# #betrayal #life #forgivness #suffering #sadness #pain #mistakes #madness #poetry #broken

For A Denial

Satish Verma

It rained all night. 
Heaving up the dawn immaculately, at my window 
the lake crashed on white sands. 
A lone tree 
smelt of mist and grief. 
A fury had submerged a road 
leading to a forgotten childhood. 
Knives and pins 
clouds and bins- 
a hate crime erupts between the teeth. 
You meditate sitting on an anthill 
to recover the lost bones. 

Why don’t you leave the country 
for good, 
the empty vessel, incense and dirty coins? 

For conceptual pain, the snake licks the breasts 
of a white goddess, with a forked tongue 
for sweet milk. 
The hungry womanhood cries holding on to morality. 

The memory leaks. 
You go back to your gods 
for renunciation.

Another Creation *

Satish Verma

a part of me. To find some space. 
Time cracks a dark matter with unknown speed, 
colliding to release the invisible. Chilled 
particles land on distant psyche. I will 
give you blue rains. 

It hurts when I think between choice 
and will. Light was arrested in the stone. 
At dusk the stone becomes a star. 
I kiss a beam and bid goodbye to stilled doors, 
of my ancient past. 

This universe, 
after the bang 
plunged in a dry desert, moving 
through dooms. Yes and no confirmed to uncertainty. 
Another explosion will expand into 
a fresh galaxy. I will watch the rise 
of hundred suns. 

* After the LHC successful experiment to simulate the creation of universe by colliding beams of protons on 10th Sept 08.

Fury Of Juggler *

Satish Verma

A primordial fear takes over. 
These pathways are not reaching anywhere. 
I am leaving blank papers 
for you. 

This was dark matter, 
you start dying from birth. 
A fireball sails through you 
reaching for the shadow of the soul. 

The seawall collides with hurricane 
shattering the window panes, 
of temporal lobes. 
And I am the salt, 
I am the eye. 

The sky is stepping down from heaven 
which never was. 
Man was the destroyer 
man was god. 

* On the eve of HURRICANE IKE striking GLAVESTONE and HOUSTON on night of 12th Sept.2008

Uncharted Self

Satish Verma

I care less, 
walking on plateau. 
mind rejects the peaks. 

A small patch of green, 
I knead on ice 
of firm orbs. 
This sterile landscape starts a fire. 

My hands knit a taciturn probe 
to enter the inconceivable. 

The particles sleep in metaphors 
of a baked sky, 
where the stars bleed every night. 

The fear looms large. 
I sit in the crevices of hurts 
to reduce the dimensions of time.

Pain Killer

Satish Verma

A city dies in me 
A white sheet spreads/ 

You don’t feel the epidural. 
Untitled, death walks/ 
like a whore/ 
contamination of inbreeding. 

Recycled pain 
hurts again. You want 
to give a stillbirth 
over the dense-packed nettle. 

First birthday of a dream.

The Debris

Satish Verma

Give me the whole 
of a fragment, 
I am standing on a frozen lake 
of inadequate compassion. 

The totality of implications frightens. 
Look deep in my eyes 
you may find the plumage 
of the green peacocks. They are gone. 

Walk on the burning coals 
to perceive actuality. Life slaps the illusion. 
Debris falls from a shooting star, 
overwhelming the clouds. 
Rains will not come now for a while. 

History heaps few glares 
on the spinning darkness. 

The theater runs for an empty house.

It Does Not Matter

Satish Verma

After a face – off 
you toss the coin 
resenting the liquid fame. 

Frame extracts the price 
of picture. 
Compassion for the artist was missing. 

I suffer in mid moon 
between darkness and light 
clarity of rags was improving. 

Homage is now going to hurt 
after the fall of ego, in 
ending of alchemy. 

In spite or sorrow 
a face drills holes 
in my wheels. 


Satish Verma

the moon will find you 
after morose beginning 
of becoming – me 

Homophobia creeps in, 
beyond the condemnation, 
the incompleteness. 

You walk straight in the arms 
of contradiction, confusion 
smearing the wall 
with your crimson, nihilistic words. 

Every other person 
a demi – god 
stands on your fears, sends whispers 
down your ears. 

To abdicate the colleagues 
of dawn. 

By The Words

Satish Verma

Always he was picking up and counting the pins 
to distill the essence of rainbows 
and find the symmetries of elementary 
laws and eating leftover words from the table. 

The terrorists had wired his house and he was 
not aware of it. The wrinkles on the face 
for the bridge destroyed, would not bring 
peace within. Times were different, icy and slippery. 
He hated only himself for the failure of ships 
to sail through the scope of explosions 
rage and tears. The madness of unchaste 
happenings submerging the cognition. 

His tongue was heavy, hands writing the epitaph 
on air. The bald eagle scoops a bride, 
slices the breasts for the green stigmata 
of liberation. Ajmer, INDIA