and death was trailing behind the candle.
Fear and agony were following
the footfalls of night
Blindness was weaving a broken moon.
The time will not be answerable for any plight.
Corners of childhood brighten up
for sweet nothings
I adore the fallen god,
he was inhaling the earth.
Satish Verma
07 August, 2008
Encircled GLOOM
Was it a spriritual failure of a man
to become an animal effortlessly?
and how difficult it was
to change the street’s crowd?
In the human drama
no dialogue ends. It begins again
and the hero replays the tragedy.
The fight between one versus many
continues endlessly,
like jungle’s law
where a body is thrown to beasts.
Though I have run out my steps
I will count the miles, I have to scramble.
My hands tremble when I write the
epitaph of a dying light on mount.
It is getting dark now.
Saturn will shortly rise.
Satish Verma
to become an animal effortlessly?
and how difficult it was
to change the street’s crowd?
In the human drama
no dialogue ends. It begins again
and the hero replays the tragedy.
The fight between one versus many
continues endlessly,
like jungle’s law
where a body is thrown to beasts.
Though I have run out my steps
I will count the miles, I have to scramble.
My hands tremble when I write the
epitaph of a dying light on mount.
It is getting dark now.
Saturn will shortly rise.
Satish Verma
06 August, 2008
A Sunny Wait...
Young days start with a nostalgia
for a lost freedom
Anxiety was the prime suspect.
As the age moves on,
truth consumes the virtue.
I hold this insult
in the throes of conscience with tears.
The dreams did not last long
in the wild eyes of geniuses.
Grace and dignity fell short of sinners.
The prince of blackness strode
on the white souls.
I could not have been a witness
of paradox.
Lacked in the old books
I still wait on the highway
for a sun to climb the hill.
Satish Verma
for a lost freedom
Anxiety was the prime suspect.
As the age moves on,
truth consumes the virtue.
I hold this insult
in the throes of conscience with tears.
The dreams did not last long
in the wild eyes of geniuses.
Grace and dignity fell short of sinners.
The prince of blackness strode
on the white souls.
I could not have been a witness
of paradox.
Lacked in the old books
I still wait on the highway
for a sun to climb the hill.
Satish Verma
05 August, 2008
Outsider
Nothing to look forward
I return my gifts today.
Completely denuded I will spread out in emptiness.
I was nowhere in the circle of untruths,
the pain was slipping inside
and self-denial took its toll.
Nomad in exile
for the kiss of unknown
wandering in whispering streets.
There was no more remorse.
Saffron was the choice of pathos.
A collective suicide of pledges in the sun!
Parallel grief of desert and wind
offers the plundered toast
I drink to my parched lips.
Satish Verma
I return my gifts today.
Completely denuded I will spread out in emptiness.
I was nowhere in the circle of untruths,
the pain was slipping inside
and self-denial took its toll.
Nomad in exile
for the kiss of unknown
wandering in whispering streets.
There was no more remorse.
Saffron was the choice of pathos.
A collective suicide of pledges in the sun!
Parallel grief of desert and wind
offers the plundered toast
I drink to my parched lips.
Satish Verma
04 August, 2008
Guiled ‘me’...
That is how I injured myself
desiring the right thing,
extracting the reason from charity.
I will now pluck off the rage, the silence,
the exotica from the frozen valley.
Words will become my foes swimming in your eyes.
I was listening to your questions
without becoming a witness; I was my own answer.
The time was revengeful. Show was over.
We were losing the relevance
and guests had departed.
We were becoming the walls of a glass house.
I dread my conscience, a terrible roaring in mind.
Does not allow me to sleep. Values were insulting me.
Falling like an old wall-paper; truth went unnoticed.
Peacocks were dying daily.
I am going to lose myself in the night
of a moonless sky.
Satish Verma
desiring the right thing,
extracting the reason from charity.
I will now pluck off the rage, the silence,
the exotica from the frozen valley.
Words will become my foes swimming in your eyes.
I was listening to your questions
without becoming a witness; I was my own answer.
The time was revengeful. Show was over.
We were losing the relevance
and guests had departed.
We were becoming the walls of a glass house.
I dread my conscience, a terrible roaring in mind.
Does not allow me to sleep. Values were insulting me.
Falling like an old wall-paper; truth went unnoticed.
Peacocks were dying daily.
I am going to lose myself in the night
of a moonless sky.
Satish Verma
03 August, 2008
The Moon-ed ‘I’...
Distance was increasing
in spewing rage.
I yearned for a solitude of desert
sand and rocks
away from musty tongues
and eros.
Counting my failed attempts
to reconcile with exits
and slant hopes.
Like an eclipsed moon
plying over the hill
to investigate a shorn lamb.
Plucking the hair from a beautiful scalp
to become a nun.
Arthritic river brings back the waves.
Unreachable was the crest.
Today standing alone on the summit
I watch the dropp with grief.
Satish Verma
in spewing rage.
I yearned for a solitude of desert
sand and rocks
away from musty tongues
and eros.
Counting my failed attempts
to reconcile with exits
and slant hopes.
Like an eclipsed moon
plying over the hill
to investigate a shorn lamb.
Plucking the hair from a beautiful scalp
to become a nun.
Arthritic river brings back the waves.
Unreachable was the crest.
Today standing alone on the summit
I watch the dropp with grief.
Satish Verma
02 August, 2008
POINSETTIA
What was that inside you
which was not ready to accept
the compound folly of a man?
What worry do I carry tonight
to my bed?
An intentional leap into the very
fire of mind?
A virgin garden battles with a storm
It is ready to mince the words
for a carnal smell of poinsettia,
and I am going to lower the guard
from wrinkled eyes.
Like a thong around the neck
to obtain the tongue.
I turn towards the blood of game
global erosion of love and waxen defeat!
Satish Verma
which was not ready to accept
the compound folly of a man?
What worry do I carry tonight
to my bed?
An intentional leap into the very
fire of mind?
A virgin garden battles with a storm
It is ready to mince the words
for a carnal smell of poinsettia,
and I am going to lower the guard
from wrinkled eyes.
Like a thong around the neck
to obtain the tongue.
I turn towards the blood of game
global erosion of love and waxen defeat!
Satish Verma
01 August, 2008
DARK FEET
Overnight I have turned
grey, stuck on the threshold
of a song
which does not cry
parting the mist
of the eyes.
Why should not,
the humming bird stop
becoming voiceless?
O bystander,
wakeup the moon
night will fall now glittering.
Satish Verma
grey, stuck on the threshold
of a song
which does not cry
parting the mist
of the eyes.
Why should not,
the humming bird stop
becoming voiceless?
O bystander,
wakeup the moon
night will fall now glittering.
Satish Verma
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