Midnight Shots

The bull's-eye on
your chest, the black marker
on death apparel, was
turning red after the shots rang out.
Somewhere in a golden cage a parakeet starts―
shrieking.

And which means, each grain
of the last portrait you―
made would inherit the color
of the dying sun. We were
martyrs bulled by milk of the
religion of the state.


After sometime there will be
no news of you. We will
forget, forget the footsteps
of past, our golds would bloom
in the garden of hate. The mystique
of palace will bask in glory.

Satish Verma

Unaging

Listening to the voices of silence―
of beautiful triangles,
plagiarizing the
straight lines from nowhere
I lost my way to
find you.

I don't have numbers
nor zeroes. Only angles
to solve my pathless destiny.

In spiral mysteries,
would you ever climb the
stairs of a minaret, reaching moon?

You wanted a black rose
without barbs.

How does the blood flow without veins
on the cheeks of sun?

A hurt activist
disappears in the clouds
without wings.

Satish Verma

Pain Of Shingles

Hiding behind the faces,
you had pushed me to the edge.
Now Himalayas were weeping.

The self-mutilation
starts. Human body and mind
collide like tectonic plates.

There was no rape in
sacred marriage. Do you know the
anxiety and depression are not
only the human traits?

Psychosis. The obscenity
does not leave, and the language
starts dying. You block the
road. Nobody was going to leave
the doomed plains.

Satish Verma

Dark Presence

Blindfolded you wanted
to catch the moon.
It was no my fault.

The sounds first crushed the
strings and then came loud rumblings.

My darkness
was taking the revenge.

You knew because you were blind.

Cadavers. No names, after
cleaning the blood. You paint on―
the forehead. Quake.

Pushed upwards in seconds―
the absence. You were saved
because you were telling lies.

It was not an imagination.
Find out, who was―
omnipresent― no where?

Satish Verma

The Descent

Buried in a shiny grave,
a redefined religion
becomes the first god
of scams.

Attaining Moksha,
breaking the law of rebirthing,
in barking dogs.

This was a stunning
betrayal of―
human race.

A lone gunner
pulls out the gun and
starts shooting everyone
resembling him.

I become worried
about the mental health
of unfolding mortals.

Grief was not my asset.
The planet was falling apart.

Satish Verma

India Ink

In everyday life
you pick up a war with a―
moment in truth.

Unleashing a malign―
half gender― to speak
for the sake of a maker.

You were standing on
a fault-line, waiting for the
unhappened to happen.

I have come from a
faraway land to dig up the
legacy of the ruined convulsions of man.

The faith, a religion the
god were all forgotten when
you sit homeless, hungry under the sky.

Satish Verma

Tremors Countless

In a pinch of light,
waiting it to happen―
becoming me.

You, my crush―
floundering in fever
of the moon.

I track you down
in the tears
of earthquake, when
snow was trembling.

Thin needles in eyes―,
I retrieve the―
history of fallen
god.

A survivor would
rise from the rubble
to reconstruct the shrine.

Satish Verma

Melting Points

To sell the half-truths―
of lies, you quit
the post to live with Stonehenges.

Assembling another
dream. I rearrange the thoughts
to save the trembling planet.

Sleepover very discreetly
with me. Find out, how
my flesh has turned into gold dust.

Some wee moments,
chase after you, to become immortal
with each poem.

O life, read me.
I want to go quietly,
climbing down in waters of blue lake.

That was not worth it.
To wait under the moon
for a Cleopatra, who would
not carry asp vipers.

Satish Verma

Somebody Dies

You walk through me
opening the portal of―
unending moment.
A right to die lingers in the eyes.

Not a serenade. I am
tying the knot on the tree.
The wait was becoming too long. I
would read again Hamlet without the prince.

Truth was not happy, when
you brought down the body.
The wind was moving like a panther
stealthily before the kill.

How shall we bite our toes―
now? They have left
a bloody trail on the
weeping grass.

Satish Verma

The Dirty Beliefs

More searing―
in fog of love.
You prepare the first draft―
of suicide.

It was not in your
handwriting from the left,
before sending―
the message.

The crash of the drone
before hitting the ground.
I apologize to sun for―
the brilliant fault.

I will never know
what did I give you.
My tulips were ravaged
by the statecraft of the winds.

Satish Verma

No Coronation Please

Like toothache.
Would hear the voices
of dark.

No beginning, no end.
I will not conclude.
Like the setting sun in west
dying beautifully―
without moon.

It is a chilling confession.
No offending. Trying to
understand unmoving lips.

In my suffering
there was no faith healing.
I won't ask your hand.

Every syntax, regenerates
the truth of the dirty mind.

Living amidst the
dangers of orthopedic blunders
you cannot walk straight.

The queen has gone insane.

Satish Verma

White Shrouds

The lips will speak
without sound.
A tuliped man hangs himself
down, from a tall tree of fame.

You wanted to live in the―
glare of slit throats.
The blood brings the brilliant
glitter of gold.

End of the speech will―
throw up a mascot. The noose was
tightening around the―
rising― glorious sun.

Slavery never ends. You
become victim of your dazzling
peaks, when you stand alone
at unthinkable heights.

The spirit of the tree dies in your eyes.

Satish Verma

From When To Where

In deep bottom,
at first light, I
will give you a call.

Because, I was only bones,
muscles worn out in hymns
and the nudes were―
putting on the masks.

You will not deliver―
a denial, nor you will
put forward the Buddhist stance.

Like a curling fern you
want to go in dark shade―
eyes shut.

The circus of stunted men
and lady birds―
will go on unabated.

I swear by fire,
The battered umbilicus will
not bear any gods.

A miraculous escape. I
will not eat your
flesh, hot and red.

We start hitting each other.

Satish Verma

A Complete Contrast

The lazy eye,
staggers. Looks behind
the moon.

Retaining the uniqueness
that you were not.

The eagled-hoot.
Your spirit, muddles the air.
How much truth was there
under your skin?

I had always admired your stiff neck.

Only the veil was needed
to cover the green fears.

Would you ever know, how
I was killing myself in small poems?

The danger lurks.
Sparks, seagulls and blue lake.
The blaze never dims.

Eternity prowls around, cutting the ribbons.

Satish Verma

Sage Flower

O my baby pain―
this house is on fire.
My body is going to war.

A lonely path, in life
and death― where does it
lead to― in wilderness of home?

The mob only loots.
Lynches and hangs you from
the lone tree of love.

I confess, there was
a chink in my armor, not
light but water seeps through it.

You start fearing the
windows. Not noises, time
was slipping pout, never to come back.

Satish Verma

Stains Are Darkening

After centuries of reverie―
a dream breaks, falls
like a mirror in ink, splintering
into thousand thoughts. Somewhere
words start flying.

Oh god!
your feet of clay are crumbling.
I wanted to write a new script
on your body,
slashing my wrists.

How much the truth was
lying? Ask the shades alluding
to moon. Patchy and opaque
in forest of maple, I was counting
the red-lobed leaves.

Your eyes were telling a
soulful tale. On beach were
sitting some youngmen in a row in orange jump
suits waiting to meet
their gods.

Satish Verma

Clouds Were Collecting

Time
was moving without wheels.

Not a match. I
don't exist. Anonymous.
You were also not same
as I lost you.

Black walls.
You will kiss them
for a promise.

Your lips, wrapping
the wounds, like bandages.

The bruises smell
like poppies.

Not thirsty. Still
I revert to the theme of
dry lake.

Are you going to
shut the eyes of moon?

Satish Verma

Keeping Head High

Ah, in this―
culture of shames
you will need some divination
for mooning around.

You cannot mend the old
shoes, become an explicator―
of complex human mind.

Cannot face the sun to
catch my shadow. Father and
son were water apart.

The things become no-things
inestimable. I keep on intuiting..

First came the rains,
then winds. I stand for nation.
I fall for you.

Satish Verma

Arts In Telling

I will never be able to―
tell the full story. Winds
are changing and―
the innocence has ended.

Centuries of recital now
starts the inquisition. It haunts
my psyche. In deluge―
the ferry will ever come?

Yesterday you had seen me
in a very vulnerable state.
Even gods weep.
Do you know what is muse,
goddess of art and an inspiration
of a poet?

In one of the poem I had
asked my muse, can you prey for me?
This is my style of conversational
or confessional poesy.
What do you say?

Satish Verma

Some Rehearsals

Talking to moon tonight,
in windless night.
You begin― to reflect― the past.

I pretend― I am gifting you
my poems, while bleeding―
from the eyes.

You will not read,
even once, the steaming tears of stones,
when the volcano―
spews its molten grief.

I am gifting you today, forever―
my summers.

Snow will rush into my veins.
I freeze at once, in memories
of the lone, stark naked, yew tree
laden with red berries.

Not poisonous, I am gifting you
my death.

Take me in your solitude!

Satish Verma

The Blessings Fail

It was too loud
to become a savior. You
longed for― only a
flower weight.

I wanted it to last―
my pain― lying to myself.
I will wait for the
sanity to reappear.

Too raw― the codex.
It burns the author. I
will have to learn―
a new alphabet.

The bell tolls,
bell tolls.
Take me to crypt in dark.
I have to read the walls again.

Satish Verma

No Man's Land

It was an explicit "I"―
deeply flawed.
You had started hitting
your peers, asking them
to hate you.

Psychopath?
Mea culpa, who would not say?
Kindles a tender feel―
when you love a pink rose,
not uttering a word.

Scared, my tremors
start like a leaf. Cannot hold
the pen. Very quietly
I print my tears.

Thirst, mouthless―
I drink from eyes.
Earth beware― the crop has failed.
Rancher was going―
to commit suicide.

Satish Verma

Straight From Dark

Moon was walking
like your shadow,
grabs you from behind
and drowns you
in water.

This was a battle cry
for a beach murder.

This will a become a talk
of the crowd.
Light enters a bone
and you start glowing.


Was it a realization
of the awakening? The
pain becomes your angel―
of skin.

The cuts and wounds become
your words of unknown poem.

Why you want to play
hide and seek with strangers?

Satish Verma

Red Light

A maverick―
neither tears, nor scabs
I wanted to cheat myself.

Confection may go awry.
I prepare the new text
of wearing the pain.

I want you to stay
beside me, when I am unseated―
holding the clouds.

Discarding golden viscera.
This was my last journey
for taking revenge.

Undulation over. There
will be a vertical
drop on the nails.

On the black stones a fig tree wavers.

Satish Verma

In Reversal

The philanderer―
an anti-man, comes for regaining
moral conscience. I
pledge my peels.

Ocimum was not ready
to marry a giant tree.
This war will never be over.

The skin, the deep voice
within, were wakeful in dark. There
was no hope to revive the naked soul.

The sea and the whale.
Competing for death-dance.
Blue sky kills the stars.

Now I will become mute,
watching the jewel-thief…
taking away the golden calf.

Satish Verma

In Ecstasy And Pain

Stargazing
under a new sky.

Buried in the sands
of time,
to locate the gate of moon.

Nothing else moves
in my thoughts, except
a Venus fly-trap.

Your hinged, slanted
eyes, capturing my words.

Then your maze bleeds
in the spotless dawn
of baby year.

Between a mortal
and a saint.
I hang my mirror
to prove the divinity of the dust
of god.

Satish Verma

A Life's Worth

The brown dust―
floats, while reading
poetry.

It was my first―
love with the dancing words
in the jungle of departures.

The genocide of―
reliefs. I erect a shrine
for the slaughter of unknown.

Innocently, I utter―
your name in dark, that
lights up the aubade.

Strange things happen.
I stand where the roads don't cross
parting the emptiness.

The deadpan. Another city falls.

Satish Verma

A Day Was Crying

Can you define this relationship?

In a tumultuous city
I was missing…
But in this absence I become whole.
A chemical clock becomes awry.

Night was my poem
I was writing for the moon
and throwing a handful of dust
to meet the dust.

Black flamingo will not
eat tonight. Wading through the
water, its will broken,
searching the pink eyes.

How do I catch you when
you have flown away?

Satish Verma

Faultlessly

Trending like a
dog walker, the disheveled
moon, comes out
from the cocoon, to welcome
the new year.

This was a flash point
of pure sulphur,
to steal the kisses in rose valley
of violence.

And you stand at crossbones
to kill, or get killed.

The leader climbs down
to sin, to predate
the celebration of womb's disaster.

Earth trembles
in anticipation. A merciless
shreak comes out from the
man-of-war.

Satish Verma

No Rivalry

Something― you wanted to
say, which you would not.
Planet breaks― disheveled, weeping
being― unbeing.

Sometimes you play a game
of trembling legs―
waiting to run away
from your anguished inside.

The last hour of night
blinks. A baby sun about
to be born, and you find yourself
unprepared.

The black letters, on yellow
pages, under the streetlight
dance. A fat dream burns.
A book bleeds.

Satish Verma

Thinking Again

Not finding a path
to truth,
going beyond the gods. You
will not listen to my pleas―
still frozen in unthruths.

Death opens the―
holy darkness. I am aware of
the bluffs and black voodoos,
insertion of pins.

Moon-bitten, chasing
the blood cherries, you reach
for the yogi cult in trance.
Every night becomes green.

The sacred knife, cuts
the knot, sort of a hinge.
A celebration starts
throwing stones
on each other.

Satish Verma

Waiting For New Year

A lengthy day
to count an arch of colored dreams
in a long queue.

You start sinking
inch by inch, in a deep
obsession of vengeance.

Afraid to leave
the darkness. Cannot see
in the bright glare of sun.


The fall of liberty.
To tell the name of venoms.
How the man has become
a poisonous creep.

An insult to the poet,
singer and artist. Who was
responsible for changing the guards?

Tomorrow was far off.
I am still struggling with today.

Satish Verma

Still In Grief

I have become disconnected.

Talking of pose, while shooting
in back, several questions
arise of a staged drama―
missing the lethal word,
releasing the venom.

Poetry of politics becomes evident.
You may spurn the actors,
but the pretence overwhelms.

For testing the secret of depth,
you go down in water
unarmed.

You pull a stretcher, now―
unwrapped. The cremains sink
in the sea― of tears,
unsettling the designed pebbles,
the needles. The tapestry starts burning.

Satish Verma

Unkindly

Barebones, they come
in droves, to drink blood moon
praying in catacombs.

A summer night sets
over the hills with black eyes. The
cleavers have some jobs to be done.

In perfection, the bodies
should be laid― along with red woods.
The autistic moon will find its lover.

Aborted dawn, the clouds
had covered the womb. The
terrible sun had been roped in.

Earth weeps. There was
no peace.A ghost town rumbles
on. I cannot crack the code.

Satish Verma

A Part Of Whole

I had not asked for
all of you,
walking your path
above the clouds.

Do you think, it was
end of beginning?
The republic of sagebrushes has
nothing to say. Incense stops drifting
in desert of crumbs.

You start talking
to your esteem self for the rigged factuality.

I don't want back,
your virginity of first tears.
Underneath lies the stunned poetry
of the bruises.

There were ruthless secrets
inside your lids.
I will not wait for the moon
to go red.

The swastika wants to justify
the chimneys?

Satish Verma

So Be It

Dismantling―
my temple, brick by brick―
skin to skin,
eye to eye,
before the ascension.

The living legend is
dead. I cannot hear the burial
rites. Walls are rising.

The ashes are strewn
on the eyes of moon. Ages ago I
used to smile. Not now.

Accept me, with all
my non-gifts, dead songs and
wailing prayers.

My hands lift the terror
from the sand, palm leaves
crafting a virgin peace.

Satish Verma

Any Dilemma

Kiss me hard―
defending your poverty.
It was a flawless depression.

Do not need any sand-storm
to cover the jutting bones.
Time was full of tragedies.

Did you ever hear of―
the fences in a divided house?
The prayers without words?

Drunk in a moonless―
night, of the unheard voices,
you stumble on Ars Poetics.

More wreaths for the
forgotten lover of letters.
Life moves on.

Satish Verma

Not Listening To Yourself

I paint the day
for you, for the last rites
of sun.

Embracing the dark
to dissolve the boundaries.

I will question, something
else, not about the stoned moon.

The other side of the
thin hijab, was a humiliated truth.
Facts were always knifed.

Something moves
harshly to break the silence.
A pink self betrays the denial.

How mandatory it
was to keep on gooding
the blue flames!

There is no family
of the bohemian.

Satish Verma

In Penitence

Unceremoniously―
you blow off the earthen lamp
after the night vigil.

Still stranger
to dark, you start self-destruction
in holy violence.

Was there any life
before death? You encounter
the crucified truth.

Now you wear the blue lake
to meet the moon―
in a forlorn sky.

I let you see
the falling star. It's heat
had savaged me.

Satish Verma

I Must Tell You

Can you get the seizing
without an encounter,
like rapture of the deep?

It was me who was lost
in one sultry night,
when jasmine bloomed.

In night blindness, the
trembling soul, landed
on the blue lakes.

You would not look
at me, without alphabets―
in siege.

In contrast we meet―
to hurt each other.
Falling in love after smouldering.

The soot will chase us till the end.

Satish Verma

Dream Catcher

Walking towards you
prudently, lighting
my bones, like candles
in dark.

For salvation. The
lone cobbler cheats on you.
He has placed the rough bricks
instead of cobblestones to cover
the surface.

Healer has become
avenger. Illicitly― drinks
from the virgin eyes, to
be called a survivor.

The cadaver vanishes.
There was no death of
any Fakir. Only flower bed―
will be the last darshan.

You win the battle, waging
inside you and
forget your name.

Satish Verma

Black Moods

I will not beg,
never. There were some mistakes.
You took a wrong turn
hitting below the waist.

It was a disaster. Asking
for the moon― for chilling.
Drugs make you unholy―
you try to whack the clouds.

I give, you take. But the
balance still remains. Somewhere
we don't meet and part with
unease of sea waves.

I am loosening the grip on me,
let go the legs to take me
nowhere. Unwrite the poem
meant for you.

Satish Verma

Where Will It End

In deep depression,
clearing the emotional debris,
when your eyes speak―
I become dumb.

The skin mood alters.
Love was not racial.
A naked paper writes your will― that,
you no more belong to anyone.

Going down, down―
the man's ego. I stand on crossroads,
still undecided, your lips
white, eyes red.


The reapers will come again
to harvest the skulls, to
make necklaces. The greed wants
the biggest garland.

Stings are a plenty.

Satish Verma

Some Hegemony

A method cuts you out―
in hunger pangs,
to set you free from bonding
of four― leaf clover, or word.

Love has become a
one way pain, without libido―
in want of a fairy ring.
The maternal cost was high.

Drifting between the
black sea and dead sperms,
you want to raise a
new cult.

The religions betray.
Everything was marketed with
thumbed scripts.
Gods were threat to sane hymns.

I am trying to carve
a face, from the rocks, not
animal, not angel.

Satish Verma

Lashing Out

Lying in congealed blood.
You cannot wipe off the stigma.
Moon still shines.

A blitz sends a chilling
message. It is what
it was not.

The narcissism was on
rise. The center was always
in you, falling in love.

Perfectly in disharmony.
A snake eating itself
in great joy. Do you?

Just walk with me.
Don't say anything. We will
enter the black hole together.

Satish Verma

Making Gunpowder

You walk into a trap.
The self-search must start
after the accident in hearth.
The fire has failed―
to ignite the thruth.

No more questions would
come. The shrine will receive
all the answers.

The system wants to know
what went wrong to
identify the protégé of crisis?

You know mimosa. It behaves
like a sensitive person. Touch it and
its leaflets fold together like
greetings and bend down asking
to exit.

The violence erupts. A god has no say.

Satish Verma

Forked Tongues

‘Twas your ghost
to secure the promise,
that you would not commit
yourself to the story.

An island sin
confronts the sea
of tears. Was it an
emotional kill?

Did you hear the
sound of moon? It has
come down in the space
where we used to cross the arms.

That was my raw poem.
I had mentioned your solemn
departure. I don't believe
in blaspheme. God would know.

Fever for no misdemeanor.
We walk away on our
different paths.

Satish Verma

Lost Vision

The pain cycle
celebrates the pitfall,
dedicates to the eternal flame
of catharsis.

Syllables were ready to
burn word by word,
orchestrated for a
random repeat.

Like blue veins opening
in dark without spilling the―
blood. But no answers
were coming to compliment you.

Image of self in mirror
sometimes frightens. Now
you begin living without―
body, metaphysically.

A bonfire starts.

Satish Verma

The Candle In Snow

An executioner
gazes up into your eyes,
hotting up the gazella.

I am not an asylum seeker.
Was it an insult
to the animal, if I follow a sane path?

From my side of earth,
using different names, unflinchingly
I will speak for the bloody truth.

I never miss a tiger,
even with white coat and
brown eyes. Yellow stripes bring stasis.

Death arranges
the table. You pick up your dish.
O God, I wanted to be like you.

A stunning silence,
again pushes me towards you.
You always grin.

Satish Verma

Convolutions

Unhinged
in final descent.

A distrust starts
the speechless howling.

The veiled threat
to lock the door
and see the other world.

II

Unmarried― the pears
will not ripen.

Sense of persecution
haunts.

The doves fly away
you wrote your name on the wings.

Satish Verma

In Bald Sun

Visible
of invisible blues―

the hesitancy
to shut the door.

I speak for
myself in haze

reaching heights
and deep sea.

The mother in
child weeps;

when we will
meet father?

Insufficiency
brings the split.

Satish Verma

Reading Arthur Rimbaud

Dressed to assassinate,
not having much hope.
Were you really―
serious for me?

Like en face
a star giggles, between
quivering small moons.

The night is drunk. You
hear a long hoot, from
enfant terrible, to scare away
the kiss of inevitable.

What a bliss to live
in the black heart of the moment,
when the sun unwraps
the flame.

Complete annihilation
of million desires. You
become the walking death
of unknown.

Satish Verma

Between Us

As it appears―
as if nothing stops you and
the spring will ask the direction.
Like a bipolar, I will swing
between moon and sun.

It may not sit true with me
like a lethal drop in an empty cup!

I don't know, what I think
in dual state of mind. Time stretches.
As if involuntarily my―
hands start shaking.

Not yet. It was my wound.
I have to carry my ship down
the river. In hour of ending
would you come to write―
the ascending pain?

Perfection incomplete. There is
voiceless silence.

Satish Verma

Miracles Don't Happen

Part of me― like a morpheme,
you are leaving.
Now I will stand without legs.

The slain shadow moves
from face to face. I
have yet to complete my chapter.

I know what you have to offer.
But I wanted more of
your intimate thoughts about life and death.

You have frequent mood swings.
Sometimes you wanted to go insane
in this clever and wise world.

I trace the terrain of the
inaccessible mount, where one day
you will find broken hull.

Satish Verma

The Stony Heart

Looking in your hazel
eyes, I was thinking.

I don't need
second coming. I want
you once for all.

After assassination
of a live truth, I will wear
a cap without an emblem.
I was moving away from the crowd,
after burning the dead.

Why it was so loud?
It was a gratuity? After the
bloodbath, do you still need a bank?

My God, I am tired
of you. Seeds were scattered
for the love birds. I don't find the
moon break.

No about-face
I was still proceeding
towards the lake of tears.

Satish Verma

The Delgue

Blood side by side.
Your risqué humor
ejects the foul nerves.

No religion was my
mother. My prayers were meant
for undying.

The vital fluid boils
without sun.

Pythagoras comes back
to retrieve the numbers.
The mystical figures have failed.

Not afraid of fear.
clenching my fist, one day,
I have to meet my other self.

Satish Verma