Ageism

a pervasive bareness
walks like an honest lie
on the road to truth the bone white marble
god oversees the planet green’s woes
a climate change of heart its manipulations
its intrigues

something remains unsaid when i look back
i think again before i disappear between
bread and god whosover is stronger
than me i remained unchained distrusting
the rules laid down by hoaxes now i
am not me

i am not a god i am not a thought only
innocence of an unopened bud.


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

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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

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The Climate Change Converts

After eleven years as Prime Minister it does seem quite strange
That John Howard the ageing politician is talking of climate change
But this after all is an Election year
And of losing the top job is now his greatest fear.

For eleven years warnings of climate change he chose to ignore
But climate change has become an Election issue as never before
Howard the climate change convert on combating climate change now leads the way
On climate change he has become an instant expert and on it has much to say.

His opponent for the top job Kevin Rudd is a climate change convert too
It is amazing what an Election can do
To the climate change realist voters they are trying to appeal
Of climate change suddenly they make a big deal.

The ideas of the climate change experts Howard and Rudd now embrace
As their moment of truth they are about to face
The climate realist voters they are trying to appease
But try as they will not everyone they will please.

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Happy Valley Of Stings

I don’t fake the pain
pain was me.
A grafted rose opens up along the road rage.

This was the city of my birth
my oblivion, my reincarnation
ejaculated from the dark.

Here I found the golden dust
nuggets of truth
and the nostalgia of a broken moon.

The marble white love
and green bowl of arms
a happy valley of stings.

The sun backtracks on hills
when I walk on sands
leaving the deep scars.

A small horizon was my window
hunger of nightingales on branches.
The tree was walking in, my house.

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Innocence Taken

Innocence taken
by those who thought
that it was ok to lie
by those who thought
nothing matters
Innocence taken
no longer available
Innocence unable
to ever speak again
Innocence silenced
to soon
Innocence taken
there's no truth over the lie
Innocence taken
by those who thought
I'll be the same again
by those who thought
its ok to kill
by those who thought
it's ok to take
Innocence replaced
by fear and mistrust
Innocence disappeared
before it came
Innocence taken
by those who
laughed at every cry
by those who had none
Innocence reflecting
a little girls eyes
innocence taken away
without my permission

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Bread Of A Moon

For little grains of truth,
listening to intuition
he disrobed – and walked into river
to die.

In the footsteps of silence
to eat bread of a moon
facing the onslaughts of life.

Death walks in stealthily,
pays the price of hunger
to the ruins of a fortress.

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Featureless And White

This night of the long vigil
has betrayed my soul.
Columns of smoke arise
from the landscape of shrines.
There is no need now,
to sing the praise of oblique wars.
Truth has made
a big dent in my heart.

The tears of the bronze statue won’t stop,
they are mixed with blood.
Its pain for pain hurts the flesh.
Orphaned kids move in a circle,
their parched lips in silent prayer.
Remains of bread crumbs strewn on road.

The stench rises from the trash.
A face swims,
of our demolished culture.
Even the vultures are gone.
The dead and living start talking.
Tainted blood flows in dead veins.
Featureless & white.

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Raging Spring

Siblings
will take care of the morgue.
I am going to hang my god
today. Howling winds
are crashing into my breath.


In the sea
of flags, the white death walks on
naked bodies of faith. Innocence
will take a back seat
listening to the roaring assault
of blues.

Was it a hymn to drink
the religion of rage?
The men sitting in the glass vases
worshiping the rising sun in awe
with folded hands.

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Crack Of Dawn`

The king
made a fun of our poverty.
Marble faced girls always thought,
wearing black scarves –
sweeping the floor of white mausoleum.

You made a death
a loving eternity.
We die daily
in the face of old shine.

Who shoots a peacock
on the tree?
I mourn for the blue peace,
let the clouds come.

Who remains unhurt
unpained, when the night calls?
I seize a moon
to enter the crack of dawn.

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Human Lab

Half-buried in a mud pit,
a polluter bares all, body and soul.
Hands bound, ready to be stoned
to death.

A god was going to kill a god.
A dense judgement of planet green
of an unreliable sun
scribbling a code of conduct.

My god, I will go insane.
Save my woods I say. How can
be the adam was so naked running
in a race gene altered?

My arthritic fingers again lift
a mansion of gold leaves, dissolving
the sky.


Satish Verma

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A fool's game

It was a fool's game that should not begin
And you played it without honest rules
If you thought that you will always win
Well it's wrong 'cause it's a game for fools

If you thought that you can get me easy
And you tried to do this without honest rules
If you thought that my way to be is sleazy
Well it's wrong 'cause it's a game for fools


If you thought that you can hunt me slowly
And you danced this without honest rules
If you thought that I will love you only
Well it's wrong 'cause it's a game for fools


It was a morbid dance without real feelings
A dance of wishes without honest rules
If you thought that love means mutual dealings
Well it's wrong 'cause it's a game for fools

If you thought that you will be a winer
In this love fight without honest rules
If you thought I'm a cake at your dinner
Well it's wrong 'cause it's a game for fools


And if you thought you can get everything
In this world of yours without honest rules
If you thought that I'm an easy stupid thing
Well it's wrong 'cause it's a game for fools.

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Unchained

You said
I cannot get there from here, baby
And I dont care where Im goin
Heres to your thin red line
Im stepping over
Thought youd never miss me
til I got a fat city address
Non-stop talker, what a rocker!
Blue eyed murder in a size 5 dress
Change, nothing stays the same
Unchained, yeah you hit the ground running
Change, and nothing stays the same
Unchained, yeah you hit the ground running
No, I dont ask for permission
This is my chance to fly
Maybe enough aint enough for you
But its my turn to try
Thought youd never miss me
til I got a fat city address
Non-stop talker, what a rocker!
Blue-eyed murder in a side-swiped dress
Change, nothing stays the same
Unchained, and ya hit the ground running
Change, and nothing stays the same
Unchained, yeah ya hit the ground running
Change, nothing stays the same
Unchained, and ya hit the ground running
Change, and nothing stays the same
Unchained, yeah ya hit the ground running
Take a look at this!
Hey, man, that suit is you!
Youll get some leg tonight for sure!
Tell us how you do!
(come on, dave, give me a break.)
Hey, hey, hey, hey, one break coming up!
Change, and nothing stays the same
Unchained, yeah ya hit the ground running
Change, and nothing stays the same
Unchained, yeah ya hit the ground running
Change, and nothing stays the same
Unchained, yeah ya hit the ground running
Change, and nothing stays the same
Unchained, yeah ya hit the ground running

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Uprising

Empty hands were trying to collate
the fallout after the trigger moment
invited the unwelcome guest
wearing explosive vest.

It gives a push to throw away the paper
and I walk up to the ink for a
new chapter. The squinting sun was
not able to break the stoic silence of adoration.

A pervasive ambition spreads out
on the breads of poor dreams.
Pay no attention, pay no respect to the falling
patriach. Daughters of broken stars were rising.

Satish Verma

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Drift Wood

This politics of poverty
erupts again,
entrapped in arcane script.
A code of words will find
the fault lines.

Coerced to wait in a
black book, you start forgetting
the rules of game. It hits you
when you were writing
a poem.

At the end of the arguments
a lynx eyed moon walks
on the lake of tears, constructing
a dam of bread, for
a broken promise.

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Baby Face

Why did not you
cross the black river
and remained innocent?
Unhealed, failed inside, broken and honest?

You won the race,
the space, the heaven.
Moving away to the farthest blackness.
Your god sits crosslegged, clotting.

Brown hands on white shoulders, boneless
move in circle. Deportation
of words opens the green wounds.
Birds carry the snow on the wings.

I was confused, wanted to love
my broken vowels, for absolute you and me.
The baby face pops up again
in my perfection, speechless.

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Frivolous

Motionless within the ambit
of moon,
the rain squirms and flickers
under the street light
in the vacuous silence
of a monolith.

A cricket walks on a cloud
and starts the lightning.
The urn was blind, fills up with grief.
The goddess climbs out of rainbow
and accepts the message
of fireworks.

After the pain, there was
frigidity. The lips will not move under
the mortgage of unvenerable words.
An innocent deal was brokered
with stings about the truth
of the wasp.

Satish Verma

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Strange

All night November,
I was searching the vulnerable
lips after loosing you.

Now fingerless hands
were moving the sun-dial
away from light.

The shroud was heavy,
I would not breathe.
Give me a blue moon before dawn.

You cannot engage in
sudden withdrawl. I will
come back for a kiss.

The paper that leaves a wound,
I will not sign for the bread.
My hands had stopped trembling.


Satish Verma

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Weeping God

When the very soul dies,
death does not need a label,
living with death becomes a ritual.
Craving for the kiss of time,
under the shadows of moments,
you are not you in the expanse of false pretentions.
I will be watching myself.

Questioning the validity of dying without the sun
night will not forget.
It pours the suffering, anguish and hurt.
The duality of black and white,
drives you to despair.
Poem was alive,
when it was not written.

Core of your being,
trembles on the name of limbs atrophied.
You were too close to the destiny,
which was always on the wrong side.
For the sake of innocence,
your truth remained crippled,
your bronze god weeping.

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The Same Kind

Pseudoscrubbing was going on
the scripted drama, words apart.
The tears were denied to him
and the moon slowly made peace on the white
marble of a cult,
and the river had scored a victory.

He was very upset by the absence of
truth. Stupid god did not stand in the
witness box to testify the morality of
man. Genes were deciding the number
of queens. People were still worshipping
a pair of black Najas.

Neanderthal skull marks a step in the
evolution of art. The jaw bone still juts out
to define a mafia don. The slit eyes make
a good pottery class. White poison settles
in the breasts. An ovarian carcinoma
now spreads in bones.

My toes are burning. Cannot walk straight
I am not here. I am not there. I am not anywhere.

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Enormous Guilt

Cannot stare
coming on terror radar. Every night there
was Celsius rise in deadpeace. The climate
debt of a dark cloud was changing.

What is going to happen, tell me blindfolded.
We have a never or nothing attitude. The
roads were on edge, grazing under a blood
spinning midnight lamp, like a whipped

up cream of convenient truths. A subterranean
anger was banging against the wailing
wall. We did little in our synchronized
failure. Nobody was going to blink.

A tooth was smashed by a flying missile
of a homegrown myth. The glacier was
shy of a black fire. A holy moon becomes
opaque in white winter.

Satish Verma

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