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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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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A River Flows Underground
That was unscarred night.
The full moon was rising.
A contagium had spurred it to go high.
A brazen assault bleeds
the painter's eyes. He sees only
red in the pubescent rage.
She walks out of the stain,
turning into ash, urchin's
brightest moon.
Standing on the crossroads
who was burning clouds?
Rains will never come again.
Phylogeny flattens the guns.
We were hiding behind the
rituals watching the fall of light.
I will make my own truce
with death. I refuse to walk
under the belly of smoke.
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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Poetry
The flesh was putting up a brave dialogue.
I was willing to play the game.
Stunned, shocked, pleasantly sore
basking in heat of silk throat,
I asked the needles to go ahead
and stitch the wounds without loss of blood.
Wasps were waiting to light the candles,
so that they can attack the pink skin.
The fruit bats were hanging upside down;
time for fellatio. A boundary was submerged
in deluge of anger. It was a white night
for an ice cream cone. God bless the queen.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Flames
You went blank on the line
between sand and water,
between seizure and assault.
The tribes have unwrapped their torches,
they are coming in numbers.
Who was going on trial?
Fierce fidelity is demanding vendetta.
The drummer announces the fight.
Justice parts the lips for
peace against tragedy!
The golden voice caves in.
Time moves as a profane octopus -
suckers clasping on the vital stomata.
Green blood oozes from eyes.
The truce was transient.
Childless earth throws up the flames.
poem by Satish Verma
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Kleptomaniac
This kitsch
makes you hollow,
kleptomaniac.
You become blind in green
ready to make a dumb leap
from tall cliff.
Contempt for climactic throats.
The man walks on water
to meet death in icebox.
Pink torch like royal command signals,
black white moon enters a sober cloud
beyond the vibrations.
Now was the chance to kill
the light, fixing the graves.
One day the laughter was alive.
poem by Satish Verma
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Let Me Go Into Snow
Audacity to live with your demons,
putting up a fake love belief,
who was the time,
of that dark night? Distinctly alive to what
I was not just putting up the shades of death
into nothingness of peace in war.
Searching for self in capacious hope,
was it the half-light of a moon,
slipped on the words of a hoisted grief?
A wild truth was better than silken ribbons
of fabricated lies. I am tired of playing
games on the turf of synthetic desires.
It would be time again, for what was time,
encapsulated in crazy dialogues of taking on
a chaste enemy. I will give my life for
a bright red rose in absence of sun, drenched
in fire and burning in dew drops, for the
flowering of melting snow.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Abdication
It was a domestic pain,
when we came apart in boots and helmets.
Taking the shine away, moon gave up the fight
on lake, against the clouds, a sniper
intuitingly, started a homicidal blasting
to start the rains.
An ode to sepia needs scrutiny;
cuttlefish had a second thought. No faith
permits the slaughter of septa. Walls were squinting
to see better. A square root will find the squall,
between the breaths. Beyond arousal of oceans
a shaken, surreal, blast from a craven rifle.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Ride The Tiger
I want to ride the tiger
I want to ride the tiger
It will be black and white in the dead of night
Eyes flashing in the clear moonlight
I want to ride the tiger.
Its like a tear in the hands of a western man
Tell you about salt, carbon and water
But a tear to a chinese man
Hell tell you about sadness and sorrow or the love of a man and
A woman.
I want to ride the tiger
I want to sail through the risin sun for you and you
We got something to learn from the other side
Something to give, we got nothing to hide
I want to ride the tiger.
Black wants out of the streets
Yellow wants the country
Red wants the country back
And white wants out of this world
Sing - sing to the sky
I want to ride the tiger
I want to ride the tiger.
Look to the summer of seventy-five
All the world is gonna come alive
Do you want to ride the tiger?
Its like a tear in the hands of a western man
Tell you about salt, carbon and water
But a tear to an oriental man
Hell tell you about sadness and sorrow or the love of a man and
A woman.
song performed by by Jefferson Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scarf On Head
Tangled clues
with sensuous sparring;
the incense was rising from the blue moon.
It was body’s integrity,
a lender was demanding
when lust had become prodigal.
Behind the thin veil, red eyes
stared unblinkingly
at the portrait of a nude zero.
When the light was nodding from a crown
the darkness spat on the feet
which walked on the roses.
A single thorn will not be envious
of the licking fingers.
A dropp of blood will tell the truth.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Laughing Skull
Name was more beautiful than the face.
It was charisma of night.
A dream without the eyes.
Laughing skull on the road
opens a wound,
and dying footprints were neither consenting
nor refusing.
A faticity clamps the flow of blood,
I was counting the stitches,
somewhere the pain was reappearing.
Interpersonal hate had a story to tell:
greed, anger and bullets.
The legs were chopped off from truth.
He was not faithful to sun.
In my heart lies a trapped river.
Its history is old, its water was humble.
Uncontaminated was the knock on the door
to a melting of white snow.
poem by Satish Verma
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Black And White
The nihil extract seeps into,
hungry roots of thoughts,
doubts the doubter.
I do not abandon the
flame of nil shadows.
Try to find the way back to home,
where I was born,
breaking my leash.
Equanimity suffered when
continuity bargained for
substance, while I opted for
emptiness where the space was enough
to turn the pages of life,
and I listened to the unhitched
voices of virgin lips.
Moon shadow in a self portrait
hangs on a tear
but I worshipped the sun;
Its heat melting my contexts,
entombed in scaffoldings of hope.
The crisp day witnessed
a miracle when no body
complained in black & white.
poem by Satish Verma
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Killing Zone
If you walk straight under the
shadow of moon, to the salt lake
death will blow a long whistle.
Everything was ruined in war of words.
There was no peace in the heart,
even after meditation, the mind
drove for the flesh, caressing neither
blameless womb nor Oedipus.
The dead forefathers goad the hypocrisy
till the blood spurts out from
the black navel of centuries
and the forgiveness stands naked.
poem by Satish Verma
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Enormous Guilt
Cannot stare
coming on terror radar. Every night there
was Celsius rise in deadpeace. The climate
debt of a dark cloud was changing.
What is going to happen, tell me blindfolded.
We have a never or nothing attitude. The
roads were on edge, grazing under a blood
spinning midnight lamp, like a whipped
up cream of convenient truths. A subterranean
anger was banging against the wailing
wall. We did little in our synchronized
failure. Nobody was going to blink.
A tooth was smashed by a flying missile
of a homegrown myth. The glacier was
shy of a black fire. A holy moon becomes
opaque in white winter.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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The Visitor
The wait begins adorned with symbols
for shadow to fall
between hope and pretention.
The moon will talk
when the dew returns
and clouds are hiding.
He will come in a black cloak
for a final assault
with broken promises.
Is he untouchable?
You cannot embrace him?
Walks like a ghost between me and you.
Our past, open-eyed, the truth
happens on road
in crowd, in our home.
poem by Satish Verma
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Sinking
Your becoming, cuts the moon
in half. I come
blind to hold the
knife.
The aroma of the bush
prepares the golden cups
for drinking milk from the
rage.
His wings were glued, the bird
will not be able to fly
in the night of despair and
song.
Immerse yourself in the assault
and the kiss of blizzard. The
snow is strong, wind is very
low.
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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The Other Smile
Death will not measure
the height,
from which we fall.
Not being,
the psyche of primeval fear
finds its conscience –
subverts the softness
of moon-eyed life
with wealth of green blood
in brown bread.
And the white candle
burns at night
to send aurora borealis
in blue irises.
poem by Satish Verma
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Predatory
Surge of rage in domes of violence
skins the history, becomes a frozen embryo
of genetic markers, shimmers in society,
race and native shirts.
Enters into the creation of a saga
accomplished by advancing poppies;
there was no connection to ancestors.
Brutalizing golden dawn
leaves a bitter taste.
They were fighting with broken swords.
Virgin flesh becomes moon face,
bloats for a fatal jump,
on to the widow’s peak
of a dancing star at sun-set point.
The innocence cleaves the night
to implant the bride’s lips.
I am lost in a sheared landscape
there is no singing tree.
poem by Satish Verma
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The Dilemma
In cohabiting
a self-denial said:
take me home.
Give me ink and
cry. I am going to write
without paper.
A hungry tiger will
die off the cage. Why did
you toss the key?
poem by Satish Verma
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