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

Many Headed Snake

Satish Verma

The spat between the hydra 
and sea, 
was the end of perfect relationship. 

Now an unqualified, unknowing- 
will take on the depression. 

Were you feeling liberated? I would ask the moment. 

Let us delete 
the faces and go to war 
without limbs. 

This was a summer afternoon. 
The books are in cauldron- 

and you are praying alone.

The Earthen Death

Satish Verma

staring into a void- 
for a door, 
burning a sage. 

Wearing a veil to ward off 
the curse. 

You start the baby steps 
getting there, near the noose, 
weighing the planks. 

Now you are breathing fast, 
getting a hit, counting 
the hymns. 

The corrupt booms 
rise and fall. 
An overt withdrawal 
from the bet, to sacrifice the bliss. 

White lilies washed, 
in tears, let down the shawls. 
You can see the holy vice.

With Dignity

Satish Verma

What is that of this, 
I will ask from the question 
which sleeps on the twisted lip. 

The probity suffers, 
when you burn your white paper. 
Why did not you write your name? 

The cortex invades 
medulla. Your kidneys falter. 
The sense and price become one. 

A nude opend the pride. 
The curves, the slants will 
ask you to become the flic, 

but you become a god, 
accept the knife's version 
and bleed to death.

Between This And That

Satish Verma

There was a trust deficit 
between the rose petals, under 
the wheels and the moving feet. 

It does not resolve the ancient 
conflict of man with 
the machine via perfume. 

The smell of the pungent smoke, 
sits in the empty chairs, 
when you were left alone on the burning deck. 

Where the sky meets 
the ocean, my ship had sunk 
amidst the blood and the blaze. 

In absentia, I am baffled 
by the time's minute, when the search 
of the self goes unending.

My Opus Was Melting

Satish Verma

I was preparing myself 
for a Socratic dialogue, when 
you come unannounced. 

If lie was the answer, 
then where was the truth. 

Meet me night before 
night with naked names, 
smashing the space and time. 

The invisible particles at last are in view. 
Can you count after the 
trillionth number, eighteenth 
digits and beyond. 

Nothing gives me peace. 
I want to say, I am the God 
to end the discussion. 

That ignites an explosion 
and we begin our journey again.


Satish Verma

Perched on a tree high 
a moon was talking long 
to me. 

A live-in partenership 
was in vogue. We always 
loved each other breasts apart. 

The weather was changing. 
A plane load of tears would 
disappear without a trace. 

From somewhere a benign 
lump explodes, making night, 
a brilliant dream of 
sleeping sky. 

The hare jumps on the moon, 
to snatch away the ambulatory 
age, browsing around the death.

What Next

Satish Verma

Between the swaying palms, 
moon was moving 
in armada. 

Why did you come 
late, to whisper, of the 
explosive explicit? 

But for a lone 
cry, I would not 
take you. 

The jewels were mine. 
You had stolen 
from my waistband. 

It substracts the 
stings from my 
hobbling gait.

Waiting To Happen

Satish Verma

Being you, 
not the bee queen. 
Volatile as it appears, would say 
one day, I don't know you yet. 

The estranged mogul 
returns home, empty- 

Don't tell me in 
stark and straight words, one 
needs clemency. 

The flame had touched me. 
A strange panorama, created 
by the geometry of violence, 
now hurts. 

Speed and direction 
liberates the path breaker. 
Resonance of your voice rises, 
reading the same poem 
again and again. 

Segmented icons would not sleep 
on the same bed.


Satish Verma

When you take a false 
lead, life will undo the seeds 
and the cataracts freeze. 

This is the story of 
a butterfly, in disturbing amber 
buried in snowfall. 

Can your body take the imprints of flogging? 
When you start sketching the polar ice 
in the story of death, compounding 
the mystry of 
unleashing sea 
of the fawn eyes, whose message 
was sent in water?