Individual Choices

It sucks. You can
divide the love. To live or not
to live. Half pain in eyes, half on lips.

Of all time, I was
looking at you. It will move or
become a stone. In the end there is no start.

The tearing of centuries
has failed to define life. For whom
to live to die again?

Satish Verma

Praise My Stones

Where do I go
to ask for death. It is very cheap.
Honey, honey - do not go to bees.

What is the pain of
price, if you have empty hands?
Life always punctures the bubble.

And kiss the sun
to punish the moon. So cool that frozen
heart, that it does not leak blood.

Satish Verma

Where is Peace?

In your sleep, I
wake to keep the fire burning
to possess my dreams.

I am ready to
walk with death. I write a poem without
paper. Your golden tears swell

As mentioned I am
crazy to call you again to die
in my hands. I am immortal.

Satish Verma

When is My Termination?

You have to suffer
to find the depth of reason. In
dark. you will find light in pores.

The stigma takes you
to a cave. God makes you hermit.
The old spots of heart shake you.

But you will wear the moon.
And give a realization of unspoken
pain. No body was behind you.

Satish Verma

My Tragedy

From which side death
comes? I sit under a bo tree
and drink hemlock.

While laughing you
will go. Did you ever see a
burning ship? I am also casabianca.

Why have I survived?
Under our skin we know the truth.
Why does a man become a willow?

Satish Verma

Sun does Not Save

This was inequality,
when moon watches you. Mt nascent
talent tries decreasing the gap.

O moon where
do you live? I do not know why your
light ends in pitch dark tonight.

How do fireflies beat the
stars? All night. I ran after the
moon, but king cobra was crossing the road.

Satish Verma

An Elegy don't Come Again

You take my tears
and give me a poem down to breaths.
Rings of flames speak

My news has come to you.
I don't understand me, arising my
pain. Love ignores the pins.

A thumb leaves a
print on your forehead, but nature
is maintained. Meaning licks the blood.

Satish Verma

An Emotional Encounter

I don't speak
don't move the hands. Don't need
any grief. Lets go.

Life is revengeful.
It takes a price, if you are not able
to understand it as a separation.

The distance deflects.
I reach the smell of dying love. At
last this was the encounter with an angel.

Satish Verma

Voices Return

A pain avoids me.
Eyes speak. Like eagles. What
I am inside, it is outside.

The ache of a long
night, waiting for the worse
to do it, the break between grief and heart.

I feel, the dust is
covering the memories. It was red,
when you open the book of love.

Satish Verma

What was My Dream?

My blood belongs
to you. How will you make the bones
of a poe? Revenge. What is that?

You come and go
like a colossus. The floor trembles.
and earth sinks. Anyone will bury you in a hole?

You are not yourself
There is a hidden fire to test the truth
of your existence. Colossi will sing.

Satish Verma

Can you Charm a Snake

My love was very
tall. The trees gossip. Move around
Is it not eerie? There was virgin death.

Immaculate. My poem
believes. No god will save you. I am
floating on a bubble.

An angel and beast.
We will not enter a mausoleum.
Lights are put off. After 5 years my sleep eds.

Satish Verma

Love Has Many Names

Ah, this was my
salvation. I am giving away a part
of my brain to you. The others are bruised.

The affair will not
survive in the patronage of care and giving
the heart. I sit and talk to my pain.

My shadow, don't
walk with me. I don't need to build
milestones. I have to move eternally.

Satish Verma

Chilled in Coexistence

Genderism. Would you
like the death of it? The body always
rules the heart. My summary increases.

This was a turbulent
writing, opening the skin of living
pain. I am not your shadow on water.

Life is very treacherous.
When you hate me, I love you, and
invite you to fight without tears.

Satish Verma

Pain of History

My love had criss-
crossed. Again my old home has
come. The stream of memory gives a wash.

Not of virtue of
age. You don't want to live in this
time. Broke by tragedy, the dream dies.

The vampire of hate
drinks the blood of an innocent, who
forgets to pay homage to the god of fire.

Satish Verma

What is Concrete Fall?

A string of tragedies,
playing with fire for the love of life's
chemistry. The past will not reach the future.

Who would break if
I drink hemlock? How lies conceal
the truth of killing your history?

I will call my first
lover's spirit. Good or bad, do you think
myth will develop ambiguity?

Satish Verma

My Garden, My Earth

I am born every day
and die every night. Are you the same god?
Towards me, you are free to look.

Your lovely eyes burn
before going to meet on pyre.
I have been out of light, or heavy moon.

No you are not mine. Think.
Because I have no body, no pain.
The sky was my home. No doors, no windows.

Satish Verma

In Aloneness you are a Prince

You love to die
again. Earnestly the language
kills. What is that which never dies?

Memory has no harbor.
There is no chance to become
speechless. Life in power dies.

A poet talks differently
like an elixir. But ultimately a poem
becomes the god of textology.

Satish Verma

I Make up My Mind

You are sharp like
Akhmatova. But she sits in the
corner of a dark home and is weeping.

Albert Camus was wise
to send the Sisiphus from underground
to lift the heavy rock to mountain and fall.

The wall of Sartre
still helps you for self - deception
gives a taste of horror.

Satish Verma

Sculptor wants to Break Sculpture

Take care of your hurts.
You save yourself by drowning
others, Frogs were jumping.

Why does malignancy come
divorcing love. What is the universal
happiness of pain? My philosophy remains mum.

The egg rolls down.
Sun rocks the cabbages. Roses laugh,
weep. A solitude says I am.

Satish Verma

The Golden Hero

We are making fools
of each other. Do we have earthly
love? Somebody is watching us?

Are we in asylums?
Do you think God is a genius?
Do you overhear the pain of the sea?

My voice turns back
I hear my ghost to kill, to kill the
stigma of going down, opening your eyes.

Satish Verma

Dwarfing Wheels

My path, where
do I go? Do not like the milestones.
Endlessly I move not to find my destiny.

Buddha comes again
sleeping. I get my thoughts in drowsing
words. They come one by one like swallows.

Will I ever get the truth
at the end of the circle? Where the horizon
finishes? Are you ready to changes your body?

Satish Verma

Why Death Calls Again

No more pain is needed
to sharpen my pen. No ravens
want to collect without asking.

Life makes the glacier
dirty. My right thumb opens the
door of a galaxy of tears.

A dream, a home
walks out. The history will be revived.
I am reading the blind books.

Satish Verma

Knives Still Glitter

What happened?
In the loud screams. I was searching
death. Part of life sorrow must come.

You run after the
success sitting along the demised
souls. Departure will decide, how to go.

Watercolor comes down
without eyes. You want to shut the
windows of happiness. I am drinking hemlock.

Satish Verma

Trying to Become Human

I drop things in
upsight mind. The snake comes back.
The kiss sticks to the flame.

My journey is the longest.
You move through my heart for
trinity. The sea throws you on the bank.

Being or not being,
why not carry the reality
of broken questions? I am the answer.

Satish Verma

Essence of Agony

Petrified, as if
I am angry with everyone. Nobody
will speak the truth.

Your patience-you
will die with music only. A thinker
will always be a lover.

I was engaged with
dust and stars reading the unwritten
destiny of individuals when the language dies.

Satish Verma

I am Afraid

What is your religion?
I am the poem. There was a big
laugh. It was a question of only heart.

Again loneliness. I
search a good sentence to become
my long friend. Clearly it is my fault.

What is dharma of
dust. One day it will make you ash.
Ultimately it mixes with earth.

Satish Verma

Why A Suicide?

Give me your heart,
as an eternal inferno. Life has been
very brute. Do not give me what I had.

A love, a time, I
cannot claim the heads. I will not
sleep with your knife.

What was to blame
for the dark moon becoming very hot?
The cadaver sits up to reply.

Satish Verma

The Muse Blinks

A curse. Unsinkable.
Like Sisyphus. Dementia.
You forget your name.

You sit alone with
brain. World cheats.
The poet turns yellow.

Sylvia Plath is still
sleeping. Honestly. The
love has many blues. No bones.

Satish Verma