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

It Was Not Vicious

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Digging deep into 
the body of moment, you have 
to find out the roots/of dopamine― 
blend of dopa and amine, 
circulating the gossip. It was 
a prelude before a personal take― 
into the consciousness of guilt. 

Do you need to bring in 
the demigods and tree nymphs― 
for fertility? The arboreal pain 
sends the apology of the shade. 
There was no need of any limbs to 
walk. Standing on the brink, 
you can reclaim the pyramids. 

The precocity of non-existence 
appears, when you start confronting 
the blue lake of tiny eyes.

About Unhappenings

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Taking refuge behind the 
solemn words, you speak loudly. 

It rattles you, when you― 
hear, it was the world's end. 

I have not yet spoken to you 
about the happenings, which never happened. 

You want to slingshot the 
malignancy without your remedy. 

Illegible was the writing 
on the parchment. I must dig up the ruins. 

Matter of instinct, when you start 
washing your hands and spitting unendingly.

It Was Distressing

Folder: 
Satish Verma

The red dot was sinking 
to smear the lake. It was 
in soft focus, the waning light. 

You want to bury 
the attachment, on the bank. 
Let the waves wash away― 

the footprints. The 
clan was in great distress. 
On ventilator, the icon was not dying. 

Innocence goes on the block 
I will not get a fair deal 
from the silence of the stone. 

The disk tumbles 
into obscurity. Who will 
bring peace to the withering art?

Speaking Stones

Folder: 
Satish Verma

When there was a cloudburst― 
it was time― I thought 
for the soul search. 

Again I turn back to― 
our complexity, in religion, 
caste and lineage. 

The prairie was giving― 
way, for a volcano to erupt. 
Can there be a drive from the back seat? 

A prisoner of one's own 
follies, you would wait till― 
the sky comes down and liberates you. 

The illegitimacy bursts 
open, when you claim that 
no child was left behind.

Holed Up

Folder: 
Satish Verma

You are becoming a 
frozen leak, the violet 
end. 

Ultra was not going beyond 
the zero. Here the― 
journey ends. 

Dispersion of light was 
increasing, the surface tension 
between me and religion. 

Again you are deflecting, 
taking an oblique route 
to find the truth. 

Who was the father 
of an unborn lie? 
I was not expanding any more.

Times Are Changing

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Addictive in shambles, that was 
cognitive decline― 
amidst wars of life, 
with a right to death. 

The gold dust falls 
from the dead, colliding stars, 
after the violence of giants. 
You may not need stem cell transplant now. 

Like a gamma ray burst― of 
cataclysmic events― to start 
the creation of verse. Were you 
ready to hear the inner voice? 

The urge to go up, was very strong 
without grit. My burden will 
increase if you are― 
reluctant to propel yourself.

Till The Ceremony

Folder: 
Satish Verma

I accept, my defeat― 
in the hands of Ariel. 

You start hiding from your 
own chrysanthemums. 

Trying to merge the agony 
with the diminutive flight. 

The tale of a big fall from 
the height of assimilation― 

I will go all the way to 
challenge the unknown fear. 

The passage was full of 
bumps, slowing the pace of kisses.

After Meeting God

Folder: 
Satish Verma

You should not be present― 
everywhere, O God. Pull down, 
all the shutters of your temples. 

I am mortified, of a 
hidden hand, that gives 
spurious― sugar coated hymns. 

A hometown crowd 
assembles at the door of the― 
palace to hear the arrival. 

What was the natural 
descent made of? A cyber attack 
was the most desirable thing. 

A crypt sets you free― 
from the engraved sermons. 
All night I will sit on the vigil, for a vision. 

The book was blank 
for a goodnight deal. I will 
not cross any unwritten poem.

Seeking Carefully

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Where do you stand― 
in the crowd, for the love of a cause― 
your feet cannot measure the ache 
of the earth, respecting the rhythm 
of a lone survivor. 

Can you believe in the fall of a titan? 

Stranded in accuracy 
for a salt lick for 
a zipless mouth wide open. 

Intuiting, 
what the flesh would not say. 

And I keep standing by the midriff to see the face.