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

Unwashed By Sins

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Life had tossed you in 
flames. 
Like hearthstone, I sit 
deleting my colors. 

Time on black feet 
runs, on the sacred 
river bank. 

Molten lava will ask 
when, and from where 
the funeral procession will start. 

A hard core wants 
the evidence of rape. Two 
leaves will not cover 
the naked aggression.

The spooky game had 
become, ultimately- the biopic. Once 
angles used to roam 
on the burning coals.

Why Question Marks

Folder: 
Satish Verma

The milk run appears like 
flesh trade. A bigamous 
marriage with two ideologies. 

The politics looks like 
a fudged slogan. The silence 
was broken by screams. 

A dwindling faith, could 
not revive the ancient Buddha. 
There was no pity, no sorrow. 

Activism wades on home- 
turf. The colossal night 
releases the lynx vision. 

I am the cipher, you 
said, will not connect 
to any integer.

Not A Renegade

Folder: 
Satish Verma

The summer moon with 
poetry and musk. 
I waited full evening 
to become a coherent whole. 

I wanted to quit, like 
a Buddha, not to come back 
in the baked mud house 
where the sun would not break. 

The earthen lamp with 
a flickering flame, under the 
holy basil, wants to die 
before the moonrise. 

Paralysed lower limbs 
will make you sit like a god 
on the altar, deaf and dumb. 

You don't want to learn 
about the red lips of the goddess. 
Moon was bleeding heavily. 

Sit in a lotus position. 
Sky is going to fall.

Celebrating Dark

Folder: 
Satish Verma

I do not write about something 
or anything. You will 
not knock at my door.

I will be pained, if 
you sweep the floor, to 
tout the unwritten song. 

I sing wordlessly. Even 
the echo will open 
the waning wounds. 

My body, I give to 
hawks, to escape the 
elegies in the death well. 

Even the night 
will bring the pillow 
for the dying moon.

Chasing the Snipe

In love with 

the impossible

 

Chasing the snipe

 

dead ends;

cold cases

 

frustration abound,

 

married to insanity:

doing the same thing over and over again

and expecting different results

Chanced To Meet

Folder: 
Satish Verma

It was not, 
just a kiss of a zodiac sign. 
You had become a stranger 
between fight and flight. 

The trick was capricious. 
Albeit, a calligraphy 
on a bare tree, engrafting 
your name which keeps 
on growing with broadening trunk. 

You watch the sky 
at night and start a monologue. 
The stars were expanding, 
filled with grief. The 
despair of going back home 
in dark.

Venom And Stings

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Behind the iron mask, with 
unsteady hands, I 
separate the conjoined thoughts 
and start greening. 

I will ask, the god 
after a chilling spectacle 
of undying freeze, that 
don't give me the bliss, 
but only truth. 

No mercy, no sympathy. 
I will walk on the spiked 
road to reach you in your own 
sepulcher, to become you 
and suffer. 

Who needs eternity 
to grieve for dying lights? 
Darkness has its holiness.At least 
you won't see the beasts in action. 

O god, let the blue sky 
open like an abyss to embrace 
the fallen baby.

Unpretending

Folder: 
Satish Verma

In search of lost 
memory, there was no regret 
of losing any achievement. 
A Buddha was ready 
to walk away. 

Zebra stripes become 
evident at sunset. 
Was there an eye in the eye, 
the smell in the smell, 
of an infant sea? 

There will be no 
ache retrieval. I am dancing 
around the fire, reversing 
a sin. The ugly and weird 
life has become hypocrtical. 

A smoke shapes your preference.

An Acid Attack

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Sometimes I would 
look at the lame moon. For 
whom you were faltering? 

Perhaps, I was a 
mirror. You trip, fall 
and become a raw wound. 

One day I will 
touch you with my ragged 
hands, to heal my knife.