New Apartheid
A skylight begins the apartheid
in ironed out differences.
At the shores skulls have reappeared.
Blue flames were eating away the green carbon
of the dying giants. Fake photosynthesis
was canning the skimmed breeze in books
and encapsulated euthanasia was available
over the counters. Eyeshadows were hiding
the dying grace. Tempest would go for a classical dance
only. Counting of heads had begun. Price hike
of black arrows would decide the fate of a nation.
Hunger was writ large on cheekbones of
roaming rocks, shining the landscapes.
The chorus spreads like eau de cologne
over the solitude of my homeland.
poem by Satish Verma
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Enunciation
Entering into hypersonic gridlock
you become one of the crowd;
remain devastated, slip into unconciousness,
defer to a calibrated emblem and speak
untainted. The debris was taking to the
street. The trees were drinking from
geyser basins, mutated restraint. The crow
was taking a bath in milk, to show that
it has no venom. Or rather no controversy
for a tedium death. That is the stripping of
ambition, till the light arrives. Darkness
will reap the grains of sorrow. The fire
digs out the secret bones. You cannot stop
the whipping of skulls which were without thoughts,
when silence was bidding for lips.
poem by Satish Verma
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Not Anybody
Sun was setting over the cacti and critiques.
A cryptogram said, dignity first without
any damage to faithful aloneness. Protection
was not sacrifice, you have to plummet from a cliff.
A plaque has no mortality. The pressing of
lips places pain ahead of hope. The smiles
have a coercive expedience. I become voiceless
in a delirium of hooves.Sex green death opens
a door. Fear of feathers surprises, would
not measure the sky. Bound by winds the giant
trees search for the soil. Any grass can send
the butterflies. The bald piston throws the
blood on the spikes. Spiders are unwinding
by kisses. Beds are empty.
poem by Satish Verma
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Byantium -2
Long night will start the pincer movement;
pyrexia is rising.
Something like an extraterrestrial hand
digs deep in the mind to open the tomb
to unravel the tragedy of nuts and bolts
which could not fix
the mutation of the hour of death.
Dark blinking lashes of soul
measures the cliffs of silence
and then pours the hot red
vermilion in parted wisdom of sky.
The clang of bones again penetrates
the liver. The green flaming jelly of
innocent bellies.
The hyacinth is choking the village pond
hiding the corpses of precious flowers
with green blood.
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poem by Satish Verma
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LIKE A Da VINCI
Come, become my mirror to read the backward. Script
wards have failed me.
The sea is turbulent
and I am laying flowers at your feet.
What was is your eyes
unfathomable like a da Vinci?
Hold my trembling hands
I am going to dropp the gems.
Nobody will agree with me
there was a face on the wall.
Bare as the night moon of October
I have undone my beliefs.
A loincloth was sufficient to hide the birth.
Ceremony has begun to knead the lies.
Use your death as the furnace of life
where knives are sharpened to start the healing.
A stranger has come as the guest of the house
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poem by Satish Verma
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Temple of Hope
Long night will start the pincer movement;
pyrexia is rising.
Something like an extraterrestrial hand
digs deep in the mind to open the tomb
to unravel the tragedy of nuts and bolts
which could not fix
the mutation of the hour of death.
Dark blinking lashes of soul
measures the cliffs of silence
and then pours the hot red
vermilion in parted wisdom of sky.
The clang of bones again penetrates
the liver. The green flaming jelly of
innocent bellies.
The hyacinth is choking the village pond
hiding the corpses of precious flowers
with green blood.
[...] Read more
poem by Satish Verma
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The Shooting Star
This was an obscene observation,
seeing through one’s mind
a terrible happening.
The naked truth was always dangerous.
I close the eyes of a beloved day.
The first lover hovers over
the trees like an invisible ghost.
By transforming the obsession
into the wholeness of a metaphor,
don’t you externalize the center,
of a theme? Integrity was
never your forte.
The light within was fading,
sheer escape.
I believe in a spring faithful to sun,
where the searching ends.
The body melts into melodies,
and the shooting star of midnight,
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poem by Satish Verma
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The Terrible
This terracotta urn
contains the ashes
of an earth-baked dream.
You worship the setting sun,
rape of dawn will continue.
Intravenous entry of hope
had failed.
Outside the window
crowd of heirlooms, falling like stars.
Thoughts come and go, we hunted opportunities in vain.
Tonight I will dropp the wheels
on the tarmac, to roll the pride.
My flight had knocked out
the sleeping pain. Now amnesia
will help me to climb on the moon’s shoulders.
They dragged her in the field,
the most deprived one. Was outraged.
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poem by Satish Verma
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Untitled Monument
Beyond the self,
is the freedom, unchained dawn,
I am in a crowd of voices.
Lifted by songs,
a bruised truth becomes a rose.
Choice was limited,
I desired silence, middle path in night,
under the lunar ecstasy.
Nowhere to go
I searched for tranquility, peace and light.
Failing hopelessly.
Love migrates back to old memories.
White days are pruned,
I would say the mirror was wrong.
I did not choose my life.
Dream of final
release was extraordinary
grandeur of pink moon
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poem by Satish Verma
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Wanderer
It was a taxidermal view
thousands of fawns on the lake.
Can you handle the die-off
of the whole truth?
I have nowhere to go. Genes are
turning on, turning off. Bare hands
holding the bruises.
Hungry, but cannot eat
looking at the tattoos on the back of
starving children.
I am sick these days in the midst of glory
and shame. Faithlessness is a prize
wrapped by shadows. The snakes
are climbing on the walls.
Human things, like chimps
kissing and hugging to calm down.
in memoriam of a lost tribe.
The body of a chaste god
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poem by Satish Verma
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