The grief was internal. I walked
on the burning lava and hot ashes. The beast
remains a beast, god walks away.
The moon rips the water.
It triggers a bizarre event of violent assault.
The volcano wants to take revenge.
The bodies of virtual
truths hung from the old fig tree.
Buddha was going to sit again.
YOU ARE READING
Satish Verma Poems
PoetrySatish 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. T...