Unforgetting

Like swapping your face for 
a tormentor. Stop the rains. 
I am going home, after 
a hard choice of peace 

in sunlight. Give me back my 
memory. I want to take a 
flight. Scanning the midnight 
sun on blue lake. 

Stairs are climbing on me. 
Stay with me. I am falling 
on your purple doves 
eating blood oranges. 

I am sad inside the stitched 
eye.clouds are breaking the 
light. I will not come 
for therapy from lies.

Satish Verma

DARKNESS AT NOON

Tousling the opulence was 
not modesty. 
Who will adore the clan? 

I am not yet ‘me’, 
the refuge of elevated moon. 
The heat and dust of nascent money 

was burning like a loud prayer 
in dark sun. Perfection tends 
to terrify the stings. 

A mogul of arts outlines the 
script of drowning a desert storm, 
when two flames went to bed. 

Do not pick up the nails for 
the coffin of a martyr. 
They are going to make a dirty bomb.

Satish Verma

Bare Tongue

It was 
a killing line. 
Walking on razor wire, 
when toes would not leave the sky 
and heels will not touch the ground. 

Myths and legends 
were becoming a witchcraft. 
Are you ready to eschew the classical script 
and write a new fable, about 
a life size robot, 

who will speak for millions 
and put his signature on the wall 
of a dying moon for the sake of blue clouds? 
The caldron is empty. No body was 
throwing any baby in it. 

Stay still. 
The bold instincts will come back with vengeance.

Satish Verma

Doom’s Day

The rapture 
was on prowl 
to get the believers. 

You knew 
what you should not have known 
about the baby blue. 

Aphasia, 
experiences an impulsive 
violence, beyond the dead. 

Bionic hands 
to capture the moment of 
swapping uremia with swastika. 

A lake 
ravishes the moon. 
No body will sleep tonight. 

Who was behind 
the divination? 
Allies were born enemies.

Satish Verma

THE WARS

It is. 
An explosive denial 
of an infinite firmness 
of round orbs. 

Why were you taking 
off your shirt 
to show the scars? 
it stirs a sequestered allegation. 

The glare was on my days 
and your nights. 
The suicide bomber was 
a kid, you know. 

When a poem leaves you, 
how far would you go to kill 
a blue jay 
for the golden cage?

Satish Verma

CROSSING THE DEAF

A siege had an agenda 
for a suicide match. 
Treat him with dignity. 

A proxy face of a serial 
adultery. The collateral damage 
will not be undone. 

The aggressor denies the scrutiny. 
You will find some upheaved 
boats in his hideout. 

There cannot be any deniability 
for a long legged journey 
towards the hot coals. 

The battle for the lost glory 
has begun between two moons. 
one in sky, other in uprising.

Satish Verma

Drift Wood

This politics of poverty 
erupts again, 
entrapped in arcane script. 
A code of words will find 
the fault lines. 

Coerced to wait in a 
black book, you start forgetting 
the rules of game. It hits you 
when you were writing 
a poem. 

At the end of the arguments 
a lynx eyed moon walks 
on the lake of tears, constructing 
a dam of bread, for 
a broken promise.

Satish Verma