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
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Judgement
In a death-trap of a stadium,
as if I am stoned to death.
Chrysanthemums bloomed in vain.
On your body three beasts climbed
for ravaging a fawn.
The rape was only your fault,
you had to die.
When a crowd of thousand bystanders
came to watch your mutilated body,
you had left for home,
uncrying and bleeding.
A human soul,
undefended.
Now a script will be protected.
Stones leap to praise the ghosts.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Got Stoned And I Missed It
I was sitting in my basement
I just rolled myself a taste
of something green and gold and glorious
to get me through the day
Then my friend yelled through the transom
'Grab your coat and get your hat son,
There's a nut down on the corner,
givin' dollar bills away'
But I laid around a bit
Then I had another hit
Then I rolled myself a bauma
Then I thought about my mama
Then I fooled around, played around
jacked around a while and then
I got stoned and I missed it
I got stoned and I missed it
I got stoned and it rolled right by
I got stoned and I missed it
I got stoned and I missed it
I got stoned oh me oh my
It took seven months of eargin
just to get that local virgin
with the sweet face
up to my place
to fool around a bit
Next day she woke up rosy
and she snuggled up so cosy
When she asked me how I liked it
Lord it hurts me to admit,
I was stoned...
I'm makin' no excuses
for the many things I uses
just to sweeten up my relationships
and brighten up my day
When my earthly race is over
and I'm ready for the clover
and they ask me how my life has been
I guess I'll have to say,
I was stoned...
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Outrageous
Everybody was half-naked on the trail
of curves. Braindead. Emptied thought.
A single vacant look.
“Why me? ” I ask. Stay stupid in the crowd. Looking
at the moon, indulgent. Plucking the nector from
knobs of naked flames.
No coming back from days of unknowing
the secrets of unskopen words. A cry stifles
in the throat of a prayer.
A moon was found on a dump!
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Lifelong Journey
On the night when vessel
was empty
grackle did not sing.
For the sake of honey,
smelling a dead city, after
the rape of a daughter.
A black buck jumps on the
queen of roses, stoned after
the death of a green house.
A python had wrapped around
the child on bed,
come, save the red crying moon.
A soft drizzle wets the eyes.
I can see only stars -
disturbed by the winds.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Criminality
Code of the veil was
darkening. You were searching for an
unwritten message in bandanna.
Rot was setting in flesh.
Sludge was becoming a stone
for an unmoving stream.
The talks had failed.
Hand-grenades will explode in shouts
later on, to resume the protocol of death.
Where we are going in evening
of woods? To go searching for the sapient
ancestors, in city of fingers?
Years were rolling by in fog.
The arguments were climbing on the
black hills to meet a drunk god.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Monument
Wanting to feel your breath
in this room, in half-light, my hands
opened the window to let him in,
the green moon.
For so much violence in everyday life.
let’s break a poem and sqeeze its honey
and carve only feet, of invisible fear.
When I had run after a dream
the frills of your gown caught fire;
at the door a music stopped
to listen to rustling of a caged bird
longing for the green flight of a silent
morning joining a procession of a recent
mythical hurt.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Secret Wake
savage
running under the moon
selling the night
sanitizing
the hands
after the killing
truth
withdrawl
vaginae still inviolate
seeds wiped off
from the face of earth
ethnic cleaning
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Whispering Sparrows
The native walls
were hounding me-
out of game.
I was playing chess with god.
Was stoned to death.
A small boy’s arm
was crushed.
He stole a bread.
What was the truism
of unheard voices?
Groping in green darkness
I was watching
the lethal plunge of man.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Impresa
In culture of counterfeits
a snip of intelligent gene
brings the pink tears
for the brown eyes.
A virgin goes for a spade
in the naked sun.
Let me think of polymorphism.
Can there be an answer-
for oblique questions?
Can this tottering frame live?
Life can still stalk the death
and stand for the body in the sack?
Fielding the enquiry about race -
gap, you said the walls
are crumbling. I read the message
half-believing.
As a whole, the glory lives.
Is that true?
•
The gentle rain falls on
the emaciated Buddha.
Stand out from the controversy.
A foam-born goddess will
counterpoise the questions.
The grievers are sitting
in a circle for the dying moon.
The charred breast of earth
sends the flames.
Who has closed the window
of morning glory? My blackened
words are traveling fast
to reach the stars. I am
held in a shadow.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Looking Back
half-clad
cult of violence
boiling their
soulmates
roasting
the foes
one by one
killed
by a ligature
they were building the dams
to harvest the power
from tears
fear
climbs on your shoulders
unburns hydrocarbons
a train moves through the black cloud
night
lies naked
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Degenerating
The dead sea
and the naked soul.
You are not worthy
of forgiveness. The smell
of sweaty soles
tells it all.
You dust the window
to read the green moon
and turn off the forest
of dark faces.
It is critical time
to collect the body
after falling from gray
humor of beliefs.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tasting Blood
Point-blank you
kill the pigeons in cold
blood. Death stalks.
In broad daylight
I watch the green blood
of white bread.
The soul will not
listen the song of life.
Hope, do not go!
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Flying Beard
like ether, permeating all space
mesmerizing,
he walked away, head of his enemy
in his hand,
like a trophy?
frighteningly orangish
a decapitated body shudders.
The holy war
demands its price of a joke.
The face of red and blue.
A terrible reminder of a snaky past
that kills the puppets. The hands
dance in air.
The irrepairable, pink wounds
bleed, sweat smoke
of death?
SATISH VERMA
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Animation
The animal thing inside:
My half-brother,
was unsettling me.
Over the sunset I watch
the drawing procession
carrying the dead body of a tiger.
The light is fading. The stripes
were becoming a myth. The
guest was ready to depart.
I am holding the molten lava
in an urn. In the black sky
a satellite burns to undo the grief.
There is no death, no stopping.
A face pressed between the leaves
of a book smiles.
You come back to me in rains.
I call you by cinders dancing
in the mirror of whistling time.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lakescape
After the rain wets the ground,
a damp, naked silence,
floats in air
on the wrong side of the moon.
A strange mist, like a post coital whiff
envelops you savagely.
The testa breaks.
A forest heaves beneath your nails.
History moves through the layers
of family. You become a forgotten saint,
an archaic reminder of half-solid
truth. Green mirrors reflect a fading sun.
Wasps are climbing on a presence,
for a kill. A lake drifts in the yes
to stun the departure. You breathe
death dreaming a blue flower.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Will Scream Together
Managing his guilts to seduce the nocturnes
he left the gray area, surging
with a wandering death on the
half broken stairs –
before a closed gate was put on the pages,
he was trembling like toothed quaking aspen.
The grief of the scarred face,
in a serious midnight syndrome of
invisible slit throat in a long journey manifested
above the waves. Tree was calling again
for immoralism of flowers, quashing
his life.
The brave violence survives the mutilated
dreams.For once the mirror has won
again the onslaught of fingers.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Falling Seed
This world was too much.
in him.
Sometimes he wanted
to go insane.
(He was talking to himself) .
He cared too much
of things and people around him,
but it splits
like a dry pod, the life,
in throes of running
to save a falling seed.
Yields his whole earned silence,
starts turning the pages
of a soiled book
lost in the attic of grief.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!