Demanding Answers After The Chemical Attacks In Damascus

I was not afraid of the clock, ticking,
dividing your attention. A guarded
withdrawl of the statement, had
brought a comic relief to the distraught
vicitims.

Caving on guns, the
mustard cloud could wipe out
the entire generation.

The tender bodies
wrapped up in white cloaks,
ready to be sent back
to mother's womb: earth.

Why a sun wanted to
pass out gingerly?


Satish Verma

Unhurting

Unshackled, the pallor moon
was lying still, in a white―
shroud of clouds, only face
visible, staring―
down languidly.

I have come afar,
from the whispering dark,
to annul my existence.

Your hands tremble,
carrying your name. The
magic of unsaid―
poems, working.

Life had been a Medusa.
The blues, the reds, the
greens, overbearing.

Scores will be settled
when moon,
goes down.

Satish Verma

Ancient Echoes

Art of dying
comes, after
you listen to the siren song.

The intention
was to kill yourself,
non-violently, when
moon was hiding.

Man was changing the skyline. You can
redraw the landscape without hurting the grass.

Don't offer to sacrifice
the goat on the rock,
where the shipwrecks took place.

You burn that, what you
would not eat. The
assassination charges were true.

Satish Verma

Stopping The Wheels

It was a free fall.
A plot seems to thicken.
I would never know.

Perhaps I will not explain,
how the test tube baby
slapped the sky.

The fun of unknowing
the secret of
a cold-blooded murder.

Suddenly the streetlamp
goes off. Night cracks
open to release the animal.

How a godman
becomes a werewolf?
The shadows are hovering.

Satish Verma

Rehabilitation

Trying to bring the change
with bleeding silver.

As it is/was, this world.
You may not agree to it.

The release of tension
from the cupped eyes? Will not
alter the secret deal.

There at the hemline,
bodies were scattered, slain
after the trespass.

The royal coin, flexes
its muscle. It will talk
through the muzzles.

Poorest of poor will become free.

Satish Verma

Endless Yearning

The thirst will know,
the river was there.
To lie on the grass was ultimate.

It was not the green,
it was not the blue,
but desire had the keyhole to look
at the fine sands,
where you stand to find the
elixir of life.

A crackling of joint, awakens
you. You will not wait
for the rains to come and overwhelm
the permeable umbrella.

A fluttering butterfly
knows, how to become floppy
and dangle like a dead leaf.

The stream was
drinking its own water.

Satish Verma

Of Innocence And Black Magic

The evil city? You
become the smallest
light.

The lamb did not save
the godman. I was
praying loudly.

It was falling apart.
The concept, the belief
the palace.

Years roll by. Until
the priest was shot down
on the street.

You marvel at the
turning of the mountain.
How do you climb down the salt?

Satish Verma