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

Lake Scenes

Folder: 
Satish Verma

DREAM 

Ambling on beach in dark 
when the lake laps the feet. 
Sometimes I wish to walk away 
on the water like a dragonfly. 

MORNING 

Trying to figure out 
what happened? 
Lake Huron went 
into flames! 

MOONLIGHT 

Up, above 
a white ship was sailing. 
On water, 
thousands of boats.

Annotated Fingers

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Becoming myself, pricking the soles 
staying alive, frozen, mistless eyes. 
I bite my tongue, 
chewing the forbidden peel of 
what you are. 

Can you move with me? 
With my atavistic welts? 
Emptying yourself of all the poisons, 
while the space was shrinking. 
The golden gate is silently watching you. 

Give me your hands for a quiet journey, 
they are shouting to blow the dirty dreams. 
Every thing is done for the vanity 
of the naked paper 
fluttering in the annotated fingers.

Numb

I feel like

My heart’s been

Stabbed

And impaled

Through the floor

Because

I’m dying on the inside

And there isn’t a cure

Pain so complex

I can’t put into words

So instead

I scream it

And see if that works

You see

I can’t tell whether

I’m drowning

Or if my body has burned

Because

It seems like

I’m either in hell

Or somewhere submerged

 

And so,

My soul’s been

Rotting

And gotten

To the point where

I can feel

Myself

Slipping away

To the point where

I can practically

TOUCH my

Own grave

As I’m condemned to

Dig it

Deeper

And deeper,

By the day, hour, and second

I’m here on this earth

To decay

This sinner’s soul

Became

A wrenched

Filthy

Rendering

Of what’s

No longer

More

What’s more,

I can feel my mind

Going to waste

Becoming nothing but

Empty space

 

I’m no longer the same

 

About to crash and burn

Flying this plane

We call fate
while going nowhere at an

Extraordinary rate

Because I’m

Being driven insane
trying to stop this pain

And I’ve

Already overdosed                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

Twice

On Novocain  

 

This misery knocks at my door

And I

Didn’t want to let it in

But it still

Managed

To rob me

Of my

Happiness

Now my heart

Has been

Broke-in

Bleed-ing

Out

To this day

 

My humanity left

Thrown out

my viewing frame

Leaving me

Looking at my

Widow pain

Because the only thing I can see now is

Broken, inner shame

 

My ears still ring

From the outcries

I have made

Overwhelmed

By all the voices

Inside my brain

In fact

It got so annoyed

It went down

Psychopath

And yonder lane

After that,

It jumped

In

And out of

Thought’s own train

It committed suicide 

I’m brain dead

Nowadays

 

Nowadays

I can’t figure out why

I can’t get my head straight,

Psychiatrists thought they can do it with a jacket

Oh, how wrong were they

 

So instead
I’m left to cry it all away

But I’m running

Out of tears

I’m becoming

Numb

To the pain

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Sorry if I haven't been writing a lot lately. I've just really been busy with other things. I know this may seem a little like a repetition of my other poem "Insanity", but I have just been having a really hard time coming up with something good. (Just to note, I just try to make the word choice in my poems as strong as possible. I also just tend to be very emotional at times. I AM NOT EXTREMELY TROUBLED!!!!!!!! I AM FINE!!!!!!!!!! NO NEED TO WORRY ABOUT MY PERSONAL WELL-BEING!!!!!) And please, just give me your honest opinion on it. Thanks.

Blindfolded

Folder: 
Satish Verma

A dented version of an old grudge, 
blackened lips with an elite song, 
your relentless search ends in 
a terminal shock, nursing a green wound. 

That anguish was still there, and the wild anger 
sprawled on hidden fractures, false teeth, 
and twisted spy glasses. Sky falling silent 
in terrible gloom of centuries. 

Blindfolded we are led for a ceremony 
of total dedication, drinking opiates 
from the cupped hands of a silver god, 
with alien innocence and silent submission. 

I stare at the changing colors of world 
shifting like summer dunes, 
dancing on the graves, in dripping 
dew of midnight moon, salt of tears.

Let Us Take Another Road

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Let us take another road. 
The boundary was not clear 
between crime and pardon 
between disease and murder. 

The cleft in the ravines 
had hidden the rifles and landmines 
when we were busy in worshipping 
the rock face with folded hands 
to deliver us from fear and future. 

There was no ending, no beginning 
of disturbing the beehive 
to drink the moon in night, 
hear the blues of stars 
and swim in dark light. 

Where was the heaven? 
Enough of nothing was not something? 
The cure of curse was not in any hands, 
polity of clouds was decaying very fast 
they were raining fire on the grass.

Incarnation

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Trampling the borders, he started 
losing his vibrations. 
He was asking for the perpetual forgiveness 
for his bandaged ego. 
The new incarnation. 

For the broken homes 
he refused to admit his side of guilt 
and jumped into the frozen lake 
for nursing his hot blood. 
The faithless star. 

The world did not exist 
in total freedom. 
Let him sleep, sulking away, 
under the sea of wounds 
unlistening to the wailing winds. 

Not for the seeds 
not for the flowers, 
the crowds were assembling for the essence 
of the drifting truth. 
Nobody knew the red hot destiny.

Cup Of Sorrow

Folder: 
Satish Verma

A solitary moon rises 
behind the seven veils 
unattended by stars and clouds 
between yes and no 
desiring nothing 
turns back through the centuries. 

The religion to kill 
refuses to stare at the tainted fatality 
lying sprawled on the burdened earth 
splattered red. 
Criminal divinity of the blood 
bares the undone creation. 

Seed money comes again 
into dead bubble. 
Cup of sorrow is filled again.

Bon Voyage

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Absolute yes or no 
makes you wish 
not to understand philosophy 
of semipermeable life. 

Sort of, lies pass through, 
truth is left behind. 
The fingerprints don’t speak 
the identity of runaway minutes. 

Somewhere you fail miserably, 
break the cushions 
and lie on thorns 
to feel the terror of time. 

Where the birds have gone? 
Trees have startled the sky. 
The staircase is broken. 
Bon voyage to blue eyes.

Magestic Innocence

Folder: 
Satish Verma

How far? How far the goodness will survive? 
Born to suffer, a troubled mind 
was punished, for melting down. 
Livid with revenge sun bleaches 
the man made God, a personal anger. 
Executioner was on the street 
lighting bonfires of your principles. 

A silent hope revolts, like green fire, 
evergreen, possessing the pride spurts 
of hot flames, as the age grows, 
the grieving will stop, and when the borders sleep, 
it will rise on the horizon, a new moon on 
a majestic innocence 
of pure hills in sky!