TRAILING WAR

In search of peace
the free hand was inflicting casualities.
The kids were buried like insects in a rubble.

Step by step in speculation
the streets were livid with rustic murals
of splintered blood on walls.

The foxgloves had lobbed rockets
on tall heads. Beleaguered
eyes nailed to fire.

I am watching you my art,
to witness the agony of man.
Burn, burn my cupped hands with snatched words.

Satish Verma

FALTERING TONGUE

He did not want anything
after the sex and death of a protagonist.
Rebuffed and sliced through the body,
the onus was left on toxic mix.

He died in deprivation, in intensity
of hunger and fluidity of thirst.
The quartet of grenades stretched too far
the indemnity of shell shocked apostles.

A clan lost the sense of hearing.
A mystic odyssey of massacre, raising
the doubt of gifts in heaven. The starchy
statements and commands scattering.

Satish Verma

THE JUNGLE RULES

Wrigglers dripped again
from hidden heights. The red river changed
its course furiously. The wave climbers
abseiled from a lethal boat

to wipe out the beach memory. Timeline
sneaked to put the blood signature
of a cult on the glass shards.

A biosynthesis starts for tadpoles
destroying the infrastructure of the species.
Yolk sacs were emply. New borns
were turning into snakes.

Enemy swept across the land. Deers
were being released for the panthers.
The boundary was only meant for the victims.
The metamorphosis was complete.

Satish Verma

TRIGGER POINT

A missile in the home,
what they have done?
You are on flames.

A red smoke rises
from bottomless hole.
Memory slumps.

A glow in pain washed
cells, calls the mirror.
Instead, grave diggers arrive.

This was the manufactured truth
of the eternal kiss
of death. I stretch my arms

to feel the terror.
The walls start crying.
There was no roof.

Satish Verma

JEALOUS BLOOD

Standing on a hump,
a chilled remorselessness
of a shadow trauma climbs out of a sealed
grotto of infinity

like a vas deferens, spilling fiddled lies.
You grope for your identity in griping
acceptance. From the umbilical cord
the pink flesh brandishes a monster.

You forget the vowels in a solo monologue
in a tormented accent, muffled
in bleeding throat. Take my ears
for cosmetic therapy, which killed my hearing.

Between blindness and tidy rocks
I am walking discreetly to count the
digs of mysterious armless truths:
disappeared in the pages of history.

Satish Verma

THE BRIGHTENED FIRE

Tonight sleep was not coming to me.
Tears had washed the splinters out of the bruised eyes.
It was becoming extremely hard to pulversize
the legacy, the tendrils of violence.
Wrapped in white shrouds the bodies were laid out
on the grass. The pearly sunlight was ready
to give anything for a name.

The pitted legs, the shattered bones,
black moles of the final darkness. Descending
on the battle ground, parched throats
licking up the dew from the mute bodies of ancestors.
I would eat death, shapeless, as blunt
questions, as medallions. Millions of years will be ready
to make out the fossils of time machines.

Are not the pinnacles of snow shining on the
mountains of silent hate? You keep the windows
open, so that the blasts does not shatter the glass.
When this calamity will end? The new born
babies are thrown out on heaps of garbage, bloody
rags of unhinged bloughs. A hunch-backed
god was tottering on the broken planks.

Satish Verma

DROOPING

For a desolatory trident
I was feeding my anger.
I could not do it, sell
myself for punitive lenses of my calculus.

A nymphalid arsenal.
The war was still going on
to strike in deep poctets, demolishing
nascent hope. Future will

ponder at the mascots. The grief
of rags and riches will continue
listening to eternal conflicts.
The wounds will develop whiskers.

Not for the opulent pain in the body:
we were crying for the glory of the man
which was disappearing fast,
under the whirling snow of broken stars.

Satish Verma