Ultimate Death

The character of the myth exploded,
naked aggression on the souls started with,
meditation on death.
What was real?
The dignity of life or,
suicide of seed truth?
The classical colors were,
going to live only half-life.

Guilt was writ large, on the face of morality
and essence was always forgotton.
The kingdom had swallowed the strangers,
And king had killed the songs.
Adulterous games had become popular
every one was becoming a rengade.

Death will ultimately,
wipe out the signatures,
from the blackboard.
It would be a clean sweep.

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poem by Satish Verma
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Man’s Destiny

Fear overtakes the desire to happiness,
death is an accident:
it will happen for lesser reasons.
The meaning inside the meaning.
Delay in perception was
due to, surge between despair,
and hope, between touch and go.

A transparency in truth,
is always rejected for sorrow.
Center of life was sweet.
Needs courage to go for,
a conscious death of a script.
Your existence shudders amidst,
the roar of pretentions.
I adore the bloodless coup.

The solitude becomes my timeless strength of morality
of enormous silence.
Mind suffers a smouldering fire.

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poem by Satish Verma
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Milk Bath

He had tied the brown thread on the pole
relieving the spirits from trees for the start
of belly dance of death on sand dunes,
whispering, gyrating to the tune of an
invisible snake charmer. Salaam
ambrosia, you had pledged to unhole
the milk bath, black waves will crash on the
windows, that I dream was true, god will
have the nativity for mankind and planet
earth will redeem peace.

Let us first accept the defeat of eternity,
and wounds will leap on, pouring upwardly,
aimlessly to defy the diktat of gravity,
contents you will know one day, watching
the birds fly away to warm lakes, that needs
a precision, geometry and courage
to glide over the tallest peaks.

poem by Satish Verma
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Brooding Silently

Entire age was spent in search
of self ultimate and he was still
unable to redeem a sad tree.
The silent unglorious drop. Florets falling
one by one like dreams.

White spread. Orange opus. Good-
bye crescent. Blue sky shying away.
A cuckoo on mango grove starts
a melodious croon. Sweet allegation
of betrayal, but for what gain?

Pain bounces back in the eyes of
a sparrow. Cannot find a window to
enter. Concrete walls. Closed doors.
Ad infinitum will move the traffic.
Where to stop? And when to fly?

Qualities were crashing down. Faint
bruises on face. Sticking plaster on

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poem by Satish Verma
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depression

There was thunder in the hut
teeth clattered under the ground.
Handcuffed you walk in inequality
to qualify for hanging till dead.
I may not tell myself
what was happening to me.

Moving in opposite direction
the bird was able to catch the smell.
My stance was always making a stroke
in the canvas of a tormentor
abbreviated in a muscular arm
starting violences of sleep.

Corralled in doorframes, keeping
the lights off, this was the nemesis
for asking for the change. Haungered, the
human being, absorbed by the
absence of chains which were not
coming in sight.

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poem by Satish Verma
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Stench Of Death

Why do you run away
from the primordial fear?
Of tight emptiness?
A shapeless entity of drifting psyche?
This was your home
where carcasses of cliches
hang from the doors of wisdom.
Unplanted seeds
of vacant connotations.

Inch by inch you were eating
your prophetic pauses
salt had become tasteless.
Counting the kisses of
moths on the screen
a candle burned furiously.
I never picked the colors of cloud, of rain, of blood.

What becomes of happening,
of being, of reaching?

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poem by Satish Verma
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Passage To Unknown

At cultural opening of thin
layers of faith & consciousness,
a new breed of angels was
romping on our souls.
I suffered again for tiny spaces
between the thoughts.
Death cannot be intrusive.
It waits at the door of light.
The show will start when truth dies.

I go again for the reality of anticlimax,
the anxiety of endless flights into fantasies,
the hallucinations of falling trees.
Give me some space to pedal
the silken smoke of dark truths.

There was fire in my heart
and eternal burning
of a lake. I cared for tears,
the eerie memories.

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poem by Satish Verma
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Tracks Were Obliterated

The spirit of hollow ideal
was not the thing,
I remained inconsolable.
Truth demanded endless pursuit.
The helplessness of the beaten days
was unfit for the night of terror.
The false paradigm could not ignite the flame.

The shadows collapsed
and thoughts walked in dark
into the trap.
Perfect splash of impulsive drive,
and movement of matter
created hallucinations.
and the conduct of freezing moments
had no parallel.
Cutting edge was evident.

How truth saved its pain,
of telling a heart

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poem by Satish Verma
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Body Recomes The Path

Joining the seams for the sake of probity
you opt for the wages of truth.
Staying hungry to read the cosmos,
connecting the meditation to love
denatured. You are afraid of losing
the thread. Memory of infidelity of conceivement.

A vision without the thought
was a consecration
to think or not to think
was a great dilemma.
A backdropp of the prisms
always made you crazy.
Listening without ears,
seeing without eyes
became a brilliant idea.

Children of grief coming through
the open doorways
of mind. Soul mates.

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poem by Satish Verma
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Artful Pincers

A terror of alikeness looms
like stricken birds, incenerated in split seconds.
You smell the burning flesh in an air blitz.
Nearing endgame a conceptual hate
is jettisioned in sky. You start collecting
the fragments of life.

Words start jumping. You refuse to accept
more than the want. And yet a finite
listening was absent. And the secret kennel
in the dead child fails to sprout. The toys
and dreams lie unattended on birthday
of the nation. A monogamous judge ascends
to heaven.

Any durable peace on the way? Unruffled
you are still in freezing water. The boat
is half-submerged and tears are burning
the deck. No wrinkles. The fish nod
their fins for the final plunge.

poem by Satish Verma
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