After rolling the story of wrong sex by teeth
the sheen comes off the subway
and a hanging moon starts rotating
a lonely earth.
I was afraid of rumors, they were
snowballing. The particles were dismayed
at medieval thinking so they decided to collide
for consuming the planet.
Pirates were everywhere searching the god
matter from the black hole. A scientist
versus godman begins a fiery dialogue
on the fate of light.
Who was copying the big explosion
of live in gays. Where the feminists will go?
let us find, who we are and part the ways
with dignity and mooned.
Satish Verma
03 May, 2010
MANIA
Keep the paper blank,
do not write anything new.
Words were abducted earlier also
Let the truth speak from the folds
of dying clocks.
Fauns were searching the human
abodes for fake currency of truth. There
was no method in their method. Do you
find a pride in their attacks? A strange
militia had joined hands with sleep mafia.
My soul colours the half-black berries.
The sum will not eat them.
Father was beaten in war of tricks
I still follow the laws of kindness
in filling the extended empty cups.
Satish Verma
do not write anything new.
Words were abducted earlier also
Let the truth speak from the folds
of dying clocks.
Fauns were searching the human
abodes for fake currency of truth. There
was no method in their method. Do you
find a pride in their attacks? A strange
militia had joined hands with sleep mafia.
My soul colours the half-black berries.
The sum will not eat them.
Father was beaten in war of tricks
I still follow the laws of kindness
in filling the extended empty cups.
Satish Verma
YELLOW FACE
When life falls apart
you do not pick up the shadow.
It is the shadow, which
gathers you in arms.
Little things make a difference
a diety comes at your door.
And a gift lies broken
a little bread was black.
Satish Verma
you do not pick up the shadow.
It is the shadow, which
gathers you in arms.
Little things make a difference
a diety comes at your door.
And a gift lies broken
a little bread was black.
Satish Verma
INTENSITY
Trapped in staircase,
huddled in dark,
you cannot go up.
you cannot go down.
The succession wars
have started again.
Bending the laws,
molesting, disowning.
The predator will get away
eating the gold,
the paradise.
You are left with the lantern.
Burn, burn my kisses.
The heat will melt the eyes,
the snow of the hill.
the glass of a virgin.
Satish Verma
huddled in dark,
you cannot go up.
you cannot go down.
The succession wars
have started again.
Bending the laws,
molesting, disowning.
The predator will get away
eating the gold,
the paradise.
You are left with the lantern.
Burn, burn my kisses.
The heat will melt the eyes,
the snow of the hill.
the glass of a virgin.
Satish Verma
*DEPRESSION
There was thunder in the hut
teeth clattered under the ground.
Handcuffed you walk in inequality
to qualify for hanging till dead.
I may not tell myself
what was happening to me.
Moving in opposite direction
the bird was able to catch the smell.
My stance was always making a stroke
in the canvas of a tormentor
abbreviated in a muscular arm
starting violences of sleep.
Corralled in doorframes, keeping
the lights off, this was the nemesis
for asking for the change. Haungered, the
human being, absorbed by the
absence of chains which were not
coming in sight.
*On the fate of Kanu Sanyal, founder of naxalite movement, who hanged himself to death on 23th March 2010.
Satish Verma
teeth clattered under the ground.
Handcuffed you walk in inequality
to qualify for hanging till dead.
I may not tell myself
what was happening to me.
Moving in opposite direction
the bird was able to catch the smell.
My stance was always making a stroke
in the canvas of a tormentor
abbreviated in a muscular arm
starting violences of sleep.
Corralled in doorframes, keeping
the lights off, this was the nemesis
for asking for the change. Haungered, the
human being, absorbed by the
absence of chains which were not
coming in sight.
*On the fate of Kanu Sanyal, founder of naxalite movement, who hanged himself to death on 23th March 2010.
Satish Verma
WORDLESS SILENCE
Yes, your name was sliced off
from the impasse. I will stand with you
to track the continental drift. How little
I knew about you and the prosthetic words.
Again and again I return to ruins, and
the dust and crumbling absence. Eyes
will speak for the wordless silence now.
Who will tell the truth for the murdered
thought? The cognitive silence? You don’t
want to see the light. The soul sits outside
the body. Pollution hits the mind. The words
eat the emptiness of facts and lies. A vertical
descent of speech.I should not have
listened to cries.
A memory moves in zigzag manner, accepts
the odyssey of man’s failing gods.
Satish Verma
from the impasse. I will stand with you
to track the continental drift. How little
I knew about you and the prosthetic words.
Again and again I return to ruins, and
the dust and crumbling absence. Eyes
will speak for the wordless silence now.
Who will tell the truth for the murdered
thought? The cognitive silence? You don’t
want to see the light. The soul sits outside
the body. Pollution hits the mind. The words
eat the emptiness of facts and lies. A vertical
descent of speech.I should not have
listened to cries.
A memory moves in zigzag manner, accepts
the odyssey of man’s failing gods.
Satish Verma
THINNING
Undating the memories
in final push to cauldron, I said:
let the words burn to ashes,
in terminal journey,
of eternal flight.
You turn a blind eye to sun’s venom.
Moon, the blue baby in a casket
rubbing the white clouds
for a trek to intoxication.
I ignore the opium field,
to collect the bullets
and bones of infants.
Seeking peace in a simple
shade of hymn.
Perhaps stars are listening.
Satish Verma
in final push to cauldron, I said:
let the words burn to ashes,
in terminal journey,
of eternal flight.
You turn a blind eye to sun’s venom.
Moon, the blue baby in a casket
rubbing the white clouds
for a trek to intoxication.
I ignore the opium field,
to collect the bullets
and bones of infants.
Seeking peace in a simple
shade of hymn.
Perhaps stars are listening.
Satish Verma
PATTERN
Handprint of innerself was
writ large in your eyes.
I hear you in your becoming.
Are you me and me are you in sameness?
The words and silence?
I hope you are listening to the waves,
from inside, from outside.
Sometimes we were talking with our skin only.
The sea was roaring on the shores.
When fog retreats, we know each other
in abandonment as fish in water of life.
Satish Verma
writ large in your eyes.
I hear you in your becoming.
Are you me and me are you in sameness?
The words and silence?
I hope you are listening to the waves,
from inside, from outside.
Sometimes we were talking with our skin only.
The sea was roaring on the shores.
When fog retreats, we know each other
in abandonment as fish in water of life.
Satish Verma
SPELLBOUND
Death sits in wait
in the empty valley
of your sleeper cell.
The confession of a guilt
liberates the funeral
of a martyr.
Give me your breasts
for a modular test.
Don’t let the milk go waste.
Your pearly teeth
were biting negativity of the red
chilli of dark sex
before the sunrise
in a kingdom of debris
of long names.
Satish Verma
in the empty valley
of your sleeper cell.
The confession of a guilt
liberates the funeral
of a martyr.
Give me your breasts
for a modular test.
Don’t let the milk go waste.
Your pearly teeth
were biting negativity of the red
chilli of dark sex
before the sunrise
in a kingdom of debris
of long names.
Satish Verma
INTROSPECTION
Living against the food amnesia
gold bricks call for austerity
in passage of the hunger.
Canons hanging in their necks
it was the silence of death.
Whispers were floating in night.
The bodies will free us from
gold cure, tasting the forbidden salt
of stale lead of spices.
We will forget the color of lips
when you cry. Time falls
like a dead sparrow on faithless head.
When you hold a hollyhock
I look at the crescent moon
who was taking a shower after disrobing.
Satish Verma
gold bricks call for austerity
in passage of the hunger.
Canons hanging in their necks
it was the silence of death.
Whispers were floating in night.
The bodies will free us from
gold cure, tasting the forbidden salt
of stale lead of spices.
We will forget the color of lips
when you cry. Time falls
like a dead sparrow on faithless head.
When you hold a hollyhock
I look at the crescent moon
who was taking a shower after disrobing.
Satish Verma
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