NAKED FREEDOM (A sequel to the massacre of 23rd Nov 09 in Philippines)
Intended to violate
the omnipresent,
stillness unzips the inviolate –
truth.
You walk through a legend:
To test the chastity
you need to dip your hand
in a very hot oil.
A sleepless summer night
descends on the hill
violins in dark
lie mutilated.
Hidden tracks will not tell
from where came the pattern
of enemies entering
the bloodied moon.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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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
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Hiding
After plundering the moon,
the skins
have dug their heels in candles –
for a night vigil.
Why you want to know the hidden meaning
Of a benign meaningless.
The beginning and end
were most visible tragedies
of an endless affair with invisible enemy.
Unsaying was very sincere
to truth if words were not mutilated.
Pure murder of an illusion in whispering sands.
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
poem by Satish Verma
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Unending
In downy pink I watch you go
my sun,
at night you will pluck moon flowers.
In half-moon eclipse
the morning glory will wake me up
in dew, alighting whole night
on the rose branch. I still smell
your lips. The head aches in
singing dark.
Welcome again, my ghosts of new year.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Raging Moon
Homecoming under the moon
devoid of pain.
When did the clock turned back?
You are becoming a child.
My journey opens
in a dark wound.
A promise to walk blindfolded,
when only the footfalls are audible.
The distance between the homes
was increasing.
Your own shadow becomes a stranger:
mystery of defining the life.
Living among cannibals,
aides ready to drag your carcass
unfolding your truth
falling in dust.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Death Was Pure
When moon will wash my doors
I will come out in night
to find you in dark
and lose you in light.
Does it resonate with you
O my truth
O my pain
time has moved back.
My love whitens the shadow
of a black rose in the nakedness of waking.
Do not want to disappoint the sun
and enter into a grain.
I am the stillness and I am
the noise. Motherless I am born
in black water
of immaculate death.
poem by Satish Verma
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Underscoring
A distraught moon
takes a misstep
and goes behind the hill
to take a holy bath.
Disconnects
with a trespasser
and sends to night,
a bouquet of stars with muffled prayers.
Shades of lies haunt, in flames
of faith. A suicide bomber ploughs
through a playground, throwing the bits
of human pieces on nets.
Satish Verma
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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A True Deception
Going to shake my inner world.
Inconsolable is the loss
of faithful truth.
Echo of past comes between the knockings,
some one shoves a semblance of a riot,
death is not a ceremony any more.
Slowly, dark breast of night
will feed the moon.
Air will kiss the lips of fire
and loneliness will take over the heart.
Not sure of the pattern, and my existence
first I must look beyond the self
and find out the forbidden belief.
I think I don’t trust myself.
From the smouldering psyche
the muse always runs out
falling between vision and confusion.
Sweet ephemeral strife
always in toe.
poem by Satish Verma
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Stoning Dark
What was the ethics of homefires
when homeostasis had gone awry?
There were no concrete truths.
I will not wear the lies instead
like fly ash on my bloodied shirt.
The old habits die hard;
the beds of flesh and bones, carry the
strange innocent meanings of heavy
eyelids which could not beat the silk
of green eyes of a sun.
A miracle was needed to undo the
thighs of mermaid who went to sleep on the
rocks of jealousy. The sky-blue flames
rise again from the navel of infidel love
who had inherited the golden moon.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Striking Portrait
A silvery,
fluting cry of a sleepless moon
on the pillow of a twilight sleep:
an enigma I wanted to share
with a skylark.
From the disbelief rises a sulphur
cloud to thaw the ice on the tongue of a dawn.
First ray of sunlight starts flirting,
with a dew dropp on a wet rose.
It was not a poem but a thought
crossing a bridge into eternity,
for a sparkle in the pain of life,
a hymn to be recited without understanding
the meaning.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Windows
Sky wept
when you hanged the young truth
from a tree.
A shadow falls
on the hill
for a savior.
A winged flaw
becomes a legend
for the sake of a sword.
A nameless letter
betrays the will of a cage
to set the bird free.
My forehead marks
the wrinkles of ancestors
who would not give a name.
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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Irony Of Author
In the absence of a consenting moon half
my night was in disarray, the density of poems
was draining out the grape wine from the eyes.
This amphitheater of your life: where you
are spectator and you are a player, past
the tears and past the happiness.
Find out the lost baby, where we slept.
A crying bundle on the tracks of bones.
You cannot carry the outstretched alms, need to stop
the train of thoughts.
Green boys were hiding in their sleeves.
Did you perform your role well in speaking
your dialogue on the stage and give a loud
laughing call?
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Prognosis
Did you foresee it? It was coming.
The freaked guilt of failed attempt
to get yourself kissed by a flame in the
androgynous temptation of dark.
One legitimate delay in dying of moon’s
tears? The weather had fizzled out during wild
winds and the summer was slowly starting a
whispering campaign against the clouds.
My enemy for sweet revenge will not
halt the attack.A bouncing vision will
start the fire engulfing the singing
trees of drenched art. The floods of intimatcies
were coming.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Unborn
you enter the lair again
dun – colored
shrapnel was on your lips
to hear your truth I lay down
the book
and look beyond the acid rain
falling after the explosion
the yellow flames still lapping
against the crater walls
jasmines were alive
dented memories wer climbing
on hills before you can unsee
the moon bleeding to death
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Moon Walk
A frosty look when
moon floats in a cup.
I was uneasy.
Rose was rose.
Thorns want to tear it up.
Blood was mine.
After moon it
will be dark. I walk back
to find a candle.
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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Meltdown
Unveiled,
the moon will find you
after morose beginning
of becoming – me
Homophobia creeps in,
beyond the condemnation,
the incompleteness.
You walk straight in the arms
of contradiction, confusion
smearing the wall
with your crimson, nihilistic words.
Every other person
a demi – god
stands on your fears, sends whispers
down your ears.
To abdicate the colleagues
of dawn.
SATISH VERMA
poem by Satish Verma
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A Touch Of Class
The tree, the sky, the moon, of
summer prick the eyes.
We suffer majestically.
The aberrations will
now rule the city.
Incorruptible winds
languished in crooked lanes.
A pale hand will paint the unlatched doors.
When stars meditate in unison,
moon upcurves.
The blue becomes dark,
my eyes climb the hill.
The day has ended without a conclusion.
Clouds are frightened.
Virtue when cuts open the heart,
it does not bleed.
Pseudo reality reigns,
and we amputate the limbs without analgesics.
The philosophy of being
is quietly murdered.
Green leaves start dying.
A terrible dream flicks the hope,
a touch of class with littleness.
poem by Satish Verma
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