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

I Will Not Come Back

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Let me paint a still life.Like 
your eyes- unmoving.The irises 
with shut pupils. 

Why I should be green- 
I ask my old mentor? 

The terror of a smile 
wipes away the tail of dust, with comets. 

And the pachyderm remains 
buried in the sands of time. 

Touching the margins was gone. 
You cannot leap over the grass of antiquity. 

In fog twin hills will move away 
without any acrimony. 

A denial becomes a stake 
a part of the golden ring- the boundary mark.

Screaming Larks

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Abuzz with profanities. 
There were gene faults in your 
conversation; when the 
ice cap was melting. 

It should not have happened. The 
sea was creeping in my veins. 
I will hold back the floods 
with my weak hands and strong roots. 

The shifting sands and deep 
flaws in melanoma distribution, 
makes you caste away. The ultimate 
lullaby will find death at the door. 

Let me commute my frequency 
into zero. The worst was yet to 
come. I will have no fingers left to 
lift your name.

Forever In Coma

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Zinnias were stalking. 
The fading moon hangs upside down 
from the massive Ficus tree. 

Ultimately the grace withdraws. 
Now you sit under the bo-tree 
becoming a wet Buddha. 

Unthinking, unblinking 
falling out of thoughts, 
and start supervising the barren landscape. 

The dawn sets free, the white 
pegions to become prey of ravens. 
Would you talk about peace? 

The evil touches every next door. 
I will write a long letter 
to me, to unwrite the sermons.

Without Guilt

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Something exciting 
was to happen.You 
call for an assayer. 

Morality has failed, 
running after the 
false values of untruths. 

Pure virginity. 
I won't touch you again 
for the sake of god. 

Crossing the threshold 
like walking on burning coals 
to test the bonding. 

The mankind was 
always cannibalistic. 
You devour the body without blood.

Losing The Vision

Folder: 
Satish Verma

I left a piece of moon on my 
table and started writing about 
the broken mirror. There was a time 
when we used to cry together. 

Dusting off the old books, uncared 
for months. A rare ritual 
defines the motion. It was the 
temblor giving me a dustbath. 

Do you know who was the leader 
of the pack? The greed, the authority? 
There was a bright door, between 
the umbels. Would you taste the hemlock? 

Every thing is in disorder. You 
remember how cranky I was when 
I found you unframed. Today 
I will embrace the empty wall.

Dutch Door

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Moving among the glittering- 
crowns, as in glaciated valley. 
once again, in capital of grief. 
I am folding the twilight. 

The viciousness of the hisses, zooms, 
once you sleep on the bed of silence. 
A blue light cuts you half. 
I survive on the black tongues. 

The assault was imminent now. 
Flat foots will invade the afterthoughts. 
The incline was treacherous- 
You cannot climb up, nor down. 

Give me a haiku after the sun. 
There was no night work left and- 
I am plotting not to kill myself. 
I will burn an empty bark.

Some Ghosting

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Hunting calm, without 
a kill, without a 
mirage. 

A momentary lapse 
and you suffer 
for centuries. 

The pangs of separation 
were rising.No birth. 
You become a white mausoleum. 

And the ancient 
bloodshed will take care 
of the pearls in your eyes. 

Ask the moon 
to lift the veil.Bonfires 
of sharp pains have begun. 

The halo around 
your face quivers.I was 
not a god.You were not mortal.

Linchpins

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Do not sleep, as libido 
Moon will visit 
the shrine of love today. 

It was an end of the- 
lone journey. You recover 
the path of lost poem. 


A river lies buried in 
my chest, unawakned. 
Would you kiss the stone today?

Upending

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Trying to quantify the vices 
in you, I am becoming 
brute. 

Going my own way. 
I join the migration 
of invisibles. 

A plucked tiger lily 
roars. Amphibians were ready 
to invade the mountain. 

The curled fingers 
had become question marks. 
Blindness had become a bliss. 

Inlaid in the redwood 
lies my blood. I lived under 
the branches, naked, carefree.