Short Marginal Poems

marx and religion
charles darwin hated them
he loved us,envy...

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Bursting moments
     on Winters' first day
Fuzzy light
    to show a seasoned way
Marginal fog
     on an edge defined....

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Give me a break! Shall you?
You say that you are free in free society
While your liberty is stolen!
By that freedom, so, let it be
Let them do as they will
Let them enjoy their marginal utility
Or leave it alone....

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the straight jacket
of convention
bring
random
    consolations,
so 
apposite:
the drawback
of the trivial,
underlined
by the inauthentic,
unruffled
by the marginal,
proxy-proof
in the schemes 
of man...
distilled by the
sieve
of the commonplace...

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Glazed and beautiful
the perfection
were human creativity
and skill meet.
perfection
beautiful
perfection
strange and right
the wrinkles look real
the crevises rstore
your thoughts
and compliments the
artistic selection
a perfection of
beauty and 
something real and right!...

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Like antiwords, the absent 
truth, walks with you.

It had indented the push.
Profanities are on rise.

Marginal dare has a 
bracing truism.

I am working on a thesis. 
The candles are out.

Light will come from burning 
doors. Smashed windows will harbor 
the grudge.


Satish Verma...

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The writer, the reader, and the writing. 
The lines that divide them are marginal.
A symbiotic relationship built upon words.
An author blazes a trail hewn from letters.
Traveled by the readers, great and few.
To each find themselves at the same end.
This road we venture alone and yet together....

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No word “yes” and “no”
Never revealed just a fiddlesticks
Never clear and shouted “hang on a mo!”

Emphasize public should demand to jurist
For seeking one by one lines
To avoid mourning forever

Clause by clause just a black nicks
Blunt down and pointed upwards
Vide! Marginal are always oppressed...

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Rising from the ashes 
The lightning crashes 
Pain is inevitable 
Suffering is optional 
Using everything in our arsenal 
It’ll all become marginal 
It’s said that time heals all wounds 
What isn’t said that it doesn’t come soon 
The memories may become faded 
But we are still jaded 
Although we take it in stride 
Our feelings are justified...

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Wild blueberries taste 
beyond the pale
of domestic cultivars,
sweetness cut by granite acidity
underlain by the spice 
of marginal existence.

A blueberry’s destiny
is realized through consumption.
I satisfy as many as I can
to deposit their future
a couple portages down
tomorrow. 



An older poem recycled as it fit's Roy's contest to a "P"...

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We heard the screams.
Water to water,
fire to fire.
It was not marginal pain.
A meaningful dialogue 
had started in unhinged doors.

The house is empty.
You come out from nothingness 
to share the slogans.

The country wakes in the eye of guns.

Someone was fishing in troubled 
waters. The bread becomes crazy.

Under the black moon 
the white, hungry mouths.
A sacrifice !


Satish Verma...

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When you try to control
You're mind becomes a stall
Waiting for people 
You look towards betrayel
When your eyes are marginal

You want them to listen
Listen to accept only you
Need them to do whatever you
 Need to do

For your own sake
Throw control in the lake
You do not know the taste 
When people realise

Dirty tricks won't work
Your mind can't think
You will only blink
And see what's left
Control is a theft...

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