Rhetoric had a theme like crab-grass to destroy the lawn. Fly ash had submerged the legacy of sane lips. The river drifts between the broken walls of binge soaring. Tension was descending in the lanterns who were flickering hopelessly. Was there any need of autopsy of dark secrets?
The terror burns the bed. You don’t get a wink of sleep. Between bubble and sky, wrapped up afterlife aches. You wear the blindness, then slide in grey fog. The hypocrisy and violence will walk side by side.
Do not touch the leftovers. A vulgarity of expansion! Step aside from the continuum. I will wait for you.
Satish Verma is ferociously original. You feel resentment, outrage and violence, cannot pin it down but wonderfully spin your brain. Satish has the greatest sensibility which sweetly exploits the delicacies of human conflicts. You are taken aback. This is magic, profoundly soulful. In a lone, long journey Satish Verma is still discovering himself. Beaten, betrayed, felled, he comes back with fierce velocity. His childhood was traumatized by India’s partition. Terror, violence and death were witnessed which built the morals of poet. Becoming defiantly recluse Satish Verma pursued his value based life on the path of truth. Teaching Botany for 35 years he was writing poetry, privately and solemnly and published twelve collections. Worked silently with social causes. His scions, doctors and engineers are living in USA. He chose to live back in his beloved country and resides in Ajmer (INDIA) with his spouse Kanta running the Charitable Holistic Institute of SEWA MANDIR FOUNDATION. He can also be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. 5-A ii, Mayoor Colony, Alwar Gate, Ajmer – 305007 INDIA Mobile +91 9829071468
With daily dose of exercises Body looks fit and trim routine activities are in tune Everything appears perfectly fine Enjoying the morning walk with the friend for ages is like a kick tonic to this childhood duo Self confidence zooming
nothing more frightning than waiting for an uncertain arrival, but then that uncertainty seems but a minor prick under the skin, one overtaken and masked by the uncertainty within. the answers very slick and sly which is why we have
And how shall we trace the trajectory of a lungless scream coming out of a slit throat? Time was overrun by gnostic resentment in absolute mind. The fury of a gathering food riot: do you hear the memorial rising, rising