Synopsis

Valentine?
What do you want
to read?

Between sex and
surrogacy?

No monikers.
Pure frankenstein!

O, naïve culpabilibity,
do not sleep on my arm.

Unmoving, the suffix
disappears.
I am still holding
the question mark.

Satish Verma

Abstract Thoughts

Escaped soul
was pronounced dead, after
becoming rich. You start
peeling of the skin of neo-poverty.

Hunger equates you with god.
It hurts your tarnished honesty. The
image of half-man, half-tiger.
The veneer coming off very soon.

The pepper spray was well
planned for steady hands to
make you spring-blind. Your pockets are
full of fireflies.

The poetry effect was negligible,
when you start praying for snowstorm.

Satish Verma

Ascending Paresis

This was the art of killing.
From the dizzying
heights you throw the
vesicants.

Now you need the gliomas
to finish the job.

At wrong time, I was
raising the bizarre questions.
Why the wealth brings-
the change of life?

A wandering pain
caves in, where the moon
looks sick in its paleness.

The massive lies, deep
in dirty tricks after the traffic
of voices.In blank space
I plant my poem.

Satish Verma

Not On Crutches

Not impassible.
Buried in snow, I
will bring back my moon.

There was no divination.
I still stand on my legs.

I will not talk about shadows
or any haloes. An urge to find
unknown. Touching the feet?
No I don't submit to body.

No rewards. No citation.
I will walk alone in the jungle
of prying eyes, in my
visible bones.

The flame-test. The truthless
blames, and a naked god.
I have come faraway from my childhood.

Satish Verma

A Grave Question

The bio sheet remains
incomplete.
I am leaving the papers blank.

Singed, as the white coal:
the ash, smudged on eye brows.
I have come to rekindle
the dying flames.

The anger was mine,
scolding the scarf in winter storm,
what was the need to spread the
white sheet?

Like you will not write, an―
apology for kissing a cobra tongue.
It was ok to become a fool?

Where a tear sits on
the edge to fall in silence
for not undoing the hawthorn?

Satish Verma

Armless Salutation

Going within to feel
the war moves.The pagan
gods have come out
on parole.

Was it an esoteric event
to propitiate a violative
divinity? From crude to soft
affirmative nod, I am going to-
see the game of chairs.

Between sin and virtue,
wrong and right, nonage
always jumps into.Too proud to accept
the defeat.First the annihilation
and then the fathering.

This genesis had no design
no vision.A miraculous journey
downhill.The dawn is still
faraway.Nightlong agony
will continue.

Unclenched I hold the pen
to say nothing.

Satish Verma

The Water In Boat

Understanding the poverty
of the earth, the pain,
of the primal tribe,
invoking the god of sky.

In my victory, I was stabbed.
I will go and meet the sea.

You are there, O hunger
of home and peace, mute
as a stone, baked in
sun, waiting for the ripples.

I will burry the blackberries
in dreams, the lips will
seek the silence of a stroke,
when moon walks in unannounced.

Satish Verma