One Simple Day
For honour killing
twilight adulates an abstract faith.
Tainted?
Now that mouth was shut
and butterfly was pinned,
will you grow the marigolds?
The empty book was not breathing
in a crowd of words.
The bitter meaning had flown away.
The mountain will cry now
in the absence of birds.
Trees were shedding their leaves.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Corpse Is Being Sent
In the stand-off
between stolen history
and presiding deity
priest was hanged, while a blue cloud
was shedding the yellow moon.
Who was selling god on the road?
A tall coconut tree was my home;
all but your mouth was shut.
Face to face I am ready to leak
the secret of panic attack in open space,
it rips open the unhealed wounds.
The shot holes on the walls
were still bleeding.
I am getting visions of birds, trees and hills.
A pacific coast was punished
for not joining the conflict.
Corpse is being sent on shores.
poem by Satish Verma
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Your Waking Head
Your impressionist,
rift, comes through
uncontrolled hands of fear. The snake
was shedding the skin.
Not walking,
flying like a rage
discharging the burns
in the river of blood.
I shudder,
in the cleft of a grain.
Hymns were howering over the book.
One by one
the leaves fall, to unravel the secrets of
unvoiced grief of earth.
A thin faith crumbles
unfinding the lost shroud
of a messiah.
poem by Satish Verma
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Something Human
beautiful girls
formless of criminal honesty
falling in love with endymion
a wave is furrowed on the forehead
of selene, envy or a genetic trigger
starts a nightmare
fading star heralds a
gray moon
leaves are falling
like my words
from your lips, are you beside
me in green silence
i was watching
the sun falling on the wings
of black birds
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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The Tragic Intimacy
A crisp moon rejects the night,
the words retreat, like fallen truths.
Stillness was palpable
silhouettes moved in vacancy.
And we did not know where to go,
how to find the cause of life.
World surged forward like a spider.
The dust, the heat
and a breathing sorrow
met in the twilight
of immaculate pain.
I hated the drooping lights
and burning of feathers.
Birds were dumb
to say how cruel
the benevolence had been.
I fell upon a thorn
who witnessed my incarceration.
A fire in my eyes, I glowed like a volcano.
Fogs were hanging
like veils on eyes of moon.
I tasted lichens in mouth.
The tragic intimacy
of an old poem.
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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Sunflowers
A preacher was shedding
dirty tears
for burning hills.
Pinned up on tongue
was a slogan.
Death for all sunflowers.
Draped in blood
who was trespassing
the sickle moon?
I cannot raise the mist
where you stand naked
in sunlight.
Somebody has killed
the pathological god.
I am starting a new kitchen.
poem by Satish Verma
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Three Faces
(1)
It was a mix of demons.
Honour killing
to save the damaged inside.
You were found in lotus position,
hands tied,
buried in a hole.
(2)
The twin plants:
god and goddess of procreativity
were shedding trumpet-shaped
pink flowers.
Honey suckle would allow
the honey to be sucked
till the breasts remove the macula.
(3)
Moment of lifetime
moves itself against the time
putting the stamens
of crocus
on the forehead of the sinner.
poem by Satish Verma
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Unless
That tribal instinct sits in the denial.
Words fly in fog carrying absurd meanings.
I was ready for the impeachment.
Like a pinned butterfly
you lived several times, repeating
a dialogue on a mindless thought.
From nothing to nothingness,
you reach nowhere, over and beyond.
Where now? A state of deadlock?
Too insignificant when you climb down
against the black magic of language.
You loose the center by waking up.
Between this death and the next
you throw something in the ring,
to show my life was deflected.
poem by Satish Verma
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Puzzles
hopscotch, retrieve a pebble
from the lake,
sitting under a tall tree
i will wait
for leaves to fall
on water;
i will see through my seeds
a relief of roses,
overnight
in the soccer field
tiny mushrooms
popped up, wearing white caps
to see the game –
turning the pages of a book
opens a museum,
i come on you
not accusative
SATISH VERMA
poem by Satish Verma
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Mutation
Like black birds
homing in twilight, to the tree
my thoughts make a perfect landing.
I lift the silence in sleep.
A flying snake enters
a pink room.
A bullet pierces the heart.
No acolytes, I will
catch myself the drifting smell
of eternal caress. Basking
in pain I pluck up my
trail in rubble of dreams.
You defy the likeness to god
become poor like an undershirt.
and walk straight.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Stray Fall
With gray wolves around,
he put the gun on the chin
and pulled the trigger.
The crowded nest and tainted gemones:
the double helix had the sex crumbling:
consensual hate.
Some beasts and hairy saints
were turning the world black,
sitting on marbled floor and talking of white moon.
Drifting faith in swollen eyes, watching
a burning train;
tomorrow I will travel again in pursuit of walking trees.
Proud legends like scorpions
climbing on your throat. Enamelled stings
ready to spin you blue.
Clams shut on the poor pink,
honeycomb becomes a trap.
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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A Closed Book
A book unopened
leaves words to die.
A book unopened
leaves words to lie
in perpetuity,
never alive, never free
to deliver its thoughts
for any to see.
Who was the writer?
What did he pen?
The absence of readers
are lost and then
the book lies quietly
on a shelf
and maybe all by itself it knows.
It will never be opened.
It will always be closed,
just like some people
who won't open up
and speak their words to you.
Their life is something
you'll never know,
something you won't view.
For they are a closed book too.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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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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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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Ignition
Like a butterfly pinned
in a collage, fluttering.
Death makes a deal.
I was appalled
standing on the edge
watching the withering body.
The lake drowns me.
Seagulls were waiting
for a renaissance.
It is not even midsummer.
The planting of the kiss
remains incomplete.
No sex was involved
in baring midriff.
Moon ignites the legs.
poem by Satish Verma
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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
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Why
For a messenger of lies
I lay down the script.
A kick starts the game.
I am the only visitor to the
gallery. Kamasutra suicide displayed
was a way of expression
of a revolt against honour
killing of your own daughters
whose bodies were found in the canal.
The tall sacred walls of home
made kilns, where you empty your sixpence
traditions on the name of native justice.
A sightless vista opens before the
inward eye. I take hold of a brush
and wipe out the faces.
poem by Satish Verma
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I'm Usually Happy...Tonight Not So Much
Not the man I used
to be…No more trust…
or faith
Rests inside of me
A bitter man
I’ve come to be
Devoid of faith
or charity
An empty vessel
A hollow shell…
poisonous as
A tainted well
A blank canvas
A sterile page
A muted man
of monstrous rage
I hate the world
That tacky stage
I hate the words
upon this page
I hate ugly words
Like snot and cooty
I guess you could say
That I’m kinda moody
No I’m not the man
I used to be
But it could be worse…
You could be me!
poem by David Whalen
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Falling Bricks
From the blank book can I
lift some questions for the lofty hopes
when I lost myself near the home?
The fear was darting inside the white sores.
Keys were lost for the answers
and truth fell castrated.
The magic was fading from the cusps
of designs, unconceived thoughts were
seeking proportionate punishments.
Congeniality drifted from the
architect of hominid species. A nameless
storm plays havoc. Humble peaks bow
before the unmeasured meteors. You
can shut the orphanage now; no
bombs are bound for the wet crypts.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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