Unmoored in twilight, my most visible hands were ready to slam on the moon of stains to bring out the water of life. A secondhand night was waiting for an explosion,
which never came. How long will we go to find the peace in surrogate truths surrounded by thorns on lips? I was hanging a painting of a fall in happy valley of gender artists,
which I never appreciated. The high heeled power of legs was no match to beautiful nails. The walk on the ramp betrayed the ancient footfalls reaching nowhere to nothingness on revolving planet.
The masqueraders are still roaming free on parole to snatch a prize for extraordinary darkness generated by stars on the faces of orphans tattooed by the whips of silence, after all they were flung flowers.
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
Hatred, let it flow, let those memories that shackled me fade, let that dagger, which gives me pain mystify, let those eyes that see through darkness appear, let that beast go berserk, As I smile at the damnation I caused,
A mob rapes a moon under the blue sky. Then parades her half-naked body on the streets of clouds. Arousal of anger devours the mate in a nocturnal rendezvous with a sea horse; cuts off the head to shake out
It is, what do you not say I read the dusk on your eyes. Unspoken words hammering! A timer, quartz clock, ball bearings, pellets croissant of terror. Suspicious of the lady riding on crest responsible, for the happenings. Fear, hair
Overturned, years of stasis Paralysis by mental blockade A political metamorphosis. Afoot at the general election; Vengeance of the Manifesto. The interregnum, the entrenched vote Tranches appear, on Revised Register Deceased coded, in numbers resurrect. Beyond the grave, claim their
Moments comes along in our life to be whatever it is Common to all or individually wrapped as hers or his From solitude to calamity is a range we are often dealt Consuming all and often sticks in memory of