Bracelets

Interned in my own prison 
beneath the skin, 
I stop the silver wheels. 
An aloof sliding, down the impotent rage 
I shout, I will not buy the flakes. 

The hirsute nobility 
of gorillas 
dancing on knives 
before striking a lamb for ribs 
splitting the history. 

A seedless walking 
to erase the footprints of sunny ghosts. 
You want to raise a crop of lies 
dreaming about the mother 
and her sins.

Satish Verma

New Year's Mirror

In the empty house 
of snow, 
though, interred a blade of grass 
when I was searching one 
midnight flame 

in frozen night, on 
parting lips of darkness. 
The art of delusion 
churns the sea for an untitled 
arsenic, of a blue throat. 

I am dynasty and I am 
the king of million whites. 
Fatherless sins 
in rusted boots 
were having a last laugh.

Satish Verma

CLAMPDOWN

It was a dirty war 
of moat 
flaying the legs in emotional outburst. 

No stings. 
Only mandibles will do the job of chewing 
on your dark fingers. 

Flat, the taste of milk: 
a synthetic formula to eat your entrails. 
The plastic nose will smell the rose. 

Unbuttoned, 
message will bring the fishplates 
and birthmark of violence. 

Death has a cult of contusions. 
You bleed to bones 
for illuminating the street.

Satish Verma

SNOWLINE

A blank paper invites 
for rape. 
Snow sinks for a prelude. 

The black swan flies away 
for the quiet hills, 
when sun was drawing out the blood. 

Alone I will write a poem 
beneath the tear soaked eyes 
and then moon fell. 

As in the valley 
of million tulips 
I will make a dream kill.

Satish Verma

IMPOVERISHED

You asked for an explanation 
for a flame. A bat 
flies in a passage of pain. 
A poem becomes an accuser. 

They were drowning 
the moon 
in a lake of blood. 
A poem sails like a kayak. 

The snow was falling 
like drifting lovers. 
Stains were becoming bits of screams. 
A poem delivers an echo. 

The fear turns you blue 
in midst of knocks. 
Doors had the outrageous locks. 
A poem walks like a truth

Satish Verma

Collected Thoughts

Like tussoh, I collect snow 
after the blizzard, churning 
the quartz, O December. 

Time to hang my boots 
and listen the call to quarters. 
Windows would kill me. 

I had my horrors 
I had my wine. 
The moon was still calling. 

My thumb bleeds 
for white skin of sun. 
Who was depressed in night? 

The collateral damage 
is bound to happen; if drones 
don’t listen to me.

Satish Verma

Collected Thoughts

Like tussoh, I collect snow 
after the blizzard, churning 
the quartz, O December. 

Time to hang my boots 
and listen the call to quarters. 
Windows would kill me. 

I had my horrors 
I had my wine. 
The moon was still calling. 

My thumb bleeds 
for white skin of sun. 
Who was depressed in night? 

The collateral damage 
is bound to happen; if drones 
don’t listen to me.

Satish Verma

Her Looks

Jinxed out 
was the sex panel 
on the honour’s integrity. 
Deep water a fish 
was found dead. 

The destination 
of your rival was 
feminism. I was talking 
of the moon 
without gender. 

Your fingers were probing 
the dancing words, 
in this strange event. 
Darkness was falling 
on my lips in morning.

Satish Verma

My Diary

Unthinkable. 
Lithograph of a malaise. 
I cannot talk. 

Will you abandon the thought 
and care about 
the drowning dawn? 

The bandaged ego 
of the book 
threatens the reader. 

Come and solve 
the puzzle 
of poetry. 

Everything was quiet 
except 
the pulsating heart. 


I will. 
I will not scream.

Satish Verma

SEEKING

The falling poem was 
in bruising gamble of winter 
of troubled life, 
bound to a staircase: 
up and down 
up and down, 
on the rosette of grieving thighs. 

From sunset to sunset 
a moon rises in all its glory 
as the night flows in crevices of thoughts. 
Will you lift the veil from the golden face 
and sacrifice the lamb? 
The infinite was waiting to come out of crotch.

Satish Verma

BLACKWATER

A self-protecting game was going on. 
After the paternity test 
there was slow burning 
inside the moon. 
Earth heaved a big sigh. 
Blackwater was making a muddy sound. 

Embroidery was fading 
aftermoon. 
I open the window to uncover 
the chill. A young lass has jumped over 
from a flyover to meet a concrete end. 

The liberated soul of nation 
indulges in cocktails of free erotica. 
In beginning there was a sacred river; 
now in bed, dry bones 
were found soaked in release.

Satish Verma

Acrimony

In longest night 
of pitch-dark space 
you disappear like an arrow. 
No star brightens your face. 
Rumor was cruising like a bat on streets 
to capture the gullible victim 
on winter solstice. 
The snow was falling like 
sorcery. 


A little anxiety to taste the 
dried out grapes 
and listen to the hunger 
mouthless. 

You draw the lake 
on a canvas 
and then jump into it 
with visible nakedness.

Satish Verma

Rendezvous

Wanting more of you 
in the bed of moon, 
where present and past 
were disrobing. 

The bee stings, O my god, 
arrange the pure darkness 
of milk, 
hanging on persona of future. 

The yielding was painful, 
its blankness. You were 
collecting the hooks. I was letting 
free the fish. 

Green was my perch 
on the white paper, 
rewriting your name without ink 
for the sake of hunting the lamp.

Satish Verma