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

Faltering Tongue

Folder: 
Satish Verma

He did not want anything 
after the sex and death of a protagonist. 
Rebuffed and sliced through the body, 
the onus was left on toxic mix. 

He died in deprivation, in intensity 
of hunger and fluidity of thirst. 
The quartet of grenades stretched too far 
the indemnity of shell shocked apostles. 

A clan lost the sense of hearing. 
A mystic odyssey of massacre, raising 
the doubt of gifts in heaven. The starchy 
statements and commands scattering.

Tumultuous Welcome

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Tell me about the bluetoothed man, 
of his stark naked truth, in toe 
for a brief pause. The toll was mounting. 
The tallest fraud of chilling facts. The city of 
cold murders of hermaphrodite. The sex of 
meanest level to become rich in seduction of wooly legs. 
The wasps were hovering home. The stings 
of famous wives. 

Predicament of deficit bombs. Motivated artillary. 
It is incursion of sterling thieving, of sisyphean 
pain. The plaques were becoming honorable. 
The spoon bills landing on dry lake. 

Bracing the embattled knees, I dismantle my 
life to start again from living the 
death of beautiful.

From Front

Folder: 
Satish Verma

It burrows deeper in the covert 
recess of pain, shunning violence of light: 
the epicenter of Armageddon, 
giving collective death to providence 
in a proxy war. 

The collasal gossip rests on the river of ashes, 
deflects the incredible starved children – 
wind blown without geysers, dripping in sweat, 
licking the salt lake of damnation. 
Cutthroats will come shortly. 

Centrifuges are churning uranium in underground 
tunnels.Myopia was increasing. In 
another garrison germ warfare was getting a shot. 
Choked off I still carried the holistic style. 
A blockade was sending the sleepers. 

Inheritance of lean arms but brave wants, 
bares it all.

No Grand Landing

Folder: 
Satish Verma

It clings to you, like a liquid rock, 
burns your skin. You get a chemosignal. 
Tethered on a rope your clenched iron fist 
remains dysfunctional. From the elite enclave 
red smoke billows like a jinni unleashed 
from the bottle. 

A stray mortar sends olfactory fumes. 
The land concludes a twist, becomes 
unforgiving.The debris was a cluttered, goaded 
inheritance. When it was not there I eat 
the guns. Mission accomplished of death and 
destruction, you start a prayer near an incapacitated tank. 

Today, like everyday the war failed us. 
Mother and son, father and daughter sleep in death’s embrace.

Death And Apollo

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Honeymoon with history was over. 
A two headed snake was sitting on a coin 
of leather in grass. Blue tongued 

jewel was going to serve the enormity 
of destination. Disquietingly, decomposed 
relics were coming out of the rubble. Coil 

of thoughts becomes a vector of violence. 
Cobwebs of increased blood supply to 
malignant battle. You die in your own 

vision. The awns of oblivion pierce the 
wings of dumbfounding words. Offering 
shows the fear unlimited. Prices 

crash in a meltdown. Poverty holds you 
in doorway. Feathers understand the boundary. 
A flock of sheep was butchered by a wild beast.

He Who Learns Must Suffer

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Strange thoughts give words 
a pain. A mountain unfolds 
a tunnel.He who carries a vase of ashes 
must enter the gate to plot a path 

for history.Ideas have turned into stones. 
A violence erupts in long winter night. 
Nobody understands the bird of time 
who has lost the flight. 

The bones learn the absence of house 
in the forest of men. You realize the anointment 
of unlearning. A gaudiest opulence 

comes slowly in huts. The body becomes 
blue in gentle fall of skimmed silence. 
A prayer has a pernicious omen.

Generosity

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Velvet thorns 
become signature 
of my pain and joy. 

Body paints the naked earth 
blue. Eyes in hot desert 
search red poles and blue moon. 

Emotional strife: 
dripping accidents with sum flowers, 
extremely talkative. 

Then the words litter 
on white paper. Very sad, 
you leave nothing between the waits. 

Dawn to dusk, pleasing the gods. 
An owl on each branch 
disregarding the stars.

Shameful

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Like an alligator tending her eggs 
on tongue, death moves the life 
on strength of charisma, overreaches 

for requiem and then distributes the raw 
moments in subterfuge, we play the game 
to cheat each other without shame. 

A red carpet is laid on white floor 
of the wax house, making gold from 
sun rays. The moon bleeds internally. 

The rivals come face to face walking 
on the ashes of ancestors, ungrieving for the 
loss of sperms. Fertility will come in petri dishes 

without the name of father. I am here, 
nobody, ready to unanswer any question. 
My stains are becoming darker every day.

Diary

Folder: 
Satish Verma

He went under pile of words 
to tie the thread of understanding 
but was stoned to death. 

They put the piglets in liquid nitrogen 
for future generations to study. 
The point of departure had come. 

Navel-gazing was the best pastime 
for the commander whose sepoys 
were fighting the battle for freedom. 

I have to say something which I need not 
say. The fight is gone from the bleeders. 
World was moving towards the poles. 

We should talk about looking, not only 
owning up our blunders. The import of 
saying No has been cooked under the small Yes.