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

The Benevolence

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Borderless pain was 
said untold. I am writing 
a new chapter of night. 

The somatic scent― 
does not rise now, for the peaks 
dissecting the snowy falls. 

Racial climbdown 
brings friction amids the uniqueness 
of downtrodden dolls. 

There was an intense― 
urge to rip open the endless sky― 
to find the secret of blackness. 

The fabled light, 
fails to distinguish between 
eyes and ears. A blind man 

will not find the shape 
of truth by noises.

Skirting The Book

Folder: 
Satish Verma

This was man made, 
the blue-chip― 
changing the landscape. 
Fanatically you cling to mother 
terra firma like a baby primate. 

Incontrovertibly― 
I am going back to look 
like my fathers, 
with twisted contours. 
Forward― facing, but looking behind. 

I climb up the blue, 
to unsolve the murder and go 
into deep meditation to reject 
the gods. The gold mine was flooded 
by unprecdented rains of hands and footsteps.

A Space, A Dot, A Line

Folder: 
Satish Verma

The hesitant― 
dawn cracks, as the 
river of darkness squirms. 

The moon― 
was in last, to leave 
the howling bank. 

It looms large, a ― 
brain-dead future. I think 
I am forgetting my age. 

You must face the 
dying earth― sustained― 
on prayers only. 

This is the height 
of dilemma. Why― 
poems were hungry?

Through The Ashes

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Outside, a discreet moon 
was rising, breathing― 
dark. I was wary of strange clouds 
of unknown scents. 

Like a blue absence of nothing, 
from nothing to emptiness. 

The religion of unspoken 
prayers― I start the journey, 
to void. From there a turbulence will begin. 

Blinking eyes― will find 
the answer to a no-question, at 
the end of the conflict― 

when the face is lost to sadness. 
You will not take off 
your shoes.

Satish Verma

A Riddle Unsolved

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Something novel: 
a good augury― 
creeping to augment, 
an esoteric fall. 

I repeat the mistake of knowing too much. 

Submodified. The man― 
still wants to bite the tongue 
on the name of truth. 

It was very unpleasant 
to see a hummingbird 
becoming a sphinx. 

No need to commit a suicide after homing, 
to a blazing icon in the urn.

Again A Sheep Walk

Folder: 
Satish Verma

I will be kissing in proxy― 
at the dark side of 
the moon, where my twin crashed. 

The cracks had emerged 
in the fiery zone― the flames 
reaching the zenith of blue, killer sky. 

A tamed hematoma, 
speaks― for the ripped open brain. 
There was nobody left to be whole. 

Survivors were the gift 
of miracle. A saint starts 
abusing the stars. 

The god’s temple lies― 
in ruins, buried under the sand, 
debris and the dead faith.

A Discreet Failure

Folder: 
Satish Verma

A midnight darkness― 
threatens the purple moon, 
standing in awe. 


There were two poems― 
in your hands― which you 
wanted to read in my face. 

One for the asking― 
and one for the moral defeat. 
Do you have anything else to narrate? 

A thunderbird makes― 
a landing in my insomnia― 
to scatter the dreams. 

The insane world returns 
the gift of the pagoda tree. Buddha 
will not come back.

Future Tense

Folder: 
Satish Verma

The reflection was never 
complete. 
I was trying, was trying 
to understand me, 
in absence of you. 

Looking into the persona 
making a saint― 
out of sexual surrogacy. 

The human gene― 
transcripted, on the borrowed womb? 
Will you now speak for the fear? 

I will never know you 
in dimlight― 
of suspicions. 

Are you a complete man now?

Crash-Landing

Folder: 
Satish Verma

The space in between― 
the mayhem and spiritual hour; 
was not much, but a spitting image, 
of swapping with sun bites― was 
evident without remorse. 

The ice storm was raging. 
Blueberries hang from your 
eyes, to bluff me. I draw the curtain 
and lit the fire to bring in― 
the bride of vengeance. 

A charitable act, to clear 
the needles from the doll: No black 
magic will work now. I am clean 
and pure, will not cut a 
slice of breast, for the red milk.