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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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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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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Love In Original
After a soot rain
the grey fear moved centripetally, seeking centrum;
thoughts, saffron colored, in the words
went mute.
You were still searching the head,
of a nameless torso, in a heap of your failures.
The river had run dry.
Why were you trying to revise the script
of anthem after the man made inferno?
A mushroom cloud was heading this way.
Ah, the prickly lips still eject the same
agenda for dualism,
now the yellow metal was nickel-plated.
Outside the stoic redemption falls the reality.
Man had become a crypt on a grave
of less guilty.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Upright Mirrors
for beheading the raceme
three bullets went into the bubbling chest the assassins
had come when she was alone with scars
on wings she sailed on voices of silence the melody
had kissed the moon in night without veil it was
dark night for blue hills they killed a bloom
of white jasmines why are you upset my love
she has gone on orange wheels towards the sun
the black sea mourns by throwing the wreaths
back on shore to protect the virginity of fishes
and waves a bleeding god disowns
the green earth
poem by Satish Verma
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Frivolous
Motionless within the ambit
of moon,
the rain squirms and flickers
under the street light
in the vacuous silence
of a monolith.
A cricket walks on a cloud
and starts the lightning.
The urn was blind, fills up with grief.
The goddess climbs out of rainbow
and accepts the message
of fireworks.
After the pain, there was
frigidity. The lips will not move under
the mortgage of unvenerable words.
An innocent deal was brokered
with stings about the truth
of the wasp.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Cannot Hold
Got struck on the spiky gate
a half-eaten deer
shattering the panther.
Daggers were drawn.
Terrier was in the glass house.
Canine discretion to draw the blood
between friends.
A crisp murder of a terrorist.
spotted face of the relentless moon
sending flames to jasmines.
The little skulls popping up
amongst rumors.
I scream in a celestial leap.
I could walk in ruins
of incarnations
preaching for death.
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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Nailed
eyes will chew the words
i will not see all day along, do you hear
my thoughts in the icicles of flames, my bones
jutting out of knuckles,
i will go to memory lane once again:
where the stale smell of yellow pages
throws up invisible thighs groping for support
climbing in vain,
half moon floating on lake of tears
in fire of dark night –
drenched, he was escaping without legs
in white darkness of unaddressed pain,
sorrow of locked shame …..
victim of blisters on blasting flesh,
knees give way,
what was the date of surrender,
i was meditating on the ashes of serpents
beneath the ocean of protests in voyage
of solitude, as your lips quiver
in resilience of benign submission
poem by Satish Verma
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Trailblazer
Prepare the bed
of the liquid art,
where the ice will kiss the fire.
Can you climb on the flames
to know the truth
of a molten lava?
Who killed the desire
to enter the frozen god
of revenge?
Alas, I will go back
to the wounded pride.
I will not sell my home of curse.
The innocent breast
of the moon,
has kindled the blaze again.
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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Virulence
scape without a name
scepter of a colossus
merge in a yellow boom
between hunch and a knife,
to keep shut the glassy lips
from red stares
a secret of an anonym
scripting sunset
the stacked neurotransmission
of millions of texts
with quietus
not to return back without the foe’s skull
a hollowness reverberates
while indifference talks
of moon’s lair
nor a dwindling shoulder –
and the tigers have disappeared
from sanctury
poem by Satish Verma
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The Twilight
You start abbreviating the pretention,
caring for the end of a perennial revenge –
of slain truth, finding depth in arguments
which will spawn more violence.
Come my friend, come. Sit with me.
Let us search together the solitary
death in living past. Ultimate space was
a great deception of the eternal silence.
Clayey mood again depicts the pain
between your moons. I go for a play in dust
of time. The beats of heart will not wear
a sword now.
One hope finds a moon-belt on the hills
where the shadows walk with stars.
I will wait for the sun to rise.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Voices
When the sun goes down bleeding
beyond the hills yonder,
I will meet you under
the acacias.
As a souvenir I will keep
your lips in my books for history.
As a gift I will give you
my tears.
This desert of hate has bleached
my fingers, bone white.
I cannot write a monologue
of death in waning light.
I wake to sleep in blasts.
My palms hold out the great silence.
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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Unsung Hands
How can you unsee an etched wound?
The name will tell the moon.
An empty sky now calls for
the rains.
What was it-
the ceremonial farewell?
A dependable pain now starts
pulling out the sharpnels from the body.
You may call it
meaningless. My poem now
moves between the stings. Somebody
was going for a merciless kill.
poem by Satish Verma
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Dig The Floor Of The Moon
A fear stalks me on the road.
Sun was very aloof and cold.
Cannot stop the decline,
give me prayers of your lips.
You talk of dark children dying
when I was losing consciousness.
Will not question the ink of death
or silence of night.
The random greed of man walks
in golden ruins without listening.
I am counting my years wasted
in pursuit of crazy dreams of climbing a watchtower.
Hunger had become a great teacher.
Pain becomes a face. Limbs and shadows
seek justice after rape and murder.
Something seeps in me. Wounds bleeding
on my hands, I dig the floor of the moon
where God was sleeping.
poem by Satish Verma
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Insult The Death
Blows had blackened the mist,
fear of crossing the road, dented the veil.
‘Ism’ versus the boundary had a long rhetoric.
I was struggling with scars of learning.
Pain unwrapped the gift of rhythm with confession
bitten by skorpios, blue and cold.
Finding the cause does not solve the rigidity.
Entering my own genome, increases the panic attack,
where I am heading after all?
And today sun beats the unentered thighs
marrow, blood of a martyr, who pledged
to die to himself between enquiry and truth.
Fragmented self now seeks totality
and the mystery of staying alive,
when the hills are dead and green had turned around.
As usual I am meditating, to live or not to live.
The greatness of earth still impresses,
it does not insult the death.
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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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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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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