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

Night’s Song

Satish Verma

Grazing on the clouds, 
moon was moving 
in a daze. 

Someone will milk it 
for the poor, who will not 
sing for the inevitable. 

Witch hazel will stop the 
bleed of unholy wars 
between the diminutive fidelities. 

This was the beginning 
of a dialogue― meant for 
the deaf― who will listen with the eyes. 

There was no consolation 
for a man who lost his finger 
while searching his ring.

Virtually Untrue

Satish Verma

Lethal mix 
of blood ties― before 
a fugue delivers its tremors. 
A rage visits with the dark voices... 

Reverberating in death chamber. 

Heat seeking― the missile 
goes straight into the heart of the Himalayas. 

I am still recovering― 
from the eternal fires― of biligual nights. 

I am transfixed― 
in my shoes― facing shoulder 
fired― a sentence ejecting its hate.

Change Of Life

Satish Verma

Becoming wise to 
your faults. I will not wear 
any talisman. 

No fireworks were needed 
to celebrate the return 
of the sane fakir. 

Standing up― was the biggest 
ideal of the oppressed. I 
repeat the act. 

Taking the helm― without 
retribution― was a challenge 
thrown by the dark. 

I have come to be reborn 
in the name of symbols 

No Message

Satish Verma

You have kept the 
script― to age in dark, 
silent night. 

Drawn into the upheaval, 
of grains― 
ready to strike the mouth. 

Nameless wheels were out 
to carry the gay pride. 
I am not amused of the day. 

Who was naturally― 
born― breathlessly, holding 
the flag, to spite the clan. 

A pink window was 
stolen from the green house. 
The light now burns black.

Will You Leave Me?

Satish Verma

I did not mean to hurt. 

Do not try to flute― 
drinking the lianas, 
wearing a fatigue. Then comes― 
the shoot. Like a scarecrow 
I sway― the slug― passes through me. 

You ask me to turn over― 
the death mask― 
giving a smile. There was no 
reprisal. Must bring under reins― 
the pounding heart― I cannot talk. 

Alone to mend my grief, the 
scaled loss of bliss. Do not want to 
use any metal. Poverty becomes 
my strength. Fears will stand with me. 
I am empty like a glass.

No Saviour

Satish Verma

Out of ambit― you resume 
the surfing again― on 
yellow tulips― 
in misting valley. 

One who will not bless 
the seed― will sit 
in shadow of hunger. 

Do not touch the― 
impossible blue of the 
eyes, unhunted by the tears. 

Snare or be snared. If 
there was a flint and 
the steel― do you think the 
spark will be faraway? 

In silent night, I will open 
the crypt to have a look again― 
at the wornout cloak of a paragon.


Satish Verma

How many light years you― 
have, when I walk 
in dark? 

The spiral galaxy shakes 
me up.Haloes of gas. 
I smell you lavender. 

Effeminacy. Sometimes the 
moon will wear a veil and 
I will never know you. 

More comfortable when the 
ism will go. A stout mount 
comes down indigenously. 

I will expand a soaring 
silence. Abrogation of faith 
will give a call.

The Dancing Tale

Satish Verma

I do not remain happy 
with noises of wisdom. 
Time was running out on me 
to know myself. 

No sensory cognizance. I 
touch you with my invisible 
hands, stroking the hair 
to dislodge the moon. 

Ashes lay strewn. River 
was overflowing from the 
banks of limbs. I will not 
come near the unfathomable 

depth of a chasm, between 
good and bad. Out of the bed 
of roses a snake uncoils. 
Praise the dark. It in night.

Rising Rage

Satish Verma

After the blast, the 
morning gets wise, and 
does not spill the sun. 

And the dead will not 
come back to celebrate 
the dark after the rage. 

There, on the white peaks, 
the splattered blood will 
draw the face of assassin. 

Do not enter the dome of 
seething screams. The priest 
hangs by the bell. 

O, my brother, why we 
have become coldblooded after 
thousand years of pilgrimage?