# #betrayal #life #forgiveness #suffering #sadness #pain #mistakes #madness #let me be

Something To Happen

Folder: 
Satish Verma

The ache of taking a 
call, when my 
book was burning. 

I scramble to warn 
the bees, not to 
come near the sundew. 

Words hide the 
sticky floor. Walk prudently 
to swap the hunger strike 

for bread and wine, 
as the fingerprints untangle 
the mystery of desires.

Not Left Behind

Folder: 
Satish Verma

I will keep on 
looking back, when you would 
not be there. 

Trying to put it behind me, the 
Moon-blind dysphoria. 

The riddled moments. You 
are badly hurt, but 
would not say. 

Bare-boned, in 
the oasis of flesh. 

The mankind― 
why were you feeling let down 
by animalcules? 

Into the grave milieu, 
you― sleeptalking, without 
voice. 

Trying to rekindle the 
flames from the wet eyes.

Causing Intense Pain

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Clouds had veiled 
the waning sun. 
A topaz. 

A blast, 
becomes quite blasé at first 
then becomes green. 

With envy, the moon 
gives no light. 
My faith tumbles. 

Sometimes I ask myself. 
Why did you cover 
your sore spots? 

As a perfect pretext 
of buying peace 
why did you go for the lies?

Warbirds

Folder: 
Satish Verma

O Zero man! you come 
with a continuous denial, 
of thirst of war, 
a habit, predation. 

When would you cross the blood lines? 

The night blooms. 
Sucking stars, moon 
and chaste boundaries. 

Nothing moves in the 
stillness of voice, words. 
A green light floats. 

When there will be peace? 

en face, I was ready to 
fold the words, the sky.

Lift The Death's Veil

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Questioning yourself― 
like a Spanish Inquisition. 
Ruthlessly digging out, 
the anatomy of arrogance. 

No flavor. I speak 
to myself of atypical 
intolerance of a man in revolt. 

The slavery of tongue will not go. 

On the verge, the other 
thought collapses. No longer 
the heritage remains faithful. 

Love suddenly becomes 
stranger. You won't touch 
yourself. The narcissism becomes suicidal. 

The black song 
empties the mind. You want to weave, 
but air does not become green. 

I stand alone. The cosmos 
moves away.

Sparklers

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Life, sex and pain were 
of mundane existence. 
From where to where, we 
have arrived. 



From a bridge to bridge 
you cross the river 
without touching the water. 



When a nameless projectile 
downs your flight 
you fall like rags 
from the sky. 



A spider runs 
on tiptoes 
you wilt like mimosa. 



The ink spills 
an the sheet 
hiding the code.

In Exasperation

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Open the news paper 
and find out that war has a set sequence 
of going daily, 
and has a negativity. 

The physical shock, when 
the earth trembles. Your body 
becomes stone, hairs stand. 
Light breaks through the twisted limbs. 

I don't love the ritualism. 
Time will not stay for you. My life 
becomes your life. Sod 
will receive the ashes of rage. 

And you will delete the 
presence, the touch, the dust 
of departed fragrance. Once upon 
a time, death used to be a song.

Undraped Souls

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Inexplicable. 
I run my own life, when 
epicenter moves to periphery. 

A drink of hemlock 
from your purple― spotted eyes. 
You want to squeeze the blue sky 
in your chest. 

Was I violating your 
sanctum sanctorum, hidden 
deep in crevices of ancient love? 

Your voice was cracking up 
hoarse, as I listened 
in silence, concealing my 
poem not to explode. 

Wings become the tongue 
flying off, like possessed 
celebration of loosing 
the glaze and becoming a naked mammal. 

A cold-blooded laugh!

Femina

Folder: 
Satish Verma

It was the frontal assault 
of brutal summer. 
I waited for the rain 
to come and fall on my neck. 

There was no grief 
between the aches. 

In starlight, flitting 
around in bushes, 
fireflies, 
you take me in twilight. 

The vernacular nirvana 
begins, till my moons squeeze. 

It was not a stabbing 
wound, to be picked up 
by a poem in distress. Light 
on light will speak 

of femineity in dark.