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

The Predicament

Satish Verma

Joined by the funeral, we sit down, 
under the blue sky, fire watching, sequentialling 
the processions. Ultimately one by one they come, 
to dust, hands turned down. After close of the rainbow 
there is an explosion and a transition 
censored by stone age. They flee from the shrapnels 
to swathe in bioluminence of death. The penury 
makes a fanciest atrocity. 

A pockmarked moon stands there to listen 
the scandalized whispers of crulest legends 
in century’s hopelessness, guilt’s bleeding. 
You never chained the voice of booms. A god 
mourns in fading light. 

Salt Plunged

Satish Verma

Seizing the fire after hidden sorrow 
predicted the synchronized slaughter of 
the river, bodies were being ditched 
secretly. The sparkle of waves was murderous. 

Blue wings of tall dangers dodged 
between war and hatred. The golden 
face of a child was smeared with blood. 
You carry a moth to be burned on a flame. 

The black rose hangs in balance, 
against the red cross. A sea of white ants 
was entering into a microchip to eat the 
months of prayer. Nation’s crimes were 

pinned for troops to turn the gold 
into dust. Catch my hand if you grieve 
for the lost mother carrying the child 
of century for burial.

Artful Pincers

Satish Verma

A terror of alikeness looms 
like stricken birds, incenerated in split seconds. 
You smell the burning flesh in an air blitz. 
Nearing endgame a conceptual hate 
is jettisioned in sky. You start collecting 
the fragments of life. 

Words start jumping. You refuse to accept 
more than the want. And yet a finite 
listening was absent. And the secret kennel 
in the dead child fails to sprout. The toys 
and dreams lie unattended on birthday 
of the nation. A monogamous judge ascends 
to heaven. 

Any durable peace on the way? Unruffled 
you are still in freezing water. The boat 
is half-submerged and tears are burning 
the deck. No wrinkles. The fish nod 
their fins for the final plunge.


Satish Verma

A fragile pistillum sways to conceal 
the sperms in pestle. Unilaterally fired salvos 
were increasing. After the dig, bodies in the 
debris were popping up daily. There 
was no truce for brothers in arms. Struggling 
to hold on the humanism, anger was rising 
from the white paper. 

A sense of lost is weaponized. There is 
a mix of solemnity and hurt. Pacemaker was becoming 
a slave, will not respect cadence. Obscurity 
must take refuge. The golden lined clouds 
were enduring the sun.A howitzer fires at moon. 
It was time to find the anchor, shoving aside 
the mortgage of life.

Dreams of Teenage Fun

It's like a late night's breeze

Gentle, soft and goosebump-giving
It is the perfect little tease
Embodying our simple teenage living
So sweep me away to this imagine land
From which I would never want to return
So let our hearts synchronize like concert band
Never having to face the lessons we must learn
Now fulfiller of my thoughts, I shall fall asleep
Wishing to hold you, as is my desire
Now, my thoughts begin to seep
My eyes begin to close, sweet Samantha, I begin to tire

Have You Ever?

Have you ever been unable to sleep?

Mind flooded with thoughts so deep
Words flowing in your head
Eyes heavy as lead
And they just won't close
Have you ever tried to open a closed heart
With both hands, you try to pull apart
But just like all the old stars
That heart is full of scars
And they just won't close
Have you ever tried to really love
It's the one thing that so many fear of
But once you try and start hoping
Your two broken hearts will open
And they just won't close


Satish Verma

You left behind touchstones 
when I was inventing another zero. 
Black and white, sobering transparency 
was reclaiming the mandate of dust. 

Barefoot lambs were clamouring for ethics 
in forbidden land. The sun shrinks the 
clouds to distribute equally, the landscape in 
a vibrant consolidation. The small mouths 

start resembling you. Something 
unimaginable was happening in a diaspora 
of maniacs. Interactive and dauntless, 

I put my neck on guillotine, unfevered, 
for the beheading of truth, in times 
of false hopes and unturned stones.

Sonnet to New Beginnings

A gentle wind brushes across my lips

And so great sweet in taste it is indeed

And I take it in, my soul it rips

From my chest to cleanse it as was the need


Desire is found within her blue bright eyes

And the very same could be said of me

And she spins my head some sort of clockwise

A girl has touched my soul how could it be


See how this girl can send me such aspur

My mind racing as lips still are pressed to

Let this time last and not become a blur

Because all that is on my mind is you


And how can all of this romantic scene

Be simple dreams of a heartbroken teen

Author's Notes/Comments: 

You will find love again, even if love has to find you.

Trading Desires

Satish Verma

Wrapped in explosives he was unready 
for a bruise. A dive at a mound of torso 
to unearth the archives of areolae. 

Apnoea will come for arbitration 
in clenched insinuation: 
pull nipples to open the window of mind. 

On the forehead a smear of vermilion 
brings glare like a third eye. 
Real fish in the green pond of envy. 

Desiccation of spine excites the rhetoric 
blurs the sea of swans. A lone tree 
explodes into a spring, not just leaves of old flame. 

Silver moon recognizes the battered hill. 
A white wolf was cruising on the road 
for appleblossoms.