LIBERATION

When I flew into a storm

my words collided with thunder

and stars fell on ashes of dead.

I wanted to scream. Seeking a freeze
on past.Future was stretching its arms.
A calling.Erratic explosions?


The ruins were becoming worthy
of worship.Hunger exudes the trapped
smell. You light an earthen lamp for
split masks, the face will never be known.

Only there were two concrete eyes
darting without thoughts, telling without sound.
There is no water, only million suns.

Satish Verma

IN THE NAME OF ………

Watching the wilting dividers,
wanted to declock the time
in timeless death:
though life must move on.
After amputation, body waits to be lifted,
negating the bed.
Now it was time, which would you like,
nouns that hurt?
Or verbs that heal?


After stepping down
from my self
said the star, I have become
a black moon. Three bombs went off
within three minutes. Was it a Mendelson’s
syndrome after general anaesthesia?
The chemical god wanted to distemper
a flock of sheep. God
save the earth.

Satish Verma

I CANNOT WEEP

Those vicious strikes.
Beaten by sticks,
a panther dies on moon
in midstop.

Standing on a bomb
digging a tunnel
you pay obeisance to
the god of war.

This sweet revenge
for your forefathers?
Who could not walk straight
in the bastard crowd.

Spilling the sperms
O pimp of faith,
why are you selling
your poverty?

The heap of limbs
on the breast of a mother.
A hand of a child was cut
in every womb.

Satish Verma

WHO WAS FAITHFUL?

That yellow moon haunts me again
and overleaps my sleep.
I do not dare to walk in the graves
of your eyes. The palace
has broken.

Mere suffering was not sufficient.
You have to wince with pain
for a crucified secret,
dying for a graced truth.

Snatch me a tear from
the blind eyes.My precious rags
will make a sacred thread to wrap
you on your arm.

The bruised innocence does not matter
now.You walk like a prince in every dark
page of history. Light follows the
sounds of body.

Satish Verma

WORDS OF NEVER BEING

In unaligned loneliness,
tonight, a liquefied moon
will fill up my glass, and my shadow
will sit beside me and we will drink the pain.

Lets’s settle in twilight of stars
and think not of violence of crawling
and inflicting damages to each other; I will never be
myself again during the random dark.

The end of punishment or punishment
of ending were drawing very near,
dotting the landscape. All the budhas
are assembling to wash our sins.

Give me some bones to fix the knees,
I have lost my golden throne in
the dazzle of wounds, the flames
are lifting the red sky.

Satish Verma

UNTILL I ARRIVE

Stunning yourself,
after setting ablaze,
circumbulating the tied down god in center,
you start a death dance

for the wasted limbs. How far the
self-immolation was justified
for the young pond of hyacinths?
And as I moved away from this stupidity,

the rains arrived to fill the streams;
glaciers decided not to melt away.
Time stopped me in my tracks to hold
my pen firmly and open the craft page.

Here the street now burns to make
sufferings taller than rewards. You
lie still in the sea of blue pains, waiting
to set fire to strawberries.

Satish Verma

STUMBLING

Disaffection
brings out, the black fever.
Stars will chart the inky path.

It was too close
the brazen attack
on sacred rites.

Prejudice
of contents was besides, heavy.
I am going to flee from spaces.

You become a fodder
of white ghost.
Your shadow cleaves in water.

Below the bridge
hangs a tale.
The river had received phosphorescent bodies.

Satish Verma

GOLD-TIPPED

At that time
I was thinking something else
when you gave me a half-kiss,
my winter naked moon.

A souvenir left by sun
for the sake of night. I remembered
pink roses
unpetaling green thighs-

for quest of shelter in civil war
of reminiscences.Merciful was the landslide
which buried the whispers of
dead dreams.

Unpretending, unleaping, the ocean
sucks the grief of clouds. The
rains have started a dance
for the suicidal gods.

Satish Verma

WATER

Casuarina! I miss you a lot.
Why don’t you reclaim this drab century
by your drooping branches,
off from the poetry of water?


The words are dried up.
No rustling sounds, the winged
creatures broke the mirrors,
a black moon.

I am walking without legs
in the sea of encounters.
The headless groom was searching his bride
amidst fallen greens.

Satish Verma

STRANGERS IN SLEEP

The dome has collapsed.
You walk in fire on the eve of
exhuming yourself, picking up
the pieces of humming life.


Eye to eye, the patience was wearing
thin, fears had positioned themselves,
at the doors, snarling.
A mass grave was being dug in the distant woods.

On cloudless hills, a raging sun
climbs up to send the dust of miracles,
which never nodded. The faith healers had
failed on ivory stages.

The god is ailing with multiple failures.
Man, are you responsible for this bloodbath
in coldest weather of earth when grievers
were frozen in their tracks?

Satish Verma

KNIVES WERE OUT

Do not stare at full moon.
The distance between love and hate
has narrowed.

Not for the shrunk radiation,
sun wants to hide behind the gift
of sunflowers.

The golden ring on the black finger,
I love the death’s cry,
fire will wear the jewel.

Collapsed roofs of the palace,
it is the cushioned agony
of the emptied king.

Everything was melting,
the child, the mother and the grain.
From where the water will come?

Satish Verma

LONGEST ECLIPSE

Exacerbating,
falling in dust,
searching the dead truths
on pills of abandoned bodies of lies.

The dawn brings out
the trapped victims of transmigration
from capricum to capricon.
Then they commit a mass suicide

around hymns to seduce the
god with thousand smiles.
A flock of memories lands on the grey
body of moon for the last rites.

One by one they walk away,
the ironic actors of secular wake,
asking for forgiveness from abyss,
gazing at the eclipsed sun for the last time.

Satish Verma

COUPLING

In the tiny truths behind the hidden
words and blood streaked cheeks, you
drink ozone in deep layers. I will count
all my sins and light the candles in a row.

On the pillow of moon, night slept in half-slumber.
I tendered an apology
and wrote a new poem. It was not a rebuke
of stars.

This was my ad lib before the sun rise
and roses opening the blood conversations
with the grand stings. The wrapped hunger
starts wailing.

Satish Verma

ZERO HOUR

It was night’s fury
whipping up hysteria
on specks of flames, dancing in pain.

On a heap of ashes
and bones where a child of death
will be born.

Before fading,
moon will kiss the golden thighs
of sun and think aloud
dying shirtless in intimate
ambit of sky.

Satish Verma

BLANKSCAPE

Chasing the embedded sex of the moon
you torched the sun
by the stares of dead
and turned yourself into a stone
of steps. For survival?
I knew the gravel, the water
therefore cried inside.

Navigating in swathes of tristesse
makes you insane. Let us split the god
open, and find out the meaning of life.
The missed beats demand more blood, more
slavery. Bivalent limbs become untrue
to heart. I was late in coming.
You too!

Satish Verma

IN RING OF FIRE

After a peek into the world news,
I will start asking many questions to myself
in the dialect of hurling petrol bombs that,
how many names of a god are valid
in my poor dictionary of past truths?

I start eating away myself bit by bit
and save few grains for my children,
for clenching hurts and start a journey of unknown.
The debate will never end for the sake of
poetics in many me, of many avatars.

Un-self I start searching the stairs
of the tower in dark conspiracy of silence.
The night has forgotten a Mozart.The
magic flute will not play again.

Satish Verma

A BOMBER UNSPEAKS

To find a safe god
he traveled inside the books
to develop the tradecraft of winning the world.

Fog squinted from the sky
and elite sun waited in the lobby.
Steel-pellets, flesh and body parts will follow,

to nip the blood. A door is flung open
for a pat-down. You understand the philosophy
of revenge? Take back the hundred lives

for a nail cut. A bewitching smile
and tantalizing fragrance of a bomb
makes a lethal mix.

From where to where we have come.
The scarved beauty and secret love;
some rare vision was giving the push.

Satish Verma

SINKING BOATMEN

The name,
went begging to yield.
Dispute was becoming a point of disorder.
A fire on ice, I was burning inside.

Unabated, the storm
was raging in bush. The candor was lost.
We were drying up in shade. One eccentric
nerve poison was spreading.

We will forego, the face
and wear masks to hide our swollen lips
and private chastity. A hairless
loathing is born.
Unless you are a condemned shadow,
the portrait will stand in a corner
for an unwritten crime, disfiguring
the moon of tomorrow.

Satish Verma

OF BURNING

From here to you
a legacy of dust was deepening.
I was reading a lot
between the dots.
You will get another master
I will get another pain.

In the maze of tunnels
a fear of fall snips.
A window becomes a man
unbuttoning the skin.
A body starts scratching
a secret.

The earthly sense warns
of a whiff of a stranger,
at the door in dark.
Like a ripe tear
I will not betray the eye -
in this grey hour.

Satish Verma

VIBRATIONS

The battlelines were drawn.
While drinking the sun
I set myself ablaze

A hooded dilemma
of his kindness
starts boiling in chaotic dissonance.

A backlash stops a self-search.
Who am I and why do I belong
in the spinning of descent.

There were flames in every home
and biting dust of the moon.
Where the man will go.

The birth’s print and death’s answer
had the bidding game.
I was standing in the middle.


Satish Verma

HAPPENINGS

A transient smile lights up a moonless
landscape, catalyzing the woes of
labour of hot arguments. A fragile

peace prevails. When the plot thickens
let me count the bodies in the domain
of a wasted god.

Meanwhile I will get an interim sunless
day to find the mystery of believers.
A bridge had ultimately collapsed.

In the panic room, no image filters.
You continue to draw the nudes of goddesses
and distance yourself from the rubble of axes.

Battle-scarred earth throws up
a severed head of a patriarch
who refused to open his eyes.

Satish Verma

UNDERSCORING

A distraught moon
takes a misstep
and goes behind the hill
to take a holy bath.

Disconnects
with a trespasser
and sends to night,
a bouquet of stars with muffled prayers.

Shades of lies haunt, in flames
of faith. A suicide bomber ploughs
through a playground, throwing the bits
of human pieces on nets.

Satish Verma

UPRISING

Empty hands were trying to collate
the fallout after the trigger moment
invited the unwelcome guest
wearing explosive vest.

It gives a push to throw away the paper
and I walk up to the ink for a
new chapter. The squinting sun was
not able to break the stoic silence of adoration.

A pervasive ambition spreads out
on the breads of poor dreams.
Pay no attention, pay no respect to the falling
patriach. Daughters of broken stars were rising.


Satish Verma

UNENDING

In downy pink I watch you go
my sun,
at night you will pluck moon flowers.

In half-moon eclipse
the morning glory will wake me up
in dew, alighting whole night

on the rose branch. I still smell
your lips. The head aches in
singing dark.

Welcome again, my ghosts of new year.


Satish Verma

PEACOCKS ARE DYING DAILY

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

TIDE

The past and the street
were reaching nowhere.
Existing as long as the dust flies.

Mansions were imploding with great noise
A terrible end of a whistling
enclave.

The new age had begun
of molten glaciers
flooding the warm noons.

A new version of genocide is coming.
Earth, do not cry for fallen trees.

A fresh road – map is ready
for the junior breed,
who will strut the globe with vengeance.

Fear will stalk the virtue,
the space, the depth.
what is happening to tide ?


SATISH VERMA

POTENT ABSENCE

The assembeled evidence did not work
To save the skin, man was truthfully oblique.

Choiceless intimacy was more injurious.
I have not learnt the art of durability.

A good life tangles like a severed limb.
Name was tattoed before committing suicide.

It hailed like hell on haemorrhagic reaper.
Who will now call for spiritual healing ?

Where the window will open, I hardly care.
Tiger will be skinned alive for the taste.

Hope was not my forte and I was not a fake.
Still I threw myself in the river to sink.

I lived in a world of millions of pseudo names.
Silence was a potent absence I missed.


SATISH VERMA

WHY I WAS ALIVE?

It was a compulsive obsession with teeth
but I was bewildered at the mass grave of tongues,
for speechless survival of a dumb genre
haunted by non-existent aliens.

My knowledge had always been incomplete.
I was feeling hot and cold at the same time
baffled by the change in colour of the skin
unused, unbuttoned for centuries.

Contour of corpse was varying with the earth
listening human cries at the feet of statue.
Slim was the chance to dig up the truth
I was wondering why I was alive ?


SATISH VERMA

TRANQILITY

I do not want to see an apparition
walking on the road
banging his head on walls.
Desperately I was seeking tranquility.

Even after his murder
he had risen from myths
from his secret forages in cemeteries
of truth.
The spirit in the vault
fluttering its wings
voiceless in a shouting crowd.

Divine failure
of mortal remains
eternally daring in inferno.


Satish Verma

TRANQILITY

I do not want to see an apparition
walking on the road
banging his head on walls.
Desperately I was seeking tranquility.

Even after his murder
he had risen from myths
from his secret forages in cemeteries
of truth.
The spirit in the vault
fluttering its wings
voiceless in a shouting crowd.

Divine failure
of mortal remains
eternally daring in inferno.


Satish Verma

CLIMB THE HILL

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

EXPLODING SILENCE

In cry of faith, I was trying
to maintain purity of hope.
Hope of an opening bud on the rose bush.

The slit eyes were frozen
unwilling to melt
the impenetrable dew.

The humility suffers
I am going to revert to lies
for the sake of foes.

Between the moments of peace
silence explodes,
trembling on the lips.
Death was alive in heart.

Weeping toes trace the primitive
path of birth,
scorched by prudence.



SATISH VERMA

INTENTIONAL SUICIDE

Talking of earthly heart,
stuck in a mire,
I believe that the guilt of not building the road
was genuine.

Beyond the sad realization
the role of witness was futile.
Life had become an apprentice of deceit
spreading out chessboard on small pretexts.

Without accepting the will of god,
failing to protect
the lines on the faces,
was it an intentional suicide ?

Collecting the fragments of sorrow
I do not want to complete the picture
I shall soon have to be connected
to the corpse of time.

SATISH VERMA

INHALING THE EARTH

When insects were crawling
dreams had contradictions,
A sudden drop 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

TAKES OVER

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

DIGNIFIED RETREAT

To cover your inadequacy
you were bending your
consciousness.
Thinking and again thinking for a thing
that was nothing.

Today I am not me
and I want to betray myself.

A low tide moon hangs on a tall tree
I will write a script on solitude
of night.
You don’t want to comeback from your grief.

The fuming sap
cascades between the gnarled shoots of
woody trunk, wasted life.
Stumps my monuments.
The grass burns with rage.

Your landscape makes
a dignified retreat.

SATISH VERMA

ANCIENT PAIN

Face of a man
struck in the fissure of an apocalypse
does not bear the consequences
of becoming a god
of deaf and mute.

I am pouring in all my awarness.
Captive of desire and drift,
where are we heading for ?

Idols of straw
watchig the human failure
day in, day out.
who wants to die ?

My ancient pain
rises again to disturb me.


SATISH VERMA

OF BURNING

From here to you
a legacy of dust was deepening.
I was reading a lot
between the dots.
You will get another master
I will get another pain.

In the maze of tunnels
a fear of fall snips.
A window becomes a man
unbuttoning the skin.
A body starts scratching
a secret.

The earthly sense warns
of a whiff of a stranger,
at the door in dark.
Like a ripe tear
I will not betray the eye -
in this grey hour.


Satish Verma

VIBRATIONS

The battlelines were drawn.
While drinking the sun
I set myself ablaze

A hooded dilemma
of his kindness
starts boiling in chaotic dissonance.

A backlash stops a self-search.
Who am I and why do I belong
in the spinning of descent.

There were flames in every home
and biting dust of the moon.
Where the man will go.

The birth’s print and death’s answer
had the bidding game.
I was standing in the middle.


Satish Verma

HAPPENINGS

A transient smile lights up a moonless
landscape, catalyzing the woes of
labour of hot arguments. A fragile

peace prevails. When the plot thickens
let me count the bodies in the domain
of a wasted god.

Meanwhile I will get an interim sunless
day to find the mystery of believers.
A bridge had ultimately collapsed.

In the panic room, no image filters.
You continue to draw the nudes of goddesses
and distance yourself from the rubble of axes.

Battle-scarred earth throws up
a severed head of a patriarch
who refused to open his eyes.


Satish Verma

UNENDING

In downy pink I watch you go
my sun,
at night you will pluck moon flowers.

In half-moon eclipse
the morning glory will wake me up
in dew, alighting whole night

on the rose branch. I still smell
your lips. The head aches in
singing dark.

Welcome again, my ghosts of new year.

Satish Verma

UPRISING

Empty hands were trying to collate
the fallout after the trigger moment
invited the unwelcome guest
wearing explosive vest.

It gives a push to throw away the paper
and I walk up to the ink for a
new chapter. The squinting sun was
not able to break the stoic silence of adoration.

A pervasive ambition spreads out
on the breads of poor dreams.
Pay no attention, pay no respect to the falling
patriach. Daughters of broken stars were rising.


Satish Verma

UNDERSCORING

A distraught moon
takes a misstep
and goes behind the hill
to take a holy bath.

Disconnects
with a trespasser
and sends to night,
a bouquet of stars with muffled prayers.

Shades of lies haunt, in flames
of faith. A suicide bomber ploughs
through a playground, throwing the bits
of human pieces on nets.

Satish Verma