Do Not Wear The Dreams

You were different from
others, away from home and hypocrisy,
unlistening to the fiat
of karma.

There should not be
any put-on face. Hibiscus will tell the truth.

Sanguine. I will again
invoke the bride of moon.
Time to go for a simile.

Eros tips. I educate
the limbs, not to go
for the anima. The bearded face.

You had ruffled the tranquil
poem. I cannot gather
the tender moments.

Satish Verma

Dilemma Of Ink

The ostrich problem
of catalepsy.
You go into a cocooned
opacity.

I will wait, till you
come out, ready to take a flight
for an oath ceremony.

The land suffers,
the sky weeps.

The shotguns would now decide
the boundaries of speech.

I will walk into the
sea of heads, to find the sunken ship,
to retrieve the faded road map.

I have to face a new testament,
how to remove this poverty
of right words.

Satish Verma

Living Perilously

You will remember―
what I would not― the
inner darkness of noon.

A bright sun goes
blind for a caged bird. To
dream or not to dream in
the path of unknown.

Any celestial movement―
will bring the halcyon days?
One day the man will change?

This culture, your
ethos were making the
sense datum extinct― a fossil.

Far from the meanings
the body language flies
in wings of wax.

Again an era ends,
the very blood of stones.

Satish Verma

Wolverines

Night blinks.
Light sits under the door.
I am ready to confront the moon.

Too much brilliance
was there. Would you redesign
the blue sky and paint the new stars?

Poverty was my great strength.
Nothing to lose, when
you were dancing with the shadows.

Satish Verma

Dismantled

Trembling…
the burning coal has gone to sleep,
before igniting the dry grass.

Eye to eye colliding
turning you into ophelian mess.
Light had gone back to black matter.

It was a frisk season―
in sick society. The hidden plaques
have come out in the blood stream.

You are now backtracking
on the uphill, ready to fall
from the green heights to connect with ground.

For keepsake I will
again unwrite the book
not mentioning the stillbirth of freedom.

Satish Verma

Infinitude

Be what you are.
As night falls,
I start moon spotting
standing starkly against the pain.

Reaching for you
from you, in―
moonless night.

The relationship of
dream blood, was never
seen but heard.

The pursuit of location
where the eclipse descends like a dot
on truth.

I am going to touch
the surreal constellation
again in your wet eyes.

Satish Verma

Never Wanting

The weight of the ideology
flattens your upheaved chest.
You speak, what you did not want to say.

A fake hunger and pseudo-demands,
put you on the pathless clouds.
How would you now fly towards the sun?

The polarization was deliberate,
to usurp the authority. Blue jays
have refused to join gangs.

A faded document tells about
your missteps. A bunch
of eunuchs have come to guard the palace.

Black versus black will
not brighten the screen. One third of
generation had the criminal record.

Satish Verma

The Accidental Fall

My bronzed speech is available,
accepting the defeat of daffodils.
I will not write an elegy.

The postpartum blues are over,
I am coming out of the crib,
like a new born poem.

Floating the paper lanterns, at
night, on flowing river, to send the
message to moon. No more the beach will cry.

The triangular nuts will
speak of the hurricanes, protecting
the hairy seeds.

No resistance was needed
to stop the invading army of black
ants, ready to tear the dummies.

Satish Verma

Ecce Homo

When silence stays alone
in the hollow of the eyes,
would you come?
In the audacity of
beauty and pain, when
the moon does not rise.
Like beggars the clouds
roam, parting the
sky for a glimpse of a vision.
We will speak like
strangers not looking into the eyes.
Not quite sure―
you blinked. Time to return
back the gifts of ocean
profound and deep.
Pearls, tears and half-angel.

Satish Verma

Vengeance

Arithmetic becomes poetry,
when you start counting the stars in Milky Way.

Light will cross
your path. Your own sun
becomes a logic.

You step into a holy bath
to collect all the scripts
of the dark circles.

Where the infinity starts,
you become the center?
of all the conflicts.

A simple way to burn
without throwing light.
How would you raise your finger?

Satish Verma

The Face In Flames

Salt-of-the lips.
You never know, how it hurts
the bigotry.

It was not the might
of divinity, when you sentence
the child for blasphemy.

I would not kiss the―
stone, where the blood stained
the sun. Grey halo was collapsing.

It was the helplessness
of the river, accepting the guilt
of sunken boat.

Again I recite your name
in sleep. The sting was as cruel
as the tongue.

Satish Verma

Never Again

You to whom, I
am lost, the remaining pain
will fetch the grace―
poise and dignity of
ending.

The future lies in―
the halo of the hill, where
the blood was spilled last night.

A black spot on the sun was
enlarging. I spell your name
in a bird song, that croons
tirelessly in timeless dawn.

The moon drenched lake
wails for the boat not to come.

Satish Verma

Levitating In Solitude

The heartwood had the ingrained
dream map, to reach the
divine shape of a solemn god, who
was guiding the sap.

One day you would go deep
in dark, to find your roots
where tomorrow was conceived.

And in the ruins, you will
find the warmth of
your peers, still walking on the god-particles.

A religion now takes over
the mob, ready to plunge into yellow
sands of dry river.

The hopes and promises,
give you a horizon, far away.
Your want to touch this furnace,
that brings the burning day of solitude.

Satish Verma

Welcoming New Era

Wearing the red bandanna,
you tried to manipulate the bedrock.
Life had been never the same for me.

The ferry sinks the riding
deity in midstream. In polytheism,
I never had my own god.

O the chemistry of love has
changed. Meatless, my skiny arms,
lift the sage of fallen moon in darkness.

I am not ready to conclude
as yet, my epic of fragmented truth.
We were fighting the wars of lame lies.

Who would spare me to become
immortal in stones? Let us not start the
annihilation of sane shadows in the poem.

Satish Verma

Stone-Faced

Your interpretation
was a miracle of
unbelieving. I was not
a flesh eater.

Between paradise
and a hut, lies the sky
of colored dreams. You
lean forward to―
pluck the moon.

So stoned, was the
sinister design, that
you walked straight
into the arms of stings.

It has become a
strange saga, when a
moth burns, without
a candle.

A sun nosedives with
a water motif on the lips.

Satish Verma

Victory March

The living dead are going to
ask for the right to be
forgotten in gender dysphoria.

In grimed apparel,
the deities were deported back
to the barn, for housing the antiques.

The future turns blue,
moon-eyed, hooking up the
hopes of running heels.


Is that true that there
will be mass suicide after
the fall of the fort?

The fat lanterns now
don't throw the light. Incense
of burning flesh floats.

Satish Verma

The Ephemerality

It was punctuated night.
You sleep into wakefulness.

The space between the shut-eyes
trembles, when you start sweating.

The infant-death of the dream,
incites the borderland. The―

flames rise in a partisan way,
to erase the memories of guilt.

You are in deep grief for the
coiled sperms, from end to end,

they were longer than the body.
Would you like to wake up a jinn?

A digital forgetfulness, you seek
to solve the enigma of life.

Satish Verma

Walking In Woods

This spectrum.
No it will not work.
I am not there in the
shade, smoke filled barn, or―
in secular morgue.
Stubble burning was
like legend of war.
How do I shut the
door of diamond moon―
in the kingdom of
weeping night?
An animal in you
will not sleep, claiming the
innocence of baby steps.
A virginal vanity.
Nobody stops you to
display the grains of salt.
Would you listen to the land,
flight of words―
passage of time?

Satish Verma

Thinking In Depth

The moment of truth has―
arrived. The earth
has moved the man. It was
accidental verdict. You know,
which cell you will be incarceated now?

My flame-singed eyes, search
the inception of integrity above board.
I am afraid of myself to
admit that societal violence
has come to stay!

Celebrating the birthday of
a self-propelled god, I go
into irreversible retreat. God
bless the wax house, fire was
raging on hills.

The blood cherries, blood on
your shirt, blood rings on your
fingers, and blood in my eyes.

Satish Verma

The Honey-Sellers

In searing heat, on
the fern path―
a thoughtless journey begins.

You cancel the prayer
for midnight blues.
Ice was going to unload.

The skin deep spread
of levator floor acts.
You jump from a springboard
to catch a lucid dream.

Would you now walk like
an eight legged spider?
I will remain sociable.

The hands are not for sale.
I am arranging the combs
on the white sheet―
for the queens.

Satish Verma

Forced Tragedy

You loosen the grip
and let go the bank.
After throwing itself on the
burning pyre, the phoenix
has failed. It will―
not rise from the ashes.
An agonizing script
unfolds. In a visceral moment,
I was scared. Life, till natural death.
What do I do now? Words
do not help. Stop doing anything?
A void becomes a voice.
You become whole.
Living precariously, thinking
becomes a tree. The roots
will feed the heart.
A songbird reminds me.
Time to salute the dawn.

Satish Verma

Black Days

It was a marathon race of
timeline. The days are bound and shot.
How do I come to you to express
my grief of the country
in tumult!

In shouting and screaming,
there was no magic wand to invoke
peace. Your mouth opens
and shuts like the shell valves. The
scollops― words, swim in
sea of burials.

The seriality was unconscionable.
It falls short of a stroke.
The blood splits. A riot erupts
to wet the lips of curved razor.
The sun retreats, to let
the stars find their sky.

Satish Verma

Fading Sheen

My little dirty moon,
why were you hiding―
when the vulture-poems had
an uncanny similarity with
raging road show?

The volatility would not exit.
It rises in flames to make
a big black hole in the sky.
Sometimes I hate you,
sometimes I, love you,
my elusive, beautiful karma.

At night when I disappear
what poem you will read?
In fast-running stream, your
croaking will not be heard.
Try to begin a dance of democracy.

Satish Verma

Heartache

Wanting to die young
hairy and unbaked,
not telling the truth.
It was a savage vendetta.
The crowd was not on your side.
In manic intensity,
they shouted― death to the veils
in holiest dip.
I repudiate the presumptiveness.
A super religion gives birth
to a devil― another godman.
In chains, I will carry
a cloud. Very disquieting.
There was no water.
The seeds crawl―
underground in the wake of earthquake.
Collecting the tears to grow.
It is a blank summer.
The fat spiders open the eyes.

Satish Verma

Amused

Night falls in rings.
The poetry becomes
a summer dilemma.

A dancing frog
starts foot-flagging.
Mating was the ultimate.

Politics becomes
a ritual. I will not come back
to face the lynch mob.

Satish Verma

The Enigma

The traveler sleeps in a sepulcher,
endlessly, timelessly,
where no ray of light enters.
Like the death has stopped
moving, for a moment
to celebrate the close of the journey.

Indeed? Is it the edge of yearning?
I no longer belong to any one,
to any universe. Come a long way
walking barefoot on hot sands
of life where no footprints exist.

Do not go for my vision. Find
your own path. In yellowish― brown
eroded silica, ripened in sun,
I have left my eyes. The moon
will tell the tale of my Olympian
failures.

Satish Verma

In Harmony

A sudden shock,
when a snakeskin starts moving.
Behind the shut doors
a conspiracy was hatched.
Son of the moon―
wriggles on palms. Sneaks
a glance at the diving sun.
Cut and glued, a mourning looks
in the eyes of a Titan.
The anarchy raises its head.
The make-up cannot be
taken off. It will expose
the artless faces.
When eyelids flutter
of a fallen angel, you think
it was an imperial command.
A pause in pain.
You float on ice.

Satish Verma

Difficult To Understand

To connect with a reclusive mind,
was an uphill task.
You become―
vunerable again.

Everyday the curtains
come down after the entry of
assassin bugs.

Long-legged, bloodsucking
predators would roam
and abduct the phrases.

The young turks break
the nest, petals strewn, a
rose dies in my hands.

My night journey begins
I let out a poem
to become my lantern.

Satish Verma

Quizzing

The great lines, you quote, don't
stir me... you know my vexation,
with the twinkling lights, that don't move.
The colors, don't mix... I move
from death to death, to understand
life, and fail miserably. The body
does not open. Seducers
ready to jump for a bite, to tear
off my columns, my domes.

Yes, I give, give away my precious
heart, time, my infallible attention
to heal you.I don't demand any
dough, remaining in penury, do not
ask for the factors. My arithmetic
has failed. Cannot solve the puzzles
lost in maze of juggleries.

It was your world. I am living
at a binary planet, scarcely habitable.
Yet I am happy in myself
looking at the grains of sand on my
hands. You know, you cannot
write like me... like me.

Satish Verma

Discovery

As I accept the verdict,
the dead-soul beast―
jumps up, draws out the sword
and starts cutting the drift. You shout,
wake up from a nightmare.

The words had betrayed. Vowel
harmony was gone. Voice hoarse, you
stammer, accusing the city, the country
the century.

It was consensual. The suicide pact.
Cloth and body, print and color.
Paper and pen, bed and grave. The
moon had kicked out the feline.

The insomnia, now rules. You
start counting the sins. No stress,
no indecency, sleeping with
dead poems. A big explosion changes the fonts.

You go into long sleep.

Satish Verma

Unburned Houses

Once you are labeled,
The human input is out and
you start falling apart.

My home, and I am trying
to set the walls free after―
the explosion.

A sinkhole eats you alive.
I am walking in air
contending with the old god
who would not listen.

Suddenly it is time to
back drive. The wrong road
taken has given in glimpse
of people starting the war.

The land becomes black
and paper lanterns adorn the doors.

Satish Verma

Buoyancy

I punish myself daily
to deny a god.
Do angels cry?
Pinning hope in a crisis to extract
the truth from a dying moon?
A ghost walks on the
wall to enter the alphabets
of living deads.
Ambrosia― was not
sufficient to resuscitate
a bleeding cross.
I am charting my life
for you to forget me.
Quasi-surrender. No never
I am just learning―
how to meet the death.
Another name of victory.

Satish Verma

The Great Divide

Cut the masks
and you will find a river of sorrow
in the unblinking eyes.

The mud tears had smeared
the face.

Chimera? The fire breathing
will start a new traction to break
the silent protest of lying lambs.

Impertinence?
For whom you have come to
offer the chador at the shrine?
For whom the houses were burnt down?
For whom the lives of unborn children
were cancelled?
Whose god?

This is not anonymous insurgency.
My name had been written in.
First Informatiom Report.

Satish Verma

After The Chemo

You said this summer,
hold me tight,
when hanging lights―
go out.

I will heal your moon,
your cryptobiosis
of seeds―

at dawn, when you wake up
before the stars leave.

It would not be a day of mourning.

The quinces, japonica
irises were deeply disturbed.
Under the tongue
lies the religion of masses.

The menus are same, only
the taste was different.

Satish Verma

Eyes Like Flints

A streak of sin,
just as culpable,
gives back my pains.
A half-finished poem
jolts me out of my vision.
Someone drops the moon―
and becomes evident in mist.
A profile floats. I
imagine the spreading smile.
I want to understand myself.
The colors blend. Have
you read Rilke? You will not
rise from the surface of―
life and death.
Authenticity has become
rarer. Copyright to kill is
religion. An aquiline nose
smells the prey.

Satish Verma

Something Different

Transcribing my emptiness,
like emulating an ape―
to study the anatomy―
of a scar.

There was a brutal assult.
Uninterpretable was the ink,
like the blood spilled
after the vein collapsed.

An egg within an egg
would change the gender
of a name. A different money
was needed to appease the god.

The skin-sperms, and the
cut flowers. Times have changed.
I cannot fly like you.
I would write an ode to the nightimglae.

Satish Verma

Vox Humana

The family pride
goes for the jugular. The rotational
push, dooms the vessel. I
come out in black waters. Night
is pitch-dark.

Riding the tiger, now you
want to come down. There was
no anonymous call to
remember the wits. A buried
myth is ready to romance.

My country bleeds in war
of titans. The secret of the road
was out. It does not go anywhere.
The bottomless pit is moving up
its depth. Nobody will drown in democracy.

Satish Verma

Retroaction

Celebrating the summer.
Planting a wet kiss on―
the hiding moon.
Dousing the flames,
you come in crosshairs
of a mob.
You will light
your own candle now, in―
pitch-dark inside.
Impoverished. Always
poor to buy your happiness.
Like Paleolithic stab, you stay
unmoved, exposed to shadows and sun.
The water affair was kept
alive with bloody curves. No
one believes in old bones.
I will not ask you.
I will not need.

Satish Verma

Accepting Defeat

Where was the empirical
evidence, that you don't exist?
The vibes were becoming
stronger.

The comb has fallen, and
honeybee feels lése-majeste'.
Where the dots end, a
new line starts.

Adrift. The resistance is gone.
Reflecting on the added
infidelity. You cannot pay homage
to ungraceful exit.

Will you be able to draw
the wages of your life? For the
bread and liberation?
Who was responsible for your falls?

Satish Verma

Reply To Fear

This country divides us.
Only cameos were
displayed.

The ache of the holy river
was your body which
becomes a canoe.

The snow-clad peaks
would smash
the hikers.

Opinions differ,
when the tornado strikes.
You wanted to build a new house.

The black night.
A green silence would
rebel against the stars.

Satish Verma

Weird Enigma

You have to spell it out.
Where the sun sets
in shifting sands?
Picking up the heart rocks―
I was learning to
walk away from undying.
Who would confuse the
infinite falls. There was no conclusion.
Again you come howling,
waiting for the snowmelt from
the face.
The lips become the stones.
You will not count the peaks.
Overnight, it has
turned grey, my red moon.
I will take hold of the night.
There was no referral
of lying truth.

Satish Verma

My Truce

Without trying to become
an avenger,
you were trying to find the―
joy of primitive faith.

The dignity of terror has
to be modified.
You were now afraid of―
yourself in the crowd.

This thing had a dark tone, when
you cross the street.
Underneath, the seed vessels of
past pain, were ready to split open.

The bandits wait on the line
of control. The shock
comes out in open. Society is
generous, accepts your blood.

Satish Verma

Homage To Flesh

Far beyond the light years,
I will seek the darkness―
where the hope was born,
and night had the faith.

The trust not betyrayed, become
meniscus, when the crowds
start coming. Dog bitten you scowl.
A half-written poem was ripped away.

An inside truth comes too close
to flames. Something limbless―
moves in empty mind. In the
falling snow a dove flutters like a myth.

Half-truths are touted now as,
a new brand of secular religion.
Something was amiss. Man was
afraid of himself, becoming semi-god.

Satish Verma

Unborn Desires

When I make a heap
of all my killer pains,
rains come.
A half-moon casts
a spell. Hope used to
have many colors.
A black magic
ruffles the feathers, casually.
Peacock forgets to dance.
Rocks. Like rare earths.
Difficult to separate you
from me. The call of the mountain
rattles me again. Will
that continue, unending
path, towards non-existence?
In the dark greens, it
was a murder, I cannot find
the blue moon.

Satish Verma

Tenacity

It was a breech birth,
scuttling the forecast,
under water search.
Sad night.

The sand fills your
pockets. You start
licking the salt
jettisoned by violent waves.

Don't focus your mind.
D-Day is drawing near.
No deference to sun.
Unfurl all the sails and ride the breakers.

Satish Verma

Watercolors

It was a mixed affair
of love and hate.
You are in deep water
to engage in a dialogue.

Almost farce was the
black ice. Animalism was the―
same. It was murder
in one form or the other.

The landscape would be
remembered for illicit violence.
The virgin sea hides the remains
of midair collision.

The purple men talk of
casualities in war times. The
relocation of peace march was
a big mistake. The vultures―

refuse to move from the trees.

Satish Verma

I Will Not Agree

This was the first
evidence of altered genes.
Keeping you in abeyance, the
barbs fly from lips to lips.
It is pitch dark.
Reaching the tortuous path of climb,
unabashedly you want to say
it is over.
At the edge of hurts.
What was your pride? Very
private, very distant, thinking
to and fro, when someone wants to pull you back.
Do some questions arise?
Are you ready to talk?
The sermons, the prayers won't
help you become a subject―
to unseen god.
The delusion of being chased
begins. Truth becomes silent.
Will nihilism overtake?

Satish Verma

Stationary Waves

Becoming,
antinormal was not a―
big task, like discovering a new mineral.

It was upside down
a binary star.
Mother and son of morning.

From your absence,
I pick up a poem
and milk the words.

Unlike the purple poesy,
you write,
when the pith becomes the spirit.

The houses set apart
have no boundary layers.
We were immersed in our
strange thoughts.

Satish Verma

Sonorous Tones

To skim the sky
like swifts,
when you move away
from yourself.

Holding a four-leaf clover,
night drapes the moon,
taking a lion's share of light
on its wings.

Your full lips defeat
the kisses of incense. I
will come again to
learn Ars poetica.

The fake blooms. I will
never see the death
of a rose petal, skipping
the barbs.

Satish Verma

Nobody Will Die

Knowing the beginning
and the end,
you stand in water.
Transparency should
come first, waiting
for your time.
A blind pursuit for a brilliant moment,
to break the black rock.
The bloodstained eyes
tell the opacity of eternal lies.
Can you melt the darkness?
The holy edge was inviting.
You want to settle
for a suicide, after the hymns.
O golden peaks
I don't want to climb the illusion.
Sun was sitting in my room.
A bluebird was
staring at me. When do I
start laughing?

Satish Verma

Moonlit Lake

Hot fish
becomes topiarist.
I want to remove the scales.
Once for all.

The lesser island
holds the boat. You
become ready to rove
in dark.

Hot fish
scrambles at dawn.
Do not open the eyes.
It will go straight.

Satish Verma

Knocking At Door

I would not bend the
truth. A grape in mouth

will stimulate the wedge.
Night will hammer on my chest

with glossy fists. I am born
again in your muteness.

A ghost line walks with me
to pull out the delicate verse.

Everyday a tulip is delivered
in the folds of woodcraft.

Satish Verma

The Bleak Landscape

In this cruel summer,
body becomes a river―
embroiled in sun.
Gnomes tied to our
bones dragging you down. You clasp the portal
of a feral cat.
Obsession rises.
You kill the petty thoughts
discreetly.
On the edge―
comes the thrifty moon
in night. No holds barred.
In desperation, you
call all the dead stanzas.
Nobody believed in leper's tale.
The black eyes burn
without flames.

Satish Verma

Into The Dark

In western sky
hundreds of small birds were
flying in an arc,
synchronized in orange.

The grass, holding
the skirts, wants to cascade
in death of the
paramour.

Let the copper―
speak of hurt, in the
thighs of moon.
It will not climb tonight.

Satish Verma