A Lone Warrior
You have put up the price on your shirt.
I have started seeing the return
of the death instinct. The curtain falls
on profile of joy, of giving away.
A solid swelling of clotted ego
of antimatter shows frugality
in spending of laughter. It was
a total consumption of beautiful lips.
That was that, of hollowness of globes
and golden peacocks. A seed of mildew
implants a kiss on the nakedness of greed.
How far the want will go in dark
for the scent of transgression?
Today I am going to meet a blind angel.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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What Asylum!
Come and meet me in chamber of death
where the tempest comes every night.
I start disrobing the anger
to find the eye of the moon.
Where do I get that ink that
writes an unwritten poem on water
of eyes when the ship was
burning after a rare landing.
Come and meet me in sleep of an infant.
It was time to start a dialogue
with golden death sitting on the
greed of man. The lips were extracting
the other honey from frozen moon.
Come and meet me in merciless sun.
poem by Satish Verma
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Vaporization
Death denial of candlelit vigil for a fallen harbor
brought the climate change for a flag which flew
at half-staff. The noose was tightening around the
open-hearted blossoms. A dead sea has started
selling its salt to land sharks.
These days I am becoming introvert. The needles
have become blind, cannot stitch the god given
sores, the private tears of a soldier wounded
at home by the hands of a friend. Missed abortion
of a truth.
I thought of lies inside her lips, my solid
mate who set my skin blue after I drank her
proffered drink of hemlock. I stripped to the
bones for a glow of death which comes when
you give away your life for a pink sun.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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A Green Pride Has No Ambition Now
Walk with me, till moon rises
on the griefs of the dark,
and the tongue tastes the pain of centuries.
On the erected dome
when the golden leaves start a flame
which throws up an image of a prophet.
My nightingale was giving a call
of a very sad tune, on the death of peacocks -
but for the poisoned feed, they were dancing.
A green pride has no ambition now,
roses were wilting.
Fever was rising in the roots.
Do not give it to me, my award.
Could I have shut up like a fame
when my house was being ransacked?
poem by Satish Verma
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Collateral
When the curtain falls, the puzzled instinct
inherits the confusion of clouds. The beleaguered
moon goes into a rage. Hungry vultures start
a wait for the fall of a titan, stimulating the sun
to exhibit the trove of the golden rings. Go
blackberries, with bloody roses into the dawn.
Whole night our bones had gone crazy. Flickering
like stars on the lake of speechless body.
All his life he was searching for the windows
to let in the fire for burning up the boots.
poem by Satish Verma
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Leviathans
You had dug in deep
to undo the garden.
Civil war started
between the yawning wounds.
Whose side was time:
in burning well of oil?
The autocracy will bleed
the earth till death.
An island in the canal
holds the ship of man.
For whom flows the river
in smouldering woods of hate?
Each matter, antimatter,
circles around the world,
trembles under the eyelids
and asks for a name.
poem by Satish Verma
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Scent Will Be Buried
This way it was
this way it happened
I could not run along the river.
Your face floats
like a skylamp.
Halfway rainbow was broken.
How did it happen?
I became transgenic
by the kiss of death.
This was my victory
I surrendered the cushion.
You sleep in my arms.
Again I will wander
in the graveyard
where my angel was sleeping.
This is my last letter
in the month November
Now the scent will be buried in snow.
poem by Satish Verma
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Different Shades
Do you envision a creeping fear
climbing the minaret
to reach the moon?
A debate has started
between believers and non-believers.
Why not he who lives
in eternal emptiness climbs down
and settles the dispute of hymns
in the scortching heat of words.
I just want you to read
the script and don’t say, a sky
has wept
dropp by dropp on the nakedness
of human beings
who could not cover their shadows.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Immortality
A very disconnecting creek where bodies
were found, presents a pictorial death in night,
which must be challenged, I say. Then I think without
thoughts; summer was ending and a pandemic
was at the door. The art of debating the image
sears the mind. Must act, think later: the gold
coins have been thrown in the market, the
frozen lens behind the slit eyes watch the cargo
unloading: the explosions come in spate. What
was it – greed or fear? We are running blindly,
the brides, the boys, the men. Of modern governance
a metaphysical meditation.
The strings pulled behind the curtain, game
starts. Award is gifted. The name dies.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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My Demonic Angel{The Death Angel}
This kind man is an angel
intent on giving me life
even though he hides
In the guise of a demon.
This kind man is an angel
A beautiful angel that I love
He has many sides
But I am and I know
That I am the only one to see.
This angel is mine
This angel has fallen
And I cry because
I couldn't do what
His wings should have.
My beauty cried and
I showed him the dark
That was now him
And in that dark
I showed him my light
Showed him my light
And together we discovered
The fight that is in him
The beautiful balance
The confusing equilibrium
The angel was a true demon
The lovely danger
I stare at his chest fully scarred
and his wings white to black
Life to Death
Just like him
Once an angel of Life
He is an angel of Death
And as I feel his arms around me
I know I am safe from Death.
poem by Viktoria Lilith
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For The Clotting
seething yet silent in land of outrage:
strictures of life,
my eyes will not see the setting sun;
this was the blind spot
before the battle starts
and spine turns into ramrod in hot sun –
to speak the version of domestic grief
without lips because the death does not come alone,
she has a company
of corpses swelling the earth but she also
plays piano with two fingers only
pouring out milk and venom
for a long journey, we start unprepared
I will not fall asleep
poem by Satish Verma
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Coming Out Of Skin
Banded I walk
on the dirt road,
when discreetly, your shadow falls behind me.
Melting the distance
a voice loses the sharp birthmark,
becomes perfectly an onlooker.
Where I was going?
Greed was splitting the fat.
An owl creaks.
I pick up some daisies to walk into a crypt.
New mind was some steps away.
Coming out of skin
nakedness, brings out the tears.
We have stopped speaking. Only whispers
are parting the blackness.
poem by Satish Verma
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Virulence
scape without a name
scepter of a colossus
merge in a yellow boom
between hunch and a knife,
to keep shut the glassy lips
from red stares
a secret of an anonym
scripting sunset
the stacked neurotransmission
of millions of texts
with quietus
not to return back without the foe’s skull
a hollowness reverberates
while indifference talks
of moon’s lair
nor a dwindling shoulder –
and the tigers have disappeared
from sanctury
poem by Satish Verma
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Santhara
When honeycomb started dripping,
he stopped eating and climbed a sand dune
for the last journey.Pall-bearers were ready
for blunt futurism ceding to a deliberate defeat.
Hunger was his turbulent empire, resting
his hands on the shoulders of rocked time
for the purification of greed and spurting desires.
His only mechanical aid was his pen.
Into the half century of geckoes getting rid
of tails when a monkey was found in the stomach
of a croc.Toons themselves spread out mocking
the winter of hexagonal windows. Grey birds
started melting on the burnt-out grasses.
Lions walked on identical twins of nudes.
A wet kiss of death ensured the beautiful
ceasation. Yellow roses opened the frigid body.
* A soulful ritual of Jainism when a person seeks death voluntarily and stops
eating and drinking.
poem by Satish Verma
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Unfreezing
Freezing was not required
for the casket. It only contained
a shroud.
The schism had scored a
victory. Bystanders will find
a dark matter
between the words. The god was
very lonely today. The black wounds
start crying.
A white cloud climbs the eagle’s
span. A golden moon walks like
a big tear.
A surge of greed will take over
the yellow throne. Someone puts
it, a spiritual horror.
poem by Satish Verma
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Earth's Intelligence
Do not open this dirt file of
the suspended time. It reverberates
in me while standing
on the edge of a precipice.
Are you hungry of a desert
light in dark. The birds are
going to follow the sun carrying
the moon on their wings.
A dream creater stands on
a golden rock to retrieve
the archaic relic of a Desinovan
who hit the grave without shoes.
The greed ultimately takes over
the silent death.
poem by Satish Verma
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Gyrations
I am lifting
your blood-soaked shirt
giving the latitude to planet
which broke the law.
The elite
wants to know, why you were
still here, when steam was rising
in golden night?
An extended
grief overtakes the wind
in the flute. You become a free man
walking naked.
The gyres
were calibrating the magi.
An empty niche waits for a Buddha
to take the re-birth.
poem by Satish Verma
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Dig The Floor Of The Moon
A fear stalks me on the road.
Sun was very aloof and cold.
Cannot stop the decline,
give me prayers of your lips.
You talk of dark children dying
when I was losing consciousness.
Will not question the ink of death
or silence of night.
The random greed of man walks
in golden ruins without listening.
I am counting my years wasted
in pursuit of crazy dreams of climbing a watchtower.
Hunger had become a great teacher.
Pain becomes a face. Limbs and shadows
seek justice after rape and murder.
Something seeps in me. Wounds bleeding
on my hands, I dig the floor of the moon
where God was sleeping.
poem by Satish Verma
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Divinity Without
Your fangs open like lips.
I am ready for the kiss of death
at a war zone, where I was adrift
holding the flame, moments
stabbed by hot bullets.
Black and white words break the
embrace, I cannot study the bandona now.
Eyes winged, were sailing to distant
lands of smugness, a darkening calm
taking over the poems.
The pungent stink hurts, I swim
without water on dry riverbed, becoming
target for kalashnikov, the courtyard
filled by encroaching blood,
dominion of silent sobs.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Stoning Dark
What was the ethics of homefires
when homeostasis had gone awry?
There were no concrete truths.
I will not wear the lies instead
like fly ash on my bloodied shirt.
The old habits die hard;
the beds of flesh and bones, carry the
strange innocent meanings of heavy
eyelids which could not beat the silk
of green eyes of a sun.
A miracle was needed to undo the
thighs of mermaid who went to sleep on the
rocks of jealousy. The sky-blue flames
rise again from the navel of infidel love
who had inherited the golden moon.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Lost My Name
Did you taste the ejecta
after a sacred ritual of exploding
a makeshift bomb in a crowded market?
I am worried.
I am becoming death, curling backward.
The wood spirits have started a fire dance.
The healing, yes, it comes from the blood
of steel, they claim, the blackness of a hole
has a purity.
Hunger starts a riot of lewdness in the
ribs of an empire. A skull on the hill
betrays a slaughter of young boys.
The makers of AK-47 were repenting,
for the brutal aura. I have started
telling lies.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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