Suspended Execution
Self-searching was most difficult for me
one by one the years had gone by.
Remaining taciturn I move inwardly,
try to read the verdict on the wall,
a suspended execution.
I slowly become blind.
A terrible blankness,
infiltrates into mind,
my hands tremble.
Cannot write the unwritten code,
civilized way of accepting the retreat.
The flawless life was a dream,
I wake up in anger, counting the failures.
How painful it is to realize
your revered one are becoming smaller than you.
Death does not swallow the pride
what is to forego and what not?
From moment to moment,
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poem by Satish Verma
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Blindfolded
A dented version of an old grudge,
blackened lips with an elite song,
your relentless search ends in
a terminal shock, nursing a green wound.
That anguish was still there, and the wild anger
sprawled on hidden fractures, false teeth,
and twisted spy glasses. Sky falling silent
in terrible gloom of centuries.
Blindfolded we are led for a ceremony
of total dedication, drinking opiates
from the cupped hands of a silver god,
with alien innocence and silent submission.
I stare at the changing colors of world
shifting like summer dunes,
dancing on the graves, in dripping
dew of midnight moon, salt of tears.
poem by Satish Verma
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Nothing Verse
Night was not worth
selling the womb. Biological warheads
were sufficient to take on
the gender eugenesis.
People were busy again, in worshipping
the archaic weapons.
What is holding them together?
The fear of extinction? Or the celiac trauma
depriving them of all the healthy nutrients.
The warrior is dead, only his long nose
is still smelling the foul odors
of hate and strife.
The beetles are coming and the caterpillars,
swarming over the beds. Where will you
sleep now? And beyond was the life wasted,
and darkness. On mantel are standing
the empty frames of future, trying
to hold the lava, back and forth.
poem by Satish Verma
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Nothingness And Being
Sometimes lurking in corner.
Sometimes tumbling down
endlessly,
and sometimes with frozen smile
immolating oneself
before an idol to be.
He danced imprisoned in a glass case
whole life.
Overcoming the pretentious inhibition
to stand naked in dimlights
of arguments.
He started a dialogue
about the disquietening habits
of killing each other with sharp tongues.
I said death and life are two suggestions
worth consideration. A clump disdain in between.
The birds are circling again in sky.
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poem by Satish Verma
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Windows Are Not Supporting
In the culture of self, and wilting idol
who was going to interpret the truth?
To resolve the inner conflicts
of an ailing mind?
I tell no one my validity,
my loss, and my sudden realization,
of a dying aura.
Give me a poem, a childhood, a dream
I wanted to live,
without maligning a mirror.
Without a cold-blooded
murder of truths.
Life was becoming a waiting in blackness for an
audience with god.
A thought sits whole life
on a ruined model of a truth,
trying to get freedom from the
celebrated events of greed and hate.
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poem by Satish Verma
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Golden Sunset
Gently the invisible
strength overrides
penetrating every bone.
The desire was not seeking,
it was emitting a gloss.
Fierce truth was reverberating.
Only the mind was alert,
flesh was hissing.
An intense light
knived my sadness, death wish
it was a legend, I went into a process.
A quietness catching
all the voices of disharmony.
Word by word vocabulary
filtered in my heart.
Priests were prophesying doom.
Instant attention gave a passage,
uncontaminated, closer to the truth.
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poem by Satish Verma
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Black Moon
He made me move on the rough edges
to the abyss of ‘ I ’, persuasive, but strong
for a thrilled journey, on the snow-clad
relationship between disquietening
follicles of wants.
Completely alert, still drowning in fear
of abstract river, of fire, of nodal pain
of self-destruction. Suicide was below dignity.
This was annihilation of the present, past and future
in realm of faith versus asexual love of sin.
Only one moment was sufficient to disturb me,
between me and my flips, between captive
and captor. The quiet honing of silence
for breeding vowels and petals of narcissus.
Black moon, I always loved you.
poem by Satish Verma
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Trinity
Even the sleeping genes learn
from their crashes with needles in eyes.
A candid house chooses to fade
after thinning of a blessing.
Legacy of a heretic
lives, dragging down the cracked joints
of a frozen mirror. The wild lips kissing
a tiger on mouth in black night of dancing spirits.
The raging bull decides to goad a raped
girl on white daisies of abandoned bed. All
the dead hunters start cheating the bandages
of a wheelchair, the trembling asteroids
start dispersing in cryptic dark. The world
ends with a kill, mourners lay wreaths and hand
out the cyanide capsules for future onslaughts
on the waking eyes.
poem by Satish Verma
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In Sleep
A cult of sound without lips
was growing. The veil had staked its claim.
Staying myself I thought I will become
you; there would be a lured kill!
Moaning inside, a wave has ruffled
the sea. Serpent of moon quakes the shore.
Death was worthy of a kiss. A gull
flies away with glassy wings.
Rediscovering a beehive, honey of the
immaculate queen, between the breasts lies
a rival, I do not drag out the rainbow, I
have lost the will to trap the blue-fish.
We are distancing. A saddest tree drops
the seed in abyss, blackened, somebody
buries it inside a wall. The stones have
no option, up to neck the opacity runs.
poem by Satish Verma
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Failed Performance
For death of conflicts,
and conflicts of death,
the coming of cessation, I was waiting.
Tomorrow must come
before eternity,
that inness, I will come to terms with one day.
The absoluteness of certainties
creates a danger of half-truths.
An intelligent mind suffers _
in ther era of hoaxes and contradictions.
The happenings of existence
continue without dignity.
Hand-picked rainbow is dumped
face down in shallow creek,
drugged, raped and abandoned
to lose colours in water.
When the sky hangs on the shore
the blue sea sends the condolence.
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poem by Satish Verma
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