air I
yellow pray
blue faith
gravity hope
hydrocarbons spiritual
combustion guidance
vaporization devotion
Once a milky winged stallion,
I mistook you for an angel.
I believed your majestic prowess.
Like Zeus, I too hitched my chariot.
Once the sparkling points of night,
I mistook you for sky magic.
I believed immortal your cosmos,
your dazzling namesake array.
Then your avatar sold oil.
I watched your B movie at fumy gas pumps.
I witnessed the curse of your hydrocarbons.
I lost faith in your Earth poisoning moniker.
Then your appellation found home in the dirt.
Assigned by mercenaries feeding slithering snakes,
tracking and tracing, extracting all our privacy
for any perversion of power.
I weep now knowing how far you've fallen.
I should have known.
You were always the prodigious child of Medusa.
Dream
In the realm of realistic eyes or surreal
And there are you, prevailing all my sense
My girl, the charismatic beauty of world
On the blooming bud of the Eden garden
Flying with the butterfly's wings
Through the aromatic hydrocarbons of scent
Exotic thy smiles with white diamond teeth
Luscious lips on the breeze kissing
O no hypnotic mango juice there is to melt
But my heart to feel you like the furnace flame
Through the July raindrops
With the bluish-purple larkspur...
Dream
Still I dream you
Like the Venus rising from the white foam of earthly water
O my girl, to your coming the dream is wanderer
09.07.2020 Chattogram
You are smoking hot
You have built up my
Aromatic Hydrocarbons
Inside my heart
Igniting these feelings
I can’t cool them down
I have called 911 they can’t help
The fire department
Doesn’t have enough water
The paramedics can’t slow this beat down
My heart has been beating to fast
Twice as fast since I have seen you
Please stop this vibrating and pounding
I can’t take much more
I am about to exploded
You have ignited my soul
Asking neither names, nor historical periods, Clio draws wide circles of popular masses around square lonelinesses. What's all this noise about? A rich man’s circumference is longer than a pauper’s one! Down with circumference! Fortunately, the nasturtium-clad fence is high enough. The noise is getting louder. Is it just me, or do they want again to take away and to split everything they have already taken and split once? Hydrocarbons, how sweet the smell! Oh, heavenly music of coins clinking! Perhaps, but I’ve chosen the planets motion instead of the people's movement. Violent Paris isn’t worth a mass: having fenced my paradise garden, I admire the swarthiness of girl’s skin and the whiteness of English play. Neither the close lightnings of revolution, nor the accusative case of proclamations, nor uprising, nor mutiny
nor bloody revolt
shall disturb your honey sleep
my dear nasturtiums
Negligible morsel of biomass
my fat belly, formerly abs
insignificant yet it occupies me
hourly while bored or hungry.
Fat is what? a picture
of despair, giving up caring
or man out of balance, other
side of the world's starving
mass, case of the soul's malnutrition
industrial agriculture, television
supermarkets, vacations, hydrocarbons
and the grid. Electricity, urban
traffic jams, photons at final
rest. Sugars synthesized, abundant
plastics to carry them home in.
Into your house and into your mirror.
Memorizing the periodic table
and learning the calculus makes one
no thinner. Walking the mountain
in heat and cold and rain, alone
or in fire crews should inhibit.
And a healthy fear of death. A laugh
a day at sex and pain and fate
which renews the biomass I hate.
British dug dead holes never to atone.
Tar ablaze the oil rigs drill and plunder
As golden hands rely on this dead zone,
Beneath white lilies and silver blue seas,
We sanctify black vicious crude as tongues
Digest the depth to clean up this collapse.
Hydrocarbons widen, dark and lifeless
Gallows clocked to drill oil even faster.
The mobs of ice and stone blindly detach.
Owner greed for plankton to deliver,
Simple numb, is taking our future back.
As toxic sludge thrives and all worlds quiver.
We boast of freedom and human rights while
Small life die and are fed to bigger fish...
Who pull dark gold, while politicians thrive
No stopping this micro bio-tic plight.
The natural food chain feeds our own thirst.
Neglected and forlorn
like the parent uncared for
left to the ravages of time
the great pyramids of Khuf
Khafre and Menaura sit.
The city about them spewing
the gases of man into the once
pristine desert and sky.
Hydrocarbons and lead turn
the atmosphere a shade of ochre
tinged with rust,
and the haze through which
the marvels of the ages are seen
is all that maintains the fantasy.
Centuries pass
as the life in and out of Cairo Egypt
leeches off the glory of the past.
Architecture, art, gold and silver
that flowed from the mines
like water from the font of Eden
oil the skies and pump the heart
of a nation.
The Golden Age fell,
fell with the onslaught of the Romans
and Christianity…
leaving a people to live
on the corpses of Pharaoh’s
http://www.arabworldbooks.com/articles1.html
half-clad
cult of violence
boiling their
soulmates
roasting
the foes
one by one
killed
by a ligature
they were building the dams
to harvest the power
from tears
fear
climbs on your shoulders
unburns hydrocarbons
a train moves through the black cloud
night
lies naked
Satish Verma
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