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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Without Bargaining
A view from the cause,
alters the landscape in you
I surrender to the earth,
the roots. Purifying the leaves.
I tell myself, this was not me,
my music. Still my skin
has the tattoos of pandemic deafness.
I am breathing through the lips.
My attachment to death
is a private affair
my voice lies in a lake.
The butterfly in a womb.
the psalms under the rocks.
Is it ending of death
or death of ending?
I go beyond the brink,
dropp the stone in water.
When the moon touches
my eyes, like a kiss
I start sharing the menu of night.
The rimless thoughts are hovering
like small birds. I listen
to their flappings.
Can we live without bargaining?
Do you know the price?
poem by Satish Verma
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Legend Withers
I do not display, but am.
Where the heart lies.
In truth. I try to discover the centre
of sorrow and bliss.
Life has not given
me full text of death.
The shadows are larger than reals.
You will not remember me
in endless night.
I am going on a long journey
to find out what is death of a name
the death of a prayer,
and ending of self.
The naked helices of truth are blazing.
Death of a dawn
some thing dies in me.
I don’t grieve.
The frozen pain melts,
legend withers.
The shadow is liberated from image.
The sadness leaves the fingerprints on my face.
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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Judgement And Curse
A city dies inside me
leaves uncharted
human bite marks.
A stinging match starts
between explicit statements
I move to keep an appointment -
with an angry moon -
who was incontrovertible by
sending the moon rocks at -
climategate. Here goes the
feedback to climbing mountaineers
who will not find any peak -
in the realm of award winning
shoes thrown at the
emperor of empty citadel.
poem by Satish Verma
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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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Left The Body To Watch
In the ending, there was beginning of fear
of unknown.
The pain of malignity,
evil punctuation of
a serene landscape.
Life moved from one landmark
to another in alien waste.
I shuddered in a patch of sun.
The impulse was very strong to find out the answer
I was violated by many questions.
Words could not tell,
migrated back to their scriptures.
Time altered the names
of fear & death.
Waiting grew into self-knowledge.
Like pleated oxygen mask
life gave me a bump.
Saddened, I played the mutation game.
Failed, tried again, left the body to watch
the death of the self.
Beyond the mind, away from sorrow
and grief of world.
poem by Satish Verma
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Vibrations
The battlelines were drawn.
While drinking the sun
I set myself ablaze
A hooded dilemma
of his kindness
starts boiling in chaotic dissonance.
A backlash stops a self-search.
Who am I and why do I belong
in the spinning of descent.
There were flames in every home
and biting dust of the moon.
Where the man will go.
The birth’s print and death’s answer
had the bidding game.
I was standing in the middle.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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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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Of Burning
From here to you
a legacy of dust was deepening.
I was reading a lot
between the dots.
You will get another master
I will get another pain.
In the maze of tunnels
a fear of fall snips.
A window becomes a man
unbuttoning the skin.
A body starts scratching
a secret.
The earthly sense warns
of a whiff of a stranger,
at the door in dark.
Like a ripe tear
I will not betray the eye -
in this grey hour.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Warfront
The spectre of falling towers in night
unfolds in awe.
A reclusive star rises in east at dawn.
Heart of pig was being readied
for implant, tallies with the seizured
hollow of a man.
A young girl of seventeen, comes for
a rendezvous with a terrorist,
eats the bullets for a damned nether land.
Every one was angry after
the explosion. Only truth had a slit of smile
in the smokescreen of contenders.
A dialogue on violence must start
to know the reality of nirvana
fear will not end, ending of fear.
poem by Satish Verma
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A Search For Death
off they went three foolish greedy men
in search of death to kill him before they die they mean
onward they went with neither food nor spleen
but for a bottle that soon dried up of wine
everywhere they went they asked of him
but all they heard as they searched in vain
was his name on everyones lip and mane
on the way an old sage they met
whom to a cave yonder directed this set
undearneath the cave, gold coins they met
oh! what a booty all three said and meant
no more looking for death
as momentarily they forget their quest
among themselves off they sent
one to find food for them at least
oh! how deep mens mind are led
for behind his back two in greed
decided to kill the other and share the gold
the other on his way, also in greed
decided to kill the two to have the gold
oh! foolish greedy men
in the end found death but not when they expected
for the other, the two killed
and ate the poisoned food he brought
oh! what a fate befell em all
as all three trussed up and very dead
found death when least expected
poem by Hamid Kareem
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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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Death Of Calenders
It is me, inside & outside,
movement of sensuous self.
Time sails through the mind,
a silken thread unbroken in names.
If only the death would erase the fear.
If only the other self meets my roots
and stir up the inner sap.
Reaching the end,
you tell me to remember
your name to latch on to memories,
to collect all the pieces
of conceptual loss & gains.
How we were fooling ourselves?
Nothing is left between us
to celebrate the dreams.
All the stray thoughts
could not give us insight
we were dusted off from start
to finish in our loneliness.
Once it was a glory
to watch carnations in our eyes,
now I am mourning the death of calenders.
poem by Satish Verma
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Returning
You come home, sitting on my shoulders.
I bid you farewell at door. Death tiptoes in dark
before looking at the bare hands. A new concept of
ending comes out from crozier. Uncoiling has stopped.
In loincloth a truth unravels the mystery of cells. A
warm transparency. You walk around objectively,
returning the gifts to birds, bees and aspens. It
was time not to put up excuses. The wings are tired
and wind was falling.
Let the dance of nothingness start!
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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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
poem by Satish Verma
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Song Above The Sorrow
I missed the heartbeats for a vessel of stars,
while death was always near,
circling the house.
The network of sorrow,
beams to world.
Can symmetry of pain
provide a plank for the sinking mind?
I cannot hold the curling smoke of a tainted fact.
The fear, the anxiety,
empowers the animal look.
An uncovered seed sprouting into
tiny root on my hand
starts a conspiracy.
People talk about the meditation,
and senile body shrinks.
There is a song above the sorrow and
freedom from the assassination of ideologies.
Hold my arm!
poem by Satish Verma
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Isful ah-ness!
Winter has stopped indulging.
Brown body of summer
longs for the full lips of moon.
I become saddened
tracking time.
Desire is now a temple
outraged by sun
starts a dialogue with winds.
Grey hills kill the songs
and empty life again fills in
the cargo of memories.
Silence is cool, ticks like a clock
breaks a stone
and melts into night.
I prepare to die again
amidst the disguises of fidelities.
* A Phrase from Les Murray.
poem by Satish Verma
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Cannot Open The Loop
When I am completely denuded
Of my tremors,
I come at peace with my skin.
Burnt by raw blaze of reality
The brilliant confusion of today.
Promising night
selects the partners of grief.
Vacantly I fix my eyes on stars.
The words will never convey the silence
the mystery of eternal search
amongst the ruins of dreams.
Tongue falters on recitation of factuality
Over coming the rage.
Fatal dichotomy of life and death
starts sleepwalking.
Gulf widens the shores
seeking in metaphysical depth.
Speech does not bring solace
mathematics cannot open the loop.
poem by Satish Verma
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Strange Relationship
Death has been my partner,
my best friend.
Every day the fear,
greets me in my bed,
and body starts dying.
I join the play.
The sun clips the clouds,
my lungs fills with aroma.
A golden bird starts singing
on the swaying leaves of palm.
Death smears me with ideas,
larger than pain
before and after it was foggy.
I sleep, half-opened eyes,
watching over with face
to the window.
Life moves from grief to grief.
A tiny seed pulsates
in the crevice of mind,
I love a view like that.
One hundred moons
and a dying sun.
An immence contrast.
Whom shall I choose as a prologue?
I cannot tread the center
of unborn story. The clouds
are always crimson before
the night. Life has
a shadow of death – and a strange
relationship survives.
poem by Satish Verma
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Revved Up
It was getting dark.
The insane curve of greed was rising.
I would not draw the boundaries
between the words.
The finch was immersed
in soliloquies and light was waiting
inside the seeds.
I open my eyes
and yell at the clouds in hyperboles
becoming stranger to myself.
Who belongs here
in slit eyes? Each flower was leaving
a blemish, for the winter.
Tell me,
who you are in the twist of reality.
A proverb is going to be taken away.
poem by Satish Verma
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