Satish Verma

Children of stink, cannot smell the rose. 
Lithium in their blood 
fathers were happy. 

Power over the fire of groins, 
was a music to ears. 
Everything else was secondary. 

The wishes squealed 
on the mattresses. 
Grief was served in the bed. 

Big tears flowing 
on the cheeks of ice. 
Antarctica was crying. 

Sexed up vendetta 
did not kill a fly. 
Bee was hovering over the heads. 

I will expand till infinity. 
Life will take care 
of ferocious clauses.