Polka Dots

We are afraid of each
other. You start packing
your majolica wares to move out
swiftly, not to return back.

The floor was dirty.
I walk barefoot on the sharp edges.
To ask the matriarch of pains―
mother earth, how long the
man should suffer?

A woodcutter does not
want to pursue his art. He
throws his axe far away and
starts meditating.

So much violence in our
lives. You slay a traveler
for telling his mind.

You were becoming jealous
of yourself. Start throwing
pepper in the eyes of moon.

Satish Verma

Stepping Down

You drop
Your body and become. "I"

Howling will rise
from spinal curvature.
Wolf was running in circles.

The carnivore would
never smell the roach.
He wants only the pith.

You snare a parakeet
to share the pain. "I" became
"You" in a trap. Still knowing the self,
was important.

I burn in your prayer.
I am the sea, and I was
the setting sun.

The mother poppy cries
for the family.
How the sky will cover
the orange moon?

Satish Verma

Untouching Smiles

Sitting on the border wall
and looking at the moon.
Back-and-forth,
Back-and-forth
China breaks in my dry eyes.

Clay into vitrified
ceramic asks for emigration
to the sea for final immersion,
to meet the creator.

I look for your face
in water, that haunts me
day and night. Would you ever
fill up the colors in the map of my pain?

More poems. How could you
stop them coming? My
every ache turns into a daffodil.

Satish Verma

Remembering Pythagoras

Trying to learn from
you, to stay alive like a
trembling candle in wind.

Cut flowers in the vase,
white lilies. Turn blue―
when your smile fades.

The twists and circles.
My search had ended in you.
Why you need to go?

I do not want to
measure this moment. Time pie
stops and look at me.

Some questions have
no answers. Some questions don't
rise. Some questions die.

Satish Verma

You Have Arrived

Your poetry was
a hyphenated struggle
to become a blood stained city,
where I live to find
a Judas kiss.

No remorse, no panacea.
I don't feel the spark.
No belief tarnished in the
autistic approach of life.

You think the increasing
distance will heal the
hurts of cuddling under the moon
in flames?

What the numbers have
given to us. Hands have the
same fingers and thumbprints
were fake.

No mass wailing.
The wolves can laugh too.

Satish Verma

End Race

Privy to my crypt
O paragon!
I turn around in my ashes.

And take a rebirth.
Inextinguishable
was my desire―

of gravid pain. Life
opens a new book of
unmeanings.

Will not call you by
any other name.
I will set you free today.

Through discreet,
stenosis. I will move
in your veins till eternity.

A pure kill―
I vibrate to
catch the last glimpse of the ocean.

Satish Verma

Fireworks

The tiger in the woods
waits.
You play with blue tits
in backyard
hiding the insects.

I have become―
clean, absolutely empty
like a dry well.
Will you fill me with
brine?

You wear saffron
I go green.

Tell me how you dance
on the flames?

Satish Verma

Verged Into The Suicidal Art

Unnaming pro-lifers, I
was ready to imitate
the song of the ruins.

Rising like a phonex
from the spermaceti of flames,
a unisexual rage,
engulfs the smoke of burning homes.

I am painting you
black, O white god, your
devotees were coming in the nude.

Bend down angel; the eclectic
door was small and the beautiful
windows were closed.

No need to wait for
a lost moon. The godchild
had been laid to rest in scythe bed.

Come when you are
going to faint in the arms
of poems. I will stay for eternity.

Satish Verma

Paper Wreaths

To understand the life
after the flames die, I will
meet you in conflict zone.
Do not come with a tag.

Marked for a kill
I overturn the dead body of a cobra
to find my image in the glazed
eyes. My willingness was gone.

In a loop, I do not want
to ask any questions. Cannot
you understand, what
I do not want to say?

The empty glass does
not lie. You did not climb
the silken hills to be in a mausoleum.
I will not make my tomb.

Satish Verma

Face Mirror

Half your young age,
violence comes in choppers,
to avenge on the solemn moon―
for a long night.

It sucks, day and
night. The assassination
draws the blood tears, unwashed,
from the sunny plasma.

The crotch was saboteur.
Pure love had become
an echo of hemlock.
Your lips were blowing blue.

It was terrible trauma
of believing in your religion.
Truth will not rise―
from the dead.

The perfect U-turn.
A dead poem turns into
dew on your eyes.
I am singing again.

Satish Verma

Like The Flames

To erase your subtle pangs.
You become ingrained in verses.

I will not speak―
a single word to come to terms
with the unknown.

But life extracts a price.
You must become a buddha―
and leave your princess.

You will not see―
the Apocalyse giving rise
to an opus. And my child
you cannot read my book.

The voiceless dumb
bell goes on ringing to send a
call for the faithful to come
and jump into the cauldron of moon.

I boil in the guilty sun.

Satish Verma

It Were Not You

This one-sided
dumb feeling, rising―
nothing less.

Spurned.
I reconstruct your
profile after strip tease.

Stitching the
thoughts with my empty
pen, no ink― no paper.

A poor day at hand.
I will not talk to anyone
about a dumb doll.

No fillers.
You don't need any make up
to bring the black smile.

Moon and the candle,
both were wary
of silent storms.

Satish Verma

After Valentine

The art of faking
will not come to me.

Your breadth
twists the moon, making
a dent on the face
of lookalike.

Becoming a stranger,
celebrating love― without
my arms of flames.

An old story repeats.
Beautiful but trembling,
the farewell handshake.

Neither comes
nor goes, the vase life
of withering roses.

The sculpture
was not yet ready.
The angel recapitulates.

Satish Verma

Not The Thing

Life plays the tricks.
You become a meteor-
a streak of light, in the almond eyes
of a god.

I don; t like the grey areas.
Can you become fearless
and confess the guilt of drinking
the mercury? Blisters had
appeared on your face red and blue.

Was it a pure fault?
Mother earth smiles.When buried
alive thirty below the mound of lies
you remained alive.

Dehydrated, you speak
the truth and spill out the
false teeth.Your mind separates
from the heart and blood stains emerge.

Satish Verma

Great Kills

Let the dialogue begin
between the apostate and
the threatened god.

Heretic demands
an apology from the religion
of assassin.

The bleeding ancestors
release the mathematics
of grey crimes.

So your temple was
destroyed because of the lion
sitting at gate.

A moon falls on the
raw hides of innocents and
the planet stops breathing.

Satish Verma

Collecting The Relics

Predicted to fall.
Man battling against his
demonic spirits.

A killer silence
becomes a knife. Slicing your thumb.

You want to invoke
the missing gods, sleeping
under the dams.

No one should bring
me to tears. I disapprove
the color of blood.

My bones are becoming
stronger, without flesh. I walk
without legs on the hills of fog.

Do not throw the
acid on moon. Hands
will do.

You cannot pass through
a ring of fire. Bonding fails.

Satish Verma

For Intensive Eyes

There was something
between the lips.
You will not recite my name.

A muted word―
becomes a psalm at
execution. There was no
crowd to witness the grace.

If I prepare a book of
all my defeats, would you
write obituary.

The antiquities had become
alive. This was the beauty
of lunacy.

And the saint was dead
without meeting his god.

Satish Verma

You Walk Beside Me

Sharing my sweetbread
with you in densely days when
want spans religion.

You burn my roses.
Exiting the day I go for―
wash of cannabis.

Cannot forget you
once in my emptiness of
harvesting the moon.

Rains. The August night―
invites an apparition.
You walk through the door.

Satish Verma

There Was No Rebillion

Hiding the meaning
of life, you caused the
absurdity. Theater was not
ready for the audience.

An interim relief
comes for the aging. Blue
stars were moving away.
You will murder the sharks.

Skulls start playing. I
yell against the salt that splits
the tongue. Thick-lipped gods
start making the paper-nests
for the wasps.

Winter becomes warm-blooded.
There was no snow on
the trees. Owl butterflies
come out at dusk to collect
their dues.

When the sun sets, moon
shaped boys unroll the centuries.

Satish Verma

Soul Mate

You were wired, I
won't let you go with zinnias
in this beastly night.

I hate them all, the
ad verbums. Go gently in sea
to drown yourself.

That half-eaten apple
in the rains brings the message
of a fallen angel.

Take me home when I
forget, who was me, standing
in moonlight, eyes shut.

Satish Verma

Last Wishes

Like for Terra,
the goddess of the earth―
I will leave everything to you.

Hot legs run,
run for the sea of shame,
to wash the holy guilts.

It was a holocaust―
stonewalling to elicit,
the number of dead bodies.

Dark circles under
your eyes. I love them―
for the sake of darkness.

Prepare the swan
song for once, the blasts
were ready to encircle me.

Satish Verma

The Moral Suicide

Skin to skin
you cut the psyche,
after severing off limbs.

Xenophobia takes you
out of my life,
breached and stranded.

I will move to
another consciousness
to renew the peace of death.

Love-haters abound
now. Multiple wounding
starts cloning of unborn ideas.

Microholes leak the
secret. Between words there
was no space, only time.

A comet blows away the
angel dust. I stand forlorn
on water.

Satish Verma

On My Terms

Trying to forget, I forget myself.
Who am I? I had
an elective love for unknown.

As a gardener I was tending
you in my palms― a precious plum;
so soft that you
start wilting under the gaze.

The sharp edge― you gave,
to my phrases. I cannot use this
weapon against you―
when you want to leave.

I was very afraid of
disintegration. As far as you go
I will not touch you in
any downpour.

Eyes. lips and long―
black tresses. I won't need
anything more.

Satish Verma

In Cursive Style

A bruise has appeared―
where you had kissed me,
last night. O Miranda―
I am not going for any other moon.

Like Uranus, I bleed
in my eyes; from every pore.
Astraphobia― I am going to
stay in dark.

This theology of aneurysms?
Who was hoodwinking
the ancient gods in the battle
of murderous themes? My hands
start shaking.

A blue rash spreads.
In honeyed voice you invoke
your angel and seek blessings―
before you go for a rape.

Satish Verma

Reading Nietzsche

After knowing you,
I want to unknow me.

Did you reach the
head of the mount to bring
a piece of god?

Nonetheless,
he went mad asking for
godliness in stones.

When I wake, make
me go to sleep again, among those,
who are slaughtered
by tongue.

Dig me deep. My bronze,
my blood, are going in a free
death, like the fall from
the mission.

The muted thoughts
go for you,
in loud echoes.

I do not speak.

Satish Verma

My Theology

I will do no harm
in asking the colors of
dazzling stripes so lovelorn
that they cling like reptiles.

Cold-blooded. Transcend
like seagulls, which dive
to catch their own images. You kept on
walking on cobble-stones.

Half your life sat between two
deaths. One of redwood
and other of falling star.
You want to go back to lake for a holy bath.

Ignites. You bleed like a
hidden wound. Never finishing―
of endless journey. You
will never find your namesake.

Satish Verma

Uncannily

Tracing your eyebrows on paper―
eyes mine, we will
write together our religion.

Each night catches
my moons from the lake
of tears. The days were
becoming shorter.

Surely, I have not
arrived amidst the seekers
of easy death. You give me―
the hope of resuscitation.

I promise myself―
I will not give you a call―
till the nightingale sings in
mango grove.

All night it has rained.
Lacrimal. I prepare myself to
wash my eyes again―
to read your face.

Satish Verma

The Will To Survive

Little birds
had become stone pelters.
Uneasy would lie the hands, that
had become avid pawns.

Sometimes you watch
the erotica, mating in air,
to listen to echoes
of self-destruction.

The stigma will not go.
Human judgment was
falling. You grab a Rilke
to find the answer.

If man was truth then
what was a beast?
don't commit the eye of god.
Every honour was fake.

The gay philosophy was
for yourself. I had been living
perilously, not hiding
behind the rituals.

Satish Verma

For You...

You said a lot today
without telling anything.

I braced myself for another―
night's assault― aching
for tomorrow's journey on
the volatile trail.

All night I will remain
in tizzy. Unceasingly a fragrance
will hover. That would be killing.

There was sheer urge to fly
with untouchable pain. But
the shadow of bliss, the calm walks with me.

I take you once for all,
bring you back to my paved
words, you become my muse.

Satish Verma

Meet Me Again

There was no collateral
damage to my flower vase.
My roses were intact.

I had asked you to wear
a yellow scarf like a ―
hijab of moon. Somebody was
going to meet plain brown end.

The famous leg cross of―
‘Basic Instinct' does not impress me.
I will drink from your oceanic eyes.

Like Sylvia Plath in
death gown, you amble gingerly
to embrace my poems.

The dew drops hang
from the asparagus leaf tips.
I wipe away my tears.

Satish Verma

To The Bronze Sculpture

Without narrating
yourself, when and how
will you perform the ritual suicide?

Blindfolded, I
open the destiny of man.

Your thoughts make a hole
in the giant feet.

Who would let me, be dark,
to find the light of truth?
O God, take me to wilderness to embark on my journey back,
or become a tree man.

Let the tree-hugging start again.

Very prudently, I need to color my eyes.
Don't want you to begin crying.

Satish Verma

Negation Creates

I was not there
when omentum was incinerated.
No unparing was called for
digging your own grave.

In eerie silence, I
start collecting the shells
of forlorn pearls.

It would be a miracle
if I can read the invisible.
I can become a killer when you
are not there.

The mute girl will not―
give her lips.
Only eyes. I must lift my
poem from there.

The Hamlet's dilemma. You
will, will not taste the
hemlock.

Satish Verma

Where The Doors Have Gone

You were afraid of,
unknown, walls pulled down―
you stand in bones.

The surrounding hills―
give a call. Come for the sacrifice
for your transparent limbs.

Unsung, unpraised,
moon will rise tn the woods―
to bring out the victims of rage.

No identification was
needed to wash the bodies.
After death, there was no religion.

Now prayers must begin
to save the weeping earth.
Sky will drop the sun.

Satish Verma

Blast Cells

I forget,
leaving behind― ambiance
of your arms,
burn the windows―
not to come back.

Preparing for
water burial of moral questions,
where the unnamed pledges sit.

Now theft has taken
place of stakes, meant for black lungs.

Tongue sucks the acid
of hairless assault. You
won't subscribe to buy the oral taste.

From trees, death strikes,
without wings. Tears float
with glory.

Will, not count
the ordinal numbers.
There was a zero to begin with.

Satish Verma

How Precious You Were

I cannot say adieu to you.
Like an implant―
you will go with my bones.

Truth was always underlined―
with lies. Now lead was
floating in my blood.

No one will read the
hidden map. Pink claustrophobia,
with clenched teeth.

I will bring the blue
death in September, when
there would be no shade.

The human fires burn,
ablaze in verses. No tears
no masks. You move in circle
with no center.

Satish Verma

Prayer To Prayer

Deadpan. Far off an
explosion. First a lull, then
rises cicadas shrill.

You release paper―
lamps into the river. One for
black rose in the book.

Blue birds, will they come
again in my lonely patch
of abandoned home?

Missed beats will not
appear to pick up the pause,
between absent words.

Satish Verma

Writing On Parched Skin

For feeding a false tree
of life, beheading
a god was becoming a passion.

Snubbing the checks
and bruises, you
love to be alone in a mad crowd.

As if to be ready
for disintegration, you walk
in pain. Astounded
earth starts shaking.

In unwholeness, the
lamps become dark. The bones
were visible without light.

You want to run
with a comet, away from sun
in coldness of frozen smiles.

Don't drag my shadow.
I am fixed like a legacy.

Satish Verma

Untethered

Under deadly nightshade
we met for the first time,
to watch each other's brilliance―
and rip away.

The scars had become our
moons. We sailed through―
the ocean of grief.

When we gather in dark
there was no choice―
between I am, and you are.

You were afraid to confront―
not accepting what your skin feels
and mind rejects.

The soul searching begins
to become non-conformist,
in green night―
beautiful night.

Satish Verma

Incanting

It was restless mind
and I ask you something.

The grammar.
When something big―
happens, I find an excuse
to say small things.

O invisible!
how do I resolve the puzzles
of life. It had become a big
traumatic event.

The rain―
of inflected words
backed up by silence, keeps
me running―
to find the import.

Tell me―
how do I remember you.

Satish Verma

Dew Drops

Washed-up your
facial nuance, like jellyfish
at abandoned shore.

I was collecting shells
today, to write a poem for
your brown irises.

Pink chrysanthemums
will not say anything, but were dying
when you were away..

In rains you take a
figure, like a blue black bird
ready to fly away.

Satish Verma

Jumping From The Surface Of Water

You were not a god―
in panic, seeking an asylum
with two little hands
holding a golden book.

There was a potential
threat of complete annihilation
from the foul writing on the walls
with spurious titles.

A political blitzkrieg
takes place in glass dome,
drawing out bad blood,
from healthy limbs.

Where would you go, now
in dark? Fleeing from the violence
of men, being migrant without
a temple at the end of the earth.

Satish Verma

On Birthday

A rose on your name shines,
like a mural painting.
You had wanted
a deathless dying.

Does it happen to everyone?

Living on water,
still abrasive?

When you walked on the nails,
was it corrosive, like
acid on face?

I am visiting the death room
to start a vigil, like
a hummingbird gone mute.

And the lovebirds will show
no more the open affections.

The moon will heal the poem.
Hearth will keep on throwing
the crackling blaze.

Satish Verma

Unlike Anybody

In your painting the
silence of death was very loud.
I will call a poem.

Hold it down, your horse
power. Floodgates will open to
let out ugly ducklings.

In moonlight― I may
sit on the sand dune to listen,
the silent, inner voice.

Lines on your forehead
are getting deeper. May I
call the nightingale?

Satish Verma

The Sunday Ritul

Belong to yourself in―
green flames and wait for
the hibiscus of September.

Meanwhile you will
break the silence of deathless
moon. I will watch the dark
night till then.

The yes woman walks
on water. I stay on the shore
to see the bones drown.

It was great worthy of the
digitalis. Fingers of gloves
will measure the beats of heart.

Attending the funeral was
waste. You will rise again
from ashes to beat revenge.

Satish Verma

Memes

After euthanasia,
I was conversing with a ghost.

Foam-born, he
wanted to shrink in a ring.

To cause harm―
a knife, apologizes,
for playing with fire.

That is the life,
of a mortal― to keep his
god, as a prisoner
of books.

And yet, you are called
a great warrior of words.

In your prime flight,
when the sun is setting,
you want to drop dead
like a sparrow, on eternal greenness
of silence.

The horses run in full alacrity.

Satish Verma

Auspiciously

You evoke the desire.
I break like bougainvillea leaves.
Wind sweeps the floor.

After tarantula bite,
I pick a peony― ambling
aimlessly in rains.

Until the seagull
lands, I will stay on the beach
waiting for sunset.

Waves scramble before
the moon rises. I will hold
the flowers in palms.

Satish Verma

Unwedded

In final journey, there
was a collective guilt.
To find an opus, I reach out
for a carbon pit.

It was not your grief
not my miracle. Collecting the
cadavers to sleep with―
for warmth.

Ashes, you poke at the
art. Except self-elevation
and grandiosity, what to discover
in the heap of refuse?

You start nibbling at your
clothes. The scream melts at
the stitchs. Style wavers,
you become naked.

Satish Verma

Virtual Images

A very crude question,
I will ask. What kind of
bestiality or a war―
you want to start, after a
little infidelity?

It was not a dumb
pleading. The orange moon
burns every night.

Some virgin deaths,
and conversations about
this side of murders are needed
to be addressed.

Water and earth, both
were becoming hot and cold.
Nothing was good,
nothing was bad.

The white gowned ghosts
wanted to become benign.

Who was playing God?

Satish Verma

At The Navel Of The Earth

Again you took a wrong path
to meet the angel.
Like larkspur, you had
the dolphin's back.

Tears will not stop in the―
eyes of the moon. The
eternal itch remains. You will
not drop your smell like musk.

Like the Nazi salute, you
raise your right hand to bless
the crime of telling truth. Now
people listen― when you are gone.

The poesy suffers. As
also the ink. You want your
dark spots to come back. In
contrast, the sun will shine.

Satish Verma

Whom To Tell

It was your weapon.
Nobody else would have given in.
Sucked in by the eternal faith.

Undying love
makes me dumbfounded.
Can you make this world a better
place to live?

What you had done to
my religion? Love does not
begets love now.

You know― what I
do not. Even the barbed
fence will allow the lies.

A gift of rape.
Why life has so many colors?
I will ask the sea.

Satish Verma

Anthills

Beyond the moon
spirit, I will wait for the
holocaust to disappear.

Spruced up stones were
becoming idols for pagans
of muse.

The singer is gone. Only
the fluted men will wear black,
till the moon arises.

Sitting near the feet
of saints, the fronds unroll the
untidy sins, as a homage to sun.

The vigilance increases.
Nobody will write one's name
on the growing trees of palms.

There would be no
preface, when the violence
starts without lips.

Satish Verma

Not Asters

Your roses drink the
sun in dewy dawn. I catch the
speed of dying moon.

The rains bring in new
asterisks to anoint the verses
before their burial.

One more mercy to let
the shadows of swallows fall
on my blank pages.

Your lips are like hinged
leaves of Venus flytrap. Become shut
when you trap the words.

Satish Verma

Singularity

The horses run like―
tiny dots, on horizon, to
meet inevitable.

A celestial dance
ensues for skulls uncapped
to hear the echoes.

How far was the house
of god, where you will receive
the revelation?

My tribe was hurt. I
cannot stand indeterminate
end of the slaughter.

Satish Verma

Blue Bloodspots

A fallout from your
waning smile, parades
a naked wound.

A slice from a wake―
remembers me.
I was sitting in lotus position
ready to go for abdication.

Your message was elegantly
subtle. Not to lose conscience,
remaining the first lover of death.

Exiled from guillotine,
you don't see holiness in
the talons of eagle coming down.

The tree and a river
were old friends. The scarves
tied to the old branches, will
tell the collaborated suicides.

No sane hands will break
the knees of moon.

Satish Verma

Before The Hanging

Today you are moon,
tomorrow Miranda.
I will call you by different names.

To atone the travesty
of justice, you pull down the flag
from atop of the fort.

Nodoby else was there
when you hit the planet.
We join our hands to drown
without a lake.

The king of sky, now
waits for the tempest. When the
daughter will come to wipe out
the tears of snowy peaks?

Satish Verma

Missing The Bus

For the memory of palms,
the pretence lives on―
the blade of a saber.

You run on the sands
barefoot― to catch the waves
returning back to sea.

You had stopped
talking to me― wearing the
mystery― I loved.

On skin you print the
anthem. Somebody kills the lamb.
The pathos went quiet.

Becoming cold turkey,
absolutely white. The pilgrimage
over, you break the coconut.

Satish Verma