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

The Dumps

Folder: 
Satish Verma

The words had started to fail me. 
There was always an ‘if'― 
before every war of hunger. 

The candlewick has burned 
out. I am collecting the― 
wax from the eyes. 

Wrapped agony, now lifts 
the dead bird from the 
rose bushes. 

The frosted god 
will melt to bare a 
black stone. 

I am not luck 
I am not the future. 
You know where this path leads into?

Why A Poem

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Unfazed you stand in― 
a drizzle, to locate the 
moon nestling in clouds. 

The speed of bite was fatal, 
showing the movement 
of incompleteness. 

I searched the identity― 
of one anonymous, who 
had fathered an illegitimate eunuch. 

I wanted to make a 
confession, looking at the 
blue sky, about my waywardness. 

The crazy thing of mixing 
the flowers, winds, moon and birds 
with serious chores of life. 

Unmistakingly a poem.

Be The Human

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Not giving or taking. 
I will share you― 
in water. 

Believing was not significant. 
I was holding you 
to implode. 

Not your words, not 
my script, will translate 
the thumbprint. 

A time comes, when 
you become your own father, 
to carve out the pure truth. 

The duality bothers 
a lot. You want to convert 
the myriad into one.

For The Heritage

Folder: 
Satish Verma

For the beasts and men, 
a transition will not work. 
This was explicit cap― 
the polar ice was melting. 

He will not take the slights 
for the moon. He will 
not go far from the eyes 
of stars. 

Not enough, the astringent 
microbes were peeling off 
your mask. Sometimes you want 
a frugal strangulation. 

Incredible. The words 
were making a mound, out― 
of the space, left by 
the departed fever.

Taking The Odds

Folder: 
Satish Verma

An amniotic fluid initiates 
the moon to the thunderstorm― 
as you climb the tide. 

Like a stag― opening the 
summer, browsing on 
the daisies. 

It takes sometime 
to sink. This was― 
the peacock hour. 

A finch will land― 
on my shoulder and 
look into my eyes, ritualizing it. 

The glow was real 
in your hair, 
borrowed from the sun.

New Invasion

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Nestling in the arms of 
blue sky, a young moon was asking 
the questions―like the pages of moth-eaten 
book― why did the blood ties 
are ripped apart with the passage of time? 

Of the same poles, at the 
axis of rotation― two celestial bodies― 
would not come near each other? 

Following the heels of the 
hunter, a small dog star sniffs at 
the earth, a pale blue existence? 

The entropion overwhelms. The 
lashes were scarring the 
vision? 

The all was not one. I am 
still standing at the gate, 
bleeding like sun.

Taking The Odds

Folder: 
Satish Verma

An amniotic fluid initiates 
the moon to the thunderstorm― 
as you climb the tide. 

Like a stag― opening the 
summer, browsing on 
the daisies. 

It takes sometime 
to sink. This was― 
the peacock hour. 

A finch will land― 
on my shoulder and 
look into my eyes, ritualizing it. 

The glow was real 
in your hair, 
borrowed from the sun.

New Invasion

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Nestling in the arms of 
blue sky, a young moon was asking 
the questions―like the pages of moth-eaten 
book― why did the blood ties 
are ripped apart with the passage of time? 

Of the same poles, at the 
axis of rotation― two celestial bodies― 
would not come near each other? 

Following the heels of the 
hunter, a small dog star sniffs at 
the earth, a pale blue existence? 

The entropion overwhelms. The 
lashes were scarring the 
vision? 

The all was not one. I am 
still standing at the gate, 
bleeding like sun.

Old Maxims

Folder: 
Satish Verma

This was a twisted ladder 
for reduction of poverty, 
which climbs the steps during 
methane breach. 

An absent presence will 
snatch away, your unconscious 
surrender. The scent had 
made a wall of its own. 

A summer fall incites the 
book makers. The naming was 
a secret bet. The dead will 
never recall the skeletons. 

Spawning an army of robots, 
will you go to the volcano mount 
to offer a living bait?