Breakthough

Take a call and bring
the upside down.
The desire becomes supreme.

Are you going to redeem
for the lost empire?
A musk deer will start

the scent-marking.
This was the price of
insecurity in the mob.

Unhook the wounds.
Life will give you
a new pretext to die.

It was an ordinary name.
No prefix and no frills.
You were ready to become anonymous.

Satish Verma

Tonight

Will you come for a
final goodbye in dark.
I will wear you like a moon.
*
The black hole was
widening. There was no
sin, if you bring a candle.
*
September, morning.
The cuckoo gives a two-note call.
Anybody still sleeping?

Satish Verma

NOT QUITE A PRAYER

You had placed floating
garden on the crest
of five-headed white cobra.

The hooded death,
strikes; when you were
tending to bonsai.

Over to moon,
you send the message. But
The book was incomplete.

On the way to
tiny thoughts, an odyssean
task to put the right words.

I will go and
stand on the edge, to
watch the glorious senset.

Satish Verma

COLORED DESIGNS

Everytime you discover
a new black hole;
someone crosses the border
and starts crying.

Thread weaved in and out
of tapestry. You were nailed
to the wall, which never
had any doors.

Why were you not a mackintosh?
You scripted strangely, talking
of an open world. You smell
a war between the poems-

in a book. There was no ad hoc
pain in groins. Your boney
nose went to find the peat moss
in the jungle of sandalwoods.

Satish Verma

RETALIATION

On the edge,
you receive the onslaught
of moonlight.

Drummed and sawed,
you take up the challenge
and move on.

In rains
the dreams wash the rainbow
inviting the Iris.

Tonight, you
will have an audience
will the estranged god.

A taper
in the sun wants its
place on the moon.

Satish Verma

A Quiet Night

After the spooky night
there was the
morphean balm.

You pull out the meat
from the bones.
A genteel confession-

keeps tumbling out.
The haunted house
sends forth the tiny ghosts.

It was moon time.
You will drop a torpedo-
to unsettle the stray thoughts.

The geometry
falters. Lines are drawn
to remove the dots.

The skin you left
on the road;
still glows like a smoldering coal.

Satish Verma

Clairvoyance

The spirit hovers.
I am not interested in a
séance. Let me come face to face
with the book to share clean
or unclean thoughts.

Not able to print my deep
angst. A clash of cultures. I
will call the unprinted scream. The
dismembered limbs begin
a dance of unfolding
the hate.

It was a jig.
Of scaffoldings for the
peacocks to shed their wings.
Everyone was falling for the green-gold
to be embossed on the dust
cover of life.

Satish Verma

Straws

Tribalism:
You break the rules
and become a renegade.
*
Do not know
any god. All the
deities were man-made
*
In dark, you
will recognize the faces
of unslept poems.

Satish Verma

Perversion

Again. The search
will start
for the virgin truth.

Unseen. The invisible
character, unfolds
a bipolar paradox.

So far. I have come
groping in dark
for a terpsichare.

Spineless. You
fly in the wordless
blues of the veins.

The underbelly
was smooth, tied with a
criminal moon.

Satish Verma

AFTERTHOUGHTS

Come via
moon gate. I will meet
you at midnight.

*

Only in halfway
house, I will find you
in dark.

*

O my firefly,
why have you come
to a wingless bird in dusk?

Satish Verma

ABSURDITIES

Beach walls? I have
lost the moon again,
in red wine.

The breast milk? Was
it a sexiest remark?
the fetus was still inside-

the womb of a closed-
circuit television. I had
the sharpest sight

in dark. You like
the pussy. It purrs, around
my ankles, when I

talk to a pregnant future.
Give me my croci.
I want to make my tea purple.

Satish Verma

A PILGRIM’S WOE

Strange. You want to protect
the house after the attack.
Debunking the grammar. Take
a look at the cavernous eyes.
Do you find any rains?
Refresh drops. You will
need them, once a while.

The life. Hides many grudges.
It was scorching. A country
of cantos in politics. The-
language keeps on changing.
What was next, nobody knows.
The trees were there, the birds
there, but there were no leaves.

Satish Verma

The Myth Of Domain

Tension grips:
when you try to open
the jarred doors-

of the death.
It was on old friend,
on the cusp-

selling the dirt.
Was it the ending of
the beginning?

Who will go
beyond the dead
to find the immortal?

You have left
many cantos unfinished.
I will try, will try

to join the dots,
the dashes,
the parentheses.

Satish Verma

HOW MANY TIMES

Sitting at a funeral;
in ashes, you search-
the faces of dead. To
shut down the apostrophes.

How far was your home,
you don’t want to
go back? A black moon
invites the tallest flare-

of the sun. Bright
death will ask no compensation.
You can travel over half-
memories of frozen pain.

Hourglass to Kundo clocks,
you were collecting all the
souvenirs to stall the
translations from coast to coast.

Satish Verma

A sneak preview

Hold your saliva.
The kissing syndrome,
is on prowl.

A threat looms large;
over the face on the face
of most beautiful eyes.

Are you fascinated by the-
picture of shedding the skin?
The reptile was most venomsus.

Strikes, when you are
sleeping. Floats into your house
when it is dark.

A remake of the horror
of holocaust? Will it
affect your lips?

Satish Verma

The Flash Point

The double-edged truth
had the exoticism. The blood was
in air. A blue bird draws
a red line, indulging in spiritualization
of a gray design. The testosterones
chart the trajectory in the flame
of the forest.

You deploy your army in zero
hour. Colored leaves start casting
the spell. You listen to the rustling
of skirt. Moon was walking in.

A pink sword and sharpened
claws. After the vulture hit,
the death wil swoop down on you suddenly.

Satish Verma

WILD DREAMS

This was
a prelude to a prefix.
I want to stretch
my arms
to reach your moon.

*

Why did they had
to go,
the night,
the caper,
the moon!

Satish Verma

PRELUDE

A deep kiss.
Deepest-ever
of exTreme love
for the death;
milky way.

*
Separating-
the numbers
from infinity.
Will you find one day
a big Zero?

Satish Verma

PARSING

Read it,
or do not read
the road map.
Something has eaten into your wings.
You will not be able to fly
in the silent valley.

*

The clay gardens.
You always loved, the eccentricity.
A meltdown
refrains the sequenced
shyness. There will be
no moon tonight.

Satish Verma

RIPPED APART

Looking back into
gray spring.
Would you find the images
of the constellation
of lilies?

*

What a
metamorphosis?
From a tigress to a
wounded bird, waiting
to pick up a flight.

Satish Verma

KNIFE INTO US

Ethics of brands will find
out the anatomist,
who will rip apart the hope
from the bones.

Death will come from
underside. The sky
will remain blue even after
the murder of the moons.

The revenge at dawn
was very painful. The
crows will scatter the
light from your hands.

The mobile towers had
come to a standstill.
Sparrows had become suspicious,
left for a holy bath.

Satish Verma

Ascendancy

Seizing a chance in
a trice, in one dark September
night of apotheoses-

a bird crashed in my
lap. I would not know
the virginity of the strange surrender.

The windows were tall,
with the black laces violating
the sovereignty of light.

I will not know you, will
not call the black magic,
will not transcend the body.

The white lilies were
staring down at water.
Was the dawn nearby?

Satish Verma

THE JUDGEMENT

You had the numbers.
The reverse trends begins-
with uneasy and dark ambush.

A fatal miscue. You
will get the message.
The fingerprints will stay on the wall.

Enduring the onslaughts.
Remaining sky-clad I
will wander in your arms.

Fighting with the curves,
on sleepy islands, will
you hail my outstanding landing?

The revelation has a price.
You will not open the envelope
till I am dead.

Satish Verma

A PERILOUS JOURNEY

For a moonshine,
there was no moon.
There was no moon
for a moonshine.

It starts a tenuous
soliloquy, raising a –
slew of questions.

Slew of questions will
evoke a mixed response.

Were you ready for
a sleepover at the shrine
to watch the St. Vitus’s dance.

It was leaking at night
from the corner of eyes.

Unaging was the secret
of polity. Are you in?

Satish Verma

An Opusculum

No stitches will work.
You have to navigate-
in mendacities.

You have to navigate-
in mendacities to find
the truth, the truth.

A papyrus write may
know the future, the destiny,
the future, the destiny.

You always run to piss
at the tree, to draw
the borders. The animal.

The animal within you, becomes
salmonella, dones a cap,
enters the dome.

Enters the dome.

Satish Verma

Laissez-Faire

The smile conceals, something.
Does not offer any cue.
You were still traveling
within.

You wanted to leave the world,
as it was, without cleaving
the wood, not accepting the veneer.
It rang an alarm bell.

To evolve their own persona;
good to take their own path.
The fallout was widening.This
was an insider's story.

What an audacious withdrawl;
and you were in a silent mode like a Buddha
to uptake the film of dust
settling on the innocent rape of book.

Satish Verma

End Thinking

First encounter was skimpy
unleashing a terror
of tales. I will not find the
perfect body of a poem.


Remember,
the salt lake, where you were
drowned one day in the eyes
of the needle.

It was an ode for the failed
prophecy which predicted
the fall of an author
in the ravines of jealousy.

A trampled butterfly exudes
the yellow fumes. Meanwhile
you can draw a nude on
the road for bystanders.

Satish Verma

In Search Of Peace

The tiny thrusts
and a blunt fuel
scrambled over the wet contours.
There was an ephimerality
in overdue kisses
of death.

The interplay of sex
and spirituality starts,
bites the bullet and pushes the boat.
The pungency of an elegy
was a secondhand divorce
with death.

Jealousy: sand was
under the nails. Now
I will find the remains of an ocean
in your eyes. There was nothing
else to be done than taking off
the bikini top like a death.

Satish Verma