Salt And Pepper

Living on the fringes of
faith, you become epiphanous.
A halo chases you, its stomach
coming out, like a starfish
to engulf you.

Small winnings, I was
no prophet, as I knew
myself, still unsure, still faltering.
I become a gymnosophist,
managing my destiny.

A death ago, I was
young, walking down the lane
of unlearning. Coming of
pain has made all the difference.
An old man in the sea of emotions.

Satish Verma

Empty Hands

Landed into a pi I―
am still struggling to
sort out, what did I lose
in vocabulary.

It was a functional deficit
of a low profile. I
have come to speak for
the fallen year.

The new dawn brings the
red poppies. You can squeeze
the milky sap from the
crown.Each moonrise―

will give you heavy dreams
laden with anxiety and despair.
Somewhere you fight the
inequality of inheritance.

The words always betray
when you stand tall.

Satish Verma

Au Revoir

Skin deep, the moon
goes with me,
to bid goodbye to old year.

I have moved nearer
to the door knob,
of the unopened crypt.
The stale air leaks from the crumbling door.

The unfinished books
are under the frost. I cannot
shovel the walk. A grainy
picture emerges, of despair.

Going to dig up the ruins
to find the script.
Ink spills on the paper,
words depart.

Satish Verma

Once Again

I hear again your voice
after injury pause.

An apologia.
It is still kempt,
the mist scented, milk bath
by moon, in dark.

In legendary night, everything was legitimate.
The licit kiss of death too.

One by one the faces
were missing. The snake bites,
of love.

The embroidered memories are
hanged to dry up in rain.

The eyes like moths, flicker around
the dark candle of another childhood.

Satish Verma

Lynx-Eyed

The long tentacles return
to gather you,
in clawless loops.

What do you see in the godless
domain of winged
colts?

The colossus had
glaring flaws. Binary
curse falls like a barrel-bomb.

I remained oblivious
of the uncorrupted dawn,
rising from the ruins of fallen saints.

I am standing on the
grey rock, where black and
white meet. Time becomes a moment.

Satish Verma

Nobody Can Say

Wearing raw beef,
speaking Buddha,
it was real time in dystopia.

I was wondering,
how to cheat life.
Crypts were empty.

Think, keep quite,
I would say, watching
the river go by.

The feral look, will
teach you suffer. There
was no ending.

Half-bird, half-mount―
You carry the burden
of undoing nemesis.

Satish Verma

Reviving The Schism

A mentalist does not feel
secure, when you start
jaywalking in the empty street.

What was the need to
rescue a predator, when
the river was dry?

The ducks were crossing
the road. Stay put, till
the kids want to make a halt.

It was a renaissance
connection, when a clan is
sentenced to speak softly.

Satish Verma