Glorified

Undistorting
the truth, I have come
to you spatial love.

Bracingly I reinvent
myself, soft and humane
to retrieve the blessings.

I will walk alone
in my amnesic state.
Wanted to bleed unnoticed.

And the limbs throw
the ancient steps to atavistic
fears. Let the animal instinct prevail.

Words are mine. But
I cannot get to you. The
destination slips out of sight.

Touching the tender
stings. I give the final call.
The lips must not leave the shadow.

Satish Verma

Enactor

The art of wooing
the moon. Will you
actualize for me, this floating
in sky?

This obsession
will not go― ever, never.
Like the everblooming Van Gogh, haunts
me.Moon in the wheat fields?

Great, I will find
some brown sugar to make
life sweet.

A poem has the
prowess of a tiger in rage.
It takes hold of you like
a carnivore.

Satish Verma

Blue Games

I think not,
I am. Still blindfolded
carrying the rusted shovel
on my shoulder.

The old rage
refuses to die. What is that gene
which makes you shudder?
And you lie like a beached whale!

The eccentric words
wrap you up again and embrace
the moon for taking revenge.

Very little arsenal
was left in my blue-veined
arms. Nobody wins in our
daily war.

Some hidden wounds will
surfaces at night. I
come out in dark, cruising
the lanes to find my poem.

Satish Verma

Nonaggression

Taking my baby steps
to break the bread of deeper―
thoughts and burn
the hanging roots.

The tormentor was on the
prowl. Daffodils were trying to
entice. The herons standing on
long legs go into a trance.

It is dawn. I have to meet
the redlined date of encounter. The sears
has become green. I want
to peel off the glamour of glittering stars.

In my moon walk there was
no rule. I was free to become me.
No slit lamp to penetrate my eyes
I want to go blind.

Enough this world. My black
box cannot be found.

Satish Verma

Talking To Monkshood

In search of
Nirvana. To blow out
or you want to be extinguished
after exploding the pod.

History betrays.
Its stout stings cause blues
I love the wars but
not your bad blood.

There were smothered screams,
and there were innumerable faces.
You dig out the charm―
for remaining anonymous.

Kneeling before invisible
god, the absurd icons,
you start whimpering.
Does it bring liberation from
one trap to another?

O god, we run after you
when there was no answer.

Satish Verma

Groundwaters

Quotes fail to wake on―
neat thinking. Truth
was going to a trial.

I will speak less
for ultimate, what we are
heading for. I was―
my own god.

At the start of the poem
you will find a swastika.
With curved arms, I was rowing a boat
under the moon.

A nose dive of a
shooting star still haunts me.
Where were you, when the
sky was burning?

A sacred prayer binds us both
waiting for an angel
to tie us apart. We will
watch, but go blind.

The hunger keeps the fire going.

Satish Verma

After The Scream

Purpura, I will breath in you,
the purple-pink flowers of
foxflove, when you collapse.

Clairvoyance. I can see
through you beyond the fog,
in the darkest night.

This was the primitive pain.
My pampering has given
you a taste of surrender.

Like an unborn poem
you swim on my tongue
to find the shores.

I want to lower the―
guard and dance with the roving death.

Ah, the passion flower.
You will not mind, if I
embrace your beautiful sunset.

Satish Verma

Coming Under The Wheels

Highly vitiated was
your kitchen. I assume
I was dead on your table.

The halo was fading.
Stage was set for a showdown
between the believer and the iced river.

The red carpet had been
folded. Chief guest― the black
death of sun was not coming.

There would be no
ceremony to alleviate the
aches of separation.

I may resume my
journey to deep ocean, now
since you are flying wingless broom..

The ants have found the carcass.

Satish Verma

For Whom The Moon Spills?

It was a sane apology,
for not forgetting you.
Concealing your tears,
you come to land
in my poems.

You are crazy―
trying to teach bloodless affinity
with milkweed butterflies.

I think of not anyone else,
when I am thoughtless.
You creep into my veins like
cobra love.

The scream remains trapped
between sharp teeth.
I eject the mercy of venom.

And I step down as
trooper of Magenta.

You throw me the rope to cross the river.

Satish Verma

This Winter

This truth was yours―
not mine. I was
fighting a lone battle.

Have seen―
the legends, tall claims,
of tumbling heights.

In my aloneness
I am searching myself
for the page of testimony.

Walked in pain,
to find you― O god I wanted
to believe in you.

Acceptance. The
world forgets. We talk of
paper dreams. There was no
green tree.

My hands were papyruses.
Who had drawn out
the mystery lines?

Satish Verma

Let The Sun Come Late

If you touch
slightly drunk moon,
at the sill of window, you will
alter the moon of November.

I wait for the earthquake to begin.

The carpenter had promised
to deliver the rocker tonight.

I will make friends
with dark room.

Your hands start shaking
holding a glass―
half-full.

Time to shut the doors.

Satish Verma

Body And Soul

I will keep mum.
The spirit and flesh of
some words are dead.
The werewolf had become
an executioner.

A sample pang flutters
for a piece of meaning.
So long, I will say to my stars.
No light appears to be coming
from the moon.

The veil hangs from your eyes.
I will not seek your vision.
Only the sacred thought,
you had been hiding,
from centuries.

Suddenly a freckled hand
stabs the propriety. You
hold the rock like Sisyphus.
I stumble, walk in―
and break the pure gold.

Satish Verma

Studing Yourself

Over the shoulder
you fling the pang away
and move on with―
pockets empty.

Sitting aside a―
mausoleum― listening to
the songbirds.

Why do you build a huge
crypt for your love? In summer
noon I will keep on thinking.

From thumb to thumb
I will ask of the ambience―
while building this place.

In your land now grows hate
and anger. The finish is gone,
and finesse suffers.

The nude faces still haunt me.

Satish Verma

Waves Rolling

Come November―
I will wear the fall
of varied colors.
Crunching on withered leaves
of your memories.

There was no birthday.
When the world sleeps―
I write a poem, looking
at the rubble of life.

Opinionated, the time
suck like a beast―
brazenly.

It was a stunning defeat
of the dawn, of the nonviolent
sprouts under the scorching sun
of the gaze.

Trying to assuage the
realization. I am no more me.

Satish Verma

Transgressing

As if opiated,
something impossible, I was
asking from you.

I was very angry
with me, carrying the unborn―
baby-dreams, in my arms,
and leaving you behind- flawless.

Learning against the past,
I would commit the old fixation
in my sight, to clasp
your sweaty hand for a while.

And under the April moon
you were walking,
scattering the rose petals―
on the way to a shrine.

Do prayers heal a man
who preemptively
went for the assault?

I was, what I am not.

Satish Verma

Will Not Speak

You have clean hands.
You don't hide.
I can read your signs.

The rising violence
makes the rich tombs. You
stand like a Buddha.

From the ashes, you
can build a Homer's Troy.
I will not visits the site.

The legacy of moon
suffers. The doormats become
rich. Why fake daddies?

A brain stops midway
in jungle of no words.
You want to sing.

You are scared of me
for receiving the gifts.

Satish Verma

Strange Privacy

Standing on a ledge―
counting the clouds.
Moon will never betray me.

Was it so easy to―
say goodbye, after thousand
words spent on you?

Your skin flutters like―
a flag. The big name of
stain was still beautiful.

Love had become a
truth, of a martyr. The
slaughter was a bundle of lies.

How will you undo the―
knots, of undying smile?
That was a thrill?

Go get the award of defeat.
I am still working on you.

Satish Verma

Mending The Omens

My pick,
I will keep on giving you my best,
after the fear bath.

The cosmotic pain
caves in. Hirsute limbs climb
the steep cut of fog.
I will not punish me anymore.

A nagging doubt lingers on.
How long the dark night will last?

It causes a nip
in your voice. You speak very faintly
to understand me.

The earthly smell of your bare lips.
wafts in. Was it a surrender?

You become misty.
You tremble, like a poppy in
scented wind.

Like a walking fern. I may touch you.

Satish Verma

The Random Bites

I did not want
to know you. Then why―
asking the way
to your home.

The dilemma of the
musky scent. Do you think―
it was a traditional
way of carrying the love
of unknown.

This world does not
suit me. Shame to the doormen,
how did you reach there
unannounced under the night's sounds.

The tone you will miss.
The tree has walked away.
No sin was left.

Satish Verma

Somebody Melts

I didn't know
how to do it, when I lost you.
Irretrievable.
Pain becomes personal.
Polarization abducts the protocol
and I turn into a boy,
adrift in the jungle
of biology.

Strange journey. You
come back to the post―
from where you had started.
Any suffering? No,
I want to repeat myself
to become wiser.

Cannot hit you, break
you. The mirror of pain must
remain intact. The bright
sun will shine, irrespective
of my dark clouds.

Under the sea, the fall moon
rests on the coral bed.
A piercing cry comes from nowhere.

Satish Verma

Rewriting The Script

I am borrowing―
your smile.
Hold my hand to the end
of my pain.

Collecting the stone fruits
for a ritual. I will
skin the pink-yellow shade
for your eyes.

Like fire ants― moonlight
stings. Smothering all
the embers. Some flames won't die.
The crazy affair empties a poem.

Croci will go wild. But you
want to wear a rainbow.
Your delicate arch of eyebrows
drains the tears.

Something was strange.
Breakwaters were melting away.

Satish Verma

Eyes In Sky

Listen,
take your call.
You can smell the
musk of a wandering deer.

Retrieve,
the lost soul of
the wounded age. Ravens
are increasing in number, waiting.

The grace,
disappearing fast. The
random silence, in terrible
commotion, remains unheard.

I step outside,
my body, my thoughts,
on flat earth. You touch
a poet's dilemma.

On your bones,
lies a small bundle
in white, of the future
child― stillborn.

Satish Verma

The Animal Inside

It is a
chilled embrace,
separated by distance.
Why the grief has brought us together?

The time ejects
you― from your hot niche.
You smell black. The apples rot.
Nigella. The love-in-a-mist
was gone.

The history will not
forgive me. Leaving your horse
in battlefront. Going for a
moon. O god― I was trying to
stop the bleed.

You climb again
the steps to meet the beast
of the jungle. Don't measure
the faith. I will wait for
resurrection.

Satish Verma

Giving You Space

Let's go to search
ourselves, in our bewilderment,
to defeat each other.

In our home, what
was this game of the
infinite mystiques?

I will ask the blind
moon, are you
a futureless theme? Validating sun?

A hallucination effect
ensues after choking the
missives. The reject it was.

My dream becomes
a volcanic glass, crying
for a mother's hug.

I was losing the Midas
touch. Clay was shrinking away.

Inheriting the unending wars
of human beings.

Satish Verma

Don't Throw The Pebbles

The name between the
dots, was it you,
my lost Firebird?

Listen, I cast off
my knighthood and wear
the tattered cloak to meet
my other self.

Stoke the flames. I
will burn my hands. Do not
weep for my books.

Who will write the
epitaph, when the grave
was desecrated for unknown sin?

The roaring fall
of empire― resonates
with the weeping clouds above
and bleeding earth below.

Satish Verma

No Retaliation

Rolling the years
back to you, when you are
no more my rival.
Of unbecoming―
it was a total disaster.

Over to you, my debt.
I will not claim
my mirrors. You can sleep
on the clouds. I will
collect the rains of dark rubies.

You were the swan
who would not find the lake.
Forlorn, you collect the
hate and become a rose.

The tears make the
pearls. I draw a circle.
You are not in center.

Satish Verma

Fingerprints

There was no final
truth in half-lies. When
you were hunting moon,
I was talking to myself in trance.

You were different,
but obstinate, I survived
your savagery.

Like a castaway after
fighting with my gods, I am
preparing my own tomb.

Holy wars were a great fun.
With changing tribes
and casts, you couldn't spell a mantra.

A lip-lock with death, was
blackening the tongue of sun
you will not stand on beach.

No virtue left in featherless flight.

Satish Verma

Burning Them Alive

Do you remember,
what did I ask you once?

You start melting―
the frozen, unspoken
words.

There was my prescient fear.
All you could do was―
opening the stitches.

The heart ache
remains. Eyes shut, you
assume― he shouts, rising
after the kill.

The red salt was
spread on old limbs which
would not carry the dead child.

Behind the wall
there was no sinister design.

Satish Verma

The Earthen Lamp

Spurned― the spiritual
way. Can you remain unchanged?

The undercurrent was
strong. You float up
and down.

Dragged on sledge
of life, you land directly
in my eyes.

I do it my style.
O golden moon, reaching
you in my verse.

You cannot cover
the flames, till you become
ash, genuine and pure.

The cotton rags
will remind you of purple
clouds when you were rich in rains.

Satish Verma

In Downy Tufts

Downloading the fire―
from your long tresses, I have
singed my hands.

A carcass flaunts
the broken ribs. May be
someday it rises from the ashes
like phoenix to see your meltdown.

Not now, I am not ready to die
in your blue lakes.

One day the namad comet with a long tail
was going to crash in your bay.

The thick smoke
covers the embers. You raise
your eyebrows to betray
an unimaginable fear.

Must you lean on―
the window to see the depth
of the fall?

One day I will take you away
like dandelions.


Satish Verma

Dysphonia

Silence has become
my book. I read―
from your eyes.

A wall you had
raised to unreach the
gifts of moons.

Electra complex of yore
still haunts you, walking
on blue lake.

I will sail crossing
the water barriers
scaling the heights.

There was a panic attack
igniting the stars of night
I will stand by the sky
when you rain―
in dots and lines.

Satish Verma

To My Greens

I know, what I want.
Like peeling off the left thumb―
not to leave any whorls
and lines on your heart.

Gloved hands, seek
the vocal cards, to discern
the scream. A tea cup spills
on your spotless table cloth.

Can you read the tea leaves?
I never opted to know
my future; when there was
no present. Why to brood for the golden eggs?

Toric lens. Two curves.
I see two faces. Far and near―
My eyes blur. I cannot read the doric
of your lips― the rustic dialect.

Lets exchange the contours
of yours and mine.

Satish Verma

Possessing You Again

Sometimes,
you want to listen to silence―
for repose. Requiem
will come later on.

A dark feeling
is seeping in. I ask the ladybug
when will you wipe out
your black spots?

Temptation pours like lava.
Desires are godsend.
I say to myself-shed the gems,
pride and self, to walk away.

Liberated-to meet
my stars. The return bleeds.
Belongings gone― yet
the hand is steady to write a poem.

There was that last question?
When will you come out of your veil?

Satish Verma

I Don't Need Any Approval

No, no― I will not
keep any hope.

First thing will be
a breakdown. To cleanse myself.
Then― burn the cenotaph
of black bridge.

The fringe vocabulary
repeats the axe's argument.
You can kill a star without
dust and slogans.

You were thirsty. Don't
drink large tears of
sky. No sun, no moon was
worthy of witnessing a
fall of pride.

The evil thoughts. Do
they come on their own? You
did not try to invite them?

I will not purchase the gift
of reading your mind.

Satish Verma

The Dumb Pain

Learning the script
of death, scarred by the
things of nature.

From one key to another
the transitional smile
shows the inherited strength
of ancient weep.

I adore you because I don't
love myself. The self-affliction
is to understand how a lamb feels
under the knife of a butcher.

The beast, that impales
its prey on the thorns, while
singing a melody, to become
a companion of dancing god.

There was no antithesis between fangs and stings.

Satish Verma

Do Not Be Annoyed With Me

This life has become a shrine.
I will knit the words for requiem,
to paint the unblemished body
for vultures.

Empty punctuations.
Born without mating, like aphids.
You swim like a shark.
Predators wait for hidden lovers.

Live show
of a war
without army. I wanted to know
how much truth was there
in your lies.

Where you sit today,
there was a temple erected
on the― bones of ancestors.

Like stonehenges
in circle. Do you know, how
much I love you?

Picky and neat,
why did I raise you
above my head?

Satish Verma

Time

The noiseless violence.
You don't speak to yourself.

It was cold inside―
the sleeping volcano.

The years roll like
the yogic flying.

Bearded― you are not in air
not on land.

The revolt is my acid test.
Fingers become blind.
Cannot move in the valley
of faceless questions.

Deaf and dumb.
Mannequins stand in a
row to be covered up by the
glittering awards.

Satish Verma

Who Was Queenbee?

When you stay away
a short while, I
start searching myself.

The torn pages of―
my book flutter through the
dirt track.

You leave footprints
of sacrilege, unmasking
the absolute white
of the lonely death of moon.
The night will become
sleep-deprived. I will wake up
the cherries to celebrate
the bloodbath.

How come, there was
no mercy for the killer? It
was god's message?

The holy book has become
a cleaver in the hands of faithfull.

I want to unread all my wisdom.

Satish Verma

Two Intersecting Lines

When you picked up
my pen, I wept.

Mercury rising,
the vespa gets ready
to strike.

This lifeless clay
wakes up, to bear the pain.

Do you remember,
when you bent down to―
touch the feet of a broken Buddha?

Before the ashes blew away.
you looked back
to make sure, it was a dream.

Stripped to the last color.
Van Gogh commits a sin.
He becomes alive.

This was my regime.
This was my echo.

Satish Verma

Softly

A severed hand
writes the history of
falling man.

Lynching to raise
the kill rate.
Where are we going?

Unknowable what?
The mystery of
elusive truth?

Collecting the debris
after the impact. Are
we becoming aliens?

Unnamed, a
humming bird reaches at
the anniversary of last name.

In the valley of rainbows
there was no iris.

Satish Verma

To The Destiny

Turning a monologue
into a hymn
when you take a fall.

The random truth
in flesh and bones.
Not me, not you.

It was grace
to become a fakir
without your gods.

The dead bovine
gives its skin, so that
you can walk on mud.

A shadow changes into
a Buddha, when you
refuse to die.

Taken for ungranted I will
become an argument for half-clads.

Satish Verma

Being Grateful

Trying to shake hands
with moon hanging out, to
reconstruct a memory.

Was fortunate
to have survived the night.

A theater of death was birthing.

No sighting of mercy,
I was going to punish myself.
The faithless will hatch a plot.

Why swear words
are needed to make a point?

The man-eater
was climbing up.
Your body language leaves you.
In despair of aloneness
quietism overtakes.

You have reached there,
where you had willed.
I will wait for the wasps.

Satish Verma

No Violence

Two wicks in
my earthen lamp. Love was
sprayed on my wings.

The gender quote
was inappropriate. You of
you and me of me were one.

The door shuts for
any god. The flowers
speak of religion.

The evening song
was a prayer. Name
was on the lips.

Sea salt was
piling up. You muffle
my hair to awaken me.

No acknowledgments were needed.

Satish Verma

It Was A Trauma

Body blow becomes
a brand.
Talking to trees, hitting the trunk.

You were weird
asking for the blank
book to read the unwritten
poem.

Sometimes you watch the
rains unblinkingly
in timeless stance.

Like an amputee
walking on terrace wall
for a glimpse of moon.

Someone has come
to lie down on the rock
to meet the death―
after the unseen hands painted his face black.

I would weep gently.

Satish Verma

Dream Catching

Silent dialogues,
had given me
a new lease of life.

The discussion between
two mute observers to explore,
who was animal
and who was god.

Take me once,
I am writing my life story,
standing before a crumbling
wall of weeping stones.

Tilting minarets and
rising domes, under the burning
skies engage me. I just
wanted to be human being.

Who wants to swallow
the flames? On virgin legs
you move to find the absolute truth.

A cold-blooded murder comes in view.
There was no witness.

Satish Verma

For Reincarnation

Head hunting
in ghost time. You
had tried to influence
the stars.

A whitefly bickers, that
there was no more a
prey, revealing the faults.

You were very near
and very far.

Untouched, a wandering soul
cries for the rebirth.

Receive me
as a thought,
as a blood,
as a seed.

Satish Verma

Hunting The Dreams

Place the midnight―
lamp near my bed. I want
to read my biography.

From opus of pain,
you climb the sands.
Sun, heat and glare.
Then blasts.

You were not reaching
anywhere. The mountain does not
come to you.

The lamb in your
chest raises the head and
strikes the trembling moon
in water.

Silenced. You scalded
the words. A dismal, distraught
mood. The night enters
your flesh. Eyes burn
to give light, going beyond thoughts.

Satish Verma

A Very Simple Adverbial

I didn't want it any more.
In pain footprints, I will
not replace your gift
for any blood money.

The angelic profile
had no deadly option,
only to dip into your eyes water.

The moon
fell for the thief, who
stole away the smile of purple lips.

What else was your
dream, when god made it
to your house for begging pardon?

Hunting in the clouds
a poem was searching a
beautiful title.

Why did you come in the way?

Satish Verma

Seed Money

Standing on the roof
of world and
searching god in sky.

The ground reality
appears, if you don't read
the scripts.

Only visible are faces
and hands, which twitch
and tremble, if you―

forget to celebrate the
death. Shrapnel's will remind
you, what was certain.

The obituaries are
farce. This is self-adoration
because you are alive.

Buying curtains
was cheaper than building
a house.

Satish Verma

Mirrored Echoes

Sometimes reading your―
own poems, you start
listening to your heart again.

There was no concealing.
Deep red to blue, you
will read your mind.

You peel off the pomegranates
the purple heart,
brown eyes.

Unhoped for the
acid test, you burn your hands.
Dry wood goes into flames.

The stains now
cling. You cannot wash
away the domes, split eyes, the fall.

The night waits for
the unborn sun. You write a new poem.

Satish Verma

Like A Candle In Winds

Incognito,
going to an altar
to offer apology.

I didn't want to
lose you even for once.
Undefined, more than
any relic gold.

I will wear you
not less than any moon.

You may be walking
amidst dandelions saying prayers.
I will come and read―
your trembling lips.

After luminescence,
when I want to walk out,
I will not say goodbye.

Like poppy's fragile
petals, you will chart
out the vision.

In eyes red crimson.

Satish Verma

Why Not?

Are you there, I would
say to my conscience?
A perfect faulted future
was the vision.

The ragged present
depicts the cold murder of
the dream land.

I do not want to
interfere with the past. You paint
the god as the victim.

Lithesome, pure as milk
your words flow―
from the steaming eyes.

Do we take a side
with violence and axe, and
keep on beheading the
dynasty?

Satish Verma

Will Meet Again

Arranging for a sniper
in murder land―
to buy peace.

Human voices were
forbidden.

You look absolutely
cozy in fragrant mode,
sitting eyes wide open, under
the jasmine shrub.

Raising the conscience
money for no guilt.

Now sit beside me and
listen to the pinnacle crumbling.

Naked as a moon, I don't need
clouds to cover my scars.
A watertight, flawless promise
with destiny was made of―

Incontrovertible friendship.

Satish Verma

Mixed Voices

You break me up,
with a tinge of salt―
playing with your god.

Like a new moon
talking to sky,
nixing the old bed―
leaving behind the baby steps.

Unvisited words
cause deep ripples.
You were climbing a tall autumn.

Wasn't it the malefic
effect of Mars on the trembling
legs of a pilgrim?

Having no-reservation,
curse of dismantling a pyramid
looms large.

I was not afraid
of half-lion, half-human.
Root suckers were happy.

Satish Verma