D-day

It was the centre of inferno,
where we met -
the chaste tree was burning.
Beyond the time,
we opened up our memories,
churning our minds.
That was without
space & measurements.
I am again turning deaf.

The stillness had a vocabulary,
and the words hummed a silence.
I emptied all my rooms,
came out to listen to otherness.
How thin was the happening,
the thoughts drifted out,
visibility became poor
and ending of pain came soon.

Pure tearless eyes,

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poem by Satish Verma
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Hoisting

A fledged reincarnation starts a carnage
before the scared skull, ribs were missing
from the pink wraps. Eye over eye opens a split

vision, to live in a shirtless thoughts, to kill
where the truth was. An accidental lover hovers over
the green breasts, full of secret grief.

All the birds on the lake have surrendered
the sun’s light to extinguished nests and flown away.
The pain of yesterday now, will haunt the bride

of moon who had to abandon the baby in mud
to be watched by wolves of garlanded priests.
The tear was me, subway was me.

The skin was changing colour, camouflaged for
shame and guilt, pleading a glimpse of fire.

poem by Satish Verma
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Some Question Marks

Don’t go brutal in the veins
blood is diluted
life has become complex.
Barefoot truth walks,
in the sun without shadows.
We are beaten by lies.
The caste aside had a carnal thrust,
and the stars were weeping.

I will die of a primordial death one day.
What is the central theme, of present life?
It has no nuances, only the numerical strength of passions.
Question marks are leaving,
an omnipresent stink everywhere.

An awakening without,
a flame does not inspire
a hidden defeat of haloed touchstone.
I will go for a swim,
in the dead sea to taste,

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poem by Satish Verma
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Tale-bearer

They were counting the bullets and bodies.
The severed limbs were twitching. Sometimes to go back
to their owners,
but the faceless torso selects a bush to hide the remains.
The leaves are falling on the make shift home of death.

It is time to know
who will judge the color of oozing blood?
Red, brown or black? ?

In rapt attention I can see a carnivore
without carnality there is a beauty of kill
a splurge of energy and game.
No hate, no envy, no greed.
It is not violence! It is nature! !
What you are doing with a charred face?
Changing the features of earth?
A little bit here, a little bit there
My tears will tell the tale.

poem by Satish Verma
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Green Vision

In a starry night
an adolescent thought starts
a rivalry. A baby moon squirms.
No hour was safe from terror in dark.
I climb the stairs breathlessly.

The great divide deepens in hearts.
Incisors bite the tongue,
grey cells bleed inside.
Thick ash has not stopped the cinders
smouldering under the veils of flushed peace.
Cupped tears wash the feet of death,
a caravan of words moves desolated,
cutting on the edges, before you say
goodbye to green vision.

Today I am pulling out the nails
from the walls. No hangings of departed centuries.
No portraits of exiled flames.
Only the face of truth, burning

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poem by Satish Verma
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The Hunt Had Failed

The symbols delivered the hunger
and desire cleaved the hearts.
Fragile peace for collective
anguish was not a substitute.
Moment to moment
truth revealed your hand.
In desperation I searched
for destiny, not path.

Inadequately I clothed my fate.
Did not believe in organised mirrors.
Less than a peak,
I climbed to happiness.
No idols, no idolatory
my passivity took applause,
hungry thoughts
indulged in deep search.

The imperishable freedom,
a road to absolute

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poem by Satish Verma
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Arrogant Curves

At the dance of the naked moon
a single leaf quivers
I go into trance.
A fetus in womb turns.
The first appearance
of the magnitude:
a sad cloud leans on the horizon.
Hostility of the summer
is melting in blue sky.

It will never end.
The eternal soft music of silk
the death had been hunting.
I will call for a song-
I need a transcendental soul
to sing an elegy for my unborn revolution.
Give me a hand,
a presence, a touch.

My fading blanket of stars.

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poem by Satish Verma
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Failed God

Without pretension I try to dissect the truth
with a leap of faith,
which was a whole of me
and no outside fable.
The part ambition and part failure,
become a lump in the throat.
An intense enquiry starts with a shudder.

A crystal depth spills in cosmos, the words scream
you die for a chaste language.
The clarity of wing’s span,
and the purity of essence.
Yet life repeats some relevant,
questions of unknown,
of livid pain and sorrow.

As preamble to witness
a sad demise of a vision,
shock of abandonment
of a dream of future intellect,

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poem by Satish Verma
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Peace Afterwards

Was it a summer storm of sexuality?
Only the chaste statue stood in threads,
and then went down the cuticle
with nipple rings.
The demand of namelessness was rising

in the dim shadows of brisk tones.
To step down from sanity, a clown
was ready to become a hunchback.
Inserting the name of cupid in the missing years
the theme will encircle the house.

First conceived as a rose, its petals
are covering your cleavage
and our poor kids are slaughtered without
a surveyor. Do not read between the blood streams,
the solf face has become a bomber.

Of eternal rage, colours are moving
from red to gray. Ash was filling the empty bottles.

poem by Satish Verma
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Matrix

He said creating a will
to become whole Being,
was more important. Spacing of thoughts
can wait. Fear was there
all the time.

Life had been loaned on a timeless impermanence,
an in-between death and death
Light was being and dark was being.
There was no god, no icon
only shades.

Castaway on a lonely stretch,
you tune in to the rising pitch of cuckoo.
It stops for a while. A deliberate pause.
Again more resolutely it rises
to measure the awakening!

A soul caged in body wants to fly away,
on an austere journey; solemn and relentless

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poem by Satish Verma
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