Abdication
It was a domestic pain,
when we came apart in boots and helmets.
Taking the shine away, moon gave up the fight
on lake, against the clouds, a sniper
intuitingly, started a homicidal blasting
to start the rains.
An ode to sepia needs scrutiny;
cuttlefish had a second thought. No faith
permits the slaughter of septa. Walls were squinting
to see better. A square root will find the squall,
between the breaths. Beyond arousal of oceans
a shaken, surreal, blast from a craven rifle.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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A Cracked Visit
The other sex was stapled,
I started unfolding the secret:
what was static and who was silent.
I searched, therefore I was lost
before the end of journey.
The stench of grafting was taking over.
The incendiary recce was carried out
to shut out the voice of the street
in the melting snow.
Lake will find the woods for disquieting
sleep of muse under the blue-lipped moon,
and I will face my night.
Satish Verma
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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Small Talk
Surge in hidden chastity
enters the torch but the enemy
was within.
Brown clouds over the black carbon,
glaciers were melting;
the assault rifle stands alone in snow.
This was not ignorance,
a purposeful denial of white truce
in the jungle of lizards.
I would go where nobody wants
to tread in night. The hanging years
of marriage gone wrong.
O my God, tiger at the door,
demanding a new babe every moon.
The flesh will extract its own blood.
Satish Verma
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Exporting
That kind of kiss and runoff.
Why don’t you concede to the fraud?
It was a haunted dilemma,
kidnapping of a verdict.
Dinosaurs were wiped out
by a clean sweep of a meteorite
long back, millions of years. Now,
present ones, tiny reptiles
still survivng in water, air and
earth by active faults.
The great Indian Bustard was again
sighted in a poor man’s field.
Are you a moon friendly?
I am dispossessing all my domestic clouds.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Gold-tipped
At that time
I was thinking something else
when you gave me a half-kiss,
my winter naked moon.
A souvenir left by sun
for the sake of night. I remembered
pink roses
unpetaling green thighs-
for quest of shelter in civil war
of reminiscences.Merciful was the landslide
which buried the whispers of
dead dreams.
Unpretending, unleaping, the ocean
sucks the grief of clouds. The
rains have started a dance
for the suicidal gods.
poem by Satish Verma
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Into The Lair
Would not wear
the seasoned face.
Eye for eye
blasting the truth.
The path becomes the tunnel.
Unending,
in pain of speech
at the expense of ethics.
Under the fingernails
they start interbreeding
the ideas, crimnalizing the
upright past.
A vultured darkness descends
on the raped bed.
The great seduction of moon
had triumphed.
poem by Satish Verma
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Helmeted Version
Will the shouts work
on blood seeds in climate of conflicts?
Winter was shrinking.
Give me a hand.
I am going to invite clouds softly.
Let the drumming start.
War has broken out
on many fronts
for a god, for the grains
and for the golden gates.
Where shall we plant
the sacred tulsi?
You need a holy soil for that.
The transliteration of a famished lake
throws a foul smell.
Will you be able to walk
on the ice again?
Outside the climate of change?
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Toxic Memory
They were teaching how to butcher
the lamb
and suspend the bines with
drooping hops.
I climbed out of my ashes towards
a marinated moon turned blue in consternation.
Warts and all, here we were ready
to pick up the lost threads to start
a conversation about the hurricane making
landfall, in near future.
After the fall, graffiti appeared on
the clouds, spurting sperms
on the stars.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Of The Next Zen
When moon was found on water
sky came down with unclenched fist,
too proud to accept the defeat.
Footprints of a giant will not leave
the broken landscape, of the virgin garden
where roses died in a row in storm.
There were no absolutes in good and bad
I have started talking to trees to shed
their blooms, winter was coming in blue eyes.
My ship was able to dodge the icebergs
wringing the waves from your face;
lake heaved a sigh of relief in glided death.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Moods
coming out of the frame,
in evening without a sun, unflinchingly,
he said, he was talking to his father
daily, in his mind, who was in grave,
(when he was on ventilator)
about a lesson of deception, about the things
evolved in endogamy,
cherubic, it seems, but there was water on the moon too,
in solitude, on gravel, under the rocks;
he kept on washing his hands for hours,
to remove the dirt and stigma, gathered on shaking
the lamps around the dark and then he started
collecting the flowers from the embroidery
of clouds
do not cry in the afternoon
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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The Candle Burns
Not a single word added today
to my tinsel book. The brown eyes
were searching my smile.
You want to close the happening
of first moon and the fig.
My roses start a new dialect,
waiting on the clouds, almost
in rains, spreading the wetting
agent between the eyes.
The distance was the most crucial
thing, that does not end;
endlessly stretching.
poem by Satish Verma
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Beauty
In the dust storm
a discarded moon
sat in my lap.
Then internal rhythm
crashed.
Amorphic I would not find the music
of words translated into a kiss.
Gold started weeping
in my hands.
The clouds will rest
after committing a sin,
of letting out the sun.
poem by Satish Verma
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A Soul Dies
Sky overcast, moon was sad.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Who killed the bird in morning rain?
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A hidden slaughterman did not die.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
The good old name now spells the doom.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
I will call you in pitch-dark night.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Ascending gods have ruined my life.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A child was stolen from a mother’s bed.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
poem by Satish Verma
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Chronic Wait
When a full moon was taking a bath
by the serene lake, you moved about in
abandoned identity, your sides flaring up.
A slate gray nubion cloud was tossed
around by a tall tree. Hotstepping you despaired
to prevent a stillbirth of a genre
in genocide of anonymous flora viberating
in cyberscape of ominus sentences. The
exhibitionist was taking over the podium. Petit mal
brings the heels down of worshippers anointing
a pair of sandals. Someone goes a non-linear
fashion, denies the holocaust and howling.
Hospice was needed for non-believers in any
case. A continuum of exurbs intercedes in the
slaughter of bovine names.
poem by Satish Verma
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Tornado Tornado
The buff flaunts his elements
in a dissenting voice.
Don’t go into the lake.
There were no survivors.
Stop kissing the moon
all night. Clouds were moving
away for the coronation
of the sun.
The windowpane was broken.
Somebody has jumped into
the audience for a
golden drink.
It was my abstract thought
to donate my grief to
unrelenting god who was always
sending a twister with daffodils.
poem by Satish Verma
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The Presence
The hawk was landing.
Squinting at the urgent need
of slaughter and hope –
among the frightened hunger
of truth, of running feet
in the tall grass.
A world apart in
seeking the reality of
dying for earthly love.
I was not sure of
the manifesto of bricks and
stones falling on evergreen kisses.
poem by Satish Verma
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Commerce
The snarled monogamy
needs a firework.
A solitary moon walks on a lake
nonchalantly.
The marriage
between the planet and moon
was falling apart.
In amphora lies the secret
of a jeweled crown. Cynical
berries were searching
a quartz to find the truth of the bush
where the colors were mixed.
There is no further news of
half-crazy stars who became
pretty girls to start trading
their shines.
poem by Satish Verma
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Roots
It was a beautiful day
after the storm.
Fever was rising in branches.
Severed moons on road
started listening to explosive-laden
snow.
I went for the jugular.
Why poisoned goats were set free
for the cougars?
Existence was a positive sum,
not the square root of negative numbers.
One poppy head went for the primary.
A hybrid of reality and dreams
I was trying to find my ancestral home
in the epics of wars.
When a day ends, I open the fires
for the night. Time has come
to become blind.
poem by Satish Verma
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My Poems Wept
I had to let them stay.
My anguish & anxiety.
Denuding me, filling me with hymns of pain.
The blank days drifted in slow motion.
I tried to sing,
imitating the cuckoo on the tree,
to shake off the clouds from the eyes.
Everyday the pain was new,
dreams were old
in the eternal churning.
Grizzled clouds hanged on trees
for witnessing the chaining of desires.
Empty words went into seizures,
clogging the arteries of crisp brain.
Deep within a seed
opened the eyes sitting
quietly near the blast of pain.
Green sprouts drank the light.
My poems wept
and truth started a dance.
The time and space intermingled
to celebrate a birth.
poem by Satish Verma
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