# #betrayal #life #forgiveness #suffering #sadness #pain #mistakes #madness #poetry #Dillon #Dark #love

Future Hides

Folder: 
Satish Verma

It should not have come early; 
the death, had insulted the terrible suffering. 
Shadows were lengthening. 

I wanted to live 
in infinite nothingness 
of the wrong time. 
Hope was not 
a perforated dimension, 
it was my religion. 

When nobody was there 
truth was walking with me. 
A strange tragedy 
was visible only to me. 

The future hides in my face. 
The terror is too much 
with us. No frown of earth 
defies the questions of past.

Another Name

Folder: 
Satish Verma

When postponed, death had no meaning. 
It was lying in ambush. 
Journey was imperfect without 
a termination. 
Behind the dust was another desire. 

Another thumb on the trigger 
starts shooting through the bubble 
of moon. Every bone springs 
to jump for final galaxy 
of hidden stars. 

Striving was brutal. Being 
was dying for life. Profits 
of morality on sale. Fragrance 
without house. A memory 
now invites another name. 

Daughter of next life 
lives hundreds of years 
in death. Becoming 
becomes the fear!

Explosion

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Spitting the blood, he said, 
every winter for few days – 
he would feel outcast and there was 
pain in the idea of pain, but he wanted to live 
without a painkiller. 

Sometimes he will singe his hands on a flame 
to protect his dignity. The history of his 
unrest remaining untold. Then he will go 
out in rains of knowledge and soak himself 
in mixed joy. 

A lump in the throat hurts, when he 
tries to decipher a dream to measure 
the life. A liar knows the complete death 
of a truth to assert his independent existence 
in myth. 

A deadly poison of the choosing, 
your own microclimate, aggrandizement 
of royal tradition, makes you popular in masses. 
They surge to touch your gown, ripping 
the explosion.

Again Falling In Love

Folder: 
Satish Verma

I don’t belong to me, 
to you, to her, to him. 
Who are you, I ask myself 
again falling in love for a tender shoot, 
uncoiling under the debris of unfaithful corners? 

I was watching a small birdie 
hopping against a mirror, cracking the beak 
to kill a rival. 

She was pulling at my arm 
white death in red scarf. 

This is for you my fellow-traveller, 
a beautiful sector of my hidden garden, 
where I have permitted you to come for a walk. 
Hand in hand we will watch the peerless evening – 
sitting on the wings of gulls. 
Will you like to break a promise 
before I implode on the moon? 

You light the earthen lamp daily under a tree, 
to possess me, trap me, digest me. Voicelessly 
I melt into smoke, fly away in small huffs.

Aubrurn Dawn

Folder: 
Satish Verma

I believe, I had not arrived 
when you were arbitrating 
between naked steel and the truth. 
Violence were you. I was watching 
the burning pyres in a row. Small hands 
were collecting the ashes, 
casting glances on the falcons. 

Why reincarnation of the reaper again and again 
arching the helpless life in terror? 
Half-filled cups of tears are spilled 
on the marbled smoke. 
We made the truce with slaughter 
in moonlight pitying the survivors in sun. 
The face watching from the window disappears. 

An auburn dawn wakes with swollen eyes. 
I might find a lost child of the empty womb – 
wandering in wilderness of three dimensional sorrow. 
O mother! somewhere the roots are waiting!

Dark Moonlight

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Watching from pin hole 
lamps of baked clay. 
Every thorn was in my flesh. 

I was losing my voice 
in crowd of maniacs. 
Dragonflies climbing on worn leather. 

Through cracked sunroof – 
skull splinters into million heirlooms. 
Fever climbs the feudals. 

Why were you impatient with me? 
I was narrating a shocking tale. 
Frogs had acquired the land. 

Plot was thickening every day. 
Take me if you can, in the heavy shower 
of meteorites in dark moonlight.

Valentine

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Your body in mud pack 
in line of fire 
suddenly finds a lover. 
I was watching with concern. 

Cup of soul, lined with abrasive desires 
was empty. Do not go raging in the 
sea, to collect the salt. 
The pink eye tells the boom. 

We may meet again, may not. 
I was leaving behind 
a trail of exiled skulls on sand. 
The ghosts had left the home waking up 

On periphery of trembling moon. 
The door did not open for apocalypse. 
I fell over long stemmed roses 
since life was very desperate!

Fly-Trap

Folder: 
Satish Verma

You are not me. 
It was not gentle, 
it was not sweet. 
It was fire in the glass. 

One yellow rose was opening up 
in a very bright night. 
I was shivering 
under the leafless shade of hawthorn. 

One surrogate mother 
picks up the wormholes. 
One tendril oscillates 
to entwine the lover. 

Stealthily, the sad moon slides 
into the big bosom of clouds. 
My eyes now search, 
the bared, Venus fly-trap.

From Dusk To Dusk

Folder: 
Satish Verma

The dazzling star 
went through me. 
I was undemanding 
from dusk to dusk 
hurting myself, not anybody. 

Time to meet my twin, 
to set he black on orange. 
My guilt, my fear, my foreboding. 
Let go off, my sap in the twigs, 
fruits were coming down. 

Under the guise of innocence 
eruptiness entered into non-thought. 
One by one snakes unrolled 
with black eyes, under the succulent breasts, 
the black poison clapping the pink lips. 

The dirt was spreading 
on the hands of unborn children. 
Their eyes searching the seeds. 
On dark beads of mother. 
Father had been killed in a cave.