Unspoken Secrets

It comes rolling out
from the trees, a sliced moon
inside out, undressing. Pain
quietly walks away.
I wash out my battered dreams.
A spiritual rain drenches
the mind. A shaft of blue light
provokes to inherit the sky.
I hear the music, what is not there.

Anonymous creation,
unnamed, unsung, I am waiting
for a human touch.
I know we have killed all
the manners. Men are becoming roads,
disappearing in landslides.
In names we dedicate
our customs of beautiful past.

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poem by Satish Verma
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Let Me Go Into Snow

Audacity to live with your demons,
putting up a fake love belief,
who was the time,
of that dark night? Distinctly alive to what
I was not just putting up the shades of death
into nothingness of peace in war.

Searching for self in capacious hope,
was it the half-light of a moon,
slipped on the words of a hoisted grief?
A wild truth was better than silken ribbons
of fabricated lies. I am tired of playing
games on the turf of synthetic desires.

It would be time again, for what was time,
encapsulated in crazy dialogues of taking on
a chaste enemy. I will give my life for
a bright red rose in absence of sun, drenched
in fire and burning in dew drops, for the
flowering of melting snow.

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poem by Satish Verma
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Non-story

Questions are the answers
and answers are the questions.
They never die. The words
collect the dripping wounds.
Memories emmigrate to wasteland
and the city drowns in a lake.
Our infallible pride has no challenge
trust the precarious teeth.

Beyond eloquence life drifts
from unknown to unknown.
A fruitless search in a grey winter
of thinking trees. Tall,
beautiful, but faith has taken a U– turn.
The span of obscurity
reflects a twisted wisdom
burning the books of tomorrow.

The fear, depression
and brutal game of corruptible views

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poem by Satish Verma
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Claustrophobia

For a patch of happiness
you rushed into the arms
of clouds. Only to fall back with tears.
The glazing authority of moon
hangs on the poverty of spiked wisdom.
Betrayal is the norm of celestial thinking;
how can you accept a dropp of death?

What is your motive
in watching the pain?
A path, a tunnel,
a precipice. The collage of purity
has the innocence of sorrow.
And truth, sails like a phoenix.
There is complete silence.
The flameless fire collapses
lapping up the anger.

Pouring out all the heart beats,
emptying the mind

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poem by Satish Verma
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Pink Eyes

Pigments on rocks were darkening.
Violence had permeated like skunk.
Enough to go numb. Stream of blood.
Entire limbs were missing. You want to go
insane, deoxygenated.

The bomber was going to face a firing squad.
Were you ready to bring back the body
home? Mother was wailing?
Law was blind and absurd. A victim wants
the terrorist to live, arms severed, genitalia
blown off!

Was it in you, the violence? Guilt in me?
Are we not responsible? As a price of sorrow
I resort to silence. Nonviolence accepts the evil,
the fact, the truth of now.

Fear? The decline? A collective dying? I
cannot cry. It hurts the arguments. I am

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poem by Satish Verma
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Deaf City

We cannot think alike,
and we cannot listen together.
The words change the colours
and the colours let go their charm.
A billowing smoke
fills the space between us.
We are searching
our destinies amidst the ruins
and life hangs like an empty frame.

The jaundiced view,
mars the beauty of cognition.
I stick to my long path,
though journey is tough.
The immaculate space fills my lungs.
I feel the thick, stellar thoughts
and climb over the contradictions.
Balance breaks, becomes the faint window.

The disorder lies within.

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poem by Satish Verma
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Nameless Intruders

Fear swooped on extended mind,
when brain was never silent.
I was never alone,
voices broke all around.
The lead became kinky.
For sometime, I escaped into antiquity for,
a surrogate relief.
The clock prowled for
the graffiti of truth in night.

A programmed psychology
look extra-terrestrial.
The life mutated into a watch
which did not move.
The mob controlled the streets.
How thin was the tribe of fireflies in dark?
The sparks were cold
and stars were warm.

I stayed by the fire of meditation for a

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poem by Satish Verma
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Transitional Edge

Pathways have no boundaries,
thinker was without a thought.
Hostile mind refuses to believe
truth was missing from life.
From depth to depth measurement had failed.
God does not know his creation now.

Foolish flesh now burns in thudding bangs
of dry butter. I want you to touch the
opaque eyes of eternity. In captivity of
sighs and groans. You ought to understand
who was original. There had been free
invitation to become unfaithful.
There were masks, gene shifts and longevity.

This evening a drama will be enacted in sky
by unburnt bras and a black hole. There will
be thrill. It was easy to bury the skulls among
floating names. The wreath will be placed
on the transitional edge of sweetness.

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poem by Satish Verma
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Stared Blankly

We don’t want to
see each other naked.
with our barbs.
Seeking the truth outside
our body was painful
we don’t want to change
the clouded mirror of water.
The desires were unlimited
and restoring the metaphor needed time.

For contributing for the unbroken becoming.
I held the water in my palm.
It dropped like ciphers
on the hot earth subtracting the charm.
We knew each other,
still falling ego was always revengeful.
My empty hands would seek another title.

A solitary ingredient made the old song.
Few will remember the wings and sky.

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poem by Satish Verma
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Fighters At Large

A nebula rises unfazed after fission:
after a fractured debate, greed crouching on
the wrinkled noses of rugged bouncers.
In remote history someone was burning itself out.

A black eye surges forward, sings an ode to
championship. Ankles swell up. Veins become
jelly. The thyme is absent. Stink bellows on
your faces. The green pond becomes red; tragedy of wounds.

Speaker in bloody silence quotes the black sun
out of despair. Everything was in disarray.
In mating of souls flesh flew in rage;
a pink river swamped the inmates of tomorrow.

Enough! Time marches on the dead leaves of sorrow.
My candle burns at both ends. Alien moons
keep a watch. Bloodlines are obliterating. We
seek the graves of unknown soldiers!

poem by Satish Verma
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