# #betrayal #life #forgiveness #suffering #sadness #pain #mistakes #madness #poetry #Dillan #Courtright #Dark #love


Satish Verma

Waiting for a supermoon 
like Aphrodite. 
I translate my twinge 
into moonlight. 

The speed now hurts. 
I want to go slow in dark, 
Like wayward feet ambulating towards a carnivore. 

It was not fair to call for 
the soft snow, 
when my eyes start 
surging like a natural spring. 

You had almost eaten me 
alive with black fingers. 
I did not sin, you come like 
thunder making me deaf.

Walking Small Feet

Satish Verma

Distrust prevails. 
To be poor. Why did you need 
less, than you want? 

I will ask me, and get no 
answer. Like hedgehog. Spiny 
coat. You will not watch― 

the thought coming. I do 
not move. The dead horse 
speaks of moments of stillness. 

A perception cleaves the mind. 
The world takes revenge 
behind the glass. You were― 

squirming in the vessel. What 
was your name, among the 
stumps? A cloudburst, wipes 

out the deity. The walls 
stand out in the death masks.


Satish Verma

A dark secret 
of double standard, 
releases the hidden forces. 

You must 
bend backward to walk. 
This was the rape of surrender. 

The art of dodging, 
the decoy effect. 
You choose the ultimate hypocrisy. 

You do not confirm 
the rage of shirtless. 
A name goes begging for the figures. 

Shrine in mud, 
will give you a final call 
before starting the builddown.


Satish Verma

Since my ash has 
blown in your mirror 
I am warming up to your surrogacy. 

Too much deep, 
expansive cleavage. I am climbing 

down a canyon. 

The phoenix: 
finds the water― 
in your eyes. 

Writes a funeral. 

No punctuation, the 
unwritten poet, 
will not last the night. 

I am spelling out 
the grief of the lonely man on 
the deserted road, talking 


Satish Verma

The shovel 
moves the wet earth 

Your path goes to dark, 
in the jungle fire 
through Sunset Boulevard. 

Father of my father 
used to drink a pitcher, of black tea, daily, 
to stay alert. 

He would tell me, 
“Do what you wanted to do.” 

The rain will not stop 
for sometime. Why don’t 
you go to sleep? 

The fury of the 
flood, will not break 
the pride of an oracle.

Last Freedom

Satish Verma

a leaker on the prowl, 
to become glamorous 

The parting, 
of ways in a jungle of 
principles, life takes 
a full turn, 

sharply. The ascension 
of dark matter, 
believes: it’s time has come 
to engulf the world. 

comes very late in acute 
labour pains, throwing 
up the agenda. 

Taking a call 
of inevitable, the 
dignity holds on to 
the fringes of peace.

Debating Point

Satish Verma

This was an interesting dialogue 
going on, 
between me and a ghost. It was 
telling me that I love you 
because you are not a virgin. 

Was it a good thing, someone 
asks? The game was fair 
but the players were dishonest. 

The bared chest, with scars 
and raw wounds, tells everything 
about blue wars. 

The words float on water, 
like dragonflies. Do you think 
it was impossible to convey 
the agony by phraseology of metaphors?

Golden Afternoon

Satish Verma

No questions were taken 
from unforgiving sword. 

And the dead horse. 

A river runs through your body 
defining the wet castles. 

You look into the eyes of the invader. 

The palace intrigues dig in. 
You cannot meet the princess. 

The inevitability of war looms large. 
You will finally know that every 
body is mortal. The remains 
are meant for the inconceivable. 

The scripture versus a blank 
page are on the collision course.

Spelling Out

Satish Verma

Half milk water and 
half water milk. 
The predators were happy. 

How would you, 
justify a self kill, in the 
sea of medusae and whales. 

That was not only 
warts and all. There were holes 
in the golden bucket, 

and fount was dry. 
The glass house. This 
concept gives a jolt. 

You cannot change 
the masks. Deaf and 
dumb.the sky was deaf and dumb. 

You refuse to divulge the 
name of assassin.