When night will not speak
and shoes will float on the water;
legs of truth will not move.
Latched to absence
unreasons held the hands of time.
I stopped believing in myself.
The genome had come in a bottle.
when the virgin son was killed in a raid.
The mausoleum will not accept the shroud.
The priest will pay the moon,
for the price of the nightly stings.
Now the death will kill the clouds of bees.
And the green door shuts the house
of light. Moonlight has gone missing.
We will have to find the lips of dark.
Satish Verma
We forget,
the lethality of flesh,
beauty and terror of a chasm. A gorge
becomes a death trap, you are
buried in snow of unreasons.
It slips from the bones,coagulated
silence.It has its own voice,
when it transmits across our
failed arguments.The thirst lingers
on to stab each other.
Brotherhood.The birds were sharpening
their beaks,very discreetly.The black
sea waits for carcasses. I
decide to donate my dead body to Anatomy
Lab.Eros ? Blank page ?
Satish Verma
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