Opaque Underbellies

In a moment
of panic-
you write a poem
to catch the truth.

The aplomb and glitter
of money's ride
shatters.

And the stones sing.
A star breaks away from
the galaxy.

I harbor your face
like a bee's sting.

I watch,
watch the ills of hunters.
Why you want to commit
the sin on a particular
day?


Orange planets, as of blood
and fire, seek another sun to light
the dark crevices
of doubts and fears.

Satish Verma

What A Galaxy

Moon was mixing the colors.
The black hole does not exist.
I was hearing about the quantum,
something was amiss.

Purple grapes had turned black.

I am trying to understand
the damages. A discreet thought hole
permits the escape of energy.

Imagination was at risk.
Can you hold on to life,
without a shock?

Somewhere you go back
to a concentration camp to collect the ashes.

Satish Verma

Perplexed Views

The dots, million times,
like fire ants.
A black mass, you want
to exterminate.

Give me a light year
to understand the gray sky.

After the blast
the mind spills.

Thoughts, endless thoughts.

How do you reach the rim―
of success, as an ing'enue,
drifting down, without raft
in the river?

Was it a winter sleep of a toad
to ward off the
hypothermia?

Satish Verma

A Lone Prayer

Leave your seminal
expression with minimal
damage.I am excluding the
human race.
Your chin protrudes
when you think aloud.
Were you becoming-
a unique animal in haste?

The man has the
erectile ego as that of
gastropod mollusk.You will
never cross the Atlantic chasm.

You always wear
a slippery shell externally,
when your thoughts are born.
God save this earth.

Satish Verma

Strange Phenomenon

You are brain-dead
with amnesia
in winter snow.

A frozen pulse, without blood
running, bluish-black
death.

Was death always black?
Not like supple, red poppy
leaving the stigma mark
on your white shirt?

Landing amidst the
crowd, of funlovers, there
was no exit, and I must
meet my enemy
my shore.

Satish Verma

Uncanny Feeling

It was a strange experience
coming out of the body
to understand the death.

And I watched a train
whistling by―
then I understood,

time will not wait for me.
I started running
against the moon―

to forget the empty dream,
catching a fever.
I am still burning―

in grass, collecting
the dew, falling
from the misty night.

Satish Verma

Silence Of The Falls

Nothing helps.
The colossus has failed.
A naked fakir-
walks in dark moaning.

You ride a torpedo
to kill the gossips.It
misfires.All around
us is deep water.

An avalanche buries
the camp.You will not
climb the peak now.

The goddess is stripped
and alighted from
the rock.Let us pray
for the wildfire.

The sparks become the tears.

Satish Verma

Sitting In Dirt

Let us sit in shared light
and talk about the cove.

You take the call of a cuckoo,
and start trembling in blues.

You may sing without moving the lips
but this song is mine.

Why do you want to take your―
own life, in the drag race of bazaar?

Colors will hack you to death.
Don't climb the stairway to fame.

It was renaissance. The severed
hand was writing a letter of gratitude.

Satish Verma

Artifacts Of Pain

My unique offer:
I want to embrace your
downtrodden faith.

A continuous buzz makes
me nostalgic of my
rendezvous with a walking
fern in early dawn of
enigma on limestone.

Would you mind to stand still
in blue light to-
read the unwritten command
of astragalus?

Where you want to
go to find yourself in
the black autumn of ashen faces?

The ice. A brittle
transparent truth of water.
Can you walk on the frozen lake
of eyes?

Satish Verma

Head Wound

Twitching will not stop
after you hit the bull's-eye.
Somewhere a nightbird,
had a hallucination, moon was
scared to come out.

The game we play all
the time. Tracing blue nudes
on the beds. A gang rape
went unnoticed by the
diehards.

A sphinx was rising in
east. What you have done
to stall the riddle of winged monster
sailing like hawk moth,
drinking your honey?

Satish Verma

Artifacts Of Pain

My unique offer:
I want to embrace your
downtrodden faith.

A continuous buzz makes
me nostalgic of my
rendezvous with a walking
fern in early dawn of
enigma on limestone.

Would you mind to stand still
in blue light to-
read the unwritten command
of astragalus?

Where you want to
go to find yourself in
the black autumn of ashen faces?

The ice. A brittle
transparent truth of water.
Can you walk on the frozen lake
of eyes?

Satish Verma

Short Melody

It had touched, the wind
of sky.

The viola goes―
pansexual.

Purple, blue and white
dog violet,
one of the petal was
landing gear for politics.

A fugitive poet
grumbles, eating the dark words.

After suicide, the viscera
was found blank, except
the half-eaten plums.

Satish Verma

Against Tattoos

Don't print on the body
a pattern, grayesh red.
Damask rose?
The cilia will propel you
into the tunnel.

Clowns have assembled
on the street, to write
the history of fall.
Acts of kindness are being
translated into profanities.

You are hurt by the
petals, thrown at you.
Kingmaker, why you have become
a joker?

Red lilies?
Do you like the buttercups?
Eyes ago, there was a bouquet.
I am not sure, why you were walking
on nails.

Satish Verma

Wearing Out

Are you there to listen
my voice,
in the wilderness of violence
and other atrocities?

My toes were hurt
in uncharting the path
of arms and rams in avenging
the dead silence.

You will get back
what I did not give you
in the aftermath of tragiccomedies.

Life walks by pink
pythons to trade the peace
on the name of gods.

The calamity of the angels
to become hard warriors.

Satish Verma

Pained Reproaches

The shadows sit,
under the words, to torture,
to bring,
perse memories.

A downfall,
precedes,
before the crash of
existence.

Ah, you know,
what makes your saints
blue? The sematic shooting
stars?

The anxiety was,
how to stop thinking
of becoming,
a vigilante.

The mid-night raid
was most unsuccessful attempt
to rape.

Satish Verma

The Daily Ritual

The cells,
climb the fame,
unperceived.

A bit of nose, blue eyes,
jugglery of stances.
You catch the body art.

The eagle
dives, for a legal kill.
Hail, the beautiful
execution.

To shut the voice,
you bring in, snow,
white blanket for every
one deprived.

Satish Verma

When The Ghosts Walk

A mystical dialogue
in swirls-
to drown you.

Blank pages draw you
for a suicide, without
moving your bones.

A thin worded threat
to conceive a sculpted
dream, deranging
your sea of
cadavers.

No dissecting table
you need to solve the death.
All the arguments are tilted.
You will rig the answers.

They will come
in bunches, to beat you.
You will not hear or see anything.

Satish Verma

Darkness Singing

Like today.
I walk myself, in my footprints
tasting grassiness
sending the runners,
on the anniversary, of the brain's death,
when no deliverer was in sight.

The empty chairs in black rain
wait for the parted windows
to let in the screaming light
for a reunion, with the children
of tongue, who were lost
in wilderness of vows.

Looking at the world
from a keyhole, at an unearthly hour
you viusalize a miracle,
to heal the blood apart, wounded
grains of golden dawn, a mother
thrashing for charred hunger.

Satish Verma

An Angst

Was it kosher to wake
up a sleeping poem, when
someone has burned the book?
A rite of passage
between the poppies?

The soaked swans
were not ready to accept
the challenge of the defining moment.

A smart moon walks
behind me, snooping around the pines,
to drink the brazen lips.

Why small girl walks on the snow
to get the blessing
of the bells?

Satish Verma

Innovational

You were shrinking
like microcephaly,
the mankind's evolution
in expanding universe.

The new thoughts-
do you think we were
always talking nonsense.

The real tragedy was
here, in your hands
when you held the
gun.

The lead in water,
and arsenic in earth.
Like celebrating the man's
victory on space and time.

Satish Verma

Strange Journey

In-between the spaces
body moves
untouching you.

A poem crashes
on the tongue. You
will not confess.

The wordless thoughts
swim like swans
noiselessly.

Unreaching the abode,
you will invent a god
for a knifed boat.

The sea is turbulent,
you will still sail,
not to reach anywhere.

Satish Verma

Snow Storm Rolls In

Poised to confront
the improvised explosive device
of winds,

good moonday
stands
in melting snow.

Church was
unselling the sex.

Satish Verma

Threnodial

Between the hope and
betrayal lies the truth-
a terra cotta version
of time.
A vitrified china will
not reflect your face.

You search the word's
tragedy, in a wound's
profile.

A speaking book repeats
the sermon.Do not
go after the questions.There
are no answers.

Prepare for the last rites
of porcelain.Only the plastic mind
knows the reality.

Satish Verma

In Search Of Tremors

Night comes like a
black dog
around the corner.

I start paying off the debt
cry for cry, with a
ceremonial sword,
cutting off the shadows
falling from the
distant hills.

My questions are burning―
on pyre. How did I fail myself?
Why some mercy
was unacceptable to me?

Standing in midstream
I let go your hand,
and drown in quick sand of thoughts.
Now a poem will
lift me from the ruins.

Satish Verma

Nuit Blansh

I will gather you―
through the uproar,
when moon picks up the sneaky path,
from dizzying heights
of hunger.

The poverty of words
hides the bread, ..
You cannot eat an emblem.

The calibration has failed.
Milk contains the
contaminated water.

Everyone has one's own
book, where you write your name
and bear malice for everybody.

Satish Verma

In Search Of Tremors

Night comes like a
black dog
around the corner.

I start paying off the debt
cry for cry, with a
ceremonial sword,
cutting off the shadows
falling from the
distant hills.

My questions are burning―
on pyre. How did I fail myself?
Why some mercy
was unacceptable to me?

Standing in midstream
I let go your hand,
and drown in quick sand of thoughts.
Now a poem will
lift me from the ruins.

Satish Verma

Nuit Blansh

I will gather you―
through the uproar,
when moon picks up the sneaky path,
from dizzying heights
of hunger.

The poverty of words
hides the bread, ..
You cannot eat an emblem.

The calibration has failed.
Milk contains the
contaminated water.

Everyone has one's own
book, where you write your name
and bear malice for everybody.

Satish Verma

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

Strange Politics

A soft, but me,
black moon
coming in bazaar.
Will you sell me the dreams?

Talking to grave silence
before the rains.
I will not plant
marijuana in your eyes.

O, ignorant prince,
my mother had left a legacy.
One should not sleep alone
to become poor.

I expect no applaud,
no cheers. I am a passer-bye
I have not killed
myself.

Satish Verma

A River Flows Inside Me

You drape me, with wet kisses
O moon.
I will not forget you
in freezing rain.

At dangerous arch,
blue-veined―
milk in milk has made me red.

The ecstasy digs out
the hidden lyric,
I would never sing.

Will you find any
questions, to defeat the―
intimacy of a rape?

A hurt here, a bruise
there, my faded shirt
covers the poems.

Satish Verma

Defeating Death

To you, I
send my silence,
before the fire starts, to engulf
the open barn.

This mourning must stop.
I will wash your feet, of mud
and wet grass. You have
come after crossing the jungle of black roses.

Tomorrow I will call swallows.
A peacock will replace the
ruined, plundered, silk poppies.
The bleeding sky turns blue.

On the road, echoes
of greedy words will eat the smiles.

Satish Verma

Troubled Waters

Burning the pages
unread.
A daunting task
to rebuild the bruised relic,

of future, which I see
in my dream. This was―
the desire, till
the last flame dies out.

I am not sure of
myself. I will chase
a spider, climbing the
wall. I want to know where

it was heading, carrying
a headless fly, to bury
a spotless name in the
web of mortal threads.

Satish Verma

My Chivalry

What happened? I would
ask the realness
of genocidal face.

The blue cock
was numb in the laser thin
commentary.

The face was mirror. You
can apply a salve by implanting a womb
in the barren dream.

Beheading a thought
was not sufficient to kill the theme.
It will come back with revenge.

OCD. I come back again and again to
look at the portrait
of a failed god.

Satish Verma

Abstraction

Amnesia.
I want to drink tonight,
purple hellebore.

Like to protest―
the display of private things.
The humming.

The alphabet of
betrayal. Who wants
the award?

Amnesia.
I dream of dying,
feeding the doves.

Was it too early
to start getting dressed up
without a show?

Amnesia.
The hyphens don't
connect now the broken strings.

Satish Verma

Poem

Not knowing―
was a bliss, writing
a poem.

Words fall―
Like small birds,
flying.

I pick up
the sorrow, of the
blue sky
inaudible.

Satish Verma

Map Reading

In blood and grass
lies the snowman.

I must not look at it twice
after the spring melt.

The black magic has failed.
A mooned night will―
not reflect the real intent
of song's proxy in dark.

A lethal mix of twilight
and solstice, squats in gloom
to listen the surrender
of shine.

The glorious name, ultimately
drops the hint,
of profanity, written on wall.

Satish Verma

Broken Armour

I hear your voice
coming from within.
The disconnect, the cultural clash,
from river,
from tree,
from the golden nest.

The circle was complete,
breech birth,
the explicit insult.

The parched moon―
will bring the cold
tears, to extinguish the sparks
going home.

The roadway leads
to nowhere land. You will
again meet the wounded
cuckoo which will always sing
the hurts.

Satish Verma

Contemplating

It was just my time.

To become responsible for
me and I had become recluse,
to lose my memory,
to pay back my debt.

I am returning
the gifts,
of night, birth and
sacrifices.

The wheels―
had pulled me to slavery.
I am now floating,
wingless,
weightless,
for I cannot see―

the parental fall.

Satish Verma

Blackest Mood

Indicted,
the firm grass―
will start a fire. I was trying
to find my path in smoke.

On fingertips, was at stake,
the creek's departure.
I would wear a mask
hiding my emotions.

We will wait for the spring.
There was still a mound of snow
at the door.

The rape of the moon
was not in cards. We were ready
to sit in moonlight, reading
our hands.

Philosophy of death
has many questions. Religion
of birth has many answers.

Satish Verma

Say Cheese

Vespa,
the live wasp
of paper house,
feeding the insects
to little ones.

Silicon valley.
The oranges were very sweet
and carpet beetles
eating away the fabric.
I have come from a faraway place
to taste the blood-stained raisins.

Do you know why we bury
our truths? The ancient gods
were very pleased to eat them.

The hymns don't tell the lie.

Satish Verma

The Genius

Water has the wisdom,
the bones may not agree.

No commentary today. There was no
eternal friend or enemy.
Listen to your breath, your heart.
No qualms. Hands are not mine.

Charcoal. A voiceless man
wants to write, something on the snow.
The cold-eyed moon will watch.

The chimney's soot, gets buried
under the white sheet, ice.

In holy land. You have come to
pray, to wipe out the nose-bleed.

Satish Verma

Watching The Lethality

I

The blend of gene and name.
How you carry the
legacy?

II

We are losing the war.
You are winning
the birds.

III

The sparrows have left
the nest of man,
in search of moving homes.

IV

How do you spell the ruins?
I have never seen
a perfect shape.

V

Chicken-livered.
Why did you try to
confront the wall?

Satish Verma

Blending

Lion's tooth, dandelion
in dead winter,
holds on to your dress.

*

for warmth. The oranges
are not meant
for sale.

*

The obituary was short
and sweet.
When would you die for me?

*

Wolves in white,
were very smart. A rose,
red rose for every martyr.

*

Behind the bars
you try to catch the sky
for the lilies.

Satish Verma

Undreaming

The euphemism goes―
beyond the soft
feather, becoming weightless.

You must put it in
the hysteria, after the
laughing gas was released.

The triumph and defeat
of the rising breasts―
ultimately gave in against,
the coronation.

The brooms were in plenty
to sweep the rubble
after the sky fell―

between the old
and young.

Satish Verma

Unworthy Of Book

Handcuffed, you digress
from the vacuity. A bucket
full of hymns, will not―
erode, the fog of winter.

Let us start telling the
unsaid things of monstrous life.
The milk bath, the roaring and
the panther in the dry well.

The cortical pain, seeps into
the medulla. You will not find
a single soul, who will talk
about the fall.

The clocks are being moved
to save the light―
which splinters into myriad
faces, when you scream.

Satish Verma

Water Was Transparent

A firefly in a jar
will not fly.

Presiding over the genocide
how can you count the dead
children of god, on the street,
by your forked tongue?

The roving eyes. Chameleons.
With folded hands, they
throw the snow on your
disheveled hair.

The morals are marketed
daily on the dais. I deny myself,
something which I can give
you. O hunger, don't go back.

Satish Verma

Oceanic Art

A silent vigil was on,
for sun, which was getting
ready, to pass on the baton,
to sleeping moon in a winter storm.

In frigid cold, I walk in
snow to cut the greens.
Needles poke my arms to taste
the blood of a kiss.

The ironic curl, moves
a sin. Won't you celebrate
the white death with me?
I ask this question to myself.

A kingfisher dives in a
desert stream, for a spiritual kill.

Satish Verma

Salt And Pepper

Living on the fringes of
faith, you become epiphanous.
A halo chases you, its stomach
coming out, like a starfish
to engulf you.

Small winnings, I was
no prophet, as I knew
myself, still unsure, still faltering.
I become a gymnosophist,
managing my destiny.

A death ago, I was
young, walking down the lane
of unlearning. Coming of
pain has made all the difference.
An old man in the sea of emotions.

Satish Verma

Empty Hands

Landed into a pi I―
am still struggling to
sort out, what did I lose
in vocabulary.

It was a functional deficit
of a low profile. I
have come to speak for
the fallen year.

The new dawn brings the
red poppies. You can squeeze
the milky sap from the
crown.Each moonrise―

will give you heavy dreams
laden with anxiety and despair.
Somewhere you fight the
inequality of inheritance.

The words always betray
when you stand tall.

Satish Verma

Au Revoir

Skin deep, the moon
goes with me,
to bid goodbye to old year.

I have moved nearer
to the door knob,
of the unopened crypt.
The stale air leaks from the crumbling door.

The unfinished books
are under the frost. I cannot
shovel the walk. A grainy
picture emerges, of despair.

Going to dig up the ruins
to find the script.
Ink spills on the paper,
words depart.

Satish Verma

Once Again

I hear again your voice
after injury pause.

An apologia.
It is still kempt,
the mist scented, milk bath
by moon, in dark.

In legendary night, everything was legitimate.
The licit kiss of death too.

One by one the faces
were missing. The snake bites,
of love.

The embroidered memories are
hanged to dry up in rain.

The eyes like moths, flicker around
the dark candle of another childhood.

Satish Verma

Lynx-Eyed

The long tentacles return
to gather you,
in clawless loops.

What do you see in the godless
domain of winged
colts?

The colossus had
glaring flaws. Binary
curse falls like a barrel-bomb.

I remained oblivious
of the uncorrupted dawn,
rising from the ruins of fallen saints.

I am standing on the
grey rock, where black and
white meet. Time becomes a moment.

Satish Verma

Nobody Can Say

Wearing raw beef,
speaking Buddha,
it was real time in dystopia.

I was wondering,
how to cheat life.
Crypts were empty.

Think, keep quite,
I would say, watching
the river go by.

The feral look, will
teach you suffer. There
was no ending.

Half-bird, half-mount―
You carry the burden
of undoing nemesis.

Satish Verma

Reviving The Schism

A mentalist does not feel
secure, when you start
jaywalking in the empty street.

What was the need to
rescue a predator, when
the river was dry?

The ducks were crossing
the road. Stay put, till
the kids want to make a halt.

It was a renaissance
connection, when a clan is
sentenced to speak softly.

Satish Verma

Unbecoming Of The Poem

The fat moon
rises, when the bland earth
gives a call.

Like the black magic
of depression, in fall,
overwhelming the silence.

Of not becoming, what
you wished me to be,
or not to be.

A conflict always,
climbs the wall to overlook,
the pain of separation.

This winter, I am not
going to witness, the death
of night birds.

Satish Verma

Avoiding The Virtue

In moments of hubris,
of artificial hip,
the most unknowable thing was
the blood thought.

An invisible ink, of late
marks the error
of autumn. A lone survivor
of leaves of time, would not
break the word.

The donated eyes will not
see the dreams. You can
boil the bones to get the truth.
Somewhere a guilt prospers.

It is what you don't think.

Satish Verma

Ultimate Tongue

In praise of body
like a bow,
shooting arrows of clemency.
But I have come to deny myself,
the nemesis.

There was no penitence.
Unacceptable, in the light of
broad-day murder
of democracy.

Freedom to arc was a personal
style, writing poetry
against the art
of manipulation.

I am ready to become
human, after inferno, started
by you, to burn
the story.

Satish Verma

Song Of Promotion

I am not going to touch
the meaning―
of nativity for unknown
guests.

A cameo appearance of some
god, does not take away the
most recent fears
of death.

The ghosts have their own
defences against scars,
bruises and unstitched
bones.

Give me a piece of unleashed
poem, my odyssey
has begun in
earnest.

Satish Verma

With No Apology

On the mount
a broad-leaved tree was preparing
for self destruction.
It was too cold
under the sun.

A small Christmas tree
with its needle leaves
waits for the snow,
to draw a self-potrait
in bitter winter.

Snow fall makes it
gold, when rain comes
and my hand knives the moon.

Satish Verma