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.
——————————–
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.
——————————–
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
——————————–
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.
——————————–
(c) Satish Verma