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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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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Falling
Something impossible would happen.
Truth was too much to operate,
life was easy with fakes.
Neither mortal pain, nor needles
would mend the wounds. The chasm
was deepening. And I stitch the orange lights
with the kisses of green tears.
For the punishment of disjointed commitments,
I dream of the killings
standing on the corpse of faith. The
obscene slogans raise the dust,
of hate crimes. The color of the race
was spreading, on bellies, on stones.
The night will bring spiralling comets
in the sky, burning and emptying
the pure.
SATISH VERMA
poem by Satish Verma
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Strange Enemies
If the lineation wins,
I will not pardon myself
the dots on flesh will glare.
A dummy hurricane,
will envelop the ruinous body.
The death will stalk and the predators,
will have the field day.
My own truth cries for an,
idea of making a complete suicide
on table. Inside the guts
flows a column of skimmed fakes.
Directions break the geometry of sleeping faith.
It was not worth trying.
In mind between the dark and grey,
lies the pale of truth.
This perspective is a constant pain.
Where will the thoughts end
and the ripples begin?
Arguments have become
strange enemies in war of words.
poem by Satish Verma
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Nomenclature
O leviathan,
enter the dark cloud of death
defanging fire,
the mountain wants to shiver.
Sand was slipping from my fists.
I cannot hold the time;
wet eyes
will find another moon.
The milk had dried up in body.
A heart burns like bonfire,
for a heretic. A lone stranger
in a city of wolves.
A bareback beauty sits on the rock
waits for the sea
to bring her the poison. An Aphrodite
will never call for nothing.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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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
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Dark Language
Wanted to wear the grief uncrying,
sitting on the bank, counting the waves,
watching the swaying of earthen lamps.
There was a little water on the moon,
charged atoms settling in the lap of a sponge.
The water becomes the moon,
floating on goat’s milk.
My descent starts to find the truth.
Where the water has gone from the eyes?
The mirrors always tell the lie.
The headless body writhes in the dust,
words change the author of a murder.
A crowd finds a knife only.
Once again a century weeps!
Satish Verma
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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Something Wild
That fugitive dream
of shrinkage:
a room in a room
a door in a door.
You were hurting the house affairs
at midnight.
The space accident
starts dismanteling the life.
Selective pain
comes again.
You start distancing from story touch,
long vision.
The canary brings down
the roof. Somebody was leaving.
The eyes will search another sky,
another tree.
In a light slumber
another fall from the perch.
poem by Satish Verma
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Hoisting
A fledged reincarnation starts a carnage
before the scared skull, ribs were missing
from the pink wraps. Eye over eye opens a split
vision, to live in a shirtless thoughts, to kill
where the truth was. An accidental lover hovers over
the green breasts, full of secret grief.
All the birds on the lake have surrendered
the sun’s light to extinguished nests and flown away.
The pain of yesterday now, will haunt the bride
of moon who had to abandon the baby in mud
to be watched by wolves of garlanded priests.
The tear was me, subway was me.
The skin was changing colour, camouflaged for
shame and guilt, pleading a glimpse of fire.
poem by Satish Verma
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Cuddling
between unequals
to and fro
beastly joy of horror
you want to press the trigger,
timebomb, your laughter,
and sneaky mind
restless syndrome of legs
you cannot stand on tiptoes
to review the fall
from the clouds
the moon overshot
the endless night
sun rises gently
on the window
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Star Struck
i, thirst for nudging
the butter lamp to peep inside
the dark of a Shiva crater
of human suffering,
between your pain and my blood
there was ancient history,
where will you go now, no
light has touched you so far
the moon takes a bath inside
a sleeping volcano of perfect
aches, staring in the sad eyes
of a fauna
brace your window and taste
your memory, lift the quivering hands
to welcome the blank pages
of future
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Who Was Faithful?
That yellow moon haunts me again
and overleaps my sleep.
I do not dare to walk in the graves
of your eyes. The palace
has broken.
Mere suffering was not sufficient.
You have to wince with pain
for a crucified secret,
dying for a graced truth.
Snatch me a tear from
the blind eyes.My precious rags
will make a sacred thread to wrap
you on your arm.
The bruised innocence does not matter
now.You walk like a prince in every dark
page of history. Light follows the
sounds of body.
poem by Satish Verma
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A Bone-deep Knowledge
Untie my hour with the Mars
I am burning and I am going to disappear
in my words. An alienation of a healer in deep
angst? What did you find in the night of confrontation?
Will you be able to save the babies
in wombs of truth?
I have turned my back without blaming
on the fictional fall. The first pain was the stranger.
No other had been the same in complete solitude.
Do I need to take a side in the face of suffering?
Today is more dangerous than tomorrow and
I am going to make a deal with my talent.
The rules are becoming charred shirts
covering a pure body. Give me hands to
ship the thunder in bay of blood.
poem by Satish Verma
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Disclaimer
A brush with pain of chest
starts recalibrating the fog of eyes.
World has come a long way
from a child’s brain to prepare
an indigenous bomb
for a roaring ascent.
Where my son, you want to go
in trees of words? The temperatures
are rising to widen the scope
of violence. Every one was
claming to be a terrorist
for bringing the peace on earth.
let the party begin.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Sysiphus
Let it go, do not touch it,
you had been negating the bare truth.
I was part of you
once at the shore of tragedy.
Life was treacherous
and I was free to laugh.
Come September and I will be chasing
the fireflies again.
How time takes revenge
from the innocent commitments?
You start returning to your roots
and I was still surfeiting
on the secret fidelity.
Where was the need to be tied down
to god? No body was honest to forsake
the fear of nameless nemesis.
The myth of rock still haunts.
Water still boils under the clay.
Petals fly in dark alleys
and I cannot find the door.
poem by Satish Verma
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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
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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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Ninth Symphony
A scented moon caves in
on a tree top
and solitude withers up in a seminal cloud,
It is good to be friendless sometimes.
Me and homecoming become synonymous.
We are ruined by familiar paths.
The mist deepens.
Not reaching anywhere.
I come out in dark to find the stars.
What will you do if the soul sneaks out of a body?
The wind starts a dirty dance.
A tall cedar scowls.
It starts raining,
fabulous as tears on an immaculate face.
Pull up the veil.
It separates the truth.
Do not filter the pain.
We may find a god.
poem by Satish Verma
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Drought In Riverbed
A randon creation
convulsed by grief.
Death of a pendant was not able
to recall the cleavage.
Kosher scream, the grandchildren
will not know the fakes of
reality show,
pure as honey, then the
scratching starts: look the tiger
was sitting on the branch.
Miracles will happen again
when the prince manipulates
the throne.
The dust melts in the local crowd.
Amid droughts there was a rivalary
to pick up the left over grains in field
between urchins and squirrels!
poem by Satish Verma
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Yes
Untie the knot, patriarch,
the broken kiss was
intimidating.
The backhoe picks up the
devil, it was within you
when you were casting stone
at the fear.
The pagan was covered
with leaves
raw and pailful;
belief in a thought
was not working,
think, man think.
The system,
the birth of rebirth of sorrow
was the tragedy.
The shaper,
I am, still wandering
to find the words.
Satish Verma
* After reading the massacare of 57 people in southern island of Mindanao, Philippines on 23rd Nov 09
poem by Satish Verma
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