I Want Nothing
A stunning hurl of androids
on command, pulled by empty space when
a talking primate decides
the course of universe.
A non-existent living
from moment to moment prepares
a moon man to jump into religion
for salvation.
The wedding of tin sliced,
dumping bodies, of forsaken brides
of gloom, widens the want of rocks
and people give a black-lipped approval.
A plane load of hand grenades
and missiles and rocket launchers
nourish the smug ideas of a watershed
on the discovery of self.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Abandoned
the punctuations
start crumbling
a soldier
falls to coyotes
this was their space
a moon was sitting
in waiting room
inhabiting war at
a defining moment
it was a fatal attack from
the guards impersonal
ripping through the passions
to hold or not to hold
the fruit – end was near
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Against The Times
Lipped-wet,
Counterfeits.
Fakes neither audible
nor visible.
The moment dies
in our hands.
It was a non-
happening.
Silence booms
destroying the palace,
of dreams. I should have
become the scissors.
This poem is not charitable
gnawing at the underlip
of an orphaned
moon.
poem by Satish Verma
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The two things that matter the most to me: emotional resonance and rocket launchers. Party of Five, a brilliant show, and often made me cry uncontrollably, suffered ultimately from a lack of rocket launchers.
quote by Joss Whedon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Another Love
Give me a moment of pause
in this eerie lull,
I do not want to call it a day.
The blind fist had provoked the shrine,
before the lips started demanding
the dazzling kiss of a knife,
pure cut-out neck of high volted
embrace of a tall pole, black and white
like moon-struck anchor.
The strip search for tear-salt
under the unripe breast of dying flame.
Like a trembling peacock attended by hawks.
Not the comfort of street stone
heals the cleft of forehead, split open
by a shower of dancing missiles.
poem by Satish Verma
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God Of Blessings
Moon-scented I walk in dark
to put me back in place,
unwithered,
opening the inner casket for a glow.
Pleading not guilty
after killings in bed, of affectionate
kill of lies, a black widow
romps around with a flag of morality.
Was it a systemic swallowing
of a bait put up by a shipwreck?
The bodies were flowing in a row
in caldron of acrimony.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Breathing Dust
Do not stoke the desires tonight,
my moon is away on the cusp of doubts.
Count you must the needles in heart, of
ifs and buts? A fragile truce was anathema
to me. The nagging day lies ahead –
of my failing gifts. Living was a whispering
silence, no secrets had a spite for you.
A fine drizzle of thoughts fills the lungs,
mind cries for the space to arrange
the corpses of dreams.
The uncertainties take a heavy toll.
A new voice precedes a wet moon,
the sun was rising late today, living apart.
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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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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Juncture
This moment was not
mine. Not this moment had
gone to you.
Each moment was-
a white death lying in
state on the dirt.
Send some tender
shoots of a poem to
bloom on my anger.
poem by Satish Verma
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Crossbars
The depression,
human brand was trapped.
They were talking about
the nukes.
To annihilate
the earth. It was elemental,
I said. An ardent
fan of moon.
A lark asks
who will survive?
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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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
poem by Satish Verma
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One Mirror Too Many
From the moment you see
The moment you breath
The moment I touch you
From the moment you crawl
The moment you fall
The instant I loved you again
From the moment of darkness
The moment of light
The second I kissed you
From the moment I enter
The moment I leave
In this moment of rapture
Chorus
One mirror to many gonna tie you up
A life forever empty has got to be tough
To many starless night gonna leave you blind
Can never make it right
From the moment you stumble
The moment you run
In your presence I crumble
From the moment it happens
The moment you know
Theres no life without you
song performed by by Black Crowes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Democracy
With stoicism writ on face
I invite the chisels
for giving birth to a dialogue
between me and the shaper.
Where did the things go wrong
in making the life a simple page
to write a beautiful poem?
Buddha give me a bo-tree or an interlocutor
who invents skin, teeth and eyes
of a failing system. The command
has gone to unknown robots. They were
manipulating the atrophied
limbs of high-tech generation
who do not know the pathless love
when we walk into the moon,
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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This Is The Moment
This is the moment
This is the day
This is the moment
When I know
I am on my way
Every endeavor
I have made ever
Is coming into play
Is here and now today
This is the moment
This the time
When the momentum
And the moment
are in rhyme
Give me this moment
My precious chance
I'll gather up my best
And make some sense atlast
This is the moment
When all I've done
All of the dreaming,
scheming
And screaming
becomes one
This is the day,
Just see it shine
When all that I have lived for
Becomes mine
This is the moment
This is the hour
When I can open up,
Tomorrow
like a flower
And put my hand to
Everything I plan to
Fulfill my grand desire
See all my stars align
This is the moment
My final test
Destiny beckoned
I never reckoned second best
I won't look back
I must not fall
This is the moment
The sweetest moment
Of them all
This is the moment
So double the odds
This day or never
I'll sit forever
with the gods
When I look back
I will recall
Moment for moment
This was the moment
The greatest moment of them all.
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loaves
When the street was becoming alive
man had become a charged bull,
goring the god to death.
My father wept, took the corpse home,
that was his child.
In the wild fire, a tall eucalyptus
had burned, turned black.
What did you think, this year,
spring would not come?
I remained very sad those days.
When the self was me, my image
I was dying without death;
through the veils, I would not see.
Was the pinnacle of your is, was becoming
empty? Tell me when we would learn,
the tiny truth of a primate? Or become
snakes eating our own children?
poem by Satish Verma
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Till This Day
Spare me a moment.
Can you anticipate the innocence
of tomorrow?
Someone wants to bare
her breast to protest
against the concept of black and white.
Tell me where the black ends
and white starts? The glass and
daffodils always go together.
The fake colors. I look at the
sky and start a monologue
with a yellow moon.
The smoke spoils the shore.
River engulfs the boat
and a definition drowns.
poem by Satish Verma
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For My Wedding
(larry john mcnally)
For my wedding, I will dress in black
And never again will I look back
Ah, my dark angels we must part
For Ive made a sanctuary of my heart
To want what I have
To take what Im given with grace
For this I pray
On my wedding day
For my wedding, I dont want violins
Or sentimental songs about thick and thin
I want a moment of silence and a moment of prayer
For the love well need to make it in the world out there
To want what I have
To take what Im given with grace
For this I pray
On my wedding day
On my wedding day
I dream, and my dreams are all glory and light
Thats what Ive wanted for my life
And if it hasnt always been that way
Well, I can dream and I can pray
On my wedding day
So what makes us any different from all the others
Who have tried and failed before us
Maybe nothing, maybe nothing at all
But I pray were the lucky ones; I pray we never fall
To want what we have
To take what were given with grace
For these things I pray
On my wedding day
On my wedding day
song performed by by Don Henley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time To Answer
This wake, I owed it to you, my defining moment:
for the raw melding, of life imprisonement
and death behind the bars. The sin had
seeped slowly in the foundations. A blurred view
of the caravan passing on the shifting sand
of quarter-century; the devastation had turned
black in smug oasis, the victim will not
become virgin again. Blind dead will monitor
the course of grievers. On to her tongue
I leave the endless stars and you will forget
the bull-dosed windows and weeping walls
of incaracerated house where the daily meals
were sex and rape; the strange shadows
of crime and pardon are breaking now
in blue sky after the defeating moon.
• After hearing the verdict on Josef Fritzl on 19th March 09
poem by Satish Verma
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Landscape
Thinking was seeing through the time,
was a lone journey from naïve
understanding. Return was difficult,
back to bricks and forlorn shores.
How many beginnings had failed;
the doors locked, cobwebs, dust, smoke,
crowded with dangling hopes. Flywheels
broken. DNA twisted, life – in – heaps.
The purpose, warts and all, salvation,
as long as footnotes guided between
restless nights. Melancholy of space in
the bed. Silence of portraits.
A peacock explodes, defining the boundary,
then a chorus of approval. An owl hoots.
The candle kisses the creases of dark.
Moon swells.
poem by Satish Verma
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