The Predicament
Joined by the funeral, we sit down,
under the blue sky, fire watching, sequentialling
the processions. Ultimately one by one they come,
to dust, hands turned down. After close of the rainbow
there is an explosion and a transition
censored by stone age. They flee from the shrapnels
to swathe in bioluminence of death. The penury
makes a fanciest atrocity.
A pockmarked moon stands there to listen
the scandalized whispers of crulest legends
in century’s hopelessness, guilt’s bleeding.
You never chained the voice of booms. A god
mourns in fading light.
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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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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Hallucination
Watching the ascension
of half-moon from the brown hills
there was a blast in veins.
A raw hope strokes the clouds.
Starting a fire in stars,
making you blind.
Till the eyelids become heavy
with guilt, striving. Waking up
in middle of blue.
I was trying to reach you, when you
were not there,
wounding me in void.
poem by Satish Verma
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Strange
All night November,
I was searching the vulnerable
lips after loosing you.
Now fingerless hands
were moving the sun-dial
away from light.
The shroud was heavy,
I would not breathe.
Give me a blue moon before dawn.
You cannot engage in
sudden withdrawl. I will
come back for a kiss.
The paper that leaves a wound,
I will not sign for the bread.
My hands had stopped trembling.
Satish Verma
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 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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Issueless
It was for a bridge:
water issue,
without a river.
We were fighting
for the tongues
on a wordless journey.
The unlucky sex
was on fire
after the explosion.
Hands off the
mouth. Life was
eating death.
The bells will
not ring today.
God was dead.
poem by Satish Verma
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Earth's Intelligence
Do not open this dirt file of
the suspended time. It reverberates
in me while standing
on the edge of a precipice.
Are you hungry of a desert
light in dark. The birds are
going to follow the sun carrying
the moon on their wings.
A dream creater stands on
a golden rock to retrieve
the archaic relic of a Desinovan
who hit the grave without shoes.
The greed ultimately takes over
the silent death.
poem by Satish Verma
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In Light of the Sinking Sun
An empty chair
A quiet room
In light of the moons full glare.
A sleeping man
A cell of stone
In light of the moons full glare.
A dark hall
A silent porch
In light of the moons full glare.
Flickering light
Buzzing flies
In light of the moons full glare.
The man awakes
Stifles a moan
In light of the fading moon.
Shuffling feet
Dangling keys
In light of the fading moon.
The door opens
The man hauled out
In light of the fading moon.
Straps are tightened
Machine turned on
In light of the fading moon.
A button pushed
A scream of pain
In light of the fading moon.
A blackened body
Smoke-filled room
In light of the fading moon.
Six foot hole
Dug in the woods
In light of the fading moon.
The headstone in
The words are said
In light of the rising sun.
The next man sits
Upon that chair
In light of the rising sun.
Poor old man,
Dealt the hand
In light of the rising sun.
Dealt the hand,
The blow of power
In light of the rising sun.
An evil laugh
A blackened body
In light of the rising sun.
The executioner stands
By a silent chair
In light of the sinking sun.
poem by Samantha Jo
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But Truth Will Not...
Space has all the silent approval,
truth will not multiply.
Another funeral takes place
in the barren field of lies.
Fire burns the life’s hopes,
while town mourns the death.
Sunshine bakes the eyes
but truth will not multiply.
Desireless peak of thoughts
sets out the smoke,
towards our homes,
trampling the shame, guilt and hurts.
We were still indulging in useless talk
but truth will not multiply.
Virtue has a unique impulse
a drone in the ears.
Fog was waiting for the sky.
The planet empties a bucket of sorrow.
I will favour the faceless name,
but truth will not multiply.
poem by Satish Verma
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Truth Will Not Multiply
Space has all the silent approval,
truth will not multiply.
Another funeral takes place
in the barren field of lies.
Fire burns the life’s hopes,
while town mourns the death.
Sunshine bakes the eyes
but truth will not multiply.
Desireless peak of thoughts
sets out the smoke,
towards our homes,
trampling the shame, guilt and hurts.
We were still indulging in useless talk
but truth will not multiply.
Virtue has a unique impulse
a drone in the ears.
Fog was waiting for the sky.
The planet empties a bucket of sorrow.
I will favour the faceless name,
but truth will not multiply.
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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[Censored] OFF
Who the [censored] filters art
Its like claiming perfume is the substance of your [censored] fart
This the [censored] problem with society we don't give a [censored] that people run the show make us look like 7billion clowns all in a pretty row
Gremlins can [censored] us over each day but wish to display our artistic rebellion and feel the shackles of [censored] in action
Stand for this, never will I
I'll make censored seem like the worst [censored] word under the sky
So to the [censored] who censored my write you know I think you'll are [censored] [censored] with little might.
Go [censored] yourselves!
poem by Lindsay Maasdorp
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Connect The Prophets
Outside me was a howling light
tracing a path.
Ending the struggle
of abstract thoughts.
The night was full of hidden flares.
The day was a luxury,
full of exclusiveness.
We must not cry.
The wounds turned up
like fireflies in dark.
I groped in my inner expanse to know what was not.
My fears were agitating.
Perhaps the unknown was unfolding
a sad chapter.
Time always turned back.
I joined the circle of heels.
Ultimately the crowd thins out.
The soul strips to the bone.
The void heals the grief,
and the twisted roots,
connect the prophets.
poem by Satish Verma
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Identically
The town was
fissured.
It does not listen to me
that moribund heart, now.
The biome was ready
to set on fire all the smiles.
No person of god
will lead the prayers to grave.
Let the dust meet the dust
stealthly and
you win the script surreptitiously.
Beautifully done, the obscene death.
A bruise spreads
shattering the mirrors of perfect accident.
poem by Satish Verma
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Tirelessly
Blurring of words
takes place. Lead the light, O Sun;
non-path travelers are playing
an exotic game
in defiance and in delirium
of schizo-affective mind.
Fruits were fudging the flowers.
The parents. Walking alone,
watching the abasement of a
young pilgrim seeking the belief
of walls. The moon wears a death-cap.
It was the return of silky climax.
Do not move. Do not speak. Listen
to voice of stillness. World is becoming
proxy-keeper. The surrogates
were releasing the facts.
poem by Satish Verma
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Against The Times
Lipped-wet,
Counterfeits.
Fakes neither audible
nor visible.
The moment dies
in our hands.
It was a non-
happening.
Silence booms
destroying the palace,
of dreams. I should have
become the scissors.
This poem is not charitable
gnawing at the underlip
of an orphaned
moon.
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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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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What Has To Stay
Like I want to erase the fear
before I light a remote fire
in the blue veins.
Actually this was the crisis of self pride
in manic depression
seeking the anonymity of toes
tracing the footpath.
Becoming a paper-boat
in the winds of flesh and fancies
on the choppy sea of death.
No spinal pain for candles
to burn in courtyard
of sunken faith.
Red grapes in a tiny bowl
leap to lips of sun
for sons and daughters. Ajmer, INDIA
SATISH VERMA
poem by Satish Verma
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