Unloosing
Maligned, the
space between us
lets go the mammary
a flame scoops up the void,
we speak no names,
I carry you in my skinned arms
to the weeds
for seminal mutability;
shipwrecked, i fear of depth
turbulence, I will honor the drop
on the cheeks of sea, green shores
in the night I will walk out of the snare
the gulls will come in a flock
poem by Satish Verma
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On The Gallows
Lead me into, the green darkness, under
the nude flames.
It was hurting; the golden sun.
Out of full moon, werewolves would
come out
chasing the flesh, the long limbs
of silence, in asci of fluids, stopped
in tracks.
No seed will grow now in wilderness.
My extended shade becomes anarchic
if fleetingly.
A miracle falling like a hurricane.
poem by Satish Verma
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Heritage
A vigil for scrolls:
who writes the history now?
Actors are barbaric now –
playing the malicious music of
rebirth.
There is no threat now from intimate-
bombers.
Be drunk on my breast –
in lunar landscape, wearing no shoes.
Buddha has lost his libido.
Can you fix the bed of black
roses?
A sick mind now writes-
a transgender prose.
poem by Satish Verma
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Sawdust Trail
Leave me alone
amidst the daisies.
I have come to talk
to a quivering dandelion.
I must see. I must
count the teeth of the tiger
who had stopped killing
the bucks, but-
there was death in the grass.
Cannot believe in
shadows moving behind the
moon. The space was
shrinking, and tongues were
very sharp, but -
there was death in the grass.
poem by Satish Verma
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When Weaving Stopped
The grain of wood
was nuanced for naked aggression.
The groping could not find
the plasma.
Some non-believers were
deemed insane
by rust-tainted smiles
of shimmering stars.
Defiant was the crushed
grass after caressing
the moon in lonely
night.
The fine truth passed
through the comb falling on
salt. The sky will not
listen to the dust.
poem by Satish Verma
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Losing Again
If erupts again –
the eternal hate of caucuses.
A pipe bomb detonates in a gulley.
Death glides as a superman
like a mutiny in the bowl.
Night stumbles against the kissing moon
on the shore of waning hope.
I will not mourn for my color
I am still nursing a grief.
Walking alone in the shadow of walls
to unhear the screams of dawn.
poem by Satish Verma
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Trigger Point
A missile in the home,
what they have done?
You are on flames.
A red smoke rises
from bottomless hole.
Memory slumps.
A glow in pain washed
cells, calls the mirror.
Instead, grave diggers arrive.
This was the manufactured truth
of the eternal kiss
of death. I stretch my arms
to feel the terror.
The walls start crying.
There was no roof.
poem by Satish Verma
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Unborn
you enter the lair again
dun – colored
shrapnel was on your lips
to hear your truth I lay down
the book
and look beyond the acid rain
falling after the explosion
the yellow flames still lapping
against the crater walls
jasmines were alive
dented memories wer climbing
on hills before you can unsee
the moon bleeding to death
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Flickering
A chalky midnight
I wait for the sound of
flapping winds.
A celestial embrace
with your duality.
Are you wearing my shoes?
The blood wears a coat
of dreadlocks. I
want to return to my soul.
Will not touch you
but always think about
the dialect of contours.
A death wish of a mountain
flower was to shed the seeds
in the lap of a dandelion.
poem by Satish Verma
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Taking Off
Outraged film
and dirt life.
The descent was complete.
A shadow under the moon
walks past the lake,
comes out of the body.
Every dream
leaves an imprint on the glass.
Will never drink the moonlight again.
The blank surrender
alongside crutches
loses the tolerance of question marks.
Like my fear
enveloping you in blazing sun
for a candle.
poem by Satish Verma
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