Toxic Memory

They were teaching how to butcher
the lamb
and suspend the bines with
drooping hops.
I climbed out of my ashes towards
a marinated moon turned blue in consternation.

Warts and all, here we were ready
to pick up the lost threads to start
a conversation about the hurricane making
landfall, in near future.

After the fall, graffiti appeared on
the clouds, spurting sperms
on the stars.


Satish Verma

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Contrasting

It did not stay in bed for long
the ultimate.
Clouds climbed down from immortality.

The sick motherhood.

We made love
listening to winds
draping our ashes.

A father waited at the door.

I am the sun
I am the moon
interpenetrating in you.

In concept of two enemies.

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Shameful

Like an alligator tending her eggs
on tongue, death moves the life
on strength of charisma, overreaches

for requiem and then distributes the raw
moments in subterfuge, we play the game
to cheat each other without shame.

A red carpet is laid on white floor
of the wax house, making gold from
sun rays. The moon bleeds internally.

The rivals come face to face walking
on the ashes of ancestors, ungrieving for the
loss of sperms. Fertility will come in petri dishes

without the name of father. I am here,
nobody, ready to unanswer any question.
My stains are becoming darker every day.

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Splitting

Touched by moon, I pick up
a black rose,
to return the debt.

Very high
the fire, returns in my eyes.
I start burning in your arms.

The parting,
crawls in the bed
I cannot speak nor cry.


Why it had to happen
after sunset,
when the leafless tree was waiting?


Satish Verma

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Minacia

Dismentaling the menace
very discreetly, the matchmakers
walked over the hurricane to bring
back showers.

Unreachable, moon was smiling
in the blue sky. The maidens were busy
in observing a fast to get a muse.
A million stars went on counting the sins.

Innocent milk will fill up the breasts
of waiting mothers whose children
were coming back from the front. The
shadows were changing with weather.

Inertia of dust turns into a sculptor,
with eyesless sight. A mask falls
from a reclining god.

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.

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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

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Thinning

Undating the memories
in final push to cauldron, I said:
let the words burn to ashes,

in terminal journey,
of eternal flight.
You turn a blind eye to sun’s venom.

Moon, the blue baby in a casket
rubbing the white clouds
for a trek to intoxication.

I ignore the opium field,
to collect the bullets
and bones of infants.

Seeking peace in a simple
shade of hymn.
Perhaps stars are listening.

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Sprouting Seeds

Turnover my secret past
I have to dig up my future
In the hour of crumbling walls and dark
clouds.

Pale moon becomes a beacon
in another version of solitude
where nobody speaks of sores and premature
death.

I stay away from twinkling stars,
from the blossoms of traveling night
and winds which are moving towards the
sky.

Sullied words will go for a conspiracy
making a ghost of my garden
where seeds are sprouting.

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Footprints In Dark

Diplomacy of inconstancy
unmeets the urgency. Aura
of brilliance was falling in your feet.

After the death, it was not a name,
only a frozen body.We moved backward
swiftly, to find out the footprints in dark.

Winter was becoming harsh and
less meaningful. A weak muscle brokers
a peace for dewdrops on rose petals.

I become an earlier story, failed.
Pick up the moon rocks
and start throwing them at sun.

Satish Verma

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Burning Across The Sky

Like a stingray it stung me tonight
the new moon.
A live flame lobbing the sparks.

The seduction had bypassed
the sleezy love
of white egrets.

When are you going
to make a history
by failing to fall?

Can I touch your blue veins
my moon?
They had been aching to step out.

When beast and passion
meet in the blue-faced sky
you start a belly dance.

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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

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A Soul Dies

Sky overcast, moon was sad.
Ashes were sent to the lake.

Who killed the bird in morning rain?
Ashes were sent to the lake.

A hidden slaughterman did not die.
Ashes were sent to the lake.

The good old name now spells the doom.
Ashes were sent to the lake.

I will call you in pitch-dark night.
Ashes were sent to the lake.

Ascending gods have ruined my life.
Ashes were sent to the lake.

A child was stolen from a mother’s bed.
Ashes were sent to the lake.

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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

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Recall

The men were pulled out
from homes,
died on road,
burned to bones and ashes.

At the behest of tall,
unforgiving state.

Compulsion of armchair and mansion
distorts, the regrets
of centuries.

The stones,
blameless flowers,
spurting blood
do not recall any God.

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Awareness

A fragile pistillum sways to conceal
the sperms in pestle. Unilaterally fired salvos
were increasing. After the dig, bodies in the
debris were popping up daily. There
was no truce for brothers in arms. Struggling
to hold on the humanism, anger was rising
from the white paper.

A sense of lost is weaponized. There is
a mix of solemnity and hurt. Pacemaker was becoming
a slave, will not respect cadence. Obscurity
must take refuge. The golden lined clouds
were enduring the sun.A howitzer fires at moon.
It was time to find the anchor, shoving aside
the mortgage of life.

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Collateral

When the curtain falls, the puzzled instinct
inherits the confusion of clouds. The beleaguered

moon goes into a rage. Hungry vultures start
a wait for the fall of a titan, stimulating the sun

to exhibit the trove of the golden rings. Go
blackberries, with bloody roses into the dawn.

Whole night our bones had gone crazy. Flickering
like stars on the lake of speechless body.

All his life he was searching for the windows
to let in the fire for burning up the boots.

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What You Said

Sperms spilled on thighs
When moon was hung over trees
To engage reverberations,

Contesting erratic moods
Outside echoes
Stitching white milk into black tears,

It was not for the deliverance
From pain of separation
And drink the eyes:

The waves died in immensity
Somewhere a dolphin dips in mind
To pick up the music

Of fences, separating ethos
And gossips of terrified oceans
Searching the sunken ship.

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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

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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

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Unfog The Sky

A stand-off between grass and moon
marginalized the perfume of night.
I was standing to read the graffiti
written by light and shade.

The planted kiss, the embrace, the trembling
legs have bricked in the trapped saint.
Where were the stars leading you
for the journey to the end of the bruises?

Some coarse absence of winged thoughts
had continued presence. It was blankness
without emotion, without movement. Can
you think without the past, without the future?

Step-by-step the malice, the lie within
the lie unfolds. Gives a deliberate shock
of self knowledge. I count the bonfires on
the hills. Coming up to unfog the sky.

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