# #betrayal #life #forgiveness #suffering #sadness #pain #mistakes #madness

Near The Sun

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Don't interpret the light's
reach, on the longest
pain of summer.

There was no chaste tree
left for giving you shade
to sit and meditate.

You will not miss
a perfect sleep at dawn with
song birds sailing over your head.

A green snake has
dropped its skin bearing the trail
to copycat the detachment.

The backache returns
to dig out the hot moon
from the dark bushes.

I will sit and wait at the deck
for the cool fireflies to appear.

Dread

 

Anxiety fills

me

 

Dread of existence

 

No life here

 

Temple of doom

 

Ancient Ruins

 

of my mind

 

Place of desolation

 

sarcophagus of my soul

 

hieroglyphs of trauma

 

Dread of afterlife

 

and life

 

Place of suffocation

 

Haunted by thoughts

 

subconscious torture

 

Terror of the future

 

Electro shock therapy

 

of the past

 

Lobotomy by reality

 

fade into obscurity

 

Retreat into darkness

 

comforted by ignorance

 

escape from the rape

 

Retreat into tombs

 

Dead bodies rotting

 

comforted by their lack of talking

 

Not bothered, not harassed by the living

 

 

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Ethological Signs

Folder: 
Satish Verma

A street sense awakens
the purple rage.
Ah. Bougainvilleas,
the winter has set in.

There was no encounter.
No bloodshed.
Only bloodstones were displayed
for sale.

A domestic brawl
between the religious signs.
Each sun-flower should
have a separate name.

The pomelos will not
come this season.
There was war between
the brothers.

Why This?

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Truistic but
dry, a poem
weeps.

You will not
find any lead―
in my bones, though
I have been eating
the pencils
while writing.

Truistic but
dry, a poem
weeps.

I Will Not Forego

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Walk like me
on burning coals.
You will taste a moon.

A misty link
of inner planet, flaunts
the projectile, going straight
for the sun.

So you believe in
incredible rebirth of darkness
after full moon?

No standoff of this kind
will continue, if the
nightingale returns unveiled.

Infantile ache
spurs again the honeysuckle.
It was red sky after
the sunset.

Pray not crunch
with muffled scream.
There was a rose without thorns.

FOREVER LOST

Folder: 
poems

God I am still not really quite sure why,

You let our paths cross once again,

My heart was sure she would never make me cry,

Or stop wanting to hold my hand,

But here I am again lost and alone,

I cant call and hear her say my name,

I never see her sweet words on my phone,

Everyday we used to play that silly word game,

Maybe you thought we both needed to feel love,

Even if for a short while,

We fit like a perfect glove,

When she was in my heart all I could do was smile,

I hope she finds someone that loves her completely,

Someone that will protect her,

I only wish that someone was me,

But my life failures will never alow that to occur,

So I just keep her in my heart,

The same place she has been from the very start.

Tone Deafness

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Becoming numb to poverty―
in terror mode,
you fluster and behave sensibly.

The anonymous entry
of a walking grief―
covers the violence of words.

Your sun burns without
giving light. You climb your
poem to find the answer.

The eyes shut. You feel
the assault of night. There was
no undying love between the strangers.

The conversation ignites
the sparks. Carbon spreads
on your shirt. The red circle
blunts the knife.

You cannot kill yourself.

Her Knight

Did I not bleed enough?

Did I not sacrifice everything?

Oh God, the things I've done?

Will she even recognize the monster her knight has become?

That stupid girl will blame herself for giving me her world.

I couldn't take away the pain, and I don't care what anyone thinks.

Love was one of God's mistakes.

I still hold on to the moments she made me feel human, and if I had a wish.

I'd wish I knew then what I do now.

Because when my mask hit the ground. I knew, I had let you down.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Letting a little bit of guilt go.

Stone Hearted

Folder: 
Satish Verma

There was nothing left
to say, after the great
decline of humanity.

Knowing yourself,
watching without any action.
Then who triggered the quake?

A little candle in storm.
But the selfish man will
not keep a date.

Migration will
continue towards the edge.
You were not there in my verse, today.