God's organic clothes are coming unglued,
seasonal seams tearing apart,
emerging alarmingly chaotic
whatever, dissonance?
Supremely straight white noise?
Next time,
I'll recover your naked monolithic culture
in clothes of hard rooted wood
and yet how would you wear them?
Who could?
Perhaps we did
when God grew a tree
like earthy S/He.
Children of Me/We healthy trees
defectively praying for underfed worker bees
while ripping apart Earth's fertile forests
becoming undressed deserts
Unflowing river sand beds
bereaving naked tree trunks
Dead dry
senseless
sexless headstones
where future children of trees
would otherwise have grown moist fruit,
divinely dressed.
Categories:
unflowing, clothes, culture, god, humanity,
Form: Personification
After decapitation, it was
half-honour,
half-land,
and half-bread.
We had prepared ourselves for epilation.
A war for milky sap
starts for an empty chair.
You are asked to abandon
your field and go for
a hate profile.
The gated religion now
scars the high searing, wayward
fronds of untangeled age
of absent truths and
faithful lies.
I will go again to
find the answer in a similar
darkness to stand
my unconditioned faith
to stumilate the unflowing river.
Satish Verma
Categories:
unflowing, art,
Form: ABC