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

The Soliloquist

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Stares down, the grey 
moon, fixedly, 
in naked aggression… 
Fire and brimstone. 
I move one step, towards you. In semidarkness 
I have lost the address 
of peace. 

The transgender, stumps 
the ghost. There was no noun, 
no pronoun, only an abstract 
feel. Do you see the 
wooly trail beating the dust? 

When did you hit the dirt road 
not to come back… 
What was undone? After 
the death of the cuckoo, there was 
no wedlock in words.

Knife And Boat

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Like the banana peel 
thrown on the sidewalk, you 
come across the life. 
And you still go on, in the― 
search of moonlight― 
without pills. 
The drugged sleep. 
Unorthodoxly you insult 
the sun. And one-liners 
go abegging for the listeners. 

You are talking to your 
peers now, long dead. 
Fair amount of water, is 
needed to sink. 
The river merchant has brought 
no fish.

Untitled

Folder: 
Satish Verma

The triangle― 
right-angled. Pythagorean 
I would never find the center. 

An absence gnaws 
at me. Standing in dark 
I start a talkathon with walls. 

Stoically, I reverse 
the numbers. Fires start. 
I am still reading the page, 
started before I met you. 

The poise, the serenity 
are gone. Masks are coming off 
there and now I embrace the burning well. 

Bliss of looking back 
at unreached peaks of pain. 
It is very cold. 
Now ice will not melt. 
You know who bled my poems.

Fish Ladder

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Like a snake 
it moves. 
My poem. 

You are not, what you were 
in the night, lightning 
the grey moon. 

I hear, what you 
did not say or did― 
not think. 

Even dark 
forebodings, move like red 
ants, from the slit eyes. 

I cover the faults 
via songbird, which 
was calling, desperately, 
unwaitingly.

No Acrimony

Folder: 
Satish Verma

You decline to speak― 
to listen― 
to see 
like a meditating Buddha. 

Like a sunflower 
with moon seeds, 
ready to explode at sunset. 

Strangulated― 
neck, hanged from a tree 
to tell the tale― 
that you were violated. 

This was the principle of 
cosmic order. Poor god 
waits for the world 
to show the rage. 

I wake up the tree. 
Leaves fall like unspoken words 
from the decaying oak.

For Pythia

Folder: 
Satish Verma

In suddenness, I will 
write a poem for you. 

You had stopped at the 
outset, like a black moon 
opening up perfervidly. 

Remote from the oneness 
of life, a flame leapt up 
to ignite the process of birth― 
without perceiving. 

Come let's meet at the 
navel of the destiny. 
I had the penchant of 
burning myself. 

You, who would never be 
visible, I will dust all the mirrors 
to find out. 

Waiting for the festival to begin.

A Black Speech

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Refusing to be 
healed. 
A wound will stay awake. 

Mired in bitter controversy, 
the captain said― 
the war was not a deliberate act of 
atoning for the soul. 

That prevents the sun 
to come out after a long night. 

You walk in the light years, 
gaunt and dazed, 
in pain of hunger. The words 
hang in shame. 

A city fails, for 
another voice of verse, 
in favour of renunciation.

The Hymn Of Love

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Stoma 
opens, ejects the scream. 

Oh, my god. 
The ink spilled 
on the sheet, hiding the code. 

The scared veins 
of pure honey, wets the lips― 
of gills. There is no salt. 

The water explodes 
bursting the dam. No spine was 
worth of robbery. 

Golden nuggets 
are displayed now. Would you 
bargain the uphill? 

The nightmares begin again.

See My Hands

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Overreaching for chemical signs 
and word for word, 
you want to move on- 
without parents. 

This was only a poetic 
idea, that no weapon will 
be used for execution. 

Not offering an apology, 
we were dissecting the ethics 
of violence and war. 

A chilling reminder, you are 
going to starve the definitions. 
But no clarity was visible. 

I am becoming bones 
and taut nerves.Only eyes 
were looking ahead of the tempest. 

Roofs were melting. 
You want to hit the sky.