CLAMPDOWN                                          

It was a dirty war
of moat
flaying the legs in emotional outburst.

No stings.
Only mandibles will do the job of chewing
on your dark fingers.

Flat, the taste of milk:
a synthetic formula to eat your entrails.
The plastic nose will smell the rose.

Unbuttoned,
message will bring the fishplates
and birthmark of violence.

Death has a cult of contusions.
You bleed to bones
for illuminating the street.

- Satish Verma



SNOWLINE                                            

A blank paper invites
for rape.
Snow sinks for a prelude.

The black swan flies away
for the quiet hills,
when sun was drawing out the blood.

Alone I will write a poem
beneath the tear soaked eyes
and then moon fell.

As in the valley
of million tulips
I will make a dream kill.

- Satish Verma


IMPOVERISHED                                              

You asked for an explanation
for a flame. A bat
flies in a passage of pain.
A poem becomes an accuser.

They were drowning
the moon
in a lake of blood.
A poem sails like a kayak.

The snow was falling
like drifting lovers.
Stains were becoming bits of screams.
A poem delivers an echo.

The fear turns you blue
in midst of knocks.
Doors had the outrageous locks.
A poem walks like truth

- Satish Verma



HER LOOKS                                                        

Jinxed out
was the sex panel
on the honour’s integrity.
Deep water a fish
was found dead.

The destination
of your rival was
feminism. I was talking
of the moon
without gender.

Your fingers were probing
the dancing words,
in this strange event.
Darkness was falling
on my lips in morning.

- Satish Verma