About satishverma

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 kantasatish@gmail.com. 5-A ii, Mayoor Colony, Alwar Gate, Ajmer – 305007 INDIA

Tribulations

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One-legged thought
had a solitary confinement.
Down’s syndrome frightens the catfish.

The bottom dwelling
body double, wants a compensation
for jumping up to your lips.

Not impressed, in vitro
the black moon
heaps a silver spoon in your mouth.

The body preys on your soul.
Are you ready to take a dip
in the smoke coming out of the tunnel?

The hard boiled tale
of intrauterine device, seals the
fear of life. there was no birth, no death.

Placed In Orbit

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Was very confused.
I was becoming poorer
everyday. The depletion was complete.
Polymorphous? Where do I find
the affinity with saneness? I
wanted to quit now,
drawing the faces of dead.

Farce embers,
in white fire. Climbing on a
fence for a fatal jump after
cavorting with drifting icicles
of blue eyes. Can you sleep-
walk in full moon? I am
ecstatic.White death has become my friend!

Placed In Orbit

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Was very confused.
I was becoming poorer
everyday. The depletion was complete.
Polymorphous? Where do I find
the affinity with saneness? I
wanted to quit now,
drawing the faces of dead.

Farce embers,
in white fire. Climbing on a
fence for a fatal jump after
cavorting with drifting icicles
of blue eyes. Can you sleep-
walk in full moon? I am
ecstatic.White death has become my friend!

The Fabrics

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A steep drowning
in traffic of curves-
of legitimate sin.

It was a supergame
of exotica. Witchcraft
was playing with light-

years. Are you still
hosting the life? In
cracks and crevices of pain?

Very methodical. You were
devouring the death to
become immortal. Were

you serious about bount-
eous harvest? Your alma mater,
where you wrote your first poem.

Explicitly

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The pixels refuse to leave
the screen. There was a
defiance, unheard so far.

Will not misspeak about
the rape! Was it not a murder
of the white goddess in light?

Are you going to shut a
pink flame, smouldering
in the vicious grip of greed?

The skinny-dip in boiling
cauldron of hate? What
was left now of humor?

Walking on the lake water
retrieving your youth? Was
it worth your grand wasted life?

Muddy Depth

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In between the scars
where was the frame?
With artichoke, you were
dismentaling the ethos.

Giving a suspended
death sentence to cadence
of love. You know what
you did not know, about life.

Hauntingly ethical? You
do not want to become a sensual
father, releasing sperms in
petri dishes. The eggs will find

their mates. It was a dark
conspiracy to overthrow the
hierarchy of calculus. Do
not remove the asterisks.

Upstaging

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Death by rains.
No exclamation
was needed.

*

O, moon; –
I will join you soon,
hotted up by sun.

*

Parenthesis.
I am reading again
my lost poem.

One Garden City

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The ordinary life
and the passage of one thousand
full moons.

Cresting a culture of violence;
when a trident
bleeds you unethically?

A cave robber
becomes god incarnate. A
finger of land snaps-

and you savagely interrupt
the prayer and send the
message. Run, brother, run –

for the roots. Nights are
numbered and the
blue mountain is burning.

Sexless virginity is at stake!

A Bitter Fruit

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To undo, the rare
appearance of a god;
scouring the water, before the
sun, divides the land.

What was the worth
of a ritual, around the fallen virtues?
The salt lake threw up
the broken genes.

The swirling sand covers
the boat, stranded on the beach.
A tempest is waited upon. The
gestures carry a message.

No authority.
I do not want to corrupt myself.
There was a narrow path
leading to the pink eyes.

A Bitter Fruit

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To undo, the rare
appearance of a god;
scouring the water, before the
sun, divides the land.

What was the worth
of a ritual, around the fallen virtues?
The salt lake threw up
the broken genes.

The swirling sand covers
the boat, stranded on the beach.
A tempest is waited upon. The
gestures carry a message.

No authority.
I do not want to corrupt myself.
There was a narrow path
leading to the pink eyes.