Prozac
A candid confession from you,
when your identity started protruding
from innocent rage.
You were accepting defeat
without a fight.
The lips tell the grief of human failure,
your prudence propped up
by Prozac.
A beautiful collection of anxieties
adorned on the shelf of life.
A cruise in veins
to dispel the high cholesterol
dewy-eyed mirror
and ambulating pain.
poem by Satish Verma
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God Of Blessings
Moon-scented I walk in dark
to put me back in place,
unwithered,
opening the inner casket for a glow.
Pleading not guilty
after killings in bed, of affectionate
kill of lies, a black widow
romps around with a flag of morality.
Was it a systemic swallowing
of a bait put up by a shipwreck?
The bodies were flowing in a row
in caldron of acrimony.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Armistice
unrearthing the fallen saint
you wash your feet
and enter the temple of forgotten god:
cult of escapc from
tangled half- truths
with dramatic entry of hysterics
you fail to accept yourself,
the grieving death – mask
transcends a fresco
labyrinthine, spacey
soul-sick mates
disputing for no things
the unstained shirt
reminds the absence
you bake a new recipe
poem by Satish Verma
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Hiding
After plundering the moon,
the skins
have dug their heels in candles –
for a night vigil.
Why you want to know the hidden meaning
Of a benign meaningless.
The beginning and end
were most visible tragedies
of an endless affair with invisible enemy.
Unsaying was very sincere
to truth if words were not mutilated.
Pure murder of an illusion in whispering sands.
poem by Satish Verma
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Holy Wings
The twisted moon
moved horizontally,
plunged in cleavage
of dark trees
eating the stars.
Aloneness; midnight dream,
faces the wall of nails.
Scratches on the flesh
blood oozing.
The benign end.
Put off the lights,
it helps to think clearly.
Drape the mercy of night.
Snake was hissing, may strike.
A cramp will kill the joy.
The fish will be welded
to a candle.
poem by Satish Verma
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Seeking
The falling poem was
in bruising gamble of winter
of troubled life,
bound to a staircase:
up and down
up and down,
on the rosette of grieving thighs.
From sunset to sunset
a moon rises in all its glory
as the night flows in crevices of thoughts.
Will you lift the veil from the golden face
and sacrifice the lamb?
The infinite was waiting to come out of crotch.
poem by Satish Verma
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Buddha Sleeps
After the plumes,
legs are blown off.
Your body smells of migration
and length of
wasted strings.
The questions will
never return.
Buried deep in crescent heart.
Do you have the authentic
information about the murder
of the crested tit?
The woodlands
will go without a song.
I will live in rotation
with biological grief of earth
and emotional blackmail
of moon.
poem by Satish Verma
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Faceless Journey
An insider was asking:
this was a very troubling question.
Why a culture becomes sick,
burns the book,
and beheads a god?
Forgive my loincloth. This
century was becoming very hot
till the nose bleeds
and fills the cauldron
of kiss.
The dust was settling
on the pages of history.
Strangly you want now a
sexless death. Porn and religion
were making you realy mad.
poem by Satish Verma
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Unphrasing
in love with vermilion
floating on optics
you learn in moments of insult
or insults in moment of learning
fishless bones
still he smels of withering pain
on black satin
you don’t want to suffer
with asterisks
annotation
disfigurs the essence
i will boil the moon
to find the separateness
between scent and grief
i am done
[...] Read more
poem by Satish Verma
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Swan Song
The toppled gravestones,
I still count the heads.
I will go with your swan song,
the bond erupts.
You were always sitting under the
bougainvillea, waiting for the swallow.
The next door summer arrives;
Why did you say, it was biting cold?
The door shuts on the moon.
It was obviously very dark,
and I was searching the space
between ’yes’ and ‘no’.
poem by Satish Verma
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