I Am The Lover

After separation from death
rain-scented moon was rising
in broken sky. Night birds started
fluting one to another relentlessly;

earth unjointed, was speechless, in
failures we meet often, a little while.
I was ascetic scaling blood pollution,
the life had no mercy, incapable of healing.

You surge for the bleeding miner, the
gold missing, priest was innocent, behind
the peels lies the empty hand, insanity in
parallel depression will find a new praise.

The infinite solitude of the soldier in war
fights the demons of blind desires. One by
one they kill you from the mountain. You
rise from the ocean under twilight of winged stars.

poem by Satish Verma
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The Frost

This overwhelming emptiness:
something to present allegorical, figuratively,
which is not here. Vultures were coming back.
A stimulating dialogue must start

to release the hostages of unknown fears.
The menacing fog was towering over statements.
Everything was turning into coal and the smoke
was streaming from the oasis.

Where we were on the impounded road
unstuck after ethnic cleansing?
The jealous blood was coloring the greed
on the cold shoulders of priested bluff.

The beast loses the domination, bread
and milk of drifting poor. In glass house the
clouds were entering. The dissecting table
was ready to nail the sea of hate.

poem by Satish Verma
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Unasking

Timeless,
the eyes and fractured wisdom,
the two of us, extremely prudent, suffering
the dislocation of vigilance against wrinkled sin,
I am on my own today
disconnected to

the unearthly rehearsal
of breaking the cycle of carbon assimilation
in the veins of white lies, of crude bombs,
moonbathing we were colloiding in void
of consciousness and scattered verses
in scriptures remained unsearched;

the brutal hierarchy of chromosomes,
loud and merciless, in the birth of new settlements,
huge ovens for cremations, collecting the golden
teeth from the ashes, celebrating the
return of blood and death, me,
blessing the unborn poem.

poem by Satish Verma
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Now You Know

You are not with yourself today.
Conversation was stopped, from cloud to cloud.
Now you know what you did not want to know.

No longer the pathless destiny,
comes near you, you go towards the
bushes to collect the ash, the burnt out
remains of a theme, a design, a horizon.

In memory of books, which are not read
by anyone now. Pages lay wounded. Black
stones trying to hear the sounds of dawn.
The tremors were increasing in the swampland.

The wolves were in howling rage. A daring
gift of death, tormenting the spirit, human
flesh, you watch through the twilight,
through the terror of betrayal. Each tear drop
sacrifices the eternity.

poem by Satish Verma
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After The Storm

Unfettered for a little while, I was
catching the sleep visitor. It hurts
when the dream ends and a poem starts.
An eucalyptus, drinking lots of water, throwing the aroma
incensing the air, I pick up the fallen seeds of light
in winter solstice, befriending the home traumas.

Fireflies leave the scorched marks of daydreaming.
I talk to moon for sometime and leave my address
with him. Tomorrow he will come to inherit the
pain. I wanted a sunless garden to commit
the sin of forgetting you. The night will find
me undying till eternity.

In my words I carry the charred remains
of time which smells the hunger of tomorrow.

Satish Verma

poem by Satish Verma
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Kissing Gods

When we slept through our
naked loops, there was a silent call.
Moon was out walking on the street
peeping through the glass window,
the crossed legs.
Trees were meshed up in dark. Do you
know the impropriety of leaves, climbing
on each other? Dogs inbreeding? Incestuous in camera.
The elixir of life. Recycled urine. We
were not crying. It was the urgency
to die to challenge the infinity.
We get paralysed. Our legs will not
move on fallen skulls. Blood was everywhere.
The terrorists on terrace, negotiating for a massive
ransom. This interwar was wholesome. The
hysterical confusion breaks us apart
and morgue was full of kissing gods.

poem by Satish Verma
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Whole Truth

Let it be as such,
my long cut tear,
Do not dramatize the wound
and put it as an exhibit.
No attempt should be made to mask the fated pain.
Wait for me at the end of the road.

Not for me,
I grieve for the fallen trees, tall glory of past.
It was a question of survival.
Survival of the best, which could not continue.
There is reversal of equatization.
Man has become superior to god.

They are using Him, I am afraid.
Urging him to commit a natural suicide,
a logical ending of a patriarch.
The stage is set for a mass mourning.

A big conspiracy had been brewing

[...] Read more

poem by Satish Verma
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The Tragic Intimacy

A crisp moon rejects the night,
the words retreat, like fallen truths.
Stillness was palpable
silhouettes moved in vacancy.
And we did not know where to go,
how to find the cause of life.
World surged forward like a spider.

The dust, the heat
and a breathing sorrow
met in the twilight
of immaculate pain.
I hated the drooping lights
and burning of feathers.
Birds were dumb
to say how cruel
the benevolence had been.

I fell upon a thorn
who witnessed my incarceration.

[...] Read more

poem by Satish Verma
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Imperfect Present

Priests of cave temple
go to sleep. Street urchins
drink the thinner, eat nail polish,
crushed lizard for a kick and then
go without food for three days.

The valley burns. Of what consequence?
Sting of truth overreaches. Another committed
icon walks through the bodies
sleeping on slimed stones,
somehow.

Do you hear the wails? The sirens?
Whole life spent on margins of future,
drinking your own salt. A shadow
wants to know, what was the hour
of destiny?

Windows tremble. The owl’s hoot hangs
in the air. Fearful dawn fails to

[...] Read more

poem by Satish Verma
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Commentries

This was my book of pain
with no ending.
Life had two meanings-
Anticipation of today,
and fear of tomorrow.
Time was running out
like sand from fists,
mists were rising,
commentaries on setting sun had begun.

Mind was calculating, computing all the time
the duality of desire.
I wanted to catch the words,
the movement of grief,
the completeness of a thought.
It came as a stroke-
the revelation of self.

We did not want to break
the bondage of problems.

[...] Read more

poem by Satish Verma
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