Spring Was Mauled
The crisis,
a distinctive nothing,
swaps the dignity with blood.
The world hogs around
your palatial words.
The throb drips from your temples.
Hate or love it,
the barren prelude looms large.
I am going for a drift.
It comes back again
and again the debris of dream
of circling wolves.
The crisp moon outlines the contours of hills.
I fight with a stiff translation
of a truth. Deep rituals will always hound.
I escape from my body,
unfreeze my ego.
The stars did not help.
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poem by Satish Verma
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The Habitat
Will not show my wounds, life extracts a price.
A heap of pain, squeezed into eyes
hits me with daily bread.
Draws the conflicts
and sets the fears free.
A half moon wipes my tears.
Destiny clings to dust
Phoenix is rising.
Ruthlessly, night causes pain
freedom is in peril.
The soul sings in a withering tone,
for the departing stars. Yellow,
youthful light of rising sun
burns the desires.
We hate the soaring choices
there is no end, no beginning.
My non-self opposing
the empty life, connects
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poem by Satish Verma
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By The Words
Always he was picking up and counting the pins
to distill the essence of rainbows
and find the symmetries of elementary
laws and eating leftover words from the table.
The terrorists had wired his house and he was
not aware of it. The wrinkles on the face
for the bridge destroyed, would not bring
peace within. Times were different, icy and slippery.
He hated only himself for the failure of ships
to sail through the scope of explosions
rage and tears. The madness of unchaste
happenings submerging the cognition.
His tongue was heavy, hands writing the epitaph
on air. The bald eagle scoops a bride,
slices the breasts for the green stigmata
of liberation. Ajmer, INDIA
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poem by Satish Verma
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On The Jagged Stones
Leaving the faint traces,
of some diluted thoughts
You empty yourself completely.
Poverty and shame without an arithmetic,
is the poetry of life.
Using the body instead of words.
Always needing currency,
to open the doors of clarity.
Naked without skin,
we survive on crumbs of charity.
Lending our organs to develop,
an order of mortality.
I refuse to taste the bitterness,
preserve my sanctity,
go for another version of god,
thinking, how to think.
For the inward freedom,
I forsake safety pins,
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poem by Satish Verma
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Rose Upon Rose
Let me put back
the rhythm to the song
of broken limbs.
To arrest the speed of sun-set,
for a meaningful dialogue
with the verse of moon.
The poison of floodlit city
grazes my house.
The innocence of the dark suffers.
The white stillness
of empty hands lifts a failure
my heart lives with a death
Intimately. Where the birds have gone?
I chase the wings.
The otherness of love,
the vulnerability of darkness
stays with me.
The thirst of ocean is very large.
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poem by Satish Verma
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Nailed
eyes will chew the words
i will not see all day along, do you hear
my thoughts in the icicles of flames, my bones
jutting out of knuckles,
i will go to memory lane once again:
where the stale smell of yellow pages
throws up invisible thighs groping for support
climbing in vain,
half moon floating on lake of tears
in fire of dark night –
drenched, he was escaping without legs
in white darkness of unaddressed pain,
sorrow of locked shame …..
victim of blisters on blasting flesh,
knees give way,
what was the date of surrender,
i was meditating on the ashes of serpents
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poem by Satish Verma
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Slaughtered Dreams
It rained last night,
dampness giving a tumultuous pleasure
the day before, town was burning.
Weeping ashoka laden with smudges,
and sky was crimson red,
You could not avoid this heat and dust,
love and hate; sharing the cooling winds.
The patterns are changing,
what to redeem, what not.
Trampled by death everywhere,
frightened words go for a dignified fall.
We are trading our bruises for moorings.
A happy notebook is blasted,
and motif goes into exile.
World moves in circle
it will touch you again
A strange divinity puts you in oblivion.
The spirit walks some steps with you,
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poem by Satish Verma
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Second-hand Event
Movement spurts the truth-
an endless journey.
The constant search for beliefs creates confusion.
Craving and wanting
generates more conflicts.
The meaningless life drifts.
Can you go beyond your dreams,
beyond your yearnings?
I wanted to disagree with death
the ultimate truth.
Life had many connotations,
there was no deliverance from reflections.
No freedom from trepidation
ego was the last refuge.
The ending of self
did’t take you to liberation.
Urremitting flow of time
awakens your soul.
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poem by Satish Verma
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De……..
When hope returns, will you be in
alternative mind?
Like a praying mantis brooding for a prey
in a bowl of momentum while I have a
sense of alienation collecting a cloud of
Memories ripping open the gates of tears
and blood for the human cost of dementia;
the disorientation was not complete in
Orthomolecular state, a suicidal visit will also
not bring the diagnosis of pain and iridium hole
of perception in a concentration camp for
searching a bomber base, whether milk thistle
Drags the fears out of the bodies and heals.
I would not come back to hemiplegic wisdom
of the land that was lost centuries back to
occuping, omnipresent knowledge, the eagle
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poem by Satish Verma
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Aparthied
Offspring were preoccupied in their spiral career,
you feel sorry. You don’t get the sleep,
core-feelings flee from
the windows of an ailing house.
A cloud softens again in the eyes.
Wronged truth has created
an aparthied in ranks of candles.
Inner pain gropes towards
the spot between eyes.
You survive by the
whispers of absolute bliss.
Looking becomes a sequential text.
The self divides the darkness into hot flames.
Outpouring the anguish, the frailities.
At dawn the blackness
of dripping night fades.
The earth wins the moral nothingness,
beyond the regrets of inspired sermons.
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poem by Satish Verma
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