Some Sequelae

The bald eagle's pain.
Man-made monument
of cruelty. Summer was drawing
near. The black noon.
Waiting to bring to life,
sleeping cacti.

You have lost your
home. In sand storms. So
you will find shade under
the long tresses.

And eyebrows were arched
skywards. You purse your
lips to start chewing the blood
words. Crazy pain―
I did't ask you to come back.

You be my death. I
will sleep in your lap. You
stroke my poems.

Satish Verma

Coming Full Circle

This was the surrealistic
nightmare.

Omitting the guilt
I will paint a nude.

It was not kind of
pink. Cosy with words―
you will polish the legend,
misspell the murder.

Transfixed I enter
the still life. You come
out with bound hands
to say goodbye.

Sometimes I feel, it is
not over. The sap of black
pine becomes red.
Needles prick me, not to move.

You fold the holy book
and put it in bag.

Satish Verma

Flying The Names

There was no raised
plaque.

Rituals of resuscitation
had failed. Something to lift
from your paintings. I wanted
everything of you.

Not touching the
death cookies. I prepare myself
to witness the―
bread breaking.

There were no tears,
no pangs. No agony.
Peace.

Was it true that you
were no more you
whom I gave my vision―
my lungs, my pen.

Were you jinxed?
I would never know.

Satish Verma

Downward Spiral

Like pine needles,
you prick, draw blood―
doing the beauty.

Between an angel
and angelina, there stood a wall.
Ah! A religion also.

You are asked
to smear the bone ash on
forehead, and drink moonlight.

Cannibals. All the gods
were cannibals, devouring
their progeny.

You turn back and
give a last glance before
going for a faux pas.

Not a heartache―
for a faun, you were too
proud to accept the gift.

Satish Verma

With No Mistake

There was some pain
in your thick voice.
You had gone too far.

Hunted like
a deer, for an ecstatic vision
I was very angry with me.

Learning deep, back
to back, you were aware of
the dogma. It was a witch.

Chasing you on reverse
feet. One kiss less―
you become a beast.

An asp in the sleeve.
My bullet-riddled body
will wait for your stone.

No more I will write your
arrival. The twinkle reflection
of your eyes― uncrying.

Satish Verma

Alone In Myself

The scaffolding falls.
The end and means
become one. There was―
no other second moon.

The prosthetic hand
feels your face. Blind eyes
hear your lips and a severed
leg walks me near you.

Under the tongue you
hide a word. I will never know
what. The armless sun
steals away my golden key.

Will never find you again
in my poems. My book torn,
my pen broken. I am picking
up the old lost coins.

Satish Verma

Moon Was Not Rising

Ask the destroyer
of the day, why did you
cross my path― when the
sun was setting?

A subdued sexuality was ready
to get the answer―
from the ultimate punishment.

Meanwhile I search
the ruins of old empire for salt seepage.
Freedom from bread and roof
was still far away.

The cultish nativity booms.
Who was the inheritor of this―
earth? Are you sure the face
of moon was shrinking.

Why the defence of
blood corporates? Shame
the arousal of hooded king cobra.
Snakecharmer was dead.

Satish Verma

Scuttling

Enfant terrible.
I disown myself,
and try to follow my
occult intution.

Crossing the magnetic
field, I become neutral.
You will have to
collect my tears.

There will be no anniversary
of the funeral,
I will die imperfectly.

Failed to kiss the uninviting
throat of the knife. It
went straight into
my unread anthology.

Your smile will chase me
like a black spider. Its lethal
venom was painless.

Black and blue, if
I could perspire in the
freezing snow of the flames.

Satish Verma

Wearing Ear-Plugs

Unreturning
I will honor my commitment.
I will face the
volcano alone.

The burning pit―
inspires me. The eternal
flames. There was nothing
blended. Not alloyed.

I shall not forget―
the curves, the falls. The
flowing down of the
stream from godhood.

The half moon, where
does it will land?
Umbilicus kinks. You break
the anatomy.

Like radiation, I
am turning gray.On
extremes, there was no light
nothing dark.

Satish Verma

Pellets Of Frozen Pain

Becoming wolverine,
to find the mutant gene.
What I wanted was, to find
a companion.

You had moved on―
reviving the ontogeny.
Struggling with your mystery,
a god changes his norm.

Always― failed to know
myself, there was a nagging
question. Why? You accept
and then mutilate the new born faith.

The animal instinct rises to hate―
your own species for liberation.
I dare not to confess
the role of flesh in blaming the spirit.

A crisis renews the
holiness to hide behind
the words of a current avatar.

Satish Verma

End Game

I would dream every night.
Are you there among the crushing
artifacts? The ruins―

had entered into my
bones. The erosion demands
the price of tomorrow.

Make it easy the severance
of my right arm. Blood does not
frighten me. It was donated.

I have frozen fears. I cannot
touch you. Not in day light.
Darkness will carry my
poems to you.

Blank papers will weep
for unwritten end of the naked
truths. Plasma will dry up.

There is no bone marrow
to be investigated for graft.

Satish Verma

Don't Bless Me

Standing on a rock
near a temple's dome, the
bells chime voicelessly.

For a dark secret, passing
through your big eyes, the colors
want to believe in cryonics.

Freezing the dead body, of past―
face intact, making a heap
of wins, the bundle of desires.

Only skeletons of empty
words hang from the windows
where chattering sparrows used to sit on sills.

Give me your skin. I will
were that till end, creaseless,
hanging from the bony arms.

I am still alive daring the
tomorrow to walk through me.

Satish Verma

Beyond Tomorrow

Nixing hate buds was prime lens.
You thought that it was sagacious.
The roof was leaking fiercely.
It sucks your tangerines.

Squeeze if you can,
all the moons of universe. No
milk of mercy, flows
from the eyes.

Something skinny, peeps
in, from the small holes
of walls in a big castle, where
the ghosts walk at night unclothed.

Was it true that there
was no blood, when the
snake bites a white lamb?

I want to come back
from the nirvana where
only the carpetbaggers live.

Satish Verma

Exhausting Me

The faint scars were
becoming green. I remember
my bewitchment of me―
not becoming.

Like pine needles. I
will ask my muse, to confuse
me with some shock depriving
me of aura.

Why do you enter my den
to enrich me with golden words?
I go crazy in phrasing―
the stars and mouthing the moon.

It was a charisma. In my
stasis, I tend to forget me,
start wearing your voice.
Will you some day ask, why?

On silver stairs sits
a marathoner.

Satish Verma

Stepping Outside

Sleeping on pavement―
looking at the stars.

I try to reconstruct―
the manikin, you had
flung away like―
an antique plaque.

We were supposed to
talk as equals in this
moment of truth.

Was that not― the
trading in flesh, when you
ask the stonecutter to make
a shrine of an unknown god?

What was your grand
design O love?
Touch my face, I am
burning like a coal.

In a massive blast I
will break into myriad of seeds.

Satish Verma

In A Senseless World

Implicating
yourself, and telling lies
was an art.

There was always
a trapdoor. Giving a lot
more, than getting less.

Same unthinking
prevails. You forget to
feed the adversaries.

Very nightly
a moon crashes in your
path to meet a colossus.

The thin lovers
again reach behind the
sun. No fiddles were needed
for deaf people.

The blues are going
deeper. You drift like a
cadaver in the moat.

Satish Verma

In This Age

Why do I part with
my grief, my poems?

All night I was awake
to know what went wrong?

I extend my empty hand―
so that you can draw my fate.

You have the beautiful gazelle
eyes. Why they always look beyond me?

The salt comes again in
my verses. No sweetened lies.

The truth was too hot to be punched
on my hand. It has made a bleeding hole.

Satish Verma

After The Harmony

Frightened of ending―
what, that did not start.
I try to touch― the timeless zero.
There were no numbers.

I give you what I did,
not have. The future of gilded doors
and agonized window's past.
You offer an eternal smile.

Will I carry the red clouds
beyond your tears and
my trampled wreaths?
We talk ceaselessly ear to ear.

Your silent invite always
baffles me. This world has
always used me as stairs. Why
were you still standing on the ground?

The twinkle works. I shut
my eyes to grab you.

Satish Verma

And Many Eyebaths

I shut myself,
you becoming a fugitive,
of the neo-genre.

Birthing a truth―
of this world.
No one was a prophet.

In my inconspicuousness,
I touch you with my poems,
to cross the gloomy door.

And the cup remains
half. You kneel in a prayer
to seek what was not possible.

Who would become blameless
if there was no crime?

The gifts of love―
lie scattered. I cannot
solve the jigsaw puzzle.

A heart bleeds without crying.

Satish Verma

Serene Encounters

I take you today,
to test the fidelity,
my hypothermia.

Too far went my pain.
How to forget you?
Your were not you in my every poem.

The faces blend. I
only see my invested image
in dark.

The picture overlaps
completely― our past―
our future.

The time will teach you
the difference between love and
adoration for a bronze Buddha
or a dancing Shiva.

I turn away my face
from the giant screen showing a fall.

Alone with another god
you offer your virginity.

Satish Verma

Knower Who?

Behind the veil, the
salt glitters.

My odyssey will never
end.Writing myself off, how
to unknow the known?

Silently I will read your
lips, when the thoughts
sleep. I want to talk by myself.

The unhappiness never
ends. You discover the red ants
creeping under your vest. You
will kill yourself, not the guests.

I turn to inner mystery.
Deep down I had fallen in love
with an exploding bud. Between
the crack of clouds lightening engages
itself like a third eye.
The sparks fly. Ashen gray
a poem turns the side.
A dawn will kiss me in sleep.

Satish Verma

We Shan't Die

Time
has left footprints,
on mortality, I may go
one day. You will live
in my poems.

Not damaged
by untruths, remaining
entirely human, among
the wolves and brutes.

The body of water
carries the loaves of sleeping
men. The promises broken.
I set my foot for a new journey.

Becoming impersonal
would you ever weigh my
soul songs written for you?
And you bite the pen to write my name.

The eternity invites the
first Yogi to sit under the palm
and recite the last prayer.

Satish Verma

At Risk

No story was left
between us. You will not
start any new event.

You sing the absolution
amidst the hails. I was not
ready to retaliate on two legs.

The vibrations reach the
sea. The waves prepare the
advance attack to pull down the sky.

Two small lips tremble.
Even the irises swell―
before the frost.

The naked dolls swim
before the moon rises. There
were no stars in sky.

Satish Verma

Things Unknown

The world was not
coming around. I give
out a piercing scream.
You tripped my poems.

Did not weigh in the
yearning― no nectar,
no creamer.

And over the shoulder, you
look back on the dwindling encounters―
between us to become
strangers. I am still green
still wounded.

Would not retrieve, the
small entrances. I see better
in dark. Light splits
the fat. Gray hounds leap
for the scent of blood.

I stand in witness box
for no crime.

Satish Verma

Sonorous Voices

I wanted to be ready.
Take my consent for the assault,
before you reveal
your fangs.

Trigger-happy,
the fiesty moon, shoots
at the tangerines of orange―
red skins.

The waves will not grieve.
There was ample time
to drown the black buttons
of windshields.

Bleeding mouths of
baby poems eject the barbs.
Forget the believers. There
was no magic in my art.

It was a pure symphony.

Satish Verma

Somehow

Becoming impersonal,
the observed will speak today,
not the observer.
There were no complaints.

It drills the hole in heart.
But you don't die.
No blood spills.

On the rocks―
stands a temple of unbeing
I am ready to become a monk.

This was not a murder,
not a suicide, if you
want to become a martyr.

The heaven trembles.
Let the veil rise, unmasking
the blind truth.

The mercury was rising
without fever.
There was no alarm.

Satish Verma

Wordless Meanings

Touching every lamppost―
counting the buttons,
the palmer moved from
relic to relic,
from stone to stone.

Dipping the moon in dark
clouds, the pilgrim never
stops in night or day. To―
remain poor was his journey.

Shedding the stars,
blacking the sun, the ancient
script remains unread. No saviour
will come from land, in water
on hills. You love to dig
your own meaning.

Do not look back. It is
endless path. You fall and rise
stare at the slanting
eyes of unseen.

Satish Verma

Want To Listen Your Voice

Moonlight you win,
in the dark I fail.

Will you come in the
loop to find the truth of uppity?
A fractured footage―
was silent, hiding behind the words.

The verse libre
was not ready to celebrate life.

The skin purity. Will
you mind to pass on Ammonium nitrate?

My river of eyes has
dried up. Forgive my
benign sins. I am going
to live without you.

The senseless wheels zoom.
How far was the god?

Satish Verma

The Exodus

You have reached
somewhere,
on misty heights.

I die again
carrying you under
my skin.

Hidden from the
glare of blazing
sea.

In labyrinthine, you
open the knots―
of uneasy breasts.

In silence― we
will give our signs
and part.

My limbs
give out― I walk
in air.

Satish Verma

My Angel

Who will know
except you that I
killed my velocity to meet
you in infinite obscurity.

From autumn to autumn
I will wait for a
collision course of nobility
with pure surrender.

So many tattoos on
your body. How many poppies
had kissed you in the spring?
Shame on the blue sky.

Do you believe in reincarnation?
I was Buddha on death bed
when you had touched
my feet unsolicited.

There was no end of celebrities.
Who was quveten than you?

Satish Verma

Middle Truth

White doves
with clipped wings
were losing the visual acuity.

The pride was
damaged without consolation.

How much you can climb
on the heap of the dead?
Honeybees won't buzz now in sun.

Can I ask your real name
by birth? There would not be any religion?

Perhaps I was not pure
as your virgin paradise.

Your breadth does not reach me any more.

I am going high
to confront the unknown,
to kill the flesh.
There were no bones of truth.

Satish Verma

Short Comments

Eating thoughts.
You look beautiful
without thinking.

To become
unbeing. You walk
straight into void.

Eyes glazed,
as if washed recently
by tears.

A painless
birth of love between
two hands.

Satish Verma

Stone Hearted

There was nothing left
to say, after the great
decline of humanity.

Knowing yourself,
watching without any action.
Then who triggered the quake?

A little candle in storm.
But the selfish man will
not keep a date.

Migration will
continue towards the edge.
You were not there in my verse, today.

Satish Verma

Meeting Nemesis

Blood on your hands,
do you belong here
to claim deity?

Baring my emptiness,
I have come to you
for some answers,

Sharing the same orbit, you
were shy to accept the debris rise.

Ah! Are we sliding
to mental downside? Snapped
under the stress of cultural climb?

You want to hurt yourself,
observing your own midriff?

No riposte was coming.
I am planning to quit
the stage.

Moment of hubris has come.

Satish Verma

Handsome Ending

In process of―
searching you. O invisible truth
I was hurt.
One death leads to another.
You must have changed your cloak
not your voice. I will
find you one day.

Your angles were
right, except the distance.
At your lying down place
a marigold was born
defying the sun. Make sure
night was not your enemy.

It was not yield―
my pride. You must shift
your zodiacal light to match
me on the waves. You will
need me, and I will need you.

Satish Verma

This Happened

Say something
on this crucial moment,
standing near the funeral home.
My gods were dead.

Last night I had
left the bed on the call of―
mountains― where I had to
climb back to my final abode.

Any poem in September
was worthy of the rewrite
in rainy day of mourning.

One by one the―
fruits fall. You unwrap
the kernels to bring out
the shiny seeds. One day they will
become the tallest trees.

Friends and foes.
I rise and
become a pagoda.

Satish Verma

Forewarnings

I start breaking―
after the hate call.

Like emery paper,
something rubs my lips.
A raw affection bleeds.

It was only dust. I don't
want to wait for my tomorrow.

A conduit forbids
to improve the congenital
lisp of a godchild. You want
to preserve the virgin innocence.

Tears on both sides,
who will wipe off the scars
of the moon?

Not universal,
you were the cosmos,
staring into the eyes of void.

Satish Verma

In The Spin

To save the last bruise,
after an encounter with
a kiss of the breaking rock and melting voices.

I did not want to
remember you in twilight
of dementia. There was no birthday for me.

A brown girl drowns
in my deep poems. You had become
a river without a bed.

Can you give me a
name― for my unborn child?
I loved him to measure you my mate.

After all I refuse
to die inspite of all the falls.
Beyond the bricks lies my blessings.

It were only you.

Satish Verma

Speak My Language

Trying to count
the beautiful years, spent
in the journey of heart.

There was an uncanny
feel. The pink coldness
was not mine.

Like you ditch the
timelessness, and live in a
drop of dew to meet the sun.

The flesh. A suicidal
move to move away
from the relationship of night.

Of the tenderness,
benign death of a star.
Dust celebrates the glorious fall.

The grieving will not
stop. A charred book of bliss
terminates the vision.

Satish Verma

My Muse

Tired from the world―
waiting for you, till the night falls
and heart accelerates.

You will come gingerly―
sticking the moon on forehead,
go near the mirror and smile.

I would ask if anyone else―
has loved you so much as me.
The fireflies start shimmering.

Tears will wash your―
eyes and you will read my
message clearly. Inside―

the eyes the image―
will develop of a venus.
I will write a poem.

Satish Verma

So Many Half-Truths

You were still thinking.
Thinking beyond thoughts―
the void, the space, the time.

A crush of relics was
piling up. Bloodshed and poverty
at hands, you do not want to talk.

The challenge of being or isness
persists. I go back to the
culture of ancient theology to
understand the divine arithmetic.

The numbers were increasing,
of gods, godmen and crimes.
No sermons. The autumn
will bring down the foliage―
green, red, brown
to yellow.

Satish Verma

You Were My Last Kill

What was your secret of―
cheating on me?

If you were an abstraction
like a moon in blue night,
how will you write
a poem, without paper and ink.

I was a word catcher,
of your language.
Cannot decipher my pain in―
my nativity.

Always had to live in the
family of longhorns, who
destroyed my sanctity.

You raised a tomb
of sun, after death squad
failed to kill me
and the dark fell.

Just before the dawn
I will meet you in deep lake of eyes.

Satish Verma

What Was Untouchable?

Being set on fire
my fantasy, my vision.
Something that should not have happened.

Latched to heritage―
the touch of faith brings
sharp harpoons.

Not easy to forget
an elegy I made for unknown.
Will you come to throw the dust?

Cannot punish you
for my sins. A humming bird
crashed this noon on my deck.
A square face peeps from behind the tears.

September had been always
harsh. This month I had decided
to falter.

Satish Verma

This September

How far you will go―
with me,
in purple night.

Life will betray.
Death was honest.
Gods cheat.

Once perishable,
and obsolete.
You were chewing the same words.

Can I borrow
the sun from you for a while?
My moon was under a spell,
I will wear your smile.

Desire like toothache
was rising, tearing me apart.
I will drink only the potion
from your hands.

Satish Verma

Magical Solution

Weird,
your hidden contours,
as true to yourself,
from unseen to seen.

Like a phoenix,
you are supposed to write
your own epitaph,
before jumping on a funeral pyre.

The bald eagles
like simple truth, give
you pain and hurts. I write
a poem for you― then
delete it.

A transitional encounter.
One of us was lying. There
was no eye of the moon.

In search of the silver bullets
to kill the werewolves
of our life.

Satish Verma

Time To Leave

Sipping the light
from moon, playing with
dandelions, do you remember me?

Milky latex on your
hands, you squeeze the round
seeds, as if to become steady―
for a denial.

I will never know the―
difference between the twins.
Pain and ecstasy of loving the
thorns of rose hips.

Stay there, where you
were comfortable. Standing
on the edge of a steep rock
I am waiting for―
the fall.

Satish Verma

You Were The Moon

Taste of death, while
talking of stealthy footsteps
of bloodied religion.

Like a hedgehog you
curl up, stay quiet to let pass the god.
Not answering was your answer.

That was not a good
analogy if I kiss your hand
to ask a reed dance.

Part of you, walks in step
together― under the moon,
yet you cannot embrace your shadow.

It was full moon night. After
a long time I went out
to meet him. He was wearing a red cap.

Satish Verma

If You Were Me

Like canary
you flew into my arms.

Capturing the inevitable.
Vowels and consonants had
separated again.

Chasing the melting
glacier, you jump into the sea.

Moguls were trying to
reach out, blow-by-blow.

Moon like half-brother
was envious, of the grace of fall.

A baby fist was striking a blow
on the wall of doped womb.

I am preparing to receive
a gay courier of apocalypse.

Bones buried in ashes
were jutting out.

Death game begins.

Satish Verma

No Riders

Again trying to forget
you, leaving behind the
loose ends in air. The descent
of Aerial begins.

A fairy― amongst the
gorgons. Like a soft poem
walking on burning coals.
I was always warning you.

Sometimes too much knowing
hurts. I want to become
ignorant of hovering dark clouds.
No light was the best option.

The stings, many of
them were closing in. The
cruel honey sticking to all
the toes. I cannot run.

Sowing the rounded seeds,
you don't get the poppies.

Satish Verma