Incontinence

Let me change the contours of life,
polluted mind-set.
Spider webs have
elective sites of emotions.
I want to open a new range,
to locate the corrupt moments.
Turn over your face,
let me find the scars.

The soaring pinnacle,
fatherless fame, were declining.
The rot was setting on
the fresco of the wall.
Aspiring for god-head
they have choked the fluiting.
Hands and eyes are cadaverous,
unmoving. Sun is burning very hot.

Not tomorrow,
today we have to bid farewell

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poem by Satish Verma
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Historical Grief

A perpetual war between
frame and content feeds
the fire!
I step outside the house of thoughts.
The death begins the counting and
jasmines start crying.
I hear the over-worn desert
blowing the sand.
A raw stone throws up a sculpture.

Midnight knocks on the door were loud.
Rain was banging, moonlight drifts in.
The huge cloud outlines
the ceremony of deluge.
Abstract ideas have to be clothed again.
The naked truth stops the clock.

A proxy death shatters me.
I also die in a dome.
Night melts in hissing sounds,

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poem by Satish Verma
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Mother’s Day

A heap of voices hails you, when you stop
in the tract.
The silence migrates to new depths
where silhouettes are created,
on the veil of solitude.
It was the flame of pride.
Only there was being,
Of non – being.

A load is lifted. a tender death smiles
I walk in the deep woods,
to collect my mother’s ashes.
She had a scented presence in the sunset.
I will weave a pattern,
of shooting stars in the black sky.

I may not go back
to the epitaph, for a goddess of first
and last war with my conscience.
The full text of infinite pain,

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poem by Satish Verma
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No Immediate Tomorrow

Metamorphosis comes first,
said the path
missing the trail of truth.
Spirituality remained unconnected.
Cunning lies kept on
popping up like bush fires.
Non answering provoked
a wordless war between tall trees.

Non sleeping fears
held the linear perceptions.
Tirelessly the thoughts mapped
the doubts and plunged into grief.
A name was engraved on nevertime tomb.
Show me your tattooed skin,
a proof of a dream.

Don’t push it down, it is always there.
Your basic fear.
You want again to cook a slice of past.

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poem by Satish Verma
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Separated Our Lives

Shadows were talking,
we arrived nowhere.
Text was smaller than life.
Millennium hung on our eyes,
rattling the long distance calls.
Our house was ruined,
multiple windows
turned into walls and poems died.

Your face has become an empty vase.
Dismembered cast off
in the corner of the house.
A dreadful ruffled
body of the past glory.
I was nearly buried in quick sand.
Now I talk to trees, the carpeted clouds,
and move again.

My hands suffered
lifting the polarities.

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poem by Satish Verma
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Immortality

A very disconnecting creek where bodies
were found, presents a pictorial death in night,
which must be challenged, I say. Then I think without
thoughts; summer was ending and a pandemic
was at the door. The art of debating the image
sears the mind. Must act, think later: the gold

coins have been thrown in the market, the
frozen lens behind the slit eyes watch the cargo
unloading: the explosions come in spate. What
was it – greed or fear? We are running blindly,
the brides, the boys, the men. Of modern governance
a metaphysical meditation.

The strings pulled behind the curtain, game
starts. Award is gifted. The name dies.

Satish Verma

poem by Satish Verma
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Nihility

Dust to dust the soul,
moves in a confined circle
to preserve a death.
The struggle of a truth to find,
the space between the fact and fiction.
Time comes to breathe in nihility,
questioning the infidelity of violence.

I do not want to avoid the revolution within
let me use the knife to cut,
the moments into filaments of sparks.
I wanted to restrain myself,
from committing the act of accepting the pain.

The first truth remains the last truth.
Winds of change cannot erase it.
Right side of knowledge,
and wrong side of fact were always in conflict.
The sweet-smelling mask was baffled,
crippling the mind.

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poem by Satish Verma
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Erected In My Pain

Life gives you a sudden shock,
with ugly scars of mutilated truth.
Arriving becomes a failure,
a tilted faith.
Your eyes were blank but
you were seeing through
your hundred wounds,
spinning in the import.

Continuity of lies starts again.
From post to post
a sting was preoccupied,
fed on odium.
I had an indestructible desire
to set the throat free
from the obtrusive rust.
Love was not enough
a little bit burning on tongue was needed.

Polity has ruined

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poem by Satish Verma
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The Nirvana

Tracing the primordial culture of truth
in its oneness, we find the ultimate answer.
Still the negative effect prevails
increasing the confusion.
Existence in now, has a travesty of truth.
Can we breakaway from our past?

Can we exist between right and wrong?
Between good and evil?
Between truth and fiction?
How many faces has reality?
The Self amalgamates the formulations
provides the mind with the safe exits.

The visualization
was not a happening, not actuality
an escape from pain & reality?
The thoughts were always disturbing
creating a false identity.

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poem by Satish Verma
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Beyond Change

It slides stealthily in you, the fear
shifting the blame, stoking to run. He said
the wolves are coming. I heard a wailing
sound across the black wall,

I hate you, I hate you. He was crying
and shouting. Why were you so good to
me, why did not you hit me? He started
throwing stones on jasmines –

and then hanged himself with a shoe
lace. Fingerprinting the DNA was inconclusive.
Senseless incarceration, a hidden paranoia,
a tormented soul arrested under the canopy.

Heights, yes heights were responsible for the
fall, for the hurt, for the pain. Could not
stay fearlessly for a long time. Perfection
was the watchword.

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poem by Satish Verma
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